A Nashville Collection by Rachel Hauck Read Free Book Online

“Momma, Daddy, everyone . . . I received a fellowship.”
    â€œWhat’d she get? A fellow?” Paul’s a little hard of hearing. No wonder the girls clog like they’re stomping out world hunger.
    â€œNo, she got a fel-low-ship ,” Grip yells in his ear. He’s on his third plate of cobbler and ice cream. An old bachelor, anything that doesn’t taste like frozen tinfoil is gourmet to him.
    Eliza pats Paul on the shoulder. “A fellowship at Cambridge University to study English lit.”
    â€œOh, mercy, ain’t that something.”
    â€œMy daughter the scholar.” Momma presses her cheek to Eliza’s, smiling as if my sister just handed her an Eliza McAfee original— Kindergartener Finger Painting, 1990. “I’m so proud of you.”
    Daddy kisses her forehead. “I always knew you could do whatever you put your mind to, Eliza.”
    Grandma swings through the door, her blue eyes snapping. She’s carrying two tins of leftovers and hands one to Grip, another to Jenny Morris. “What’s all the excitement?”
    â€œI’m studying English lit at Cambridge this summer, Grandma.”
    â€œWell, now, we’ll have to drive up to see you.”
    â€œYeah, we could all go,” Earl says. “They like bluegrass up there in Massachusetts, don’t they?”
    I slap my leg, laughing. “She’s going to England, not Massachusetts.”
    â€œEngland!” echoes around the porch.
    â€œEngland!” Momma says with a gasp. “That’s a lot farther than Massachusetts, Eliza.”
    â€œI’ve been working for this all year, Momma,” Eliza says. “You know I’ve always wanted to study at Cambridge. And I’ll only be gone a few months.”
    â€œDon’t worry, Bit.” Daddy swings Momma around in a two-step. “She’ll be fine. We could fly over and visit. Stop in on the queen.”
    Momma squeals. “Dean, stop. You’re being silly.” She laughs through her protest.
    Grip jabs his finger in the air. “Now you’re talking, Dean. We could visit the queen. They like bluegrass over the Big Pond, don’t they?”
    A snort escapes my nose. Rednecks in London. This, I got to see.
    After a moment or two more of banter and congratulations, Granddaddy holds up his hands. “Okay, what’s Robin’s news?”
    â€œYeah, we haven’t heard from Robin Rae.” Jeeter folds his arms, smiling like he suspects what I’m going to say.
    Might as well strike while the cobbler is hot. Miss Cambridge warmed the porch congregation for me. “Well . . .” I swallow hard. “I’m moving to Nashville.”

5
    â€œRobin, that’s fantastic! Momma, Daddy, isn’t that great? About time.” Cambridge stirs up the crowd.
    Arizona joins her. “Robin, you’re going to be a smash.”
    â€œCongratulations!” Dawnie throws her arms around me. “Steve will be proud.”
    Jeeter props his elbow on the porch post. “Finally tackling ole NashVegas. Good for you. I’ll give you the number of an old friend, Birdie Griffin. She has a big house with a third-floor apartment right near Music Row.”
    â€œNothing doing.” Momma thunders over to me, her footsteps resounding against the porch boards. She’s short like me, and powerful. “Jeeter, I’ll thank you and your . . . friend . . . to stay out of this.”
    â€œFree country, Bit.”
    I pinch my lips so as not to laugh. Jeeter doesn’t swallow sass. Not even Momma’s.
    She ignores him and turns to me. “Land a-mighty, Robin, you haven’t sung in front of anyone other than this crowd here until last Friday. It took those tubby Whitestone girls—”
    â€œHey now,” Paul pipes up. That he hears.
    â€œSorry, Paul, but it’s true. You should tell their momma to put them on a diet. All that clogging . . . They