L. Banks: My Big Fat Supernatural Wedding

"She called out the big guns, didn't she?" Odelia Finally whispered.

He nodded. "Yep. It's on, now. The Joneses are Forming an al­liance with the Robinsons against the HatFields and the McCoys. Grandma is talking strength in numbers, given that the HatFields and McCoys are splintered against each other."

Odelia closed her eyes and held on to the dinette table. "It was a really bad idea to call them, wasn't it?"

"Yep. My bad."

He and Odelia stared at each other For a moment and then burst out laughing.

Ester McCoy stood on her Front porch with her brothers-in-law, Rupert and Melville, watching Reverend Mitchell huff up the walkway. Her momma had put out an all-points Family bulletin, and Ester hadn't seen Pastor look so upset since her late husband had passed away. Somehow she knew her dead husband had to be doing cartwheels in his grave. Her boy was gonna marry a Hatfield? More important, her son hadn't even told her about it himself and her child was now in harm's way? Oh yeah, the die had been cast and the dragon's teeth sown. After it was all said and done, she was a Jones, and would side with real blood over married blood any day of the week.

She cut a withering glance toward her husband's kin. This had all gone too far—now the church was involved? But she pasted on her most mannerly smile as the elderly pastor tipped his hat and pro­ceeded up her porch steps.

"Afternoon, Pastor. What brings you out on this lovely afternoon?"

Reverend Mitchell set his jaw hard. "Ma'am," he said in a tight voice, and looked at her brothers-in-law. "You know I don't have no foolishness up in my church, right?"

Rupert and Melville returned innocent, astonished gazes at the pastor.

"Why, Rev," Rupert said with a sly smile, "we don't know what would make you draw such a conclusion, that—"

"I ain't drew no conclusion!" the reverend said, stomping his foot. "Don't tes' me, Rupert. I'm a man of the cloth, but I know these backwoods like the back of my own hand. Now you leave them children be so they can get married."

"We's all for holy matrimony, Pastor," Melville said sheepishly. "Ain't we, Ester?"

"The rat bastards is trying to root my boy!" Ester wailed, rushing over to Reverend Mitchell and burying her face against his shoulder. Her composure had fractured like a sudden storm. "They conjures is about to backfire, jus' like it took my husband, Jeb! I wanted my son to come home, but all in one piece and alive—which is the onliest reason I didn't come to you before. But if the boy is set on moving away and marrying, I want him to do well, and to give me some grands!"

"Now, see," Reverend Mitchell said, stroking Ester's back while he set his furious gaze on Rupert and Melville. "Y'all needs ta cut it out, 'fore somebody gits hurt. Both sides been going at it for years, all over money and land, but now we got innocent kids in the middle."

"You needs ta go tell the Hatfields to lay low. My brother died 'cause them Hatfields sent a lightning bolt at him, then claimed it was only supposed to be a warning shot over the bow," Melville protested. "Zeek Hatfield lied on my brother. Theys the ones who started it up again."

"And Zeek Hatfield's wife just so happened to die of fever that same night," the reverend argued, "when the way I recollect it, the woman had come out in the rain on a mission of peace!"

"That's right, she died, caught a cold, but we didn't have nuthin' to do with that, contrary to pop'lar opinions," Rupert said with a tight smile. "And ole lady Jones needs to stay out of family bizness and stop spreading mistruths."

"Now you calling my momma a liar?" Ester pulled away from the reverend's protective hug and squared her shoulders.

"Don't start with me, Ester," Rupert warned. "You don't want none-a this."

"You talking ill of my momma and put my boy in harm's way— whatchu think I got for your old ass, huh! If ya hadn't a went up to Zeek at the store and tried to rub his nose in it about his wife, which was a lie, then he wouldn't have tol' his sisters the rumor you-all had started to get his goat! Don't you Forget, I'm a Jones, and—"

"I ain't scairt of no Idell and Roy!" Rupert yelled, even though Melville had backed up a step. "Wasn't our fault that Zeek took things that far."

"It was his wife. Whatchu think the man was gonna do? Stand around and let her have an affair with my Jeb?"

"Now, listen to me, all of y'all!" Reverend Mitchell shouted. "We's gonna have us a wedding that might just, For once in history, bring both of these Families tagetha. And y'all needs to know this— I done called out the old prayer warriors in the church to put a hard line around anybody conjuring, spell-casting, or dabbling in hoodoo over these young folks. If ya send so much as a chicken foot to each other, it'll jump up and backfire on the sender. Oh, we's vigilant on this one. Grandma Jones and Nana Robinson done tol' on both sides!"

With that, the reverend straightened his lapels, tipped his hat, turned on his heels, and walked back down the front steps to the dusty yard path.

Someone was pounding on his door so hard that he and his sister, Effie, thought it was the police. Ezekiel HatField rushed with his sis­ter through the small clapboard house and did a double take when he spied Nana Robinson through the screen.

"I know that cow ain't on our porch," Effie grumbled under her breath as Ezekiel opened the door.

He stared at the rotund old woman who had her fleshy arms Folded over her huge breasts and who had come out in such a rush that she still had on pink bedroom slippers and a flower-printed housecoat, with her hair tied up in a sheer scarf. Mostly, that wasn't Nana Robinson's style. Under normal conditions, even he had to admit that the old bat wore a very fine church hat and was dressed accordingly, which was the only time he ever saw her. Worry creased his brow. The one and only thing that could have brought old lady Robinson to his door had to be something related to his baby girl.

With that in mind, Ezekiel shushed his sister. "Nana Robinson, you at my Front door For a good reason?"

"You know I am, Zeek. So, I ain't gonna mince no words. Your daughter's in trouble. Powerful trouble. And it's in your hands now."

He felt his body slump against the door frame as his sister's palm slid to his shoulder in support.

"My daughter Maylene, rest her soul in heaven, must be spinnin' in her grave."

"What happened to my baby girl?" Ezekiel whispered. "Just tell me, Nana. Please." Before the elderly woman could answer, he spun on his sister. "I thought you said you-all had something to keep that girl from getting knocked up, so she could get her education?"

"We did," Effie said, wringing her hands. "Aw, Lawd . . . who's the daddy? We can strike his ass dead, if—"

"She gittin' married, and the girl ain't done all-a that."

"Married?" both Hatfield siblings said at once, incredulous.

"When?" Effie asked, putting both hands on her hips.

"More important—to who? Ain't nobody ask me could they steal my baby," Ezekiel said, his voice becoming loud as he walked out onto the porch.

Nana Robinson smiled. "Ester McCoy's boy, who's just about to graduate From law school in two weeks."

"Aw, hell no!" Ezekiel roared, walking in a circle.

"That ain't gonna happen," Effie spat, and stepped out onto the porch, letting the door slam loudly shut behind her.

"It's outta your hands," Nana Robinson warned. "I done called both Reverend and Opal Kay—Rev will be by here directly, after he breaks the news to Ester . . . but Opal Kay gots somethin' fer ya, if y'all HatFields start some mess."

"Opal Kay ain't got nothin' to do with this," Effie yelled as she hurried back into the house and closed the screen door behind her and then glared at Nana Robinson through the flimsy divide.