"Hamilton, Virginia - Cousins" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hamilton Virginia)

knew she was mostly bedridden. She had no house now.

"Did you hear what I said, Gram?"

This time, Tut did get the words out before the strength left her completely. She hoarded her energy every morning after breakfast, knowing that Cammy would
come see her later. And the child, talking a blue streak.

Tut's dry lips parted, "Tell that old fool he'll never make another pig sty . . . nor wallow in the mud-manure, either," Tut said. Her voice was just

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above a whisper, getting stronger, now that she had someone to talk to.

"I hate hogs," Cammy told her.

"But you love the sound of spareribs knocking . . . their taste in your mouth," Tut murmured.

"And with sourdough bread, good and hot, with the butter dripping out of it! Ooooh!" moaned Cammy.

"Mom has made her last meal on this earth," Cammy's mama, Maylene, had said one day about Gram Tut.

They all missed Gram Tut's cooking. When it first happened that she no longer could cook, before the Care, she would sit in the kitchen. Maylene would do
the cooking with Tut at her elbow. "Put a little ketsup in with the chicken and flour. You don't need to fry it, Maylene. Do as I say," Tut would tell
her. "Just stick it in the oven with a little vinegar and honey. You never do listen to what I tell you."

Her mama had to do it her way. Said the idea of ketsup and vinegar made her want to upchuck. She fried everything. The chicken she made, though, was all
right. But greasy.

Not as good as my Gram doing it, herself, in the oven, Cammy thought now. Not never that good, yummy-yum.

"I always stir a little love and kisses into my food," Gram said.

Oh, Gram! "Maybe you can make us something

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good-tasting for Christmas," sighed Cammy. And then: "You asleep?" Tut went in and out of sleep easily. Her mouth lay slack, drawn to one side of her face.

"That's no kind a Christmas dinner-chicken," Tut said, suddenly wide awake. She had been thinking about her summer curtains. Better had get them up, and
the screens in, too. Get up just after dawn, before I start in baking pies. What month is it? Where am I? she thought. Oh.

It surprised Cammy when Gram's voice became so young and fresh.

"You want turkey and duck ... for Christmas, like in the old times," Tut said. She remembered her Grandfather Sam shooting fox. Pretty little things.

"Truly, Gram? Will you come home when its Christmas and make it for us?" Cammy asked, all eagerness, forgetting that Gram was old and might not live that
long.

"Child . . . you wear me out... in five minutes. I swept the grass ... no ... I swept the porch. I mean . . . the whole house. What more . . . where is
Thy light!" Gram's voice quavered on the last words.