“Naw … I ast yuh, didn’t I?”
“Well, it ain’t all that bad. Sometimes things happen and you sorta stretch yo mind again. Like when the stranger come heah. I betcha evey woman on this island got t’ thinkin n dreamin. He had come from somewhere that ain’t heah, so our minds got t’ stretchin.”
Martha laughed. “Yeah, even Granma talked mo’n she ever talked befo.”
“Yeah, it ain’t all bad. But girl, now like you, you smart, Mat. Marryin might not set wid you like it set wid me. I’m stuck.”
Cam sighed and Martha felt the resignation in her fingers as she worked the last beads onto the braid. “Oh, that sho look good, if I have t’ say so mahself.”
Martha crossed to the front room mirror, “Oh, yeah!”
“But you oughta see the back, girl.”
Martha rushed from the room and returned with the small mirror Hal had given her. She held the mirror so that she could view the back of her head.
“Mat!” Cam cried. “Ain’t that the mirror Ovide brought that day?”
“Sho is,” Martha said, matter-of-factly trying not to show her uncertainty about Cam’s attitude.
“How’d you git it?”
Still trying to act unaffected, Martha replied quietly, “The stranger gi’ed it t’ me.”
“Oh, girl, it sho ain’t brought you no bad luck.”
They bent with laughter and Cam said, “I gotta run, girl, and feed them babies n finish m’ dress.”
When Titay returned she beamed at Martha. “Cam did yuh up good. Yuh look like a woman ready t’ offer a proud hand.”
“Granma,” Martha said almost in a whisper, “I want you t’ tell em tnight that I’m gon go way.”
“What? Mat, girl, yuh know, you’s a puzzle and a vexation. Why yuh always gotta break the spoke in the wheel? N done waited til the last minute.”
“Granma, I jus knowed mahself I would go.”
“I knowed it. All the time you’s settin round heah with yo face all long, and I ast yuh if it was that goin way. Then yuh let me go head and vite the island. Now tell me, where yuh think yuh gon go anyhow?”
Martha read the letter to her grandmother. “Granma, please say I can go and gimme yo blessin.”
“What if I say yuh can’t go?”
“You wouldn’t say that, Granma, cause yuh know I have t’ go.”
Without saying more, Titay left and closed herself in her room.
Martha put away food, washed dishes and scrubbed the floors. Sweat poured off her, but she had to keep busy or fall apart. Her mind was made up. She would go, with or without her grandmother’s blessing.
Titay stayed in her room. Martha finished cleaning the lamp chimneys and made them sparkle. She placed lamps around, lighting the whole house.
The guests started arriving as soon as darkness fell. The women brought flowers and placed them everywhere. Gert delivered her cakes and put them on display so every one could see.
“Where Titay?” they all asked.
In spite of the weight of the sparkling white beads, Martha held her head high. She looked composed in her pale yellow dress, but she was quaking inside.
“Where that granma o’ yourn?” people asked.
“Yeah, where that Titay?”
What if her grandmother refused to appear, and no announcement was made? Martha knew she could never tell the people that she was leaving against her grandmother’s will.
The house filled; people spilled out onto the porch. No one dared miss the announcement that Titay’s granddaughter’s hand was out for marrying. Why was Titay taking so long?
Finally she entered the front room. Her white hair was piled high on her head and she wore combs and jewelry that Martha had only seen carefully wrapped. Her dress was made of heavy handwoven cotton, the color of red bougainvillea blossoms. She greeted her guests, saying, “Welcome, welcome.”
Martha had never seen her grandmother so beautiful. She moved in the background to let Titay take over. She noticed that the men were all gathered on the front porch. Hal’s laughter mixed with the voices of others.
She went to the back porch to try to get a breath of fresh air. But it was stifling everywhere. She tried to think of what she would say if Titay announced her hand for marriage. “You’s a puzzle and a vexation,” rang in her mind. What would Titay do?
Then Titay was calling for quiet and attention. Martha went back into the house.
“Go stand by yo granma,” Gert demanded.
Martha felt small and insignificant beside Titay, even though she measured much taller.
“I thought I was gon say one thing tnight,” Titay said, “but y’all know how tis. I gon say another. My Mat is leavin us t’ go t’ school.”
There were moans and cries of “Oh, no.” Titay let the noise subside. “Now, now, y’all. M’ chile ain’t departin fo good. She jus gon go t’ school, and I’m bout t’ gi’e m’ blessin.”
Martha was so happy that nothing else mattered. She let the tears flow down around her cheeks before she wiped them with the back of her hand.
The people became quiet, and Titay sensed their mood and said, “Yeah, we hate t’ see er go. Tis as though she sayin she can’t be happy mongst us.”
Martha’s spirit soared when she looked out at Cam in the crowd. Me, I’m stuck. She realized that she was on the threshold of searching, learning, knowing, of stretching her mind.
Titay went on. “But I’m gon gi’e er m’ blessin knowin she’s a good smart woman. She’ll go and she’ll see out there what I always say, ain’t nothin new uner the sun. All that’s new sprang from the old.”
Martha looked at Titay and knew. No matter what she learned when she left home, it would be tested in the fire of her grandmother’s truth.
About the Author
Mildred Pitts Walter (b. 1922) grew up in Louisiana. She was the first member of her family to attend college, and then became a teacher and a civil rights activist. As a book reviewer for the Los Angeles Times, Walter noticed that there were few books about African Americans, especially for children, and decided to write them herself. She has written over twenty books for children, and has been heralded for her compelling portraits of African American family life. Walter was awarded the Coretta Scott King Award for Justin and the Best Biscuits in the World, and Because We Are and Trouble’s Child were Coretta Scott King Honor Books. She was inducted into the Colorado Women’s Hall of Fame in 1996. Walter now lives in Denver.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1985 by Mildred Pitts Walter
Cover design by Connie Gabbert
ISBN: 978-1-5040-2789-2
This edition published in 2016 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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Trouble's Child Page 11