by Irene Latham
“Let’s get her home,” Ruben said. “So she can be with her mama.”
Mrs. Irvin’s lap looked empty. “Keep her bundled up,” she said, clasping her hands like she didn’t know what to do with ’em. “Babies sleep best when they’re nice and warm.”
As Mrs. Irvin turned her attention to Reverend Irvin, me and Ruben made our way to the back of the church and out the door.
The voices from inside the church followed us back down the footpath. First it was just Reverend Irvin all by himself. Then it was everybody together.
“Swing low, sweet chariot,” they sang, “coming for to carry me home. Swing low, sweet chariot, coming for to carry me home.”
Me and Ruben’s eyes met, then we was singing too. “I looked over Jordan, and what did I see, coming for to carry me home? A band of angels coming after me, coming for to carry me home.”
All the way home we sang for all that had been lost that day, and for all that had been saved. Wasn’t no better words than the ones in that song.
Back at the cabin, Ruben held open the door for me as I carried Rose straight to the bed and placed her next to Mama.
“Look at that,” Daddy said. I knew just what he was talking about. Mama and Rose fit together snug as puzzle pieces.
I watched ’em for a while, then I watched the flames stretch and curl as Ruben stoked the fire. Then I picked up my quilting things. It was time for me to start over.
I set right to work pulling the stitches out of the part I’d already done. Then I laid out all the pieces, same as I’d seen Mama do. The calico ones from Mama’s apron went in one pile, the rough burlap ones from the pocket of my sack dress in another, the fancy white napkin Mrs. Cobb gave me in another.
From the lunch sack I pulled Doc Nelson’s blue handkerchief and the scrap I tore from Etta Mae’s dress. The handkerchief I ripped into four skinny strips. The yellow piece from Etta Mae’s dress I tore into squares. Then I took off my eye patch. This time for good.
With the needle and spool of thread Mrs. Nelson gave me, I tied a knot and started stitching. It was gonna take a while to finish, but I wanted to get the most important part done right away.
I dusted off the little triangle of denim that had been my eye patch and took off the string. Then I set one of the calico pieces next to it and pushed my needle in and out. Now that I was back home in the cabin with my whole family beside me, wasn’t nothing to stop me from telling my story just the way it happened.
Winter
THE WEEKS THAT CAME AFTER MRS. COBB LOADED up her wagons was the coldest anybody could remember. Wasn’t just cold, it was quiet. It was like a thick fog had settled over all of Gee’s Bend. Only wasn’t no sun to chase it away.
The worst part was not having nothing to eat except hackberries and wild plums. We was so proud when Mrs. Cobb didn’t take our pots, but what good was they when there wasn’t no food to put in ’em?
Didn’t take but two days for the four jars of soup Daddy buried in the yard to get gone. I reckon we could have made ’em last longer if we hadn’t shared with the Pettways and Aunt Doshie. But Daddy said we was all in this together, and together we would get through it.
One day Daddy made a slingshot out of a hickory branch and some leather pieces he found in the barn. After that you could find him hunting in the woods most afternoons. Usually he’d come home with his hands in his pockets. So my ears perked right up the day I heard him whistling before I could see him.
“Daddy? Is it a deer?” I said. What I would give for some deer meat! My belly started jumping just at the thought of it.
“Even better,” he said, his cheeks glowing. Better than a deer? I couldn’t think of nothing that would be better than that. But I reckon anything would be good so long as it wasn’t more berries.
“Don’t peek,” Daddy said. So I closed my eyes and held my breath.
“All right, open ’em,” Daddy said.
“A squirrel? You caught a squirrel?” My belly started churning real strong. Squirrel was tough but it was tasty. And a little meat would be good for Mama. Be good for all of us, but especially Mama.
Daddy grinned. “Just look at that fat belly! Gonna be some good eating tonight.”
“I’ll go put some water on,” I said, heading back inside the cabin.
“Mama,” I said once the door was shut behind me, “gonna have us some squirrel stew for supper. Won’t that be a treat?”
Mama didn’t speak but her lips curved into a smile. She was lying up in the bed same as she did every day. Wasn’t much else she could do, but at least she wasn’t getting them coughing spells near as much as she used to. And seemed like she was staying awake more and more.
“Got to be patient,” Aunt Doshie said last time she looked in on Mama. “Gonna take some time for her to get her strength back.” Wasn’t no more talk about Mama dying or about what I done or about Etta Mae being a witch. It was like Mrs. Cobb took all that mess right out of Aunt Doshie’s head along with all them things she hauled out of Gee’s Bend.
Wasn’t nothing left but important things to talk about. Like how things sure was tough, but we was tougher. Mrs. Cobb might have taken all the things we owned, but we still had each other, and together we was gonna make it.
“Ruben?” Mama said as I stoked the fire.
“Gone fishing.” It was what he did most every day now. Sometimes I’d go with him, but I still got tired of all that waiting. And so far Ruben ain’t caught a single fish. But he kept on trying.
Things would have been better if we was having school like we usually did during the winter months. But Reverend Irvin said Teacher wasn’t coming, on account nobody had nothing to pay him with.
When I first heard about it, I wanted to kick something real hard. Then I started thinking about Patrick and how he had all those children to feed. Could be Teacher had even more children than Patrick. I reckon he wanted to come teach us but needed something more filling than hackberries.
Wasn’t nothing to be done about it. Just meant time dragged on slower than it might have if we was spending half the day learning our lessons over at Pleasant Grove Baptist Church.
I kept close to the fire as the flames under the pot crackled. Too bad there wasn’t nothing but water to put in with the squirrel. Some potatoes or carrots sure would be good. I reckon this squirrel stew was gonna taste about as exciting as pine bark. Or biscuits with no lard in ’em.
“Ain’t got nothing to complain about,” I reminded myself. Sometimes it helped to say it out loud. We was blessed to have that squirrel, even if it wasn’t much. I reckon it was more than a lot of folks had, and it was important to remember that part.
But there was so many things I missed about the way things used to be before Mrs. Cobb came with her wagons. Like the sound of the hens scratching and clucking. And eggs. I sure did miss cracking eggs for corn bread. I even missed the sound of Mama’s broom banging the dirt out of the quilts on the line.
Most of all I missed Delilah. Sometimes the quiet got to me so bad I wanted to scream. But I couldn’t do that. Not with Mama needing me to be strong. So I stomped my feet instead. Just so I could hear the floorboards squeak and groan.
From her pallet at the foot of Mama’s bed, Rose stirred. Her big brown eyes was open and her brow was all drawn up. She liked looking at all them colors on my quilt top. Rose wasn’t no bigger than a hambone, but already she liked quilts.
Wasn’t a day that passed that I didn’t take up my needle and cloth pieces and put in some stitches. I was right to start over. And I ain’t missed my eye patch, not once.
Before long it would be time for me to set it up in the quilting frame. Which is why I paid good attention when the ladies started talking at church. But so far not a one of ’em had said a thing about quilting.
As the water in the pot began to boil, I watched Daddy through the doorway of the cabin. He wiped his knife across his britches and held the squirrel meat in the air.
Then Ruben came runni
ng down the footpath. Wasn’t a fishing pole or nothing in his hands.
“A wagon’s coming!” he hollered. “A white man in a wagon!”
Hadn’t been no wagons in Gee’s Bend since Mrs. Cobb came. Surely it wasn’t one of her men coming back for something. Not after two whole months.
I rushed into the yard, my heart pounding. All the Pettways came pouring out of their cabin, but wasn’t no words spoken. We was all just waiting to see who it was.
The wagon didn’t stop till it got to the chinaberry tree in our front yard. I squinted my eye. Could it be? Could it really be?
“Doc Nelson!” I cried as I ran toward him. It was Doc Nelson! He was finally here to check on my mama!
His face broke into a grin as he stepped out of the wagon. “Ludelphia Bennett,” he said, his dimple flashing. Same as it had the very first time I saw him. “Just the person I was coming to see.”
I threw my arms around him and held tight. Didn’t matter that he wasn’t family or that it had been so long. He had come all the way to Gee’s Bend, just like I asked him to!
“You here to check on my mama?”
“That’s part of it.” He stroked his chin. “How’s she doing?”
“Better,” I said. “Aunt Doshie says it’s just gonna take some time.”
Doc Nelson nodded his head and breathed deep. Like a load had been lifted from his back. “Glad to hear it, Ludelphia. Right glad to hear it.”
Daddy walked up to us and held out his hand.
“Mr. Bennett?” Doc Nelson said, giving his hand a shake. “That’s a fine daughter you got there. I know you’re proud of her.”
“Yessir,” Daddy said. “What brings you to Gee’s Bend?”
“Two things. I wanted to look in on your wife, and I wanted to bring you this letter.” Doc Nelson pulled a piece of paper from his shirt pocket and handed it to Daddy.
Daddy took it from him, then slowly unfolded the paper. “Ain’t bad news, is it? Can’t take any more bad news.”
Ruben and the Pettways all moved in close so they could see better. “Read it to us, Daddy,” I said. I wanted to snatch it out of his hand and read it myself, but I forced myself to stand still and listen.
Daddy cleared his throat. “Dear Ludelphia Bennett.” He stopped and took a sideways look at me. “Thank you for alerting us to the dire conditions in Gee’s Bend, Alabama. The Red Cross is here to help, so we are sending this shipment to help ease the pain and suffering in your town. Another shipment will follow. Sincerely, The American Red Cross.”
Shipment? I looked at Doc Nelson’s wagon. Why, it was piled high with boxes. Wasn’t no telling what all was in ’em!
“See, Daddy?” I said, rushing to the wagon. “See that red cross?” Each box had a label on it. So there was no mistaking who it was from.
Daddy’s eyes got wet, and Ruben let out a whoop. “Can you believe it?” Ruben said to Etta Mae.
Etta Mae started to laugh then till her whole body was shaking. “Sure, I do,” she said to Ruben. “Ain’t nothing Lu can’t do.” A look passed between ’em then. A look that made me think of Mama and Daddy when they was together and they thought nobody was watching. Did it mean what I thought it meant?
Wasn’t no time for me to think about it. Not with Doc Nelson and his wagon standing right there.
“There’s cornmeal and sugar,” Doc Nelson said as he walked around the wagon and read off the labels on the boxes. “Meat and dried beans. . . .” He lifted one of the bags to look underneath. “Got some seed and fertilizer too.”
Mr. Pettway lifted his hands to the heavens and Mrs. Pettway’s eyes filled right up with tears. But she was smiling too. Not like the day Mrs. Cobb came at all.
I wanted to dance, I wanted to sing! I wanted to take Daddy’s hand and do the two-step. I touched the bag that was marked flour. It was smooth cotton, the kind a needle goes through easy as rain through the roof.
“Thanks to your daughter, Mr. Bennett, now somebody out there knows there’s a Gee’s Bend,” Mr. Nelson said, giving my shoulder a gentle pat. “Won’t be forgotten now. Not after this.”
I let the warmth spread through my arms and legs, all the way to my ears and toes. Even though I knew it wasn’t really me who’d done it. It was Mrs. Nelson that sent my letter.
When I looked over at Daddy, I could see tears sparkling in his eyelashes. I ran over and wrapped my arms around his waist. I linked my hands and squeezed just as hard as I could.
“Look what you done, Ludelphia.” Daddy pumped my hand just like I’d seen him do with Ruben when my brother brought in more cotton than anybody else. Then he wiped his eyes and looked up at the sky. “Hallelujah,” he whispered. “Hallelujah!”
Piece by Piece
THINGS WAS BETTER IN GEE’S BEND AFTER DOC Nelson brought them Red Cross boxes.
The biggest thing was I didn’t wake in the middle of the night with my belly rumbling. There was biscuits for breakfast, and bacon too. There was jars of vegetables and corn bread for supper. Wasn’t near as good as when Mama was cooking it, but it was solid food.
“Got to be careful we don’t eat it too fast,” Daddy said. Wasn’t no telling how long the cold would last. So we stored some on the shelves in the barn.
But it wasn’t just about the food. It was like the air wasn’t near as cold as it had been, and folks was smiling more. The ladies at the church even started up quilting again. Didn’t take but one Sunday afternoon for all of us working together to get my quilt finished.
Things was better with Mama too. Within two weeks of Doc Nelson’s visit, she was strong enough to get out of bed all on her own and walk across the cabin.
“Don’t want you doing too much,” Daddy said.
“Stop your worrying,” Mama said with a smile. She was wearing a pair of white knit socks that came in one of them Red Cross boxes. I was wearing a pair too. Them socks kept my toes warm and toasty the rest of that winter.
“Mama, you about ready to try out them shoes you picked?” They was from the Red Cross boxes too. The day Doc Nelson came, Daddy carried in a few pairs for Mama to see. She picked some shiny leather ones for herself and some little bitty ones for Rose to have when she started walking. But so far she ain’t put them shoes on her feet.
Not like Ruben. Wasn’t nobody faster getting on them boots than he was. And he sure did like to bang around in ’em. For days afterwards, he toted the wood and water and put out the wash too, just to feel the weight of them boots on his feet.
“I’m saving mine for church,” Mama said. “Soon as I’m well enough to walk to church, that’s when I’m gonna put them fancy shoes on.” Mama looked at me from across the room. “But that don’t have to stop you from wearing yours.”
“It ain’t that, Mama. It’s just I don’t like ’em.” I’d picked a pair of high-heeled ones with little straps, just like in the picture on the cabin wall. I stomped ’em into the dirt to see the prints they made. But they cramped my little toes and rubbed raw spots into my heels. So wasn’t long before I took ’em off again. I reckon after all that happened, I just needed to feel the dirt of Gee’s Bend same as I always had, right between my toes.
“Best hold on to ’em,” Mama said. “For when you change your mind.”
“Yes’m,” I said. Even though I couldn’t imagine a time coming that I’d ever want to wear them shoes. But one thing I’d learned in the three months since Rose was born was that Mama’s right about most everything. All them things she was always telling me? So far every one of ’em had turned out to be true.
“Ludelphia Bennett,” Mama said, looking at me hard for the first time in a long time, “where is your eye patch?”
I grinned. I’d been waiting for just this moment. “Right here, Mama,” I said as I reached underneath the stack of quilts in the corner where I’d hidden the one I made for her.
When I held it up and pointed to the little triangle of denim, Mama lifted her eyebrows and her eyes got wide. “You done this, Ludelphia?
All by yourself?”
I nodded. Then Mama took it from my hands and ran her fingers along the seams. “Must be some story,” she said as she touched the pieces that came from her apron, then the ones that used to be the blue handkerchief and finally the bright yellow ones I’d set in each corner.
“Tell me,” she said, swinging the quilt up and around her shoulders just like I imagined she would. “From start to finish.”
And so I did. But first I asked her the question I’d been aching to ask all this time. “Mama?” I said. “Did you really believe it when Aunt Doshie told you Etta Mae was a witch?”
Mama fingered the eye patch on the quilt. “It’s ain’t as simple as believing or not believing.” My heart sank down to the pit of my stomach. It wasn’t the answer I wanted. “Lu, I got to tell you, sometimes things don’t make sense, no matter how hard you try to figure it. Sometimes none of the rules fit.” I looked her in the eye. Now we was getting someplace! “Them are the times you got to find the courage to do what you think is best. You got to make up your own mind and see it through.”
I grinned. “Just like stitching a quilt.”
“That’s right,” Mama said. “Now tell me everything.”
Once I started telling it, there wasn’t no stopping me. Wasn’t a single thing I left out. And by the time I got to the part about Mrs. Cobb giving me a Coke to drink, Ruben and Daddy was listening too.
Even Rose was listening. And when I held up the quilt to show my story piece by piece, that baby girl squealed and gurgled like she was gonna start talking right then and there. I mean to tell you, there ain’t nothing sweeter in this whole wide world.
Things was different between me and Mama after that. She didn’t worry after me the way she used to. And I didn’t wear no eye patch ever again.
I don’t reckon I have to tell you Mama sure was right about them shoes. I changed my mind all right.
But that’s a different quilt. And a whole other story.
Author’s Note
LEAVING GEE’S BEND is a fictional story that evolved out of my love for quilts and other textile arts. The daughter of a seamstress, I grew up watching my mother use a needle and sewing machine to create works of art out of plain pieces of fabric. So when I learned The Quilts of Gee’s Bend art exhibit would be on display at the Whitney Museum of American Art during a trip to New York City, I knew I needed to see it. (Yes, even though Gee’s Bend is located only 120 miles from my home in Birmingham, Alabama, I had to travel all the way to New York City to view the exhibit!)