Читать книгу Scarlet Sister Mary - Julia Peterkin - Страница 6

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As the wedding-time drew near, the house and yard were jammed with people. July came, all clean shaved, with a fresh hair-cut, dressed up in the fine new clothes June’s money bought him. Mary’s heart began beating faster, but July was calm as could be, laughing and talking with the people, answering their banter, joking with the bridesmaids and groomsmen, even joking with old Brer Dee whose shaggy white eyebrows stuck out farther than ever.

July’s full black eyes were shining under brows that ran in a straight line from temple to temple. His fine new suit looked very grand, though not quite long enough for his arms and legs. Nobody ever looked better than July looked now. No man on earth ever had a handsomer body or one so supple and straight and strong. Mary’s second cousin, Cinder, had tried hard to get him, but she was not the bride, thank God. She might as well go along and sweet-talk June and leave the groom alone.

Reverend Duncan held up the holy black Book to let the people know that the time had come. They must all go outside in the front yard and give the bridal procession a chance to form.

As they hurried out, choking the door, pushing one another, laughing and shouting happily, Maum Hannah put her arms around Mary and gave her a tight hug. “Gawd bless you, Si May-e,” she whispered, and Mary felt a wet old cheek pressed against her own until July stepped up and took her from Maum Hannah, and began hugging her himself. “Lord, gal, you pure look good enough to eat.” He put a kiss right on her mouth, then drew her arm through his. “Come on, honey. De preacher’s ready to make you my lawful lady.”

“You gwine mash Si May-e’s dress, July,” Maum Hannah cried out, and July laughed gaily, but for all his big-doings talk, Mary felt his heart thumping fast under her arm.

Reverend Duncan, a great, fat old man, marched out first with Brer Dee, the oldest deacon of the church, then turned to face them under the big oak tree. The “waiters” marched out next, a couple at a time, ten couples in all. They walked round and round so everybody could see them well, then formed a gay half-circle. The girls wore beautiful bright-colored dresses and had ribbons and flowers in their hair. Twelve little flower girls dressed in white followed the waiters. They walked slowly two by two, holding hands and making funny little mincing steps, for most of them were wearing shoes and stockings for the first time in their lives. Their white teeth gleamed with happy grins as they darted quick looks all around them.

Mary could find only eleven little girls the same size, so Andrew let his little Big Boy take a flower girl’s part in the wedding. Big Boy wore a little, full-skirted, white frock too, and a bow of white ribbon was tied to his short kinky hair.

When the waiters and flower girls finished marching around, Mary and July came arm in arm together down the rickety steps out into the sun-bright air, past the red rose-bush, down the violet-bordered path, with Maum Hannah following close behind them. On they went by short slow paces through a narrow aisle made by the crowd. A soft wind stirred and the old hackberry tree scattered bright yellow leaves over them, and Mary’s full skirts billowed around her. Her shiny new shoes squeaked proudly with every step, while grunts and exclamations of approval sounded on every side.

“Lawd, de bride do look sweet, fo-true!” somebody shouted happily.

“Like a fresh blossom.”

“E weddin-dress fits em same like a green shuck fits a young ear o corn.”

“Si May-e must a been melted an’ poured in em.” The laughter that followed each comment was hushed by the preacher’s deep-booming words beginning the solemn marriage service.

Mary’s voice was low and husky when she answered, “I will,” but July spoke clear and loud and ahead of time. Everybody laughed when Reverend Duncan gave Mary a sudden smacking kiss. The ceremony was over and July was her lawful wedded husband, until Death came to part them.

All the people surged forward to kiss the bride and the groom; to wish them joy, a gal and a boy; to hope they would live together like Isaac and Rebecca. The fine earrings bobbed about in Mary’s ears and the wreath of white flowers on her head had to be straightened now and then when so much kissing pushed it out of place.

When Brer Dee took his place beside a long table under the hackberry tree at the side of the house and began bawling in a high-keyed voice, “Come on up, brudders an’ sisters! Put you presents on de table, so you can get you cake an’ wine. Don’ stand back,” Maum Hannah smiled kindly and encouraged him.

“Hurry em up, son, tell em plenty o cake an’ wine is a-waitin for em right inside my house.”

The presents were brought up one by one, and each was held up and announced by Brer Dee until the table was brimming full, then everybody came forward and crowded around to look at the presents while the old tree scattered its bright yellow leaves among the plates and cups and saucers, the pots and pans, water glasses, forks and spoons; no knives, for knives are bad-luck things. Pieces of money were heaped up in the middle, and chickens tied firmly by the feet lay patiently under the table, dozing or blinking bright eyes at everything.

“Now, all o yunnuh git you cake an’ wine!” Brer Dee shouted the announcement so every one could hear, then drew a fine red handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the sweat from his head.

The soft warm wind hummed a low tune, then blew a thin cloud over the sun, darkening the faces of the people but it passed quickly aside, making the day seem brighter than ever.

Before sundown, Mary was weary. She had kissed everybody there and answered every greeting with some pleasant word. Her feet, unaccustomed to shoes, had begun to ache, but the crowd was thinning out. Most of the people were going down the street to “Foolishness,” a leaning old house where the sinners had their dances. The big drum was beating and calling everybody to come on to a dance and hot supper which Cinder was having there.

July loved to dance and pleasure himself, and even on his wedding-day he hated to miss any fun. Mary felt she ought to go with him. This was no time to be thinking of hurting feet or weariness. She was a church-member and she could not dance, but she could eat rice and hash and drink some of the sweetened water.

“Good-by, Auntie; good-by, Budda Ben.” Mary kissed and hugged them both, but Maum Hannah shook a warning finger. “Mind, honey, don’ forget an’ shake you foot to-night. Foolishness ain’ no place for a child o God. I’m sorry to see you gwine in de company of all dem sinners. Yunnuh ought to go straight on home.”

July’s face fell for a second, then he quickly smiled again and answered blithely, “We ain’ gwine to stay wid de sinners long, Auntie. I’s gwine to take my wife home early dis night.”