Denton struck Charley as the kind of man who never wasted energy on extra movement or idle chitchat. He was foursquare Sonny Boy Williamson and Sister Rosetta Tharpe, a Silvertone guitar, older than old school.
The priest motioned for the congrecation to sit, then welcomed everyone in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. He wasn't so much thin as soft, with wisps of dull brown hair and oversize glasses that made him look gooberish. As he shook holy ...
Girl, you're free, can't you see that? You've got your child, you've got your family down here who love you, you've got your farm. You don't have to ask for anything. You know how few women in this world get to say that, black or white?
It was like her father said: never make people glad twice-glad to see you come, and glad to see you go
Charley thought of her father. He'd always told her she should never make assumptions about other people's time or their money, and that's the way she tried to live.
