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She looked at me oddly.
"Urn," she said. "Maybe."
She seemed afraid of the idea, but she let me do it, let me brush out her hair and trim it some. Then we took out her best dress and one of my nicer ones and got ourselves as dressed up as we could to greet Luke and his father when they returned from work. Pa came home first.
"What's this?" he said when he saw us on the front porch as dolled up as we could get. "It ain't Sunday, is it?"
"Now Toby Casteel, it don't have ta be Sunday fer me ta look decent, does it?" Ma snapped. He looked pinched and confused, turning to me to understand what he had said that got her to bite at him so quickly. "It wouldn't hurt ya ta clean up and put on some decent clothes fer dinner once in a while yerself. Yer still a handsome man."
"I am? Well now, I guess that's true," he said winking at me.
"Oh, it is, Pa," I said and his face lit up. He went behind the cabin and bathed in rainwater and then got into some of his best clothes, his "Sunday clothes." The three of us sat on the porch and waited for Luke's arrival.
Not long after, we heard his truck grinding its way over the rough mountain road. Every once in a while, he pressed down on his horn.
"Uh-oh," Ma said. She flashed a look of warning my way. My heart began to pound. What was it? What did it mean?
Luke came tearing into the front yard, his horn beeping. Then he hopped out of the truck without closing the door. He had a six-pack of beer clutched to his stomach, three of the bottles already emptied.
"It's celebratin' time," he cried and laughed.
"What in tarnation . ." Pa said.
"Confound him," Ma spit.
Luke stumbled around, smiling stupidly. Then his eyes focused clearly on the three of us, all dressed up.
"What the. ." He pointed at us as if there were someone standing beside him. "Look at them . . . what the . oh, yer all celebratin' too."
"Luke Casteel," I said standing up, my hands on my hips. "How dare you come home like this? First, you could have driven the truck off a cliff or something, and now you look so foolish, I could cry."
"Huh?"
"Tell him," Ma coached.
"Here we are getting started, making things work, and you come home drunk." I spun around, tears streaming down my face, and rushed into the cabin.
"Huh?" Luke repeated.
I flopped on our mattress and cried. Moments later, a much more sober Luke Casteel followed me in. He knelt beside me and stroked my hair.
"Oh, Angel," he said. "I was just celebratin' for us. I got the job and found out I could buy lumber at a discount when I'm ready to start our new home."
"I don't care, Luke. If you have something to celebrate, you should wait for us to celebrate it together. I told you I was concerned about your drinking and you promised to cut down. Now this happens."
"I know, I know. Oh, I'm so sorry," he said. "I'm going to take the remaining bottles of beer and heave 'em off the cliff," he vowed. "And if you don't forgive me, I'll heave myself off after 'em."
"Luke Casteel," I cried turning to him. "Don't you ever talk like that. Ever!" My eyes flared. I could see how surprised he was.
"Boy, are you beautiful when you get real angry," he said. "I ain't never seen you this angry, but I don't want you to be angry. I promise," he said raising his hand. "I won't do any more drinkin' and drivin'. Will you give me another chance?"
"Oh Luke Casteel, you know I will," I said, and we hugged and kissed.
"I got some lumber in the truck," he said. "And I'm goin' to start on your outhouse right now."
I followed him out and watched him start to unload. Ma flashed me a look of approval for sobering him up so quickly. Then she turned to Luke.
"What's that lumber fer?" she asked him.
