He brings a bottle of muscadine wine.
She prepares fried chicken and black eyed peas with extra pepper and onion 'cause he seems to like spice.
He picked up one of Modena's chocolate fried pies.
Later they would share it on her grandmother's fine china.
When he called she said she had completed another chapter in her book.
He won the case and sold the house.
She put on her best dress, the one she got years ago from Woolies.
Standing at the mirror she flattened it at the waste. Put her hands on her hips and turned around.
Becky had said she needed to lose some weight but he didn't seem to mind.
The spring was already too warm so she placed her hair up in a white stoned barrette.
She planned to sit and wait for him on the north side porch.
It's where she and her Grandmother had sat and read books.
A smile crossed her face, she wondered what Grandmother would think of a man such as this.
Of such a date.
He knew he would see her sitting on the north side porch, could feel her watch him as he walked to the door.
This was her favorite shirt, a clean white button down unbuttoned only at the top.
The brimmed hat made it a special date.
One time he had tried to wear some fancy shoes but they hurt his feet.
She never seemed to mind his boots so he dusted 'em off, tried to polish them one more time.
Later they'd sit in the library and sip some rum.
She would read aloud from his favorite of the many books.
He'd say, Hand that here. Let's talk about you and me.
She would be sitting on the desk dangling her bare feet but still, she would blush.
He'd melt in her smile, forget what he just said.
It would be right there on that front porch.
Where he would bend on one knee, take her hand and look up.
He'd ask, Would you please?
She'd say, No way.
He'd laugh, Lady, how many times do I have to ask?
Dear man, I guess till I say yes.
Grateful for stories of the past.
Photographs taken in Carrollton, MS at the home of JZ George as a result of his family's hospitality.As well as that of the very wonderful Karen Ott Mayer.