After the third rinsing, the water ran clear. Johnnie Mae dumped the beans back into the pan, rinsed the colander, and held it above her head to see that no grit was left on it. She peered through the star-patterned holes punched into the enamel. Tiny rivulets oi water trailed down Johnnie Mae's face and neck and onto her shoulders.
Johnnie Mae came back into the kitchen and leaned again over the lip of the pot on the stove. The water bubbles had grown, were bouncing off each other, and were becoming numerous. Bubbles traveled up a column from the center, then separated at the surface of the water and dispersed to the sides o{ the pot. The bubbling action of the water hypnotized her. Perhaps the admonition not to watch the pot boil was a way of keeping the boiler from being mesmerized by the water.
"Johnnie Mae, the water boiling?" Alice asked.
"Yes, ma'am," she answered without thinking. Her mind had slipped into a place where it was letting her arms and legs and mouth work for themselves smoothly and efficiently without any direct communication with her wandering mind. Her thoughts turned to Clara and what had happened to her.
The day had been hot — had been pancake-griddle hot. The water of the canal was heavy and stagnant. The water of the Potomac was not cooler, but it was swirling movement. All that day Johnnie Mae had thought about the pool on
Volta Place. It must be cool. Rat said they filled the pool with chunks of ice each day. It must be the coolest place in Georgetown except the icehouse.
Rat used to say that the people who ran the pool must come down to O Street early in the morning and get Mr. Blind John Ransome to cut them off a piece of ice that was a perfect big block. Mr. Blind John Ransome had the job of cutting off a chunk of whatever size piece of ice people asked for when they came to the Imperial Icehouse at 27th and O streets. Even though they could buy ice off the huckster wagon, many folks came themselves to the icehouse. Of course, it was a penny cheaper if you got it yourself and hauled it away. But a lot of people came especially to see Mr. Blind John Ransome do his cutting.
Mr. Blind John was always remarkably accurate and never cut off his own fingers or anyone else's. And no one ever disputed Mr. Blind John's reckoning. He held his chin pitched higher than most people and laughed along with each person who came in saying, "John, you got the coolest job there is!"
Rat said, on that day as they left Aunt Ina's after dinner and napping, that Mr. Blind John Ransome would admit it if the people from the pool bought their ice from him. She said they should go past his stall in the icehouse and ask him. But Johnnie Mae had known that Rat would never ask Mr. Blind John any questions. She'd been scared of him. She'd hardly ever speak up to ask him to cut a nickel's or a dime's worth of ice. Clara only liked to stand around in the crowd of small children Mr. Blind John called "little shavers." The little shavers would gather around him and stare at Mr. Blind John using his ice ax to hack away at the big blocks of ice. Rich
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people would get Mr. Blind John to carve figures like horseshoes or rihhon hows out of the ice blocks for their parties. It was an added attraction that the ice carvings were done by a blind man. Mama called him a real character and Papa said watching him was better than the vaudeville show.
The string beans Johnnie Mae poured into the boiling water came alive as they touched the water. They wriggled like garter snakes. Her eyes stayed on them as they hit bottom then floated to the top. A foamy substance bubbled on the surface of the water and Johnnie Mae reached for a slotted spoon to skim it from the pot. As she stared down into the pot, something more brown than green seemed to emerge from the steam clouds.
Nervously Johnnie Mae skimmed the foam, afraid that her mother would see the brown stuff continuing to rise to the surface and think she had not rinsed the string beans properly. The fat meat with its thick, tan backside bobbed up and down in the pot. From the center of the cauldron, a mass seemed to form. It appeared to come together in the shape of a heart, disperse like a cloud, and then reformulate into a solid mass. It seemed to come together this time as a heart-shape face with amused eyes. Slender green plaits emanated from its skull and framed the face. It was a laughing Medusa with wriggling green plaits. Through the bubbles rose two small hands. The fingers came toward Johnnie Mae as if to tickle. The expression on the face was a sly menace and the fingers drew back to clamp themselves under the arms of the figure. Giggling, the figure placed string beans inside each of its nostrils. It let out an uproarious snorting laugh. The heart-shape head ducked beneath the surface and boiling water closed over it.
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Next, what looked to be a small brown hand with tiny bubbles around the wrist appeared in a cloud in the middle of the pot. Appearing and disappearing, the hand teased Johnnie Mae. She stared at it. There was no sound in the room but the bubbling laughter in the pot.
Johnnie Mae felt a hand suddenly grab at her shoulder and yank her back from the stove. The pot lost its balance and spilled the boiling contents. Johnnie Mae turned to look at her mother. Alice howled when hot droplets sprayed her chest. For a moment their eyes locked. Alice's mouth widened in pain. She grabbed Johnnie Mae's hand and looked at it. There were no burns! Alice's own arm was darkening rapidly and the pain broadsided her. Johnnie Mae's hand and arm felt cool.
Johnnie Mae's jaw dropped as she watched her mother run out back to the yard and put her arm in the rain barrel up to the shoulder. Tears rolled down Mama's face. The water in the barrel absorbed the heat from her arm and drew off some of the pain. But outside the water, the barely stirring air seared her arm. The arm quickly started to wrinkle, go pale, and blisters began to form in two places.
The suddenness of the pain's return brought Alice's mind back to what had happened. Johnnie Mae! She had been about to put her hand into the boiling pot of water! Johnnie Mae had stood there staring down into the water with a look of puzzlement. She had raised her arm and made as if to plunge it into the pot. Alice remembered feeling a jolt run through her. Every muscle in her body had rushed to help her child.
"Mama!" Johnnie Mae ran out to her mother. She still couldn't quite put together what had happened.
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"Johnnie Mae! Girl, your hand's not burned, is it?"
"No, Mama."
"Lord, but . • ."
"Mama, your arm . . ."
"It's hurning from the water. I reached in to keep you from getting burnt. What were you thinking about, girl?"
Johnnie Mae searched her mind for a plausible explanation. She tried to figure out the sequence of events. She had been looking at the bubbles. Had she meant to put her hand in the pot?
"I wasn't thinking of anything, Mama."
"Go quick and get your aunt Ina. Tell her I need her to see about this."
Johnnie Mae ran all the way. Passersby caught their breath, seeing the Bynum girl running. Before she reached Ina's door, Johnnie Mae started calling out, "Aunt Ina, Aunt Ina! Mama's arm is burnt."
Ina rose from her chair by the window. Still bent over from sitting, she peered out. Seeing Johnnie Mae, she called, "What is it, Johnnie?"
"Mama's hand is burnt. She wants you to come take a look at it."
Ella Bromsen appeared suddenly from behind the box elder tree. "What's happened, girl?" she said and reached out her arms to Johnnie Mae. The girl rushed toward her, but Ella stopped her at arm's length and grasped her wrists. She looked down at Johnnie Mae's hands, turning the palms up to study them.
Ina went back into the house to grab up her long-handled satchel. Johnnie Mae twisted her torso away from Ella and followed Ina with her eyes. Ella and Johnnie Mae looked for a
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minute like they were dancing. Johnnie Mae broke free when Ina came barreling out of the house and caught up with her, heading down Volta Place. Ella Bromsen called after, "I'll bring a poultice and a salve."
"Alice, girl, what happened?" Ina said, rushing toward her cousin sitting on the top step of the back
porch. Alice's eyes were focused off into the distance. Her face wore an expression that Johnnie Mae had never seen before.
Blisters had formed on Alice's right hand, and several spots along the arm were deep red. She cupped the elbow of the burned limb and held it out toward Ina. Her face was tight and her forehead looked like a cloth being wrung out. Staring at Johnnie Mae, who was standing back near the azalea bush, Alice asked Ina, "She tell you what happened?"
"She said you pulled over the pot of boiling water. And your arm got burnt."
"Study this," Alice said, pointing to her arm. "I could have sworn she was getting ready to plunge her hand in that pot. What in the world were you grabbing for, Johnnie?"
Johnnie Mae didn't answer but slunk back into the lap of the bush. The women's stares froze her. Her mother's eyes asked for some bit of explanation. What had she done to her mother? She hadn't meant to cause this. How had she brought th
is on:
Ella came through the back gate into the Bynums' yard and saw Alice, Ina, and Johnnie Mae frozen in a tableau. Alice's arm was extended toward Ina, but both women's eyes were on Johnnie Mae. Ella carried a parcel containing three smaller bundles wrapped in Sears and Roebuck pages. "Miz Alice, let me tend to your burns now," she said quietly and
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walked ahead of the others into the house. She unwrapped the packages and laid out various roots and twigs on the kitchen table. "Y'all got a crock of cider?"
"Surely." Alice rose from the porch step and walked back into the kitchen. Ina followed and patted Alice on her back and led her to a chair.
"Johnnie Mae, won't you get your mama a cup of cider?" Miss Ella assumed command with her low-pitched, steady voice.
"Yes, ma'am," the girl answered.
With a small razor, Miss Ella sliced the green skin off both sides oi a plant and placed slithery lengths over the blisters and red places on Alice's arm. "This will draw the heat off," she explained.
Alice shook her head like she was trying to rearrange her thoughts. "What you make of that?" she said, her words hissing out from between clamped teeth. Without answering, Ina looked around the room, as if some explanation might be lurking in the corners or behind the cupboards.
When Johnnie Mae returned with the cup of cider, Miss Ella Bromsen was mixing the contents of her packets together. She said, "Miz Alice, you quieten your fears. We'll take care of this." She dipped out a bit o{ the boiling water that had not spilled and moistened her herbs. "Johnnie Mae, get me some lard the size of an egg," she said, pouring off the water. "Put it there." Her pointing finger was a golden brown color and Johnnie Mae saw that she had a ring of what looked like woven twigs wound around it.
Ella folded the lard into the herb mixture to form a smooth, greenish brown salve. She removed the strips of the
plant and spread the salve on Alice's arm with her fingers. Unwrapping the last packet, she drew out a long roll of cheesecloth and a ball of a thin, lacy-looking material.
Ina came up behind Ella and looked over her shoulder. "What all is that, Ella?" she asked. "That looks like a spider's web."
Ella very gently unfolded the web, raised it to the level of her face, and muttered words while gazing through it. She then lay the web over Alice's burns. "Yes, ma'am," she an-swered. "This is the web of a granny spider. It'll heal a burn before you know it."
Alice and Ina exchanged skeptical looks while Ella worked. Johnnie Mae marveled at Miss Ella. Miss Ella Brom-sen was as unusual a person as had ever drawn a breath.
She finished dressing Alice's burns by wrappng her arm with cheesecloth. "Thank you, Ella, it does feel cooler," Alice said politely with a questioning look. "What all was that you put on me?"
"Just a salve made from plants. My daddy taught me."
While Ella collected her herbs and carefully rewrapped them into her satchel, Ina started to drain off the remaining string beans in the pot. "Johnnie Mae, go about gathering up those beans from the floor," she commanded the girl, afraid that her idleness might set something else in motion.
Ella Bromsen stopped Ina as she tipped the pot over a colander. "Let's draw off a cup of that water to take auguries," she said. Ina opened her mouth to question the idea of water reading, but Ella took the pot from her decisively and poured out a cup oi water.
Ella took the cup in her left hand and swirled it counter-
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clockwise. Johnnie Mae's eyes followed the swirling cup. Ella reached out and drew Johnnie Mae to her side without taking her eyes from the cup. Johnnie Mae looked down into the cup and then up into Miss Ella Bromsen's face. She saw the yellow flecks that sometimes came into Miss Ella's eyes. Aunt Ina said Miss Ella Bromsen had the cat's eye. Johnnie Mae didn't know what having the cat's eye meant, but it was in the category o{ things that were talked about in husky whispers—the subjects that had to do with your "pocketbook" or your bosoms or bathtub whiskey or anything to do with men and women.
Miss Ella's right palm was cool when she touched the side of Johnnie Mae's face. She grasped the girl's elbow and slid her palm down to take Johnnie Mae's hand in hers. "What did you see in that water, Johnnie?" Ella's voice was sweetly coaxing. "Did you see something in the water?"
Surely they didn't actually want to hear about what she'd seen. It was Clara—pure and simple. There was a face in the boiling pot and it was Clara's face. Johnnie Mae's mouth got dry, then moisture flooded into it and set her head and stomach whirling. Heat started traveling up her body, and she thought that it was Miss Ella's palm heating her body. Miss Ella's fragrance started to overwhelm her, too—a fragrance or blend of fragrances that was hard to separate out. Miss Ella Bromsen—everyone who ever got close to her said it—didn't smell like other people. She smelled sweeter and stronger and odder, and, in the kitchen, cloying.
"Nothing," Johnnie Mae said. "I didn't see anything." She wanted to sit down. She wanted to say the right thing and sit down. The aroma of Miss Ella and Aunt Ina's nervous-
ness and her mother's fear and annoyance pressed in on Johnnie Mae.
Alice broke into the dizziness. "Why'd you go to put your arm in? You were reaching for something! You lose your sense? Getting ready to put your arm in boiling water? You scared the life out of me!"
"It could've been some evil thing that made her do that," Ina said. She came around behind Johnnie Mae and pushed down on the girl's shoulders. "Sit down, Johnnie Mae. What did you see in that water?"
"Yes, it could have been some evil thing," Ella put in.
"Now wait a minute! I keep a Christian home. I don't believe in hoodoo and other things." Alice roused up in alarm.
"Miss Alice, I meant no harm. I'm a Christian woman myself. But I believe that water still has a grip on her."
Ina cut back in, her eyes as round as dollars. "She's got red Indian blood, Alice. That's the reason Ella knows all the roots and herbs. And as a matter of fact..." Aunt Ina drew up her lips and completed the sentence with her eyes.
"Ina Mae, don't run off at the mouth," Alice countered, warning her cousin with her eyes and pursed-up lips. "I don't bring hoodoo in my house. You know that."
"It's not hoodoo. It's common, backcountry wisdom. She don't talk much about it — that's red Indian for you right there. You know how closemouthed they are." Ina sent Alice another knowing glance and Alice rolled her eyes and twisted her mouth.
"It ought not to still have a pull on her, but... I say you should keep her away from all water." Ella's face glowed as she spoke.
"What about bathing?" Alice asked.
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"Don't put any part of her down in the water. Not until this grip loosens."
The river water did have a grip on Johnnie Mae. It was not grasping ringers around her neck or something holding her in a vise. It was inside her. It was coursing through her veins and her vitals. When she had dived and dived trying to pull Clara up Co the surface, large amounts of the river water had got in h
er lungs and stomach. The water had gushed through her sinuses, leaving a recollection at the back of her throat. A recollection of the banks it flowed past—fertile, self-satisfied, green countryside and troublesome, tangled, brackish banks. Johnnie Mae still tasted the water. At odd times the taste broke through to her consciousness and brought Clara back briefly. The alchemy oi smell and taste created a picture of Clara astride a dull green horse. The horse reared up and, laughing, Clara held its reins.
"Is she regular? Has she been regular lately?" Ina piped up, suddenly thinking that there might be a simpler explanation for the girl's behavior. u Johnnie Mae, you regular?"
The former Carolinians believed firmly that most o( what bothered folks could be traced to what they'd eaten or drunk. And if they could flush their bodies of the poison that had congealed in their vitals, they could relieve most ailments of the body, mind, or spirit. Thus Alice and Ina had a firm belief in the efficacy ot laxatives.
Johnnie Mae felt herself shrinking in this company. For a few moments, she had been a woman — nearly — a grown woman like the others. But Aunt Ina had managed to reduce her to a baby again. Johnnie Mae didn't want to answer the question but her mother's eves demanded it.
u Yes, ma'am," she whispered.
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Satisfied, the three turned back to their conversation. Johnnie Mae listened. Miss Ella talked about elements and putting the grip on a person. How on earth did this apply to Johnnie Mae? She wasn't frightened of water. She hadn't been gripped by anything. In fact, it was she who'd wanted to grip the small brown hand. She had tried to reach for it in the steam and had brought away nothing. Maybe if Mama hadn't grabbed her away, she might have touched the little hand. Maybe the hand still waited for her. She knew she dared not go over and look into the now empty pot on the back of the stove. Besides, though absorbed in their talk o{ the mysterious goings-on and the elements and juju and trying to top each other claiming Christian piety, Aunt Ina, Mama, and Miss Ella took turns looking over at her.
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