Diamonds Are Forever from Mountain Magic by Eric Flint, Ryk E. Spoor

Diamonds Are Forever

from

Mountain Magic

Eric Flint,

Ryk E. Spoor

Diamonds Are Forever

from

Mountain Magic

Eric Flint,

Ryk E. Spoor

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER

Eric Flint and Ryk E. Spoor

1. Calling Mamma

“You’re getting MARRIED?!”

I had to pull the receiver away from my ear. Father always said if Mamma was in full voice she could break window glass over in the next county. “Yes, Mamma. I asked Jodi yesterday and she accepted.”

“Well, that’s WONDERFUL!” Another ear-saving reaction. Her voice shifted to No Nonsense mode. “Now you’ve put this off long enough, Clinton Jefferson Slade. You’re bringin’ that girl home to meet your family this very week, you hear? I know you can take that time off if’n you try, in that big fancy job that you’re so important at.”

When Mamma uses your whole name, there isn’t anything for it but you’d better do as you’re told. “Yes, Mamma. It’s just . . . Mamma, she’s city.”

“Well, now, I know that, boy. What other kind of girl would you be meetin’ in New York? We’re not completely uneducated out here, you know.”

I lowered my voice. “Mamma, I’ll come. I’ll bring her, okay. But . . . is everything okay there?”

“Well, of COURSE it—” Mamma cut off short, then sighed. “Oh. Yes, Clinton, ain’t been none of that in quite a while. Daddy Zeke said you might be tryin’ to hide that from this girl and that was why we hadn’t met her.”

“From anyone, Mamma, not just Jodi. Family’s never told anyone, and I didn’t aim to change that.” I was slightly embarrassed to hear the Kentucky accent getting stronger; it always did when I talked to family. Not that I was really embarrassed about my family, not really, but . . . sometimes they were so weird. “So everything is okay?”

“Just FINE, dear. Now, we’ll be expecting you when?”

I did a quick calculation in my head. “Say, Monday evening? We’ll be driving and I’ll have to make some arrangements before we go.”

“That will be just fine, Clint dear.” I was back to Clint now, so that was good. I hadn’t been at all sure how they’d take me marrying a city girl, even though they really thought I was more than half city myself now. “We’ll do you proud, boy, because we really are all proud of you, first Slade to finish college this century and all, and you done so well.”

I blushed, and I know darn well Mamma could tell, even over the phone. “Aw, Mamma, ain’t any big deal, really. Anyone in the family coulda done it.”

“Don’t you go selling yourself short, Clint dear. Even Evangeline knows perfectly well you’re the genius in our family, and she’s no dummy herself. Take care, and the whole family will be looking for you!”

We exchanged kisses over the phone, silly though that sounds, and I hung up.

“So,” Jodi said, coming over, “were those bellows of fury, or was she happy to hear about it?”

“You could hear her?”

“Oy vey, Clint,” she said, smiling. “Thought she’d break your eardrums with a couple of those.”

Jodi was something of an anachronism. Her grandparents were immigrants who still spoke more Yiddish than English and had maintained an intimidatingly firm emphasis on the link between the old and new traditions. Linguistic traditions, anyway, if not religious ones. Jodi’s grandfather had been active in the needle trade unions, a follower of Max Shachtman’s brand of socialism. He had no use for religions of any kind, but that hadn’t stopped him from maintaining a number of Jewish habits and customs. Jodi’s family was almost a time capsule of clichés from the ’40s and ’50s, and Jodi had inherited enough to sound like a near-parody of the New York “Jewish American Princess.” So why did I find her Yiddish, of all things, endearing? Especially when spoken with that New York accent that reminded me of nails on a chalkboard?

Probably just the blindness of love, I had to admit. I’d known Jodi Goldman for four years, though, so hopefully the blindness (or, in this case, deafness) would last for many years yet. “She was ecstatic,” I said, answering her question. “I guess I should have more faith in my family, but they are still, well . . .”

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