me a cup aâ water that you donât need any different than the church folks giving you some old stuff they donât need.â
I didnât realize Buddy was talkinâ âbout scripture or I wouldâve acted nicer. âI ainât taking no handout even if I do think itâs a nice thing them peopleâs doinâ.â
Buddy sat down on the couch and said, âInstead of being so self-righteous and acting like you donât need nobody, why donât you write a thank-you note and call it a day?â He pointed over at them bags. âIâm sure as hell not carrying all that stuff back over there, and I doubt you can do it in your condition.â
I looked down at my belly, remembering that we wasnât just flirting here. I was knocked up, poor, and all alone.
âFine,â I said. âMotherhoodâs making me soft,â I muttered.
Buddy laughed.
I was giving up pretty easy mostly âcause any fool could see I worried about how I was gonna get all that baby stuff all day long.
âYou know you can come to church any time you want to,â he said. âItâs a nice group aâ folks, and weâd sure be happy to have you.â
I nodded. But it was one of them times that life had got me down so hard I werenât sure God even remembered my name. âSo that why you came over here?â I asked. âYou trying to get somebody new in your church?â
I was baiting, but that Buddy, he werenât biting, not one bit.
âIf you ever want to come,â he said, âjust let Graham or Khaki know.â He tipped his hat before turning around. âTheyâll get word to me.â
I couldnât keep from watching his tight backside in a pair of worn Leviâs stroll out my door. Much as I thought Jesus had forgotten about me, sometimes a slow smile from a real cowboy is all it takes to make a girl a believer.
Khaki
A YELLOW JACKET ON A CAN OF CHEERWINE
One thing I always steer my clients away from is any preconceived notion about design. Maybe they think they hate pattern, but pattern is what a room needs to enliven it. Perhaps they think wood floors feel cold, but they would make the room feel grounded and sophisticated. They think black is morbid, but just a touch would make the other colors in the palette come alive as if illuminated by a spotlight.
Thatâs not to say, of course, that I donât believe in preconceived notions about other things. If youâve never been to North Carolina, for instance, youâve never had proper barbecue. Thereâs a big debate in our state about whose barbecue is better, the western part or the eastern. But itâs not much of a competition. Anyone can slop a thick, syrupy sauce over meat. When you can make a pork butt fall off the bone and melt in your mouth with proper seasoning, perfect cooking, and a little vinegar, then you know youâve got talent.
I was telling Daniel all about that controversy that was as biga part of Southern politics as the War of Northern Aggression as we sat across from each other at a red-and-white checked tablecloth in the middle of the lunch rush at Kingâs Barbecue. He put down his slaw- and barbecue-filled bun and asked, âWhatâs the matter, Fran?â
I stopped my hush puppy, almost tasting the crispy, golden fried batter, right before it got to my mouth and said, âWhat do you mean? Iâm great.â
I was lying, of course. Iâd hardly been able to raise my paddle that morning at the furniture auction weâd gone to in nearby Wilson; my head was so full of the information Iâd stayed up all night reading. As it turns out, surgery for this condition I had was somewhat controversial, some saying it actually made it spread faster. I had read heartbreaking tales of women who had gone through surgery after surgery and in vitro after in vitro only to never have a baby of their own. On the other hand,
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