Hemlock Hollow by Culley Holderfield

Author:Culley Holderfield
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Regal House Publishing
Published: 2022-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

13

July 1, 1888—Yesterday, Sarah officially became the wife of Robert Lee Johnston, of Charleston and Flat Rock. The wedding was a fine affair, held down in Flat Rock at

the Johnston family summer home named Raven’s Nest. I’ve never seen so many fancy people. The actual ceremony took place at a stone church with an honest-to-God priest wearing a collar. That was a first for me too. All the preachers I’ve seen just wore normal Sunday go-to-meeting clothes. This fella wore all black except for a patch of white at his throat…kind of like a Red-knobbed Coot. That’s a type of African bird, also known as Fulica cristata.

It was the happiest I’ve ever seen my sister. All the folk from Daisy that came were on one side of the church, and all the Charleston folk were on the other. We didn’t really cross over. The best part of the day for me was after the ceremony, up at the Johnston house, I got to dance with Marinda. This time I was not a stick-in-the-mud. Though I didn’t dance particularly well, nobody knew it on account of Marinda. She led me through the steps and kept time real nice.

When the Charleston folks started some sort of fancy dancing, we stopped and went out under the shade of an old white elm. Marinda surprised me by asking what I thought about having one of these myself.

“One of what?”

“A wedding. Like this.”

I’m sure I blushed to about the shade of the burgundy wine they were serving. “Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “It seems like a lot of fuss.”

As soon as I said it, I knew it would be the wrong thing to say. She was going to be upset, I thought, and I kind of cringed waiting for an onslaught of feminine distress. Instead, she said, “Good. ’Cause I wouldn’t want it. Just a preacher and family and some friends. We’ll smoke a pig or two, get the fellas to play, and have us a hoedown.”

“That sounds right nice,” I said. “So, should I consider that a proposal?”

“No, Carson Quinn, that ain’t no proposal, and we ain’t going to get married unless you propose proper, like Mr. Johnston done with your sister.”

I had no idea how Mr. Johnston had proposed to Sarah. All I knew was that they were getting married. Marinda must have seen on my face what I didn’t know.

“It was very romantic,” she said. “He took her on a picnic to the gazebo down by the riverside, and he made a big production and got down on his knee and said he’d love her till the day he died no matter what answer she give him and, of course, she had to say yes after that.”

“I ain’t got no gazebo, and besides, Sarah would have said yes no matter how he asked the question,” I explained. But Marinda wasn’t interested in explanations. She got huffy and went off to where her ma and Betsy Morgan and my ma were all chatting.

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