Billie Girl by Vickie Weaver

Author:Vickie Weaver
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Leapfrog Press
Published: 2010-08-30T00:00:00+00:00

“We tied the knot.” Was anyone more shocked than me? Had I gone deaf, dumb and blind? Wicker was standing in my kitchen, talking to me, but he was staring at his dusty boots. If he hadn’t done it, I wouldn’t have left. But one thing led to another, and that was what happened.

He’d married Maxie, the storekeeper’s cousin, and taken in her daughter—they called her Cotton Ball. If I were honest, I’d have to say it seemed good for Wicker, but I did not feel like being honest even though I’d been in favor of Wicker marrying. I hadn’t thought ahead, to being on the outside of a family.

“You won’t have to take care of me any more, Billie,” he said. “And you could live with us, if you want.”

I’d been blind-sided, but I knew from dealing with Maxie at the store that she would not appreciate me in Wicker’s house. She and her daughter were pretty little fillies, nothing like me. Since I had gained so much weight, I was more like a plow horse.

“You go on, now, Uncle Wicker,” I said, making to shoo him out the door. “You get on home to your new family. I’ve got plenty to do here.”

He left me that easy, without an argument. I wondered if he loved Maxie, or if it was enough for him to be wanted, and to not be alone. Sometimes I considered that, what it might feel like, if someone wanted me in the ways of men and women. My mothers, they had wanted me. So had Daddy, and Grandma. As for Eddie, he had not been unkind. That was a lot of people to want a person whose own true mother did not want her. Still, it was different than man/ woman wanting, which I could not seem to understand.

I kept myself occupied with the house and the farm and sitting near the piano evenings, until Thanksgiving came around. I was invited to Wicker’s, and I took a pumpkin pie and a pumpkin cake. I ate my fill, which was more than a man could eat, and pretended not to notice that Cotton Ball did not cotton to me. She was raised right, though, in the way of the South, and called me “Miss Billie,” not letting on anything that good manners could hide.

“Here’s a late wedding present,” I said, handing Wicker a folded paper. He was not the best at reading; he’d lost schooling to help his ma keep her place going. But he understood that I had signed over my half of the farm to him when Maxie helped him with the big words.

When she heard I was leaving, Cotton Ball smiled. “We’ll miss you, Miss Billie.”

Bless her heart, I almost believed her.

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