could change their reservation. There was flight to Madison, but none to Morganfield.
“Gov. Reynolds will send a car,” Jerry Wayne said.
“I’ll have to pack some Fall clothes. Promise me we’ll go somewhere warm next November.”
He watched her go upstairs, then let his eyes travel to the mantle, to the last photograph of his parents. He could see the familiar hint of sadness in their eyes, but he could see true Southern pride in the way they held their heads and looked straight at the camera. Age, duty, and faith were there too. And in his Mama’s lap, held by her strong loving arms was the gold star placard that hung in her living room window until the day she died. He could understand that, and now he understood too why standing behind them to the left and the right were the Stars and Stripes and the Stars and Bars. Glory, glory halleluia for the ladies.