Free Follow Me by Joanna Scott Page B

like to tell.
    And she was nineteen-year-old Sally Werner from Tauntonville. She’d made mistakes, sure. She didn’t pretend to be completely
     innocent. But she wasn’t a thief.
    “No,” she said aloud, to no one. “I am not a thief.”
    May 20, 1950, the day of Georgie’s wedding to Harvey Fitzgerald, started out rainy, with thunder rumbling to the south. But
     by ten o’clock the rain had stopped, and a wind picked up, whipping the clouds away. By noon, the sky was a fresh blue, and
     the lawn behind the Cadmus Party House was almost dry.
    Sally woke early to the sound of a cardinal singing its
tawitt witt witt
in the rain. She wrapped herself in a robe, plugged in the percolator, and cooked a pot of oatmeal. After she put on the
     temporary outfit of a cotton skirt and a high-necked sleeveless shirt, she waited for time to pass. Uncle Mason came out of
     his room later than usual, at about eight thirty, looking so pale and worn that Sally asked him if he was feeling ill. He
     assured her that he was fine and gave his chest a few pats to show that his lungs were clear. But he ended up coughing anyway,
     bringing up mucus from the back of his throat. All he needed to set things right, he said, was a glass of fresh water.
    “Here you are, Uncle.”
    “Ah. Hhh-cha-mm — that’s b-b-better.”
    But still he looked weaker than usual, deflated, like a balloon that had lost air overnight.
    “You sure nothing’s wrong, Uncle? You’re happy for Georgie, aren’t you?”
    Sure, he was happy for her. Who wouldn’t be happy for her? But look at the time! They’d be late to the wedding if they didn’t
     hurry!
    The wedding wouldn’t start until noon. Forty of Georgie’s and Harvey’s relatives and friends had been invited. Georgie expected
     about eighty people to show up.
That’s just the way it is here,
she said, which Sally took to mean that everybody was welcome.
    Though Georgie had never officially married Steven Jackson, the Jacksons treated her as one of their own. They were the only
     family she had. They didn’t mind that she was going to marry another man. They were pleased she’d found someone to love. Harvey
     Fitzgerald wasn’t taking Steve’s place.
Those are shoes no one can fill
was the line Georgie used most often to assure the Jackson family that Steve wouldn’t be forgotten. But Harvey Fitzgerald
     was a dependable man, by all accounts, and he’d be a good father to her boy.
    Even if she wouldn’t admit it, not even to herself, Sally felt envious of Georgie. Yet she also felt tender toward her, like
     she would have felt if her little sister Tru were getting married. And she was looking forward to dancing at the wedding,
     spinning fast enough to turn her new yellow dress into a blur of gold.
    Really, though, the dress wasn’t exactly
new
. Gladdy Toffit’s daughter had worn it once, to her senior prom, and Gladdy had given the dress to Sally —
for keeps,
she said. It was a rich yellow color with sparkling sequins around the neckline and a creamy chiffon waistband.
    At nine o’clock she folded the dress carefully and put it in a shopping bag, along with the dress shoes she’d borrowed from
     Erna. Then she called good-bye to Uncle Mason and walked over to Erna’s Beauty Parlor. Georgie was already there when she
     arrived, her hair pinned in preparation for an updo. Sally volunteered to help with the Fitzgerald girls, fourteen-year-old
     twins who were having their hair curled.
    The rest of the morning passed quickly. Swill stopped by the parlor to pick up Georgie. He waited in his truck while Erna
     put on the finishing touches, winding glittery ribbons through Georgie’s hair. There was a moment of panic when Georgie stood
     up from the chair too suddenly, her high-heeled shoe slipped from under her, and she turned her ankle. At first it seemed
     as though she had a real sprain, but the ache passed quickly, Georgie declared herself miraculously mended, and she headed
     out the