Free Cutler 05 - Darkest Hour by authors_sort Page B

Mockingbirds and jays flitted from magnolia tree branches playfully and excitedly, sensing the parade of guests that would soon begin to arrive. Every available laboring hand was busy per-forming last-minute cleaning, moving furniture, and preparing the great feast. The festive air absorbed each and every one of us.
    Even the great house, sometimes dark and gloomy because of its vast rooms and high ceilings, was invaded and changed by the sparkling sunshine. Mamma insisted all the curtains be drawn apart and tied, the windows thrown open, and of course, the house itself made positively spotless the day before since it would fall under the inspection of every pair of eyes belonging to every member of every respectable and important family within reach of Mamma and Papa's beautifully engraved invitations.
    The cream-colored walls glowed; the mahogany and hickory furniture gleamed. The washed and polished floors glistened like glass, and the rugs were scrubbed until they looked fresh and new. A warm breeze flowed unchecked throughout the house, bringing with it the fragrance of gardenias, jasmine and early roses.
    I loved our festive barbecues because there wasn't a corner in or out of the house that didn't have conversation and laughter going on within it. The plantation had an opportunity to show itself off, to be what it could be. It was like a sleeping giant that came out of hibernation. Papa never looked as handsome and proud of his heritage.
    Cooking preparations had all begun the night before when the barbecue pits had been lit. Now they all had beds of red embers with the meats spinning on pits and the juices dropping and hissing on the hot coals. Outside, the aromas of burning hickory logs and roasting pork and mutton filled everyone's nostrils. All of Papa's hound dogs and all the barn cats hovered around the perimeters of activity, longing for the moment when they would be tossed the leftovers and scraps.
    Behind the barn, not far from Cotton's grave, there was a separate barbecue pit where the house servants and farm laborers would gather with the footmen and drivers of the guests to partake of their own feast of hoecakes, yams and chitterlings. They usually made their own music, too, and sometimes appeared to be having a better time than the well-dressed, well-to-do people who came up the drive in their fanciest carriages pulled by their best horses.
    From the first light of day until the first guests began arriving, Mamma flew about the house and grounds dictating her commands and inspecting. She insisted that the long trestle picnic tables be covered with fresh linen and that softer chairs be taken from the house and placed about for those guests who didn't fancy hard benches.
    When our guests began to arrive, they followed upon each other so quickly that in moments, the long driveway was lined with saddle horses and carriages of people calling greetings to each other. The children were out first, gathering on the front lawn to arrange for games of tag or hide and seek. Their squeals and laughter sent the barn swallows darting swiftly across the grounds in search of quieter sanctuary. Emily's job was to oversee the children and be sure none of them did anything improper or mischievous. Loudly and firmly, she announced what places on the plantation were off limits and then she proceeded to patrol the grounds like a policeman looking for violators.
    As soon as the women stepped out of their carriages, they formed two distinct groups. The older women went into the house for as much protection from the sun and insects as possible while they exchanged pleasantries and gossip. The younger women gravitated toward the gazebo and benches where some were courted by young men and where others waited hopefully to be discovered in their pretty new dresses.
    The older men were gathered in small clumps about the grounds discussing politics or business. Just before the food was served, Papa took a few men who had not been to The