Free Dear Hank Williams by Kimberly Willis Holt Page B

wrote, PS — The Goree Girls are going to sing at the warden’s house for Christmas Eve, and we’ll get to eat all kinds of delicious food, but I know none of those dishes will beat Aunt Patty Cake’s Holiday Maple Sugarcoated Ham with Pineapple Rings.
    Momma hopes being a Goree Girl will help her get out of prison quicker. A lot of fans of former Goree Girls wrote letters to the judge, begging him to let them out early. Some of them did get released sooner. The judge called their singing an act of good behavior. Momma is the most popular Goree Girl, so I expect her fans will write a bunch of letters.
    Aunt Patty Cake thinks I should write one. But here’s what I think—if the judge knew that my pretty momma had two children she seemed to forget about when she drove the getaway car, I think the judge might make Momma serve more time. He’d think she must not be a very good momma if she put a man like Elroy Broussard before her children. Right now, everything looks like it could go Momma’s way—her singing for the Goree Girls, making all sorts of people so happy that they write letters on her behalf. No reason to unravel all the good things they are doing with a letter from me. It’s funny how Aunt Patty Cake wants me to write a letter for Momma but she acts like she’s ashamed of Momma being a Goree Girl. Imagine that. Her own niece is famous, and she won’t mention it to anyone.
    Back to what else happened tonight—Mrs. Applebud came over for dinner. It was nice to have her sitting at our table, since Momma and Uncle Jolly couldn’t be there. Mrs. Applebud brought a platter of deviled eggs with paprika sprinkled over their whipped yolks. The way those eggs melted on my tongue, I could have gobbled down a dozen of them.
    Of course Frog headed for the Vicks VapoRub at the first whiff of Mrs. Applebud’s deviled eggs. Thank goodness Aunt Patty Cake baked yams and biscuits, too.
    Mrs. Applebud had some news. Her son got married last week to a Japanese lady named Yuki. I asked, “Do they eat sushi and sashimi ?”
    â€œI’m not certain, dear,” Mrs. Applebud said. “Why don’t you find out? She has a ten-year-old daughter named Keiko. You could be her pen pal. That would help her learn English.”
    â€œI already have a pen pal,” I told her. “I’m writing Mr. Hank Williams.”
    Aunt Patty Cake probably thinks I didn’t hear her sigh, but I did. (If you could just write me one letter, she could see what good pals we are.) But I was afraid I might have sounded rude to Mrs. Applebud. So I quickly said, “I guess this means you’re a grandmother.”
    Mrs. Applebud’s smile lit up her face. “Yes, it does. It’s the best Christmas present ever. And it will be official as soon as Albert can adopt her.” Then she pulled a picture out of her purse. Albert was in his navy uniform next to Yuki, a lady with the creamiest skin I ever did see. Keiko, her daughter, was holding a Shirley Temple doll.
    I wonder what Wallace would think about Mrs. Applebud’s news. It’s probably a good idea they live over in Japan, because judging by the response to Mrs. Kipler’s offer for Japanese pen pals, I think they might feel unwelcome here.
    After dinner Aunt Patty Cake turned on the radio to KALB, and we listened to Christmas music. She’d started to cut the pecan pie when who do you reckon drove up? It was Uncle Jolly! All the way back, safe and sound, from Texas.
    Aunt Patty Cake sighed long and hard. I guess she was relieved that someone finally broke the Texas curse on our family.
    â€œHo, ho, ho!” he yelled from the screened porch.
    And then I heard a whimper. It sounded like it came from a dog. I sprung from my chair and beat Frog to the door.
    When I opened it, Uncle Jolly stood there holding a Louisiana Catahoula cur. Most folks around here call it a cur dog. She was full grown but as