Small Town Girl by Ann H. Gabhart

do it.”
    “Interesting.” A smile lit up his brown eyes. “First you won’t elope with me and now you won’t let me kiss you. For no better reason than you don’t want to. You know how to hurt a man. Maybe I should go hunt up Carl so we can compare broken hearts.”
    “I seriously doubt you’ve ever had a broken heart, Mr. Tanner.”
    “You call me Mr. Tanner again, I might.” He laughed. “My name’s Jay. Look, I took a punch for you. That surely earns me the right to be on a first-name basis with you.” His voice softened a little as he added, “Kate.”
    The sound of her name reached out and touched her. Made her heart start beating a little too fast again. She’d never heard her name spoken exactly like that. She laughed a little to cover up how unsettled she was feeling. “All right.” She hesitated a bare second, then said, “Jay.”
    Kate had almost forgotten the slammed door until Aunt Hattie called to her. “Katherine Reece.”
    The little black woman, hands planted on her hips, was standing on the back porch, staring out at them. Kate could see her frown all the way across the yard. “What you let happenin’ out here? Your daddy tells me somebody might be needing some doctoring.”
    “Tell her I’m fine,” Jay said.
    Aunt Hattie moved a few steps closer and motioned toward them. “You must not be too fine if you have to tell somebody to do your talking for you. Now get yo’self on over here and let me see to that face. Least we can do for Pastor Mike’s friend.”
    “No sense arguing,” Kate said. “When Aunt Hattie setsher mind to doctoring, you’re going to get doctored. Like it or not.” She put her hand through Jay’s arm and turned him toward the porch. “She’s gentler than she looks.”
    “Ain’t a thing gentle about me.” Aunt Hattie went back up on the porch to wait for them. “’Cepting my hands. The good Lord give me healing hands. I’s the first hands to hold this one here.” She pointed at Kate.
    “And my daddy too.” Kate grinned as she stepped up on the porch beside Aunt Hattie. “A lot of people in Rosey Corner owe their first breath to a smack from Aunt Hattie.”
    “I never smacked none of my babies. Better ways to get things done than smacking somebody.” Aunt Hattie turned her frown from Kate to Jay’s shiner. “But looks as how somebody’s been doing some smacking.”
    “I think it was more like punching.” Jay sat down obediently on the porch bench Aunt Hattie pointed him toward. “I’m fine. Really, Mrs.—” He hesitated. “If anybody told me your name, I’ve let it get away from me.”
    “Johnson. Hattie Johnson, but nobody calls me Missus nothing. I’m Aunt Hattie to one and all in Rosey Corner.” Aunt Hattie leaned closer to peer at Jay’s cheek. “My eyes ain’t as good as they used to be, but it ain’t hard to see you got some lump there.”
    “Yeah, I didn’t dodge quick enough.” Jay laughed, then winced. “But it only hurts when I smile.”
    She touched his cheek and looked around at Kate. “Run fetch me a pan of cold water and a rag. And bring a chunk of ice out of the icebox if we didn’t use it all for that funny-tasting concoction your sister had us make. Strangest stuff I ever put in my mouth. I tol’ her she oughta let me make my lemonade, but ain’t no tellin’ that one nothing. Not one thing.”
    By the time Kate got back with the water, Jay had worked his charms on Aunt Hattie. Her every wrinkle was smiling. She wrung the rag out in the cold water and dabbed Jay’scheek. “You done remind me of my boy, Bo. He was always making people laugh too. And your eyes, they set me to remembering his.”
    “Not a black eye like this, I’m hoping. He wasn’t a fighter, was he?”
    “No, indeed. My Bo was a baseball player. The best shortstop the Negro League ever saw, and he could swing that bat. Could hit the ball out of the park easy as pie.” Aunt Hattie straightened up to her full four feet and ten