“A lil mirror like that in my house, never!” Alicia said. “Too easy t’ break. And when it breaks that’s seben yeas bad luck.”
“Good Lord, seben!” Ocie cried.
“Yuh better cover a mirror when it storm, and when somebody die too. If yuh don’t they soul’ll be trapped in that mirror and the mirror’ll sho turn dark,” Cora said.
“Too much trouble. No mirror fuh me,” Alicia cried.
The women’s talk upset Martha, but she was more irritated by the twinkle in Ovide’s eye and the satisfaction he was getting out of the women’s talk. I’d gladly take that mirror. But mebbe breakin it might bring bad luck. But how? She remembered Titay covering their mirror when it stormed. How can a mirror do all that? Mirrors don’t do nothin but reflec.
The women’s fear and the smirk on Ovide’s face humiliated her. That humiliation turned to anger and before Martha knew it she shouted, “Tis stupid t’ think that bout a lil ole lookin glass.”
The women gasped and Ocie said angrily, “Miss Know-It-All …”
“Pay er no mind,” Cora said. “She blieves that. She can’t be hexed by nothin, that girl. She already been hexed through and through, bein bo’ned in a stom.”
The other women said nothing, but the hostility on their faces was frightening. They turned, almost as one, and left the commissary.
The mirror was still lying on the counter when Martha went to pay for her kerosene. But before she paid, Hal walked into the store and Ovide went to get his mail.
“I’m glad you’re still here,” Hal said. “I want to give you something. You and your grandmother. I owe you two my life, you know.”
Martha was still frightened.
“What about a nice head scarf for your grandmother, and what would you like?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, still visibly upset.
“What’s the matter?”
Had he heard her and the women? She looked at him. Believing he had not, she said, “Oh, nothin.”
“Would you like that mirror?”
Regaining control, she said, “Yeah, but Granma …”
He grinned affectionately, “Does she think, maybe, you’d spend too much time looking at yourself, is that it?”
Martha did not answer and he said, “I know I enjoy watching every move you make. Do you know how beautiful you are?” He smiled and looked into her eyes.
Martha’s face burned and her scalp tingled. She averted her eyes from his smile and intense gaze. Without looking at him, she said, quietly, “It might bring us bad luck.”
“Where I come from we call that superstition. You’re not superstitious, are you?”
She looked up at him. “Mebbe.”
“Here, take it. It won’t bring bad luck, I promise.”
“But Granma …”
“She doesn’t have to know. If you don’t tell, I won’t.” He whispered, “Don’t fear the mirror, fear fear of the mirror.”
“Say what?”
Hal repeated what he had said and they both laughed. Then he took his mail from Ovide, paid for the head scarf and the mirror and gave them to Martha. “Tell your grandmother to wear this in good health, and you take care now.” He left to join the men outside the commissary.
Martha covered the mirror with the head scarf so no one would notice. She glared at Ovide as if to say, “I’ll show yuh, I ain’t scared o’ no mirror.”
Should she tell Titay about what had happened with the women? About the mirror? No! Not about the mirror. Titay might make her take it back. She’d be careful, and no one need know.
At home she went immediately to her room. She placed the mirror in the space between the floor and cloth-covered box crate.
That evening, she made sure the mirror was still in place. Maybe she shouldn’t keep it. If only she could be sure that what the people said and thought were not true. Would having the mirror keep her from going away? And what if Hal told? We sho gittin a lotta secrets. Suddenly she felt frightened. But he wouldn’t tell. Maybe he was right, but did even he know?
She opened her small window and looked up at the evening star that twinkled in the sky. “O, Lord,” she said aloud, “how come I ain’t wise?”
NINE
Martha got out of bed noiselessly. She carefully turned the wooden latch to lock her door. When she stooped to pick up her mirror she waited a moment. The silence told her she was right; Titay was still asleep. Quickly she removed the mirror and turned it to different angles so that the reflected sunlight played around the room.
In the light from the window, her dark skin glowed with tints of deep brown and red. She thought of Hal and how he had looked into her eyes. A warmth from deep inside sent a smile spreading over her face. What if Titay saw her smiling like that? Carefully she stored the mirror in its hiding place.
Dressing slowly, she heard voices from the front of the house. Titay said, “I come, right away.” Then she walked quickly to Martha’s door and knocked. “Git ready, Mat, that baby’s on its way heah tday.”
For the last few weeks they had spent lots of time with Cam. Only last week they had readied bedding for the birth. Sheets had been washed, boiled in a lye solution, ironed and carefully wrapped to keep them sterilized.
Martha’s hand trembled as she buttoned her blouse, and she had trouble tying her head scarf. She was anxious, excited, uncertain with feelings of joy, then fear. What if things did not go right for Cam? Should she tell Titay about the mirror? Titay might not let her go if she knew.
“Hurry, girl,” Titay called.
Cam was waiting. She had already put the carefully wrapped bedding in the oven to make sure it was still sterilized. Martha got busy helping the father feed the children before they started out to his sister’s house. On Blue Isle, the mystery of birth was for the eyes of women only.
The bed was made ready for Cam. Water was heated. Cotton and wool to wrap the baby in and the sterilized goose grease were put in place. Titay sat in the room with Cam while Martha finished a few housekeeping chores. Then Martha waited in the kitchen, reading for a history test.
Suddenly she realized how still the house was. No sounds came from the room. She thought of the mirror. Had something gone wrong? Things could go wrong, that she knew. Martha remembered the story she had been told of how her mother had died when she was born on that stormy night. Titay had been forced to make a terrible decision: would it be Martha or Martha’s mother who lived?
Martha trembled, charged with happiness that she was alive. That feeling changed to guilt and then to deep sorrow that she had never known her mother. She scolded herself for thinking things could go wrong. Cam was healthy. Titay had watched over her diet, her exercise and knew every stage of the unborn baby’s development. Yet Martha prayed that all would go well.
She tried to concentrate on her assignment, but her mind wandered with worry.
At last Titay came for her. “Come, hep me now. That lil one’s on its journey, so be quiet and still.”
The curtains were drawn and the room was lighted by a lamp at the foot of the bed. Martha saw Cam’s face drawn in pain, but no sound came from her lips.
Titay whispered, “Hep yo chile, chile’ll hep you.”
Cam’s breathing and Titay’s whispers became one rhythm. The room was very quiet. Martha heard her heart beat as she watched the two women. Cam grabbed Titay’s hand and held on. Titay gave of her strength.
Soon Titay whispered, “Now.” Martha saw that the baby’s head and shoulders were coming. Titay placed a finger under each little arm and lifted the baby up.
The baby let out a cry and Martha said, “It’s a boy.”
“Sh, sh!” Titay whispered as she clamped the cord and carefully placed the baby face down, his arms and legs folded, on the mother’s belly. He rested there.
The baby was so quiet Martha felt something was wrong. She held her breath. She wanted to say, “Do something, Titay,” but Titay just waited.
Cam’s hands touched he
r baby lightly. Martha watched Cam caress the small dark body against her flesh and thought of the waves of the Gulf touching the shore. The mother’s breathing was the only sound heard in the room. Suddenly the baby moved. First an arm, then a foot, then he quivered; he breathed! Titay smiled. Her face in the lamplight brightened and she looked young.
The strange quiet, the baby’s movement, the mother’s breathing, Titay’s smile—all these things touched Martha. She stood still, her eyes unable to turn away. A slow rising surge of joy passed through her. It stayed for only a second. She had never known such joy and was saddened that it could not last.
With swift precision Titay cut the cord that connected the baby to its mother. Until now Martha hadn’t really seen Titay’s hands. What beautiful hands, wrinkled with age, but soft and sure. How gently they touched that baby as she cleaned him and wrapped him in the layers of cotton and wool to keep him warm. Then she sent Martha for Cam’s husband.
When they left the happy mother and son, Titay said to the father, “Leave em lone awhile t’ git quainted and t’ rest.”
In the twilight of day, Martha looked at her grandmother. She was an old woman now, tired after her day’s work. But as if she knew what Martha was thinking, Titay said, “Tis joy, Mat, t’ bring one o’ them lil ones safe through that dark t’ light and life.”
TEN
“You hurry back heah and don’t come sayin you weary, yuh hear me?” Titay called as Martha rushed out of the house. She went along the path that led to the school.
“Hey, cha,” Ocie called. “Yuh goin like a house afiah. Ain’t got no time fuh yo friends no mo, ahn?”
“Hey, please don’t say that, Ocie.” Martha was surprised that Ocie would even speak to her after the scene at the commissary.
“Ain’t it true? I sho don’t see yuh. Always uner the teacher. I got some news, but go on. Our way ain’t good nuff fuh yuh.”
Stung by Ocie’s tone, Martha felt trapped between the women and Miss Boudreaux. Between the old way and the new. But she must hurry. She would be late and Miss Boudreaux would probably chide her again.
If only she could go away to school and have the time she needed for her studies. It was all finally coming together for her. Lessons with Miss Boudreaux and what she was learning from Titay were clearly related. Words she wrote in her composition book were like the words Hal spoke. What if she spoke like that?
She wished that Ocie was still a friend. Then she would have someone to tell that the teacher was always surprised at how well she did algebra; how much fun she had seeing things in her science book that she knew already; and that the things about the earth, water, light and animals that she did not know, she found exciting to learn.
She wished her teacher could understand why it was so difficult for her to talk words that she wrote. What would the women think if she went around saying: I do not … he does … she is … you are? That I’m crazy, she thought. Then she remembered Ocie words:… got no time fuh yo friends no mo … you always thought you better’n us. She knew she would never talk book talk in front of those women, no matter what Miss Boudreaux said.
Miss Boudreaux was waiting. Martha tried to appear calm as if she were not late, but her hands perspired and her stomach churned. She gave Miss Boudreaux her algebra assignment first.
“You did all these?”
“Yessum. They come easy, teacher.” She breathed a sigh of relief. She was not considered late.
Miss Boudreaux kept her longer than Martha had hoped, insisting upon language drill. Martha resisted learning something that she would never use. She thought it was a waste of time.
As she prepared to leave her teacher she was filled with mixed emotions. Part of her wanted to give in to the way of the island and part of her wanted to give in and talk and act like Miss Boudreaux.
She gathered her books and papers and took leave, feeling the teacher’s kind but questioning eyes upon her back.
Miss Boudreaux called to her. “Martha, I believed you when you said you wanted to finish high school. I think you can. You’ll soon be in the tenth grade.”
A smile spread over Martha’s face. “Me, teacher. Tenth grade!” She covered her mouth to stifle a shout of joy and ran from the room.
The house was filled with laughter when Martha got home. Women were in the kitchen and the smell of fresh coffee sent out a warm welcome. Everyone seemed to be talking at once. Martha longed to burst in and shout her news, but she slipped into her room to listen instead.
“Magine me a granma!” Gert said.
“Oh, I hope yuh do git a boy baby as fine as yo Tee was,” Alicia said.
Oh, Lord, Martha thought, hitting her head with her fist. That was Ocie’s news and I didn’t listen.
“How fur gone is Ocie?” Martha heard Cam ask.
“I don’t know, but Tee be drowned since September,” Gert said.
“She could be fo months, or mo,” Titay said. “You tell that girl she better git heah to see me, and fast.”
“What’s wrong with these younguns waitin so long t’ tell?” Alicia asked.
“Chile, I don’t think she knowed. Commence tellin me she feel funny. Like nibbles inside, and I look and she spreadin aready.” Gert laughed.
Martha continued to listen, wishing that she had not gone to see Miss Boudreaux but that she had stayed and talked to Ocie. So Ocie’s pregnant, Martha thought. Her mind ran to Tee and she wished he were alive.
“Ain’t Ocie had no mornin sickness?” Titay asked. “No dry heaves?”
“Naw. She ain’t had none o’ that, no. Strong lil ole woman that Ocie be, and just turned sixteen.”
“How old Mat now, Miss Titay?” Cam asked.
“Fifteen, next birthnight.”
“That girl better git on with er nouncement. What y’all waitin on?” Alicia asked.
Martha’s scalp tingled and her hands began to perspire. She strained to hear Titay’s answer.
“She all wrapped up in this heah work now,” Titay said. “But yuh know Mat. Take er own good time. We see. But tell that Ocie she better git heah. She late aready.”
“Yeah, she be den-thick with that Cora lately,” Gert said. “Jus hope she ain’t thinkin bout Cora midwifin er.”
Miss Know-It-All.… Our way ain’t good nuff fuh yuh.… Surely Ocie would not risk going to Cora. Martha thought of Cora’s attitude toward Titay and Titay’s way of midwifery and felt a sense of alarm.
That night, Titay and Martha shared a light supper and cleared the dishes with almost no talk. Martha wanted to ask about Ocie’s pregnancy. When had Ocie become den-thick with Cora? Surely Ocie knew that Cora was not a true midwife and that to waste time was a great risk.… There were other questions she wanted to ask, but she recalled the women’s words about her quilting and decided she had better not risk getting Titay onto that subject. She excused herself and went to her room.
The wind came in sweeps and gusts. Dark clouds raced in the sky, playing hide-and-seek with a full moon. Before beginning her assignments Martha stood in her window watching shadows come and go as the moon peeped through darting clouds. Low laughter mingled with voices of people passing, some stopping briefly to talk to Titay in the front of the house.
Finally she settled to her work, wondering if the reward would be worth the labor. She thought of her teacher, so different from her grandmother. If only there was some way to be proud and happy in Titay’s way. But there were other things that she must know, see and do. She wanted to know how Titay’s herbs worked and why. Titay only knew they worked and that was enough for Titay.
Why couldn’t that be enough for her? She fell upon her bed, her head buried in her folded arms, fighting the rising frustration.
“Miss Titay, anybody home?”
Martha jumped from her bed, her heart pounding at the recognition of Hal’s voice. She couldn’t understand the feeling of excitement that Hal’s presence always brought since that day in the commissary when he had looked at her. The warmth that
had spread through her then often came at the sound of his voice. But she didn’t want anyone to know that, especially Hal. Why had he come?
He had been coming by more frequently, staying longer just to talk. Martha was always surprised at how much Titay had to say to him. Titay was known as the great listener, but with Hal her words overflowed.
“Where do you hide your list of all the herbs you use?” Hal asked.
“What yuh mean, lis?” her grandmother answered.
“I name and label all the things I find here and keep a record in a book too, so I’ll know what I have.”
“I ain’t got nothin like that, no,” Titay said, and laughed.
“But how do you know what you have and how to use it?” Hal seemed truly surprised.
Titay laughed again. “So t’ write make it true, ahn? I got it heah in m’ head. I know how t’ use it from m’ heart.
“I learnt m’ trade heah but I thought I need know mo. So I went out there. I learnt a lot. But I seen plenty meanness and sufferin in lean-tos fuh my people near them main hospitals. The peoples woulda been better off at home. That’s when I cided t’ come on back heah and take care folks in they own houses.”
Titay, quiet for a moment, sighed and said, “I jus wish Mat’d unerstand that I can teach her all she need know right heah. Cause I done learnt a lot heah too. Nuff t’ know ain’t nothin new uner the sun.”
Martha listened and felt pride and shame simultaneously. Her grandmother had great wisdom; but could she teach Martha all that Martha needed to know? Some of the things Titay believed Martha could not understand: bad luck mirrors, snapping turtles—children born to trouble in storms. She longed to go into the front of the house and join the talk, but a young woman could not join in conversation with her parent and a young man unless called to do so.
“How bout a lil tea?” Titay asked.
“I’d like that very much.”
“Mat, Mat,” Titay called.
Martha felt a shiver of excitement.
“Mat, you sleep in there? We got compny. Put water on.”
Martha hurried from her room and quickly prepared hot tea. Small thin tea cakes for occasions such as this had been greatly diminished by the women earlier that day. But there were still enough.
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