Harley said, “I’ll be good to Sherylynne, try to make her a decent living and be a good father.”
Sherylynne looked at him, her expression softening.
“You working then? You got a job?” Mrs. Riley asked him, eyes narrowed.
“Yes, ma’am. I work for Dallas Power & Light, but I’m thinking of going to work in the oilfields out around Midland. I can make a lot more money and Sherylynne wouldn’t have to work.”
Her mother narrowed her gaze further. “You’re not a job-hopper, are you?”
“I don’t think so. This is the only job I’ve had since leaving home.” He took a deep breath. “Mrs. Riley, if you’re willing, I’ll get a room, then pick you both up in the morning. We’ll go back to Orange, get that form signed, then Sherylynne and I’ll bring you back and head for home.”
Sherylynne’s gaze shifted between them, one to the other.
“Actually,” her mother said after a moment, “there’s a little motel just up the road a piece.”
“You agree then?” Harley said.
Sherylynne got up; she stood over her mother and kissed the top of her head.
Her mother tilted her face up. “I just pray I’m doing the right thing.”
“I don’t think he’ll want to stay in that little motel,” Sherylynne said.
They both looked at her. “Why not?” her mother said.
“Well…I don’t know…” She shrugged. “It looks so dumpy. There’s nicer places just across the river in Orange.”
“I’ll stay here,” Harley said. “I’m sure it’s cheaper.”
“Well, then, it’s settled,” her mother said, appearing to relax a little. “In the meantime, we can visit, get to know each other.” She looked at Harley, a grim hint of a smile. “You do seem like a nice young man.”
“Thank you.” A long silence settled over the room. Harley glanced about. “Well, here we are. You got anything you need done around here? We’ve got the afternoon. I’m pretty handy.”
“Handy?” her mother said, her gaze drifting in thought, “I do have a hinge coming loose on that back door.”
The screw holes were wallowed out. He packed them with steel wool and the screws held, good as new.
Sherylynne appeared to relax as Harley and Mrs. Riley became more comfortable with one another. They told stories of their growing up days, his in dry West Texas with farmers and ranchers, Mrs. Riley’s on a bayou near Alexandra, Louisiana. Her mother seemed to enjoy telling about growing up in a family of hunters, fishermen, and sawmill workers.
Harley offered to take them to dinner that night, but her mother insisted on frying the catfish.
“Mrs. Riley, that’s the best meal I ever had,” he said. Her mother smiled. Sherylynne glowed.
Afterward, Harley said goodnight to Mrs. Riley. Sherylynne walked him to the car. “You are coming back?” she said.
Harley gave her a look. “Why wouldn’t I?”
She laughed uneasily and kissed him goodnight. He got in the old Ford and left for the Cypress Motel over on the highway.
THE HOUSE WAS shrouded in a light fog when he returned the next morning, the sun a thin copper disk in the pale vapor above the treetops. Mrs. Riley let him in. She gave him coffee and offered to make oatmeal. He accepted coffee, but passed on breakfast. “We’ll grab a bite in Orange,” he said. Sherylynne appeared after a moment, looking radiant, though her eyes were red, as if she hadn’t slept.
It was damp out, a little chilly, the fog evaporating. Mrs. Riley was oddly cheerful, considering the mission, the fact that Sherylynne was pregnant.
They had breakfast at a coffee shop in Orange. Afterward, they found the county clerk’s office. They each presented their birth certificates, and Mrs. Riley signed the underage form.
“Can we get our marriage license now?” Harley asked.
“Yessir, but there’s a seventy-two hour waiting period before you can get married.”
“Is the license good anywhere? Can we get married in
Sherylynne looked at him, her expression softening.
“You working then? You got a job?” Mrs. Riley asked him, eyes narrowed.
“Yes, ma’am. I work for Dallas Power & Light, but I’m thinking of going to work in the oilfields out around Midland. I can make a lot more money and Sherylynne wouldn’t have to work.”
Her mother narrowed her gaze further. “You’re not a job-hopper, are you?”
“I don’t think so. This is the only job I’ve had since leaving home.” He took a deep breath. “Mrs. Riley, if you’re willing, I’ll get a room, then pick you both up in the morning. We’ll go back to Orange, get that form signed, then Sherylynne and I’ll bring you back and head for home.”
Sherylynne’s gaze shifted between them, one to the other.
“Actually,” her mother said after a moment, “there’s a little motel just up the road a piece.”
“You agree then?” Harley said.
Sherylynne got up; she stood over her mother and kissed the top of her head.
Her mother tilted her face up. “I just pray I’m doing the right thing.”
“I don’t think he’ll want to stay in that little motel,” Sherylynne said.
They both looked at her. “Why not?” her mother said.
“Well…I don’t know…” She shrugged. “It looks so dumpy. There’s nicer places just across the river in Orange.”
“I’ll stay here,” Harley said. “I’m sure it’s cheaper.”
“Well, then, it’s settled,” her mother said, appearing to relax a little. “In the meantime, we can visit, get to know each other.” She looked at Harley, a grim hint of a smile. “You do seem like a nice young man.”
“Thank you.” A long silence settled over the room. Harley glanced about. “Well, here we are. You got anything you need done around here? We’ve got the afternoon. I’m pretty handy.”
“Handy?” her mother said, her gaze drifting in thought, “I do have a hinge coming loose on that back door.”
The screw holes were wallowed out. He packed them with steel wool and the screws held, good as new.
Sherylynne appeared to relax as Harley and Mrs. Riley became more comfortable with one another. They told stories of their growing up days, his in dry West Texas with farmers and ranchers, Mrs. Riley’s on a bayou near Alexandra, Louisiana. Her mother seemed to enjoy telling about growing up in a family of hunters, fishermen, and sawmill workers.
Harley offered to take them to dinner that night, but her mother insisted on frying the catfish.
“Mrs. Riley, that’s the best meal I ever had,” he said. Her mother smiled. Sherylynne glowed.
Afterward, Harley said goodnight to Mrs. Riley. Sherylynne walked him to the car. “You are coming back?” she said.
Harley gave her a look. “Why wouldn’t I?”
She laughed uneasily and kissed him goodnight. He got in the old Ford and left for the Cypress Motel over on the highway.
THE HOUSE WAS shrouded in a light fog when he returned the next morning, the sun a thin copper disk in the pale vapor above the treetops. Mrs. Riley let him in. She gave him coffee and offered to make oatmeal. He accepted coffee, but passed on breakfast. “We’ll grab a bite in Orange,” he said. Sherylynne appeared after a moment, looking radiant, though her eyes were red, as if she hadn’t slept.
It was damp out, a little chilly, the fog evaporating. Mrs. Riley was oddly cheerful, considering the mission, the fact that Sherylynne was pregnant.
They had breakfast at a coffee shop in Orange. Afterward, they found the county clerk’s office. They each presented their birth certificates, and Mrs. Riley signed the underage form.
“Can we get our marriage license now?” Harley asked.
“Yessir, but there’s a seventy-two hour waiting period before you can get married.”
“Is the license good anywhere? Can we get married in
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