She had grown up eating in Grand’s warm kitchen at the table in the corner on special Sundays. From the time she was almost as small as Bay Brother on up. Eating with Big and Little, Hewitt; and then Bay Sister had come along to sit at the table, the last until Bay Brother was a little older.
Being kids, growing, quiet and hungry, enjoying themselves in the kitchen. It was a way of life. So it had seemed.
But this Sunday, Willie Bea would have been happy to eat in the dining room. She would just as soon not have to even look at two of her three cousins. Little and Hewitt. She wasn’t exactly enjoying the good food. She stared as hard as she could at Little and half-wit Hewitt as she chewed. She glanced at Big with concern.
Big’s face was splotchy red and pale in places. It got that way when he was upset. When Uncle Jimmy punished him. Big had been punished. Willie Bea knew that by the way he had come in the back door of Grand’s house, not greeting anybody. With his head down, hiding his face, his eyes on the floor. Big had eased down in the kitchen chair as though it hurt him to touch his backside to the seat. Willie Bea knew why, too.
Uncle Jimmy had gone after Big. And had taken Big to the woodshed. Uncle Jimmy must’ve whipped him with his leather strop. The strop was made for putting a fine edge on Uncle Jimmy’s straight razor. It was leather-covered wood and was an evil whipping board as well.
Willie Bea had to narrow her eyes a moment to get the picture of what must’ve happened in the shed out of her mind. It was awful—Big, treated that way. She didn’t know who to blame—Uncle Jimmy, her mama? Uncle Jimmy had done the dirty deed, hurting Big. But her mama was the cause of Big getting punished.
Willie Bea stared at Little across the table from her.
“You’re the one,” she whispered. “Causin’ Big to hurt. I know who the Gobble-uns gonna get tonight!”
Little looked up. For a shadow of a moment, she was shocked and afraid Willie Bea really could bring on the Gobble-uns. She believed in them as certainly as she feared the sight of witches flying on their broomsticks.
Willie Bea knew that bad children, evil in the daytime, never thought the night would come. She laughed straight at Little.
Little kicked her hard under the table. The pain shot through Willie Bea’s shin. But she managed to swallow the food she’d been chewing. She gave back as good and hard as she had gotten. Her aim under the table was sure.
“Ow!” Little cried, and nearly fell off her chair. Big grabbed her glass of milk, which was about to topple. He pulled her up by the arm and straightened her in her seat.
“She kicked me!” Little tried to holler, but Big had his hand half over her mouth.
“Hush up!” he whispered. “You want Daddy in here with us?”
“I don’t … care,” Little mumbled.
“No, because it’s Big that will be havin’ to care,” said Willie Bea.
“Willie Bea, you stay shut, too,” Big said. They looked at one another.
Willie Bea hung her head, then glanced again at Big. They were still friends, she could tell. But Big was hurting, ashamed, saddened that his own daddy and her mama were both put out with him. Big always liked to be on good terms with his closest relatives. He couldn’t stand having Marva Mills mad at him. That hurt him more than having his own papa mad at him. He thought Willie Bea’s mama was the most pretty, kindest relative he’d ever known. Aunt Leah was the most gorgeous and well-heeled, of course. She was just beyond measure of beauty and riches. But he didn’t see her every day. Aunt Leah was like a gift that came by surprise. But he couldn’t do enough for his Aunt Marva every time he saw her to make her like him. He saw her at least ten times a day. And now he had done the worst thing he could possibly do. He didn’t know how it had happened. He hadn’t meant to use Bay Brother as a base for his pumpkin target.
They had all been playing and talking—him and his cousin Hewitt. And Little was there, and Toughy Clay had stopped by a minute. Said he couldn’t find Willie Bea. Said he was going to Halloween beg with them. And Little had said no he wasn’t, too; he wasn’t no kind of relative. Then Toughy had thrown some stones right at Little, yelling, “Bull’s-eye, Bull’s-eye!”
Little had plopped herself down in the grass, this faraway look in her eyes. Big had batted down each and every thrown stone with his hands as large and leathery as Ernie Lombardi’s catcher’s mitt. Lumbering Ernie Lombardi of the Cincinnati Reds, who they said could hit a baseball as hard as any man who ever lived. Every time Big looked at his own hands, he thought of his favorite catcher, Lombardi.
Big wouldn’t allow anyone to hurt Little or any of his cousins. Not Bay Brother, for certain. He knew lumbering Lombardi would never let a smaller kid get hurt. Never. Big wouldn’t dare let Little be hurt, also, for fear of what his daddy would do to him.
Little hadn’t been hit by one stone. And Toughy had run off, angry at them. Little had been talking softly. And before Big realized what he was doing, he had snatched Bay Brother. Going all the way over to his house with Bay. And getting his bike, with Bay Brother on the handlebars. And Little and Hewitt on her lady bike. And Little standing and peddling, with Hewitt sitting on the seat, holding on to her dress at the sides. Big still didn’t know how it could have happened that they bought a pint of ice-cream downtown. Hewitt had supplied most of the money for the ice-cream, being as how he was visiting and had quite a bit of silver in his new Sunday knickers. Then they had peddled furiously to the edge of Big’s daddy’s wood. It sure was turning into the worst kind of begging time of Halloween, too, as far as Big could tell.
No, it was not a very good time in the kitchen at the cousins’ table.
Best not to cause more trouble, Willie Bea decided. She kept her thoughts away from getting even with Little and Hewitt. But Little wouldn’t leave well enough alone.
Little had calmed down, with Big watching her closely in order to nip any outburst in the bud. They had all gone back to eating, if not to enjoying themselves totally. Little seemed to have settled down when, very sweetly, she had to be exactly what she was. Little.
“You should see my Halloween costume, Bay Sis. It is the most fine, priddy Little Red Riding Hood you ever want to see. Umm-hmmm! And has a cape, too, and a red mask, too. You should see it. But don’t touch it. Mama don’t want any sticky fingers on my costume. We gone over to Xenia for the gala street parade tomorra night. Daddy says they have some cash prizes ought to come out to ninety dollars and ninety cent, too. He says he’s sure I can win the best-dressed-child first prize of two whole dollars, too. Are yall gonna go? Bay Sis? What costume you gonna wear?”
Bay Sister slowly lowered her fork. Her eyes filled with huge tears.
“You evil little witch!” hissed Willie Bea. And she slung a spoonful of candied yam right at Little’s nose. It was a perfect shot that splattered across Little’s cheek. Big had his hand over Little’s mouth and most of her face before she could move. It never occurred to him to clean off the yam first.
Willie Bea giggled herself silly as Big’s hand spread the candied yam like jam.
Little was snorting potato and had gone rigid with fury. But Big held her in his strong hands, letting her tremble with rage until she had calmed down.
“You know she had no business saying that!” Willie Bea said to Big, finding her outrage again.
“What she say? What Little say?” asked Hewitt. “I didn’t hear what she say!”
“Oh, be quiet, Hewitt,” Willie Bea said. Half-wit! Willie Bea thought. “Whyn’t you go on back to You-know-what-to-Beulah?”
“Gone tell Mama on you, too,” Hewitt said.
“Tattle-tale, haul your ashes to Beulah, too,” Willie Bea said, but without her usual confidence. She was watching Big and Little.
Big was helping Little wash her face at the sink. He pumped the pump and Little cupped her hands under the spout as the water came out. He was talking softly to his sister. But what Big called low talking was loud enough for anyone in the kitchen to hear. He’d never lea
rned what whispering was.
“Now don’t you take on Willie Bea, Little. ’Cause she gonna beat you every time. And then I have to finish it, and how’m I gonna choose between she and you?”
“You better choose me!” Little whispered loudly back. “Tell Daddy and you get some more strop!”
“Just hold her silly mouth under the pump for ten minute,” Willie Bea called over her shoulder. She went back to eating. But she kept her face to one side so she could move quickly if Little should try to pull her hair or throw corn in it, or something.
No, it was not a good time in the kitchen among the Wing cousins this Sunday of company and Halloween. Little didn’t make a move toward Willie Bea. That was because Big kept one of his leather paws on her until she had sat down in her seat again. He held on to her shoulder in case she should think about kicking out under the table. He kept his eye on Willie Bea. They looked at one another. And by their looks Willie Bea agreed not to kick Little, nor to say bad words to her.
Hewitt looked from Big to Little and then to Willie Bea. He shook his head. “Yall sure somethin’. What’s to fuss about? Want to know what we doin’ in school?”
All of them groaned. “Cousin Hewitt,” Willie Bea said, “please don’t tell us about all your A’s and A pluses. Because it’s sickening the way you have to be the teacher’s pet because you are afraid to walk home after school. Unless she hold your hand, too.”
“That’s a lie!” Hewitt said. “There are bad boys all up and down the streets around the school. Miss Hill, my teacher, live only a half a block from our house. She goin’ my way, so why not walk her home?”
“Oooh, hooo, he’s in love with Miss Hill, too,” Willie Bea teased.
Laughter came to them from the dining room. The grown folks were busy among themselves. They did not have to fight. But they did fight in other ways, Willie Bea knew. She listened to the good, friendly, family times in the other room. She looked at Hewitt. Poor half-wit. He was about to cry, too. And, suddenly, she knew he was in love with his teacher.
Poor Hewitt waited for Willie Bea’s attack on him, since she had discovered his weakness. But it never came. Willie Bea felt bad for him and she let it go. He was a cousin, after all, and you did not go after a cousin when he was down. When he had no control over the situation.
That’s why Little is so small, Willie Bea thought.
For Little had rubbed it in to Bay Sister and Willie Bea that they had less than she had. That they could not have pretty Halloween costumes.
When they had finished eating, Willie Bea cleared their plates from the table. It was her job. She was the smartest, not the oldest. No one would expect Big to clear the table with his clumsy hands.
Break all the dishes before he gets them to the sink, she thought now. She did not resent having to clean up after the kids. After scraping the dishes into the can for hog slops, she placed the dishes and silverware in the sink and pumped water over them. The ice-cold water from the well gushed down on the plates.
Willie Bea walked away from the kitchen without a word. The cousins knew what she would do now. And at the kitchen table they waited quietly for her to come back.
Willie Bea went into the dining room. She went over to Grand and stood beside her chair. Grand reached up, put her arm around Willie Bea’s waist. The grown folks were deep in conversation. All were listening and taking turns talking. Only a very few times did grown folks in her family talk all at once. When someone died suddenly. Or when there was a scandal in the family. Then everyone might get excited enough to talk all at once. It was quite proper for Willie Bea to come in to her Grand and stand and wait. The fact that she went to Grand, who was the woman of the house, was the right way to do things when you wanted something at over home, her mama had told her.
The grown folks were talking about why Dayton had shut its schools. “Shortage of funds,” Uncle Jimmy said.
He would know that! thought Willie Bea. The schools had been closed since Friday.
“Might stay closed for two whole months,” Gramp said.
I sure wouldn’t like that, Willie Bea thought. Glad I don’t live in Dayton, too.
Then they were talking about luck in the form of a $142,800 winning ticket on the Irish Sweepstakes.
“It has tumbled into the laps of Elwood and Ellis Howe,” said her father. “They’re the managers of a trucking firm down in Cincinnati.”
Willie Bea thrilled at how her father knew so much.
“Where you hear about that?” asked Uncle Donald.
“It was in the Xenia paper,” said her father. “And on the radio, too.”
“Which one is the wife—Ellis?” asked Aunt Lu.
Beautiful Aunt Leah’s low laugh swelled out around them. She held Bay Brother on her lap, bouncing him on her knee. Bay Brother wore fresh Sunday clothes and had a shiny silver fifty-cent piece squeezed in his little hand.
Willie Bea’s eyes nearly popped out of her head at the sight of the gleaming half-dollar. She never seemed to get the first chance at Aunt Leah any more. Was she growing too big to be the kind of child Aunt Leah loved?”
“They’re brothers, Lu,” said Marva Mills, talking about the Sweepstakes winners. She shot a warning glance at her sister, Leah, to behave herself.
“Two red-headed brothers,” said her father. “Two of seven Americans who’ll receive first-prize money in the Irish Sweepstakes.”
“Any darker folks win some of that money?” asked Uncle Donald.
“That they didn’t say,” said her father.
“Probably keepin’ it a secret,” said Grand, and they all laughed.
Smiling, Grand squeezed Willie Bea to her and looked up to see her, surprised she was there. “What is it, baby?” she asked Willie Bea.
“Grand, we all finish with supper. I cleared the table good. Can I cut us up some pie?”
“Ain’t she sweet?” said Grand to everyone. “Willie Bea always take care of the cousins so well!”
“Who she take after?” asked Aunt Leah suddenly. “Commere, baby,” she said.
Willie Bea couldn’t believe it was happening. She waited as she knew she must. And Grand released her. She walked around the table to Aunt Leah, who sat beside her sister, Marva. And stood there as quietly as she could.
Willie Bea’s mama was almost smiling, as if she knew what was going to happen. And wasn’t quite sure she approved of it.
“Who you take after, girl?” Aunt Leah said, hugging Willie Bea.
“My mama,” said Willie Bea, against Aunt Leah’s lovely face. She could smell such powder and perfume, it took her breath!
“See there?” said Aunt Mattie Belle. “She know who she take after.”
“No, she don’t,” said Aunt Leah. “She take after me because she’s beautiful.”
“Sweet mercy me!” said Marva Mills, and they laughed again at the sisters, who were both fine-looking women.
Aunt Leah gave Willie Bea a kiss on the lips and slipped a new, shiny half-dollar in her hand. Willie Bea slowly raised her hand to look at it. She couldn’t believe it. Fifty-cent piece was one costume. And she could buy one tomorrow. But she would have to ask Big if she could go to the gala parade in Uncle Jimmy’s car. No. Oh, no! She couldn’t go.
“What she frownin’ about? What you frownin’ about, baby?” Aunt Leah said to Willie Bea. “Hmm, honey, what is it?” For Willie Bea had put on a long face, although she hadn’t meant to. She felt like crying. And she would hate to give the fifty-cent piece back, but she might have to.
She looked up from her hand holding the money to Aunt Leah. And had to say it. “Do you have a new half-dollar for my sister, too?” Her voice hardly above a whisper.
“Now that’s somethin’,” said Grand. “Child got more heart than most grown folks.”
“Sure, I got a half-dollar for your sister,” said Aunt Leah. “Precious baby, I knew you’d ask, Willie Bea. And here’s one for Big and Little and for Hewitt—okay? You give them the money. Be messenger
to the fortune lady!” She smiled a winning smile at Willie Bea.
“Lemme see your palm,” Aunt Leah said quite suddenly, grabbing Willie Bea’s left hand. She ran her index finger along the middle of Willie Bea’s palm. Her red-painted fingernail was long and sharp. Bay Brother snuggled against her.
Willie Bea giggled. “Aunt Leah, it tickles!”
“What does it read?” asked Grand.
“Mama, don’t encourage Leah,” scolded her daughter Marva.
Jason Mills laughed. Everybody was looking interested, though. Gramp leaned forward, proud his daughter Leah was a prophet.
“Oh, this child!” said Aunt Leah. “See that lifeline—it fated, crossed by fate. But the line is long, very long. Oh, it’s a fine, strong lifeline.”
“What’s it mean?” whispered Willie Bea.
“Means a long, good life. Oh. Oh, my goodness, looka this! This child’s got the Star of Venus in her palm.”
“Where?” Willie Bea’s legs felt like they might buckle under her. She studied her palm, but had no idea what a Star of Venus was.
“Right there, on the ground of Apollo,” said Aunt Leah, pointing. “There is that five-pointed Star. Venus is a planet, but it’s called the evening star, too. And I have never seen such a Star of Venus in nobody’s palm, it that rare.”
“What it is?” asked Gramp.
“Luck,” said Aunt Leah softly, tossing her page-boy. Aunt Leah’s hair always looked beautiful, was Willie Bea’s opinion. “Most fine, impossible good luck,” Leah went on. “You will chance to see what the world has to offer, Willie Beatrime. You will know the strange and the unknown. You will win the world!”
“I don’t doubt that for a minute,” said Willie Bea’s papa, grinning at Willie Beatrime.
“Leah, don’t you scare her with all that nonsense,” said Willie Bea’s mama.
“Shhh, it’s Halloween!” said Grand, smiling.
Willie Bea and the Time the Martians Landed Page 6