The Coffin Quilt Read Online Free PDF Page A

sister?"
    "She went for a walk down by the creek." If you lie to Pa you he to God. I knew that since I was just a knee baby. But my heart and soul belonged not to Pa then. Or even to God. But to Ro.
    He looked in that direction, and I held my breath. "We'll be a-startin' home soon. Go tell her."
    I got up. "Yes, Pa."
    Then someone called him and he walked back to his friends.
    I'd missed the game of Fox and Geese. I'd missed Kitty Walks a Corner, too. And the puppet show Mr. Cuzlin put on with puppets made by my brother Floyd. I'd wanted to watch the boys play Town Ball. My brother Bud was playing. No matter. I went to find Ro.
    I had to walk across the creek, so I unbuttoned and took off my shoes and hose. The water was cool. "Ro!" I called. "Ro, where are you?"
    Why did I call? Because I wanted to give her warning I was a-comin' is why. Because I suppose that I knew all the while that she was not throwing Johnse into the creek. I knew they had other more interesting things to do. Else why would they be hiding over there in the thicket like they were?
    "Here, Fanny."
    Her blouse was drooping off one shoulder. Her hair was mussed. Her shoes were off and Johnse's shirt
was all the way unbuttoned in front. Alifair would say she should be whipped out o' Kentucky if she saw her. She held out her arms to me. "Here I am, baby. Come here."
    I went to her. "Pa says we're to go home soon."
    Johnse was buttoning his shirt.
    "Good. You go on home with Pa. Did you have a nice time today, Fanny?"
    "No. I waited for you and you didn't come."
    "Well, I had things to do."
    "What things?"
    "I had to talk to Johnse. About important things." She knelt down in front of me then, and I saw something in her face and her eyes I'd never seen before. Some happiness, like she knew a secret.
    "You're not coming?"
    "No, Fanny baby."
    I didn't like the way she said Fanny baby. Something was not right here. She was pleading for my understanding. How could I give it to her when I didn't understand? "Where you going, Ro?" But I think I already knew.
    "Home with Johnse. He's asked to me to marry him."
    Ma has a saying: "God doesn't give us a burden heavier than we can handle."
Well maybe not,
I thought, standing there,
but our families sure do.
"Marry?"
    She gave a little laugh. "Sure. Don't you think it's time I got married, Fanny? Mr. Hatfield will give us some land and we'll have a cabin built. And you can come see us, just like you visit Tolbert and Mary."
    "You been drinking corn liquor, Ro? You can't marry him," I whispered. "Pa will kill you. And him."
    She laughed. "I'm not afraid of Pa."
    How could she not be? When Pa got riled up it was terrible, worse than what the preacher told us God was like when he threw Adam and Eve out of Paradise. But that was why I looked up to her so, because she lived outside the circle of Pa's anger and Ma's religion. A place I wanted to live. It was why Alifair hated her. Still there was something plumb daft about it. Like she'd been bewitched. She'd seen Yeller Thing maybe and he'd turned her head. But then I looked up at Johnse and I thought no. She'd only seen Johnse Hatfield. But it was enough.
    "I'm twenty-one, Fanny," she said. "I'm of age."
    I felt a catch in my throat, a heaviness in my chest. And there came a rustling of wind then, like before rain. I looked up. The dark was coming because Ro was going. The light I'd known was pouring out of me, like my life's blood, and leaving me dark. "If you marry him you'll be a Hatfield," I said. It was all I could think of to say.
    "That's all foolishness now, and you know it. All this fussing between our two families. Johnse and I have been studying on it all afternoon here. We figure if we marry it'll end all the hate between our two families. Ain't that right, Johnse?"
    "Sure will," he said. "We both mean too much to our kin for them to disown us."
    "So you go on back to Pa." She stood up, still smiling. "Go on. Once we're wed there ain't a thing he kin do about