"Mama, stop! It's hurtin' me!"
"I'm almost done, honey" Laurey placated her daughter as she ran the comb through her long blonde hair.
"I hate it!" Margaret screeched. The older Margaret grew, the more grateful Laurey was that she was a girl. She took after her father in so many ways, and those inherited qualities were much more forgivable in a woman. Sullenness came across as shyness; instead of brooding, she seemed thoughtful, and even her fits of dizzying rage could be excusable. 'A firecracker' Will Parker had called her once, and the nickname had stuck. Laurey secretly prayed that if she had a son, he'd take after her instead, would have a few feminine qualities to make up for the inherent menace that came with being a man.
"Okay, all done." Laurey kissed the top of her daughter's head. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"
"Yes, it was." Margaret glowered, close to tears. "Wish I didn't have hair at all, then it wouldn't hurt."
Laurey smiled to herself. "You know, when I was younger, 'bout fifteen or so, I cut off my hair."
"You did?" Margaret turned around, eyes wide at the thought that Laurey had been anything other than the mother she knew.
"Yeah, I did. My mama spanked me after, but I never knew why. Wasn't her hair."
"Can I cut my hair short like that? How short was it? Why'd you do it? Did people think you was a boy?" Margaret demanded, staring like she expected a single answer.
Laurey laughed, glad that her daughter wanted to be like her in some way. "We can cut it, if you want. There's some ribbon in that drawer; go grab one so we can tie your hair back and see how it'd look."
Margaret nodded and slid off the bed. "It's so messy," she cried as she opened the drawer.
"I know, but ribbons are in there somewhere, I promise."
"Who's this?" Margaret asked, holding something flat in her hands.
"Who's—" the question died on Laurey's lips as Margaret turned the item toward her, so the framed photograph was facing her. She'd forgotten just how dazzling that smile was; even in faded sepia, it made her want to smile back, which in turn made her want to cry.
"That's my first husband."
Margaret angled the picture towards herself again, far less shocked by the idea of Laurey's having been married before than by her cutting off her hair. However, the equanimity of childhood was quickly replaced by its curiosity.
"Why'd you have another husband?"
"Come here, baby."
Margaret put the photo back and closed the drawer before sitting in Laurey's lap.
"I had another husband because we fell in love."
"Why'd he…stop bein' your husband?"
"He died."
"Why?"
The words caught in Laurey's throat. "God decided it was his time. Wanted him to be an angel."
"Oh," Margaret nodded, momentarily satisfied. "Is Pa your second husband?"
Laurey nodded.
"Why?"
"Well, I-I guess we fell in love too."
"Why?"
"I'll tell you the story some other time. Let's go pick some apples, how about that? You can help me make a pie," she added, quelling further questions. "Let's cut your hair some other time, when the light's better"
"Okay!"
"Go grab your boots, and I'll meet you downstairs."
Margaret ran toward the door, then lurched to a halt. "Mama?"
"Yes, baby?"
"I'm glad you married Pa."
"Me too. Awful glad"
Margaret dashed out of the room and Laurey closed her eyes, remembering…