The Kestrel Waters: A Tale of Love and Devil (Thornhorn Southern Gothic) by Randy Thornhorn

Author:Randy Thornhorn [Thornhorn, Randy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-07-18T07:00:00+00:00

VERSE 18: Sisters in Morning

Kes looked out his window the next morning and saw something he had never seen and never expected to see. Bettilia was laughing.

Bettilia ran around and around the great sunlit oak, splashing puddles beneath the treehouse, the big white puppy goofy and galloping after her. The pup yapped, Bettilia giggled, Bettilia laughed. Bettilia ran down toward the seashore, laughing, toward the next hint of storm out there—approaching over the water—laughing, Bettilia ran back toward the house, laughing. Her bare feet splattered as she zigged and zagged, threading uphill through the live oaks, the clumsy pup barking and chasing after Bettilia's lovely laughter.

The lights were on in the empty kitchen when Kes came downstairs. The welcome, bitter-bright coffee smell met him there. Kes hobbled to the stove and poured. A kitchen chair was missing. Kes found Daddy Brass out on the side porch with a steamy mug, balanced on the chair's hind legs. Daddy was enjoying the girl and dog show, watching them laugh and play.

“She's a frisky little bit, ain't she? Almost cute too,” Daddy said.

“Which one?” Kes asked, leaning his back against the house. He was tired of standing up and tired of never being able to sit comfortable. “When did the lights come back on?”

“Hey, there little Tilly,” Daddy shouted out. “You gonna freeze your toebones off, running around out like that.”

Bettilia came running up to the porch, one of her tiny toebones already off and missing, but Kes didn't care a whit. The pup came with her, big clumping paws kicking up rainwater.

“I'm used to the cold,” Bettilia said, catching her breath, eyes happily darting betwixt Kes and Daddy Brass. “But I ain't no Tilly. Ain't never been and don't wanna be.”

“I git you,” Daddy said, grinning.

“Malakoff is a strange name,” she said, shading her eyes with her hand. “Ain't never heard of no Malakoff.”

“Go tell that to Mrs. Brass upstairs,” Daddy said. “She'll like the gist of that sentiment.”

“What's it like in all that sea water down there?” she asked, eyes sparking at Kes.

“Deep and wet, I suppose. Why? You wanting to go in it?”

“Naw. I still cain't swim,” she said. She wasn't sure why that still made Kes look so pleased.

The big white puppy bounded onto the porch, dipping her big white head, pouncing on Daddy Brass's feet.

“Sister—” Bettilia scolded, “—get down from there.”

The pup leapt back off the porch, landing beside Bettilia.

“What's that you call her?” Kes asked.

“Aw,” Bettilia hesitated. “You can name her whatever you want. She's yourn after all. I just been calling her Sister. I always wanted me one.”

“Sister,” Daddy mused over his shoulder at Kes who looked pleased and pitiful with that plaster cast and gray china cup.

Their eyes met, Kes smiled.

“I like it,” Kes said to Daddy. “Ain't never had me no sister.”

“Me neither,” Daddy Brass allowed, turning his beaming mug back at Bettilia. “My mama raised up seven boys and nary a girl in the litter.”

“I never knew that,” Kes said.

“Son, that's just one of multiple things you don't know.

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