Yellow Mesquite by John J. Asher Page A

in,” Harley said.  
    “Can you carry it all?”
    When he returned, Mrs. Riley directed him to the kitchen where he set the two bags of burgers and fries on the Formica table. “I’ll get the Cokes. They’re warm, though.”
    “Cold burgers and warm Cokes,” Sherylynne said, smiling. He saw she was watching him, more relaxed now, the light of affection in his eyes.
    “Not to fret,” her mother said. “I’ll fire up the oven and get out the ice.”
    When they were well into their burgers, Sherylynne said, “So. You got my letter about the under-age form?”
    Mrs. Riley stopped eating. She glanced one to the other, then lowered her gaze. “Yes. I got it.”
    “You didn’t answer back.”
    Mrs. Riley laid her half-eaten hamburger back on her plate, a furtive glance at Harley. “Honey, you didn’t expect me to agree to you marrying somebody I never even seen?”
    “I respect that,” Harley said quickly. “I wouldn’t let my daughter marry some guy I never met, either.”
    Her mother studied him from her slightly lowered face. “You seem like a nice-enough young man, but I don’t know anything about you.”
    Harley set his own burger back on the plate. “Yes, ma’am. That’s one reason I was looking forward to meeting you. So we could get to know each other.”
    “We’re hoping to get everything done in the morning and get back to Dallas before night,” Sherylynne said.
    “Well, I couldn’t help you, even if I wanted to.”
    “What do you mean?” Sherylynne said.
    Her mother fingered the remains of her hamburger, turned it over on the napkin, turned it back. “Farrell said I wasn’t signing no such paper.”
    “What?” Sherylynne said, her voice rising.
    “You know how he is,” her mother replied.
    “Yes,” Sherylynne said. “I know how he is all right! A sorry son of a bitch is what he is!”  
    Her mother gasped. “Sherylynne!”  
    Harley was shocked, too. He stared as Sherylynne in open-mouthed surprise.
    “I don’t care!” she shouted. “He’s sorry as the day is long, and you know it!”
    Her mother drew herself up, chin trembling. “He’s a good Christian man, and he brings home regular paychecks! That’s better’n your own daddy did!”
    “My own daddy’s dead. You shouldn’t talk about him like that.”
    “Sherylynne, you don’t know nothing about it.”
    “I know that release form is between you’n me. Not him!”
    “Well…I’m sorry about that,” her mother said, withering a little, settling back into her chair.  
    “Mrs. Riley,” Harley said impulsively, “Sherylynne’s pregnant.”  
      Sherylynne’s stared, her mouth open, cheeks pale beneath her freckles.  
    Mrs. Riley seemed to shrink, withering before his eyes. “Oh, dear Jesus,” she whispered, so faint and raspy he barely heard.
    “I didn’t mean to upset you,” Harley said. “Just trying to make clear why we need that release form.”
    Mrs. Riley turned on Sherylynne, tiny, red-rimmed eyes glossing over. “I should’ve known! Pregnant !” She started to get up from the table, but her legs failed and she sat back down. “Dear Lord,” she whispered, leaning forward, face cupped in her hands, “what’re we a-comin’ to?”
    Sherylynne turned on Harley. “You didn’t have to be so, so blunt !”
    “Sorry,” he said. “But I don’t know how to soft pedal something like this. The fact is, here we are, off down here in Louisiana, and as far from being married as last year! Any suggestions?”
    He was mad, he realized, not at her, but at the situation they were in, at her mother’s stubbornness.
    “Would you’ve signed that paper if Farrell hadn’t objected?” Sherylynne asked.
    “If I’d a-known you was pregnant? Of course I would.”
    “Why?” Sherylynne said bitterly. “You afraid I might move back here to live with you? Not married and with a baby?”
    Her mother drew a sharp breath. “Sherylynne, honey, please. Don’t talk like that.”
    “Mrs. Riley,”