Kiss it, sis

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"I be dawged if I ever thought I'd see a son of mine cryin' – cryin' – at his own wedding!"

The big man with the Deep South accent was talking to no one in particular, and nobody in particular paid much attention to his complaint. The guests were too busy refilling their plates from the piled-high dishes on the trestle table in the shade of the huge live oak tree.

"Fill it again, Josh!" The big man held his half-empty glass toward an old black man who walked among the guests, lugging a gallon jug. "Bawlin' like a baby!"

The shriveled-up old lady seated in a lawn chair looked at the shapely blonde sitting next to her.

"He! He! He! Ty sure is taking on about Bobby Lee, ain't he?"

"He sure is, Aunt Minerva. Wonder why?" She brushed a long strand of yellow-gold hair back from her face and forked a bite of barbecued pork from her plate. What Sue Robin Forsythe was actually wondering was, what had gone wrong? Her big handsome twin brother had just got himself married to the prettiest girl in town, but instead of grinning all over like a tomcat on the prowl, he had wiped away tears twice during the ceremony. Like her father had said.

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