Free Dear Hank Williams by Kimberly Willis Holt Page A

was a good-looking boy.”
    â€œAs good-looking as Hank Williams?” I asked.
    â€œBetter!” she said.
    Now, Mr. Williams, remember this is Aunt Patty Cake, who was only married for about half a minute and probably never, ever had a kiss. And she has to wear glasses to see anything three inches in front of her face.
    Aunt Patty Cake studied the wall, smiling, as if she was looking out at the fais do-do in Ville Platte. “The house was so crowded with couples bumping into each other as they shimmied across the floor, he suggested we dance outside.”
    â€œWas he a good dancer?” I asked.
    â€œHe was French.”
    â€œGuess that explains it, then.”
    â€œAll the songs were upbeat, and we were twirling around the furniture so fast, I kept wishing for a slower tune to catch my breath.”
    I’ll bet breathing wasn’t the only reason Aunt Patty Cake wanted a slow tune. Slow songs meant you held each other close.
    She continued. “Then, finally, the fiddle player played a waltz. But it was a short dance. The clouds had rolled in and let loose of the rain. Even though the music stopped, he wouldn’t quit dancing. He held on to me, and we glided around the couches and chairs as the rain poured down on us. When the men rushed out to rescue the furniture, he still wouldn’t let go of me.” Aunt Patty Cake chuckled and shook her head.
    â€œGuess he was breathless too,” I said, but Aunt Patty Cake didn’t hear me.
    â€œI haven’t thought about that dance in years.”
    â€œWhat happened next?” I asked her.
    â€œThe rain ruined my blue satin dress. It was never the same.”
    â€œI meant what happened with you and the boy.”
    â€œI never heard hide nor hair of him again.”
    â€œWhy don’t you ask someone about him?”
    Aunt Patty Cake raised her left eyebrow. “Why don’t you go sweep the kitchen floor?”
    Frog is smart. He never is the least bit interested in the Christmas-tree-ornament stories. Curious people seem to have more chores. Once, I had to scrub this house from top to bottom when I asked Aunt Patty Cake about an old picture of her and a man. Later, Momma told me it was Aunt Patty Cake’s wedding picture. Back then, I didn’t know Aunt Patty Cake had been married.
    â€œOnly for about two months,” Momma had said. “Then they divorced. She keeps the picture to remind herself of her bad judgment in selecting men.” That’s something Momma, Uncle Jolly, and Aunt Patty Cake all seem to have in common—their pitiful partner picking. I sure hope Frog and me don’t suffer from the same affliction.
    Still, the ending of Aunt Patty Cake’s fais do-do story was the saddest I ever did hear. And it didn’t have to be. She could find out what happened to that boy. I don’t understand folks that could have a happy-ever-after ending but have no gumption to try. I can tell you’re not that way, Mr. Williams. You’re living an exciting life, and in no time at all the whole world will know the name Hank Williams.
    Hope you and the Mrs. have a Christmas tree filled with happy ornament stories.
    Holiday wishes from your #1 fan,
    Tate P.

    PS—Be on the lookout for a Christmas card with glittery stars all over the envelope. It’s from me.

 
    Christmas Night, 1948
    Dear Mr. Williams,
    Y OU’LL PROBABLY RECEIVE the Christmas card I sent yesterday the same day you receive this letter. That’s why I wrote Read this letter second! on the back of the envelope. I couldn’t wait to write you because of all the good news.
    First, we received a Christmas card from Momma. Inside she wrote, Wishing my family a Merry Christmas filled with love! And I’m sending an extra hug to Tate! Ask her to write me, please. Love and kisses, Jordie June. (She forgot to mention Frog, and I know that hurt him something awful. But Momma can be the forgetful type.) She