Read Online Fireflies in December by Jennifer Erin Valent - Free Book Online
Authors: Jennifer Erin Valent
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cry. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.”
It wasn’t long before I started to taste salty tears too, but mine were quiet. I tried to take another bite of pie, but it stuck in my throat. I put my plate down on the small wicker table and wiped my eyes as secretively as I could. I hated crying, but I figured it was for a good cause. I knew that if I’d lost my momma and daddy, I’d have cried buckets, and I knew it would do Gemma some good.
Gemma and I walked home that day in silence. She spent most of her time sniffling and wiping her nose on the back of her hand. I spent my time kicking a pebble along the path in front of me.
That night at suppertime, Gemma stayed in our room, tired out from all the crying, and went to bed early. Daddy had made another bed for my room, so Gemma had a nice bed to crawl into just a few feet away from mine. I left her there after asking her a few times if she was sure she wasn’t hungry.
Luke came to supper that night as he usually did, so I made sure to pretty myself up as best I could before I went downstairs. I’d taken to wearing a dress to supper on nights when Luke was coming, and I’d learned to do a much better braid.
“What went on with Gemma today?” Momma asked as she scooped peas onto her plate. “Is she sick?”
“Maybe she’s sick in a sort of way,” I said. I took as few peas as I could without looking like I hated them, which I did, and passed them on to Luke with a smile. “We stopped by Miss Cleta’s today, and Gemma had a good cry on her.”
“She had a good cry on Miss Cleta?” Daddy asked.
“Right on her apron.”
“About her momma and daddy?” Luke asked.
“Uh-huh.”
“Poor thing,” Momma said, her voice shaky with sadness. Momma could work up tears faster than anyone I’d ever seen.
“About time,” Daddy said. “Ain’t right not to grieve properly.” “Well, she grieved, all right,” I said. “I think she’s plumb tuckered out after it. That’s why she’s in bed.”
“Well, if she’s gonna pick a person to cry on,” Daddy said, “Miss Cleta’s a good one for it. That’s one kind soul.”
“I’m worried she’ll go hungry,” Momma said, looking up at the ceiling like she could see Gemma through the floor. “It ain’t good for a girl to go without a hot supper.”
“We had rhubarb pie at Miss Cleta’s,” I told her. “Gemma had two pieces and two glasses of lemonade. She’s had food, sure enough.”
“Rhubarb pie and lemonade don’t take the place of ham and collard greens.”
I didn’t argue with Momma. She was pretty determined about the importance of good eating, and I knew I wouldn’t convince her of anything. Instead I turned my attention to Luke. “Goin’ fishin’ on Saturday mornin’?”
“Plan to. Early as I can get my eyes open. Barter’s Lake is jumpin’ with bass, so I hear.”
“Usually is,” Daddy said.
“I got my boat ready to go out on the water. Patched it up last night, so I’m lookin’ forward to it.”
I pushed my peas around my plate and sighed. “I ain’t been fishin’ in a while. Daddy used to take me, but we ain’t gone in weeks.”
“We can go fishin’ if you want, Jessilyn. I just need to make me a new pole.” Daddy gave Luke a hearty smile. “Last pole I had sits at the bottom of the pond. I tossed it in the water when I lost my catfish, mad as a snake.”
“Don’t go bringin’ up your temper, Harley Lassiter,” Momma said, pointing her fork at him. “You’ve lost more poles in that creek because of it. There must be about twenty of them in there.”
“Just try bein’ this close,” Daddy told her, pinching two fingers almost shut, “without catchin’ the biggest catfish in the South. See how long you keep your temper.”
“And that’s another thing. Every time I hear about this catfish that you keep losin’, it gets bigger and bigger.”
“It was five feet long, sure as I’m born.”
“Five feet long! It started out two feet and grew
It wasn’t long before I started to taste salty tears too, but mine were quiet. I tried to take another bite of pie, but it stuck in my throat. I put my plate down on the small wicker table and wiped my eyes as secretively as I could. I hated crying, but I figured it was for a good cause. I knew that if I’d lost my momma and daddy, I’d have cried buckets, and I knew it would do Gemma some good.
Gemma and I walked home that day in silence. She spent most of her time sniffling and wiping her nose on the back of her hand. I spent my time kicking a pebble along the path in front of me.
That night at suppertime, Gemma stayed in our room, tired out from all the crying, and went to bed early. Daddy had made another bed for my room, so Gemma had a nice bed to crawl into just a few feet away from mine. I left her there after asking her a few times if she was sure she wasn’t hungry.
Luke came to supper that night as he usually did, so I made sure to pretty myself up as best I could before I went downstairs. I’d taken to wearing a dress to supper on nights when Luke was coming, and I’d learned to do a much better braid.
“What went on with Gemma today?” Momma asked as she scooped peas onto her plate. “Is she sick?”
“Maybe she’s sick in a sort of way,” I said. I took as few peas as I could without looking like I hated them, which I did, and passed them on to Luke with a smile. “We stopped by Miss Cleta’s today, and Gemma had a good cry on her.”
“She had a good cry on Miss Cleta?” Daddy asked.
“Right on her apron.”
“About her momma and daddy?” Luke asked.
“Uh-huh.”
“Poor thing,” Momma said, her voice shaky with sadness. Momma could work up tears faster than anyone I’d ever seen.
“About time,” Daddy said. “Ain’t right not to grieve properly.” “Well, she grieved, all right,” I said. “I think she’s plumb tuckered out after it. That’s why she’s in bed.”
“Well, if she’s gonna pick a person to cry on,” Daddy said, “Miss Cleta’s a good one for it. That’s one kind soul.”
“I’m worried she’ll go hungry,” Momma said, looking up at the ceiling like she could see Gemma through the floor. “It ain’t good for a girl to go without a hot supper.”
“We had rhubarb pie at Miss Cleta’s,” I told her. “Gemma had two pieces and two glasses of lemonade. She’s had food, sure enough.”
“Rhubarb pie and lemonade don’t take the place of ham and collard greens.”
I didn’t argue with Momma. She was pretty determined about the importance of good eating, and I knew I wouldn’t convince her of anything. Instead I turned my attention to Luke. “Goin’ fishin’ on Saturday mornin’?”
“Plan to. Early as I can get my eyes open. Barter’s Lake is jumpin’ with bass, so I hear.”
“Usually is,” Daddy said.
“I got my boat ready to go out on the water. Patched it up last night, so I’m lookin’ forward to it.”
I pushed my peas around my plate and sighed. “I ain’t been fishin’ in a while. Daddy used to take me, but we ain’t gone in weeks.”
“We can go fishin’ if you want, Jessilyn. I just need to make me a new pole.” Daddy gave Luke a hearty smile. “Last pole I had sits at the bottom of the pond. I tossed it in the water when I lost my catfish, mad as a snake.”
“Don’t go bringin’ up your temper, Harley Lassiter,” Momma said, pointing her fork at him. “You’ve lost more poles in that creek because of it. There must be about twenty of them in there.”
“Just try bein’ this close,” Daddy told her, pinching two fingers almost shut, “without catchin’ the biggest catfish in the South. See how long you keep your temper.”
“And that’s another thing. Every time I hear about this catfish that you keep losin’, it gets bigger and bigger.”
“It was five feet long, sure as I’m born.”
“Five feet long! It started out two feet and grew
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