He’d shot several squirrels, a couple of possum and gave them out. After one long, hot day, he caught a mess of bream from out of one of the many ponds surrounding the camp. He couldn’t eat them all, so he went by Sweet Thang’s shack. The structure, from the tar-papered roof with sections that flapped about as soon as the wind came, to the wooded slats for the walls, all of it looked as if it was about to fall in. There were large cracks between the wood stuffed with paper and whatnot, and Del was certain it would be near about as cold inside as outside come winter. Sweet Thang sat on a stump under a pine, smoking a cigarette.
He called out to him. “Hey, Horace, got a mess a fish here. Y’all want’em?”
Horace stood up and said, “Lorna was just saying I ought to go catch us some fish.”
Lorna came out, wiping her hands on a towel.
“Hey, Mr. Del.”
Del held up the fish.
“I brung y’all some bream, here, fresh caught just now.”
She came down the steps and said, “Sho do ’preciate this now. Won’t you stay to eat? I got some dooby too.”
Del smiled and said, “Why, I ain’t had me none a that since I was a young’un. I believe I will.”
Del sat on another stump beside Horace and they started cleaning the fish. Nolan passed by, and without a word, he rolled a stump over from the woodpile, sat down, and joined them. All three men worked quietly, while Lorna tossed chunks of lard into a black kettle pot and built a fire underneath it. When they were done, she dredged the pieces in cornmeal and began frying them, all while dropping in cornmeal batter. While Del, Nolan, and Horace waited, they talked about the weather and the work under the pines. Lorna started serving fish, two at a time on tin plates, and the talking stopped as they went to eating as fast as she brought them. She’d also set out the dooby, which was meat, onions and cornbread, and some sweet pickles on the small wooden crate near them. For each bite of fish, Del took a bite of pickle and corn bread, and then a forkful of dooby.
After a while, Del put his plate down and said, “I think that’s some of the best eating I’ve done since I come here.”
Horace said, “Lorna knows how to cook now.”
Nolan said, “Sure was good.”
Lorna said to Del, “We ’preciate you thinking a us.”
Nolan reared his head back. “You caught them fish?”
Del said, “Yep.”
Nolan didn’t say anything more, and the conversation moved on to each telling a story about fishing. Lorna had the best one.
“My daddy, he caught a catfish big as me when I won’t but five years old. Our whole entire family, and that’s saying something ’cause momma had ten other kids, ate off that one fish that day.”
After they’d shared a few more stories, Del put his hat on and stood to leave.
He said, “I’d like to stay longer, but I need to get some sleep. Thankee kindly for supper.”
He left them still chatting, and as he walked home, his thoughts turned to Rae Cobb, who was never far from his mind anyway. He thought about her more than was warranted, and in a way, it made him feel odd because he was still trying to get past who he’d thought she was initially. He thought maybe he ought to go see her. Maybe it would help in getting her set right in his head. Around midweek during dinner break, he rode Ruby over to the Riddles’。 Cornelia was outside hanging laundry, and when she saw him, she stopped working and came over to speak to him.
She said, “She’s been doing purty good.”
He said, “That’s good to hear.”
Cornelia didn’t need to say more because Rae Cobb appeared from around back of the house where the Riddles had their kitchen garden. It was easy to see she was getting past what had happened to her, and was feeling better. He noticed a couple little things right off. Her hair, washed now, held a high shine, and from where it fell midway on her ears, the style reminded him of them flapper gals he’d seen in girlie magazine pictures. She glanced at him, and he was struck by the green of her eyes, while noticing her mouth had healed too. It was still pink. Pink as the petals of the wild rose bush his mama had grown outside one of the front windows at the house back in Bladen County. He rubbed at his face, wondering why he’d think in such terms about her mouth.
She carried a basket of beans she’d picked, and dipped her head at him as she walked over to the porch, saying, “Hidy,” easy as you please.
He tipped his hat, his mouth spreading in a ridiculous-size grin. She began sorting through the beans while humming a little tune and after a few seconds, he found himself still grinning, and when he realized it, he forced himself to stop and cleared his throat to speak.