Clay's Quilt by Silas House Read Free Book Online Page B

“I’m fixing to get married now,” she said, sadly.
    â€œI know it.”
    â€œWell, I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing, Clay. I’m afraid.”
    â€œIf you love him, that’s all that matters.”
    She stared into his green eyes, which were framed by the coal dust that no miner could get out of his lashes. She nodded.
    â€œI know why you got so upset at me, that day up at the cedar,” Dreama said. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I never knowed you had any intentions of even wanting to have something serious.”
    â€œI never did,” he lied. “It’s all right.”
    The bridesmaids all crowded in front of the mirror, pinning their wide-brimmed hats atop their heads. When they caught a glimpse of Clay leaving, they all turned to watch him go. His eyes settled on Easter.
    â€œThis is the best-looking bunch of women I ever seen,” he said loudly.
    â€œYou damn straight,” Geneva said, and Easter nearly passed out from hearing such a word uttered within the walls of the church.
    C LAY WALKED BACK into the sanctuary and down the aisle toward the foyer. The pews were full, and Clay nodded to everyone as he passed. There were people Easter went to church with sitting right beside people Gabe got wild drunk with, which made Clay smile to himself. There were aunts who told him how good-looking he was and asked why he wasn’t married yet. There were uncles who knew perfectly well that Clay didn’t hunt but continued to ask him when he was going to go squirrel hunting with them.
    In the foyer, Darry was leaning up against the wall, green-faced and red-eyed. None of them had lain down until six that morning because Gabe wouldn’t let them. Gabe got wilder than any of them and ended up on a crying drunk that half of them didn’t even remember. They all got up at ten in order to get ready for the wedding, and that was when everyone realized it had been pure foolishness to have a bachelor party the night before the wedding.
    â€œI hope you don’t get up there and puke when you’re supposed to say ‘I do,’” Clay told Darry.
    â€œI’ve never got sick yet. I’m tired, though.”
    Clay felt awkward when he couldn’t find anything else to say. He had known Darry all of his life, but for whatever reason, hehad never even considered being friends with him. Darry talked slow and easy, choosing his words carefully, and Clay liked that about him, but he had never been able to like him. Weddings always made people feel closer—especially the men—but that was about as far as it went between Darry and Clay. They had been pushed together by the ceremony, and afterward they would just nod to each other when they met and not be able to hold a whole conversation. They stood side by side, waiting for the wedding to begin, and didn’t say another word.
    Clay stood and looked out at the crowd, remembering all the Sundays Easter had brought him and Dreama to church here. He recalled the way Pastor Morgan’s voice had shaken the church, as did the heavy thumping of his fists upon the podium. Clay had often wondered if God had a voice as powerful as the preacher’s. Sometimes the preacher would pull off his suit coat and let it fly through the air to land wherever it might. The singing gave Clay visible chill bumps, and he had been mesmerized by the women who spoke in unknown tongues and shouted, often falling onto the floor and shaking until someone spread a towel over their legs so that their skirts wouldn’t ride up and shame them. More than once he had witnessed Easter rising from her place at the piano midsong to take off running down the aisles, hollering, with her hands raised over her head. Once she had shouted and danced so hard that her hair had fallen out of its pins and she had broken one of the short heels off her shoes.
    He remembered the Sunday school classes he had