She wakes up every morning before the sun's highest beam shines across the horizon, and starts off drinkin' that black coffee while she stands on the front porch. Looking across the land they've worked year after year, day by day, that lies across that fertile earth, she sends a concise prayer up to the Man upstairs. Sip by sip of whatever's on sale, she makes her mental list of all the work to be done, then goes inside to start breakfast.
Her husband woke up as she broke the eggs into the skillet, and after kissing her good morning, joined her with a cup of coffee and the Sunday paper. He was a tall man, and had dressed in his blue jeans and a button-down, with those old scuffed boots from a number of Pennsylvania winters ago. He looked up at her as she faced the stove and smiled. His old dog, Bo, hobbled over towards him and sat in friendly silence. The beagle looked out the window at a small doe crossing through the brush, but paid little mind to it. Toast popped up and out, and she called to the family, "Breakfast's ready."
The eldest boy, George walked out in attire similar to his old man's, and said "Mornin' ma" as he rubbed his eyes and sat at his place. He's followed by two more boys, Ben and Earl, who conduct themselves in nearly the same way. Before their sister can get out of bed, George wipes his face with his handkerchief and gets up from the table.
"That fence needs a fixin', Georgie," his mother says. He nods and gives her a smile to let her know it'll get done. Katie finally heads out to the kitchen and smiles respectfully, then sits down for breakfast. Her mother reminds to help with the dishes once she's finished, and she acknowledges her and decides to take her time.
"We'll walk over today," the father says as the girls finish up the dishes. Ben and Earl leave the table and head outside.
"Yins better not get them clothes dirty, remember it's your Sunday?s best," their mother calls after them, already knowing they won't bother to care.
"We're just pickin' peaches, ma," they say.
Katie meanders back to her room to get ready for church, and particularly makes sure to look her best.
"She's gettin' all dolled up for some boy who'll be at church," her mother laughs, at which her husband turns up from the paper with a look of disappointment and fright. "At least he goes to church, honey."
The clock reaches a quarter 'til 11 and Katie walks out the front door with her mother and father. The boys are waiting down at the end of the dirt path leading to the house, and Ben calls out to Katie, "I guess Johnny's goin' today, huh?" Her father looks at her and shakes his head, paying no mind to the fact that 'at least he goes to church'.
They walk down the old back road towards the little white church on the hill, and shake the preacher's hand on the way in. The man of the house asks about the new transmission he spent a good day putting in the preacher's old Chevrolet, and makes a moment or two of smalltalk. They head on in, and pick a pew on the right side. Hank looks at Katie and nods up towards the other side of the church to point out that Johnny just walked in; their dad sees and takes a look for himself, but years of straining his eyes working under the dimly-lit hoods of neighbors' trucks killed his vision.
The organ player begins the first hymn and the choir starts to sing. They carry on, and the entire church, packed with the smalltown folk, prays and rejoices in the Sunday morning light. The hour passes quickly, and the crowd walks out cheerful and talkative.
Johnny crosses the aisle and says, "Hey, Katie." She looks back and smiles, hoping he'd say hello.
"Oh, hi, John." she says coolly. As soon as he caught wind of this conversation, Katie's father turns back and nods at the young man. Johnny holds out his hand, and the man receives his handshake firmly and skeptically. "I was just going to ask if Katie could do something this Friday night, maybe go see the football game," he says.
Her dad strokes his chin, and says he'll have to see about that. "Why don't you come over now and we'll do some barbecuin', son?"
"Thanks sir, I'd love to, but my parents always tell me Sunday's for family. But I'll see you around, nice to meet ya, Mr. Charleston. Bye, Katie, I'll see ya," he says as he turns to leave.
The man stands to stare at the boy for a split second as he leaves, and Katie stares up at her father. He looks back and says he seems like an alright kid. As the rest of the family walks ahead, he puts his arm around his daughter and says, "You know, it's a shame you're so pretty. I knew this would be hard on me," and smiles. Katie laughs and shakes her head. "Hey now, don't shake your head. You know how pretty you are, I hope."
"No, no, I'm well aware, daddy," she laughs, "but I just think it's kinda funny how insecure you are."
"And why shouldn't I be? My pretty teenage daughter's probably the target of every sick, ill-mannered kid in this town."
"Do you think George even lets any boys talk to me, Dad?" They both laugh, and her dad thanks God for George, and reminds himself to pat that boy on the back so he keeps up the good work.
They all settle down back at home, and the boys have some friends over to start a little backyard football team while Katie sits and watches while she reads some old Mark Twain story. She laughs at all the foolish passes and awkward tackles those kids make, and George clears things up if one of 'em tries and acts funny for her.
Their mother watches from the kitchen window, and says to her husband, "All them kids like your daughter, Jed." He lets out a big sigh and stands from the old wooden rocking chair.
"That's what happens, she's just like her mother," he says as he kisses his wife on the cheek. "I can only imagine what your dad thought of me."
She laughs and says, "Not much." He laughs along and remembers that man and the old 45 that always seemed to need polished when he came around. Her father wasn't too impressed by the beat-up red pickup truck with rust around the tires, but somehow managed to let his daughter out with him, in spite of his dirty nails and grease-stained Levi's.
George catches one final touchdown pass, marked by the end of the forsythia bushes and someone's old ball cap, and says "Well boys, I have a fence to fix up," then tosses the football back. "And I swear if one of you tries anything with my sister," he says with a grin as he runs down towards the shed. Katie watches him walk away, and smiles. There's no doubt about it that he gets in the way, but man does he care about his baby sister. She looks down and continues reading, and the boys pass the football back and forth without much organization.
The sunset comes fast and the fence gets replacement staffs and a new white coat of paint, and the smell of freshly-cut grass emanates throughout the air as the town starts to call it a night.
