Leaving Gee's Bend

by Irene Latham

  At the sound of her name Etta Mae poked her head inside the door.

  “Mrs. Bennett,” she said, “least let me bring up a pail of water. You gonna need it.” Etta Mae didn’t wait for an answer.

  “Lord, Jesus!” Mama leaned her head back against the wall of the cabin as the pain eased up for a moment. She took two big breaths. “You trying to kill me, Lu?”

  I gritted my teeth and pressed my lips together. “No, Mama.” What I was trying to do was save her. And the baby.

  Mama didn’t say nothing more. Just lay there quiet for a minute with her eyes closed. I stroked the hair back from her damp forehead. She was burning up.

  As Etta Mae came through the door, water sloshed out of the bucket onto the floor. She didn’t pay it no mind, just set right to work dumping the water into the iron pot.

  When she was finished, she wiped her hands across the front of her dress. “Lu, you stoke the fire while I check on your mama.”

  I jumped right up and started poking the fire. As the embers caught new pieces of wood and the flame rose higher, my heart began to slow down a little. It felt good to finally be doing something useful.

  Meanwhile Etta Mae took a closer look at Mama. If Mama noticed it wasn’t me by her side, she didn’t let on. She was too busy groaning as the pain took hold again. As Etta Mae tucked the quilt in around her shoulders, Mama wrinkled her nose and pushed her lips out like Delilah does when the hay has begun to mildew. Then she started taking short breaths like she’d just run clear across the cotton field.

  “Something ain’t right, Ludelphia,” Mama said between breaths. “Something ain’t right!” Mama’s eyes darted around the room like she was searching for something but just couldn’t find it noplace. Then she pulled her legs up toward her chest and started shaking so hard her teeth was rattling. I reckon on account of the fever.

  “Need a good knife,” Etta Mae said, turning away from Mama.

  I took a deep breath and made my voice stay calm even though my insides was shaking just as fast as Mama’s teeth. “What for?”

  “To put under the bed. To cut the pain.”

  I ain’t never heard of such a thing, but I nodded my head anyway and pointed toward the spot high in the wall where Mama kept the knife. The blade caught the sunlight and flashed like lightning when Etta Mae yanked it out of the wood. Next thing I knew, Etta Mae had pushed that knife deep into Mama’s mattress where you couldn’t see it no more.

  “Everything’s okay, Mama,” I said, even though at that moment I wasn’t sure it was true.

  I studied the pot of water. Steam was just starting to rise. “Water will soon be ready, Mama.” The one thing I did know about was what to do with the water. “Then we’ll wipe you down so everything’s good and clean for the baby.” I swallowed. “And when the baby comes, we’ll wipe it down too.”

  Mama didn’t make no reply except to start up with a new round of coughing that jolted her body in an unnatural way. I couldn’t watch no more, so I let my head hang down until I was looking through the floorboards at the chickens.

  I wanted to cry. I want to blink and have it all be over.

  “Ludelphia,” Etta Mae said, “now, you know there’s gonna be some blood, right?” She waited for me to nod. “Just the way it is when babies come. Don’t you worry about it none. You just do what I say and everything’s gonna be just fine.”

  I nodded again and felt my shoulders relax. After all these years, I was used to Etta Mae telling me what to do.

  “Get two good quilts,” she said. “Put one up under her legs, keep the other one down near her feet. That one will be for the baby.”

  From the stack next to the door I pulled Mama’s favorite Housetop quilt and an old Nine Patch pattern that was ripped in places. Just as I was getting Mama’s legs settled on top of the old Nine Patch, Mama got quiet and sat straight up in bed. Her eyes was open, but they was blank as the chalkboard on the first day of school.

  “Lord, Jesus,” Mama said in a loud, clear voice, “I’m coming home!” Wasn’t no mistaking them words. Mama reached out her arms like she was gonna hug somebody. But there wasn’t nobody there. Just me waiting at the foot of the bed and in between us nothing but air.

  “Big Mama? That you?” Mama said, her eyebrows raised and the whites of her eyes shot with little red lines. Then she grabbed hold of my wrist. Her fingers clamped down so tight wasn’t no way for blood to get to my fingers. Just as they was starting to tingle, Mama all of a sudden turned me loose.

  “No, Mama.” I rubbed my wrist with the fingers on my other hand. “It’s just me, Ludelphia. Ain’t nobody else here.”

  I looked at the door where I knew Etta Mae was waiting and thought, What if it was true? I thought about how she yanked that knife out of the wall, then shoved it up under Mama’s mattress. What if she really was a witch and her being here was making things worse, not better?

  “Big Mama?” Mama said again, her eyes wide open but not seeing nothing. Big Mama? The only Big Mama I knew of was the one from Mama’s stories. But she’d been dead for at least a hundred years. It was like my mama had gone and lost her mind. Then she started moaning so loud I knew I didn’t have no choice. Witch or not, I needed Etta Mae.

  “Etta Mae!” My voice came out high like a pig squeal. “She don’t even know who I am!”

  I couldn’t hardly breathe as Etta Mae pushed in front of me and went right to Mama’s head. It was like all the air had disappeared and the cabin wasn’t no bigger than the outhouse with the door closed.

  Etta Mae leaned over Mama and talked in her ear. “This here is Big Mama. You hear? Big Mama wants you to push now. Bear down just as hard as you can.”

  Right away, Mama grabbed the quilt in her fingers and squeezed so hard I could see all the bones in her hands, like they was gonna pop right out of her skin. She ground her teeth together and squeezed her eyes so tight they seemed to disappear.

  “Ludelphia!” Etta Mae hollered. “It’s time to catch the baby! It’s gonna be all slippery, so you got to hold tight.”

  Mama’s face was shiny now, and the sweat was dripping down her neck. Her hair was plastered against her head, and she was still shaking. Etta Mae kept talking in a low voice that sounded almost like a cat’s purr. I couldn’t hear a word she was saying, but it didn’t matter. Not when whatever she was saying made all the lines in Mama’s face ease up.

  “Now, Ludelphia!” Etta Mae cried. “Baby’s coming now!”

  Mama screamed. She screamed so loud I thought Daddy and Ruben might come running in from the fields to see what the matter was. But even if they had been right outside the door instead of two miles away, they wouldn’t have been quick enough. I held out my hands just in time for a small, waxy brown body to slide between Mama’s bony legs right into my arms.

  Baby Rose

  FOR THE FIRST FEW SECONDS THERE WASN’T NO noise except the popping of the fire. Even Mama was quiet. The baby didn’t flip or flop the way fish do when you pull ’em out of the water. It was completely still.

  “Rub the chest!” Etta Mae said as she turned the baby’s head and used a finger to clear the gunk out of its mouth.

  “You got to breathe, baby!” I said as I used the bright orange corner of the Housetop quilt to rub firm circles against the small chest till finally the baby sputtered and coughed. Etta Mae real quick pulled the baby up to her shoulder and banged her hand against the baby’s back. Then the baby began to squall.

  I ain’t never heard a sound as good as that one. This baby wasn’t like all them other ones. This baby was alive.

  “She’s gonna be just fine,” Etta Mae said as she laid the baby on its back beside Mama.

  She? I grinned. I ain’t told nobody, but I had really been hoping for a girl. And Mama ain’t never said so, but I knew it was what Mama wanted too. Because when she pulled out the small wooden box of baby things from behind the bed, it was the pink gown she held up in the air then pressed close to her heart.

  “Look
, Mama!” I said, shaking her shoulder with my free hand. She lay there limp as a sack of sugar, so I shook her again. “Mama, wake up and meet your new baby girl!”

  Mama rolled her head from one side to the other. “A girl?”

  “That’s right, Mama. Just what you wanted.” Mama dipped her chin into her shoulder and smiled a small smile, but she didn’t open her eyes. I reckon after all that I’d be tired too.

  Etta Mae reached under the mattress and fumbled around for the knife. “Next we got to cut the cord.”

  I knew about that part too. So I held the baby with one arm and stretched out the cord with the other. Etta Mae made one quick cut, and Mama and baby was split apart for good.

  As Etta Mae bundled up the baby, I wiped the sweat from Mama’s face. That’s when I saw a little bit of blood coming out of the corner of Mama’s mouth. And specks of it along her left cheek.

  I didn’t have no idea why blood was coming out of Mama’s mouth. But I knew it needed to be cleaned, so I used the quilt to wipe the dark red spots away.

  Mama’s eyes moved under her eyelids. “I can’t,” she began in a voice that was barely a whisper.

  I moved my ear close to her mouth so I’d be sure to hear. “Mama. You got to talk louder.” But Mama didn’t answer. She just lay there shivering, with her breath making that rattling sound again.

  Etta Mae stood next to the fire where she’d been dipping old quilt strips into the steaming water to help clean the baby. “She still out of her head?”

  I placed my hand on Mama’s chest and watched it move up and down. “Just tuckered out, I reckon.” It bothered me that she didn’t want to hold the baby right away. But I knew what Mama had just done was at least as hard as a sun-baked July day in the fields. Anybody would be tired after all that.

  “Come on, then, and see your baby sister.”

  I found Mama’s hand and gave her fingers a squeeze. Then I took the baby from Etta Mae.

  It was like the best Christmas ever, holding that brand-new baby. Her nose and eyes and each little dimpled finger was so small and perfect. Just a few minutes before, she’d been hidden away inside Mama, and now here she was, a real live person.

  I stroked the baby’s smooth cheek. “Can you believe it, Etta Mae?” Her body sure was long compared to the fatness of her face.

  Etta Mae didn’t say nothing, just gave a crooked smile and reached out a finger to touch the baby’s fuzzy black hair.

  I didn’t have no idea what Mama was planning to name the baby, but looking at her, I knew just what I’d call her. “Rose,” I said as the baby moved its mouth toward my finger. “She looks just like one of them climbing roses by the spring.”

  “Need to bury the afterbirth next,” Etta Mae said as she put the dirty quilts in a pile next to the door. Her movements was quick and sure, like she did this sort of thing every day. “I’ll set it out there behind the barn on my way out. And you’ll have to wash them quilts. But first put on a pot of peas! Your daddy and Ruben is gonna be hungry when they get home. And soon as I’m gone, see if you can get her to wake up a little. Baby needs to meet her mama.”

  And then like a ghost Etta Mae was gone.

  All My Fault

  SEEMED LIKE IT WASN’T NO TIME BEFORE THE chickens started squawking as Daddy and Ruben came across the yard. I rushed out onto the porch soon as I heard them.

  “Daddy! Ruben! Wait till you see!”

  As Daddy’s face crinkled in confusion, I rushed back into the cabin where the smell of peas and fried salt pork made the room warm and inviting. The cabin seemed smaller, too, what with Reverend and Mrs. Irvin standing next to Mama’s bed. But I sure was glad they was there.

  Reverend Irvin was so tall it was like watching a pine sapling bend in the wind as he prayed over Mama. And there was a softness to his face that made you feel like wasn’t no way he could hurt nobody. I reckon it was good that he was married to Mrs. Irvin because she was ’bout as wide as he was tall. They didn’t have no children of their own, but it was like Mrs. Irvin’s hips was made for holding babies. I ain’t never seen her eyes so bright as when she had a little one in her lap.

  I held my breath as Daddy pushed open the door. I didn’t have no idea what he would say, but I sure wanted to be there to hear it.

  “Well, I’ll be,” Daddy said as he walked inside to see Mrs. Irvin standing by the fire with a bundle in her arms. From his place next to Mama’s bed, Reverend Irvin stopped his praying and gave Daddy a nod.

  I couldn’t hold back no longer. “The baby came early, Daddy!” I said, still holding the wooden spoon I’d been using to stir the peas. Wasn’t right for anybody to tell him but me. “And it’s a girl, Daddy. A healthy baby girl!” I wrapped my arms around Daddy’s waist and squeezed hard as I could. He felt so good and solid, like a water oak rooted in the clay dirt next to the river. “First Mama was coughing so bad she just about couldn’t stand up, then the birthing pains started, and Daddy, the baby is fine, just fine!” I looked up at him. “Not like them other times at all.”

  “Well, I’ll be,” he said again, his voice turned tender. I let my hands drop from his waist so he could move closer to the baby. Daddy patted my head, then wiped his hands across his britches before reaching out a finger to touch the baby’s cheek.

  After he looked at her for a while, he turned to me and grinned. Then he looked past me where Ruben was still standing next to the door, quiet as could be.

  “Come on now, Ruben,” Daddy said, motioning with his hand for Ruben to come forward. “Meet your baby sister.”

  Ruben’s face just about glowed as he took one slow step after another toward the baby.

  “How do you like that, son?” Daddy chuckled as Ruben finally got to where Mrs. Irvin stood holding the baby. “Finish pulling in the cotton and get a new baby on the very same day!”

  “She sure is little,” Ruben said, shoving his hands in his pockets. He stood like that for a minute, just looking. Then he reached over and thumped me on the eye patch. “Just what we needed, another little girl.”

  We all laughed then, and Daddy rubbed the top of my head. “Some kind of day you had, Lu.” I could feel my insides getting all warm. Wasn’t all the time Daddy gave me praise in front of other folks.

  “And how’s the new mother?” Daddy motioned toward Mama, and Reverend Irvin shifted out of the way so Daddy could get a good look.

  Reverend Irvin cleared his throat. “Not doing so good, I’m afraid.” He stood back as Daddy ran his finger along Mama’s ear and jaw. “She’s either coughing like it’s gonna break her in half or sleeping so hard nothing will wake her.”

  Daddy bit his lip, then cocked his head. “Reckon the baby coming made the coughing worse?”

  “Not rightly sure,” Reverend Irvin said.

  “Mrs. Irvin?” Daddy said, turning his head toward her.

  Mrs. Irvin tucked the quilt under the baby’s chin but didn’t stop her swaying. Then she looked up at Daddy. “You know how it is when babies come,” she said. “She’s probably just wore out. That coughing sure don’t help, but give her a day or two and I reckon she’ll be back to her old self.”

  Daddy sat on the corner of the pallet, his big thumbs stroking the top of Mama’s hand. Her hands was so thin and fragile-looking next to Daddy’s wide ones that had scars zigzagging across the knuckles. “Thank you, Reverend Irvin. Mrs. Irvin,” he said, looking from one to the other. “Go on home now. Ain’t no sense you being here when you got families waiting for you to visit.” Daddy looked from me to Ruben. “We can handle it from here.”

  Soon as they was gone, Daddy went into the kitchen and started serving up the peas and corn bread. I ain’t never seen him do that. Wasn’t a time I could remember when Mama wasn’t well enough to do it herself. Even when she lost them other babies, she still got on up and fed us supper.

  While I got the baby settled in the little pallet Mrs. Irvin had made for her at the foot of Mama’s bed, Ruben got busy hauling in enough split logs t
o keep the cabin warm all night. Mama just lay there curled in a ball, her breath coming in and out like a March wind.

  Once we was all gathered around the table and the blessing had been said, Daddy took a few bites, then blotted his mouth with a napkin. “Lu?” he said. “Tell us how it all happened.”

  So I told him how Mama fell to the ground when I was over talking to Etta Mae. I told him about the puddle of water and how Mama coughed and shook and just about lost her mind. “If it wasn’t for Etta Mae, I don’t know what I’d have done,” I said.

  Daddy’s eyes was like knives. “Lu, did you let Etta Mae into this house?”

  “Yessir.” I held my breath, remembering what Mama said before about Etta Mae being a witch. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

  Daddy sighed then. The kind of sigh grown folks make when they hear something they don’t want to hear, but there’s not a thing they can do about it. Like when Daddy heard the news from Reverend Irvin that cotton prices was down to a nickel a pound after being high as forty cents in years past. Price just kept on dropping farther down. Wasn’t nothing to be done about it, but it was still right disappointing.

  “I wish you hadn’t done that, Lu.” Daddy hung his head and shook it from side to side. “Your mama . . . your mama’s gonna have a fit when she hears. Anything that goes wrong now, she’ll blame Etta Mae.” Daddy looked up at me, then pushed hard against the table. His chair scraped the floorboards till it got lodged in one of the cracks. Supper was over, and Daddy hadn’t even eaten all his peas.

  It was all my fault. I was the one that let Etta Mae in, even when Mama said not to. “I’m sorry, Daddy.” I swallowed hard to hold the tears back. “You and the Pettways was way off in the fields, and there wasn’t time to get Aunt Doshie.” I picked at a stray thread in the hem of my dress and pulled it till it popped. “Etta Mae was the only one I could call. And you know she’s helped with babies being born before. When she was in Mobile. Daddy, she knew just what to do.”