Blackberry Days of Summer

by Ruth P. Watson

  He quickly found a seat at the table, and this time it was Papa’s chair. Momma pulled out a chair and sat down beside him. He subtly touched Momma on the hand, and she let him. Feeling a need to guard her, I took a seat, too, and cut my eyes toward them. With her eyes fixated on him, she ignored me. After another few moments, she got up, reached on the shelf and grabbed two cups.

  “Want some coffee, Herman?” she asked.

  “I don’t mind if I do,” he said, adjusting himself in Papa’s chair.

  She filled both of their cups to the top and offered him cream and sugar.

  It was wet outside, and the wind whirled through the trees. Sadly, my papa wasn’t around to liven up the house, fill up the stove and bring warmth to the room. Instead, Momma chunked two logs into the stove and opened up the flue, and our home, to a stranger.

  “We’re going to be eating dinner soon. I hope you stay.”

  “Mae Lou, thank you for inviting me to eat. It’s been a month of Sundays since I had a woman cook a meal for me.” He removed his jacket and placed it on the back of the chair.

  “It’s been a while since a man has eaten with me, too.”

  I struggled to keep from screaming. She shouldn’t let that man eat here, in Papa’s chair. I got up from the table, poured a glass of water, took a deep breath and sat back down.

  “Don’t you have something you needs to do?” Momma said, noticing my distraught face.

  I got up and checked on the chicken she was frying in lard.

  Not enough time had passed. Papa had only been dead three months, and like some teenager, she was already having company. My eyes became slits and I bit my tongue, knowing I would have to eat with them.

  My intuition told me there was something sinister about this man. The way he’d gazed at me the moment I opened the door made me want to slam it in his face. But how could I have done that? Papa always said if we’d listen, God would warn us about things.

  When John and Carl joined us in the kitchen, both of them stopped short. They peered down at Momma and her new beau without speaking.

  “Why are y’all staring? You act like we never have visitors.”

  John came closer to the table. “We wanted to make an acquaintance,” he said. Carl shrugged his shoulders as if he didn’t care, and I assumed he wanted to ignore it.

  Herman, as Momma had called him, hastily stood up, reached out his hand and introduced himself. “Herman Camm.”

  The smiles on my brothers’ faces instantly dwindled and disappointment set in.

  Momma stunned me that Sunday. She had moved on and was no longer grieving over Papa. All this time she had been thinking about courting another man. And it was only the first of many visits from Mr. Camm.

  If that wasn’t enough, Anna Smith approached me the next morning at school.

  “You’ve been walking ’round here for a month acting like I still ain’t kin to you. I done told you we sisters.”

  I had always relished the old pine tree in front of the schoolyard. Sometimes I’d prop up against it and gaze through its leaves at the gray sky and let all my thoughts drift with the clouds. I had propped up against the tree when she walked up. Now she wouldn’t let me think.

  “Anna, you have teased me for so long, it is hard for me to believe anything you say. And if I am your sister, why do you treat me so bad?”

  “You’s walking ’round here like you’s better’n me. I wanted to make you suffer.”

  Once again, I saw that she shared the same keen features as I did. We did favor, and yet she had on the dingiest clothes of anybody in class. Her braided hair was wiry and unattractive. I had on nice clothes that had been ironed, and my hair was braided neatly into two cornrows. I could sense her jealousy and the insecurity of being dirt poor.

  “Ma told me ’bout you a long time ’go. I had to think on it before I said anythang. I wanted to make sho’ you’s as nice as she think. She been asking ’bout you. She wants to see you, Carrie.”

  I was outraged. “Why do she want to see me after all these years? I’m fifteen years old. Where has she been all my life? I’m practically grown.” I tried to be sarcastic, but my voice trembled. I didn’t realize that it would be so hard for me to deal with. Deep inside, I wanted Anna to say it was all a misunderstanding, a foul joke.

  “She can’t ’ford you. You came just like my baby, un’spect’ly. She say she want to know her firstborn, that’s all.” As the sound of her raspy voice penetrated my ears, all I could think about was the secrets they’d held all these years.

  “Anna, I don’t want to be bothered with your momma. She has not been there for me, so why should I go see some woman that I don’t even know? She gave me away. I didn’t leave her!”

  Anna bristled with anger. The vein in her neck trembled beneath her skin. She put her hand on her hips and moved closer to me. Her breath blasted my face. “You don’t talk ’bout my ma like that. She wants to see you. She good peoples.”

  Before I could respond, Mrs. Miller called everybody inside. As Anna walked away, she turned around and rolled her eyes at me.

  I still didn’t want Anna to be my sister, but as her words sank in, I realized I did want to meet my real mother. If nothing else, I wanted to see what we shared.

  So after school, I went home with Anna. Her house wasn’t very far, a mile north of the schoolhouse. As we turned onto this little dirt trail, my breathing sped up. The path was crowded with overgrown weeds, shrubbery, and vines that blocked our view of anything even a few feet in front of us. Set back amongst the trees was a small house with gray paint puckering off its sides. Chickens were scattered around in the yard, along with a lot of small children with snotty noses and unattended hair. At first glimpse of Anna, they all came running, including some of the chickens. One of the children grabbed Anna’s leg and studied me from top to bottom with tiny, round, concerned eyes.

  As we entered, I found the house crowded with chairs of no consistent type, a Davenport, tables, and clothes scattered throughout. Sitting at the kitchen table was a lady who was my mirror image. Despite myself, my heart swelled at the sight of her. She was swollen with child. She gazed at me and a smile illuminated her face.

  “That’s Ma, right there,” Anna said, pointing.

  “Come here,” she said, welcoming me.

  I moved closer and held out my hand for her to shake. But instead, she pulled me in close and hugged me so hard her hands seemed to knead into my spine. Then she kissed my cheek and bit it.

  “Ouch,” I said and Anna and her ma giggled like silly children.

  “Nice to meet you,” I managed, stunned by both the resemblance and the greeting I had not expected from a stranger.

  “Thank the Lord you’s here,” she sang out. Anna pulled a chair out from the kitchen table for me to sit in. The aroma of beans cooking filled the air. She shooed a fly from around her food. Several of the children had come inside and were sitting on the floor staring at me. The robust stink of the dirty children and their musty clothes overpowered the aroma of food cooking.

  “I didn’t think you’s gonna come.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” was all I could say.

  “I’m so glad Anna Mae brung you here. I’d always wanted my chirren to know their oldest sista.”

  I frowned, not feeling any kinship to these ragged children.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” I lied. Aside from the scent, I was having a hard time being there. It made me sad to think that for fifteen years she had never once come to visit me, and she’d lived right in the same town the entire time.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked.

  “No, ma’am, I’m gonna eat when I get home.”

  Still smiling, she wobbled to her feet and stirred the cooking beans. We looked so much alike, it scared me. She was even slightly bowlegged. The only difference: she was much lighter than me. She could probably have passed for white if she dared. Anna and I both shared her keen features.
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br />   “You can call me Minnie, though I wouldn’t mind if you called me Ma. I’m sure Mrs. Mae Lou wouldn’t care.” Momma would, I was sure of that. Anyhow, there was no way I was going to call her Ma. The only momma I knew was Mrs. Mae Lou, as she called her.

  “I heard you’s a good student. You like school, huh?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Wish you could git Anna Mae to like it. That darn chile be hating to do her work.” Anna looked at me and snickered.

  As the ice began to melt in the room, Anna’s daddy walked through the door.

  “Whose child is this, Minnie? I ain’t never seen her around here.”

  Minnie’s smile slowly diminished. She barely got out the words. “She’s Mrs. Mae Lou’s girl.”

  “Hmmph.” He cut a cold eye my way, and immediately I felt his hostility.

  “Anna, it’s time for me to go.” I stood up and walked toward the door. Mr. Smith swished past me, opened the door and walked out. The door slammed in my face. Before I left, Minnie said, “If you’s git a chance, come again, okay?” Now I could see pain in her eyes, even fear.

  Minnie stood in the front door and watched Anna and I leave the yard. We hadn’t gone ten feet before an older lady with a cane hobbled down the path into the yard. She smiled when she saw me.

  “Lordy, Mae Lou done raised a fine-looking young lady,” she said, resting on the cane for support.

  “What you doing up here, Ginny?”

  “Yo’ mammy tole me that you’s gonna bring Carrie here the last day of yo’ lesson. I want to make my acquaintance, too.”

  I recognized her. She was the lady that had hugged me many Sundays at church. She’d always be standing at the door with the ushers. I’d noticed her laughing and talking to Momma on the church grounds.

  “You know me, don’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am. You go to church with us.”

  “I’s yo’ auntie, and I’m so glad to see you.” Then she hugged me, like she’d done every Sunday she was in attendance.

  Then Minnie yelled from the doorway, “Ginny, that there chile gots to be home. She ain’t got time to be gossiping with you.”

  “Now, why I’s got to be gossiping?” she mumbled, turning to me. “Ev’rytime I sees you, yo’ skin done got prettier and prettier. Can’t see a burn nowhere. Mae Lou is a miracle worker.”

  Anna didn’t say a word. Minnie was still in the door, now with frown folds across her forehead. Mr. Smith, short and the color of red dirt, propped himself up on the shed wall beside an old wheelbarrow in the yard and gazed intently at us. A cigarette dangled from his lips, smoke billowing in the air.

  “I better make it home,” I said.

  “Y’all chirren go on for it get late. Ev’rybody needs to be home ’fore dark.” Ginny paused, then added, “Annie, now show Carrie where’s I live, in case she want to stop by and visit me, too.”

  The next day, on my way to Hester’s, I took an abrupt turn over to Ginny’s place. I remembered what Anna had said the day before.

  “Now remember she ain’t got all her screws. She has a touch of ole-timer’s disease, so don’t believe ev’rythang she says.”

  “Why don’t you come with me when I visit?”

  “I’s don’t really like Ginny. She gives my daddy a hard time.”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause she lonely.”

  When I approached Ginny’s house, she was rocking on the porch, like she knew I was coming. The sun was casting a shadow through the big oak in her front yard. The house was in need of repair, a fresh whitewash of paint. Yet her yard was neat—no grass growing to my kneecaps as it did at Minnie’s, and everything appeared to be organized and in place.

  “Chile, I didn’t ’spect to see you so soon. I figured church would be the onliest time.” She had a few front teeth missing, and her cane was hooked over her rocker for quick access. She was certainly Minnie’s sister. They shared the same nose and thin lips and hazel eyes. She was a lot darker, though.

  “Ginny, I want to talk to you.”

  “I s’posed you would.” She picked up a Mason jar of ice water and took a drink. She tilted back in the chair and studied me as if she could see right through me. I swallowed hard because she made me nervous.

  “Want som’thin’ to drank?” she said.

  “No, ma’am, I want to find out something about me.”

  “Chile, take a seat up here. No sense in gett’n yo clothes all dirty.” Then she spat a wad of chewing tobacco in a cup and wiped her mouth with a handkerchief she had in her dress pocket.

  “Ginny, tell me about how I was burnt?” I got straight to the point, even if it sounded rude.

  “Chile, I didn’t mean to stir up no trouble, now. I thought you knew. Mae Lou ain’t tell ya?”

  “Momma explained it to me, but I still don’t understand everything. Why she didn’t want me?” I waited on edge for her to chew the nasty snuff she kept under her tongue, and then spit into a jar.

  She cleared her throat, “Did Mae Lou tell you ’bout us?” Ginny asked.

  “Yes, sort of. She told me I was adopted.”

  “Well, now I’s know where to start. When Mae Lou took ya, you’s been burnt by somebody up at Minnie’s. No one knows who did the stuff, but chances are, it was her ole man. That man ain’t doing not’in’ but holding Minnie down. She’d just met ’im and was ’specting another baby when she done married ’im. He’s a rough boy, thanks he’s bad and all, got some Indian in ’im. Well, we got some, too. I ain’t scared of the boy, but Minnie is.”

  “And you think he burnt me?”

  “Nawl, I’s don’t really know for sure, but he’s no-good like that. He cut a boy down yonder ’while ago. Sheriff didn’t do not’in’,” she said, frowning. “But he gonna mess with the right one and they’s gonna send his ass to kingdom come.” Then she got up, went in the house to check on her cooking: chicken and turnip greens.

  When she came back, she handed me a chicken wing and a biscuit and bit into one herself.

  “Now listen here. Mae Lou is one decent lady. She and Robert, Lord bless his soul, they good peoples. Minnie couldn’t find nicer peoples to have you.” She was right about that. When I had left Minnie’s, I thanked the Lord for my parents. Minnie didn’t have anything. Her house was too small for all the children she had.

  “Is Minnie’s husband my father?”

  “Nawl, Chile, that’s why you’s ain’t there. He ain’t want no chirren that won’t his own ’round. He told Minnie to get rid of you. She ain’t listen, though. Then all of sudden, you burnt. Chile, you’s almost dead when Mae Lou came. Somebody at the chu’ch told her ’bout that mean son of a bitch, ’scuse my English. Mae Lou nursed you back.”

  She devoured the chicken and biscuit down quick, even with missing teeth, and sipped the ice water.

  “Yo’ papa left ’round here while Minnie’s carrying you. He came back for you and Minnie, but she wouldn’t go. She done got tangled up with that nigga.”

  I listened intently, though my stomach turned somersaults from all the spitting and chewing of tobacco. Even still, Ginny had something special about her. Her eyes poured out the wisdom of someone who’d been around, seen a few things, and danced in a few holes.

  “Why do you think people keep so many secrets?” I asked her.

  “Ev’rybody trying to look good, even if they’s lived a helluva life themselves. I learned a long time ago to please myself. And one day you will, too.”

  I was enjoying my time with my new aunt, but even so, I could see she was getting tired. I got up to leave. She nodded, understanding, and said, “Now don’t be no stranger.”

  CHAPTER 7

  PEARL

  Willie was a different man after his ship landed on American shores. The proud heroism that had inspired him to hold his head up high disappeared once he found out that no jobs existed for colored soldiers. World War I had left a bitter taste on many of the colored soldiers’ tongues, Willie included. After
searching for work for a month, his bitterness only intensified. Often, after a day of walking the streets and hearing the same words, “Come back next week,” he would have an uncontrollable outburst.

  “Why did I fight in a damn war for a year and a half?” Willie asked, slamming his fist down hard on the bed.

  “Willie, you got to go to places you wouldn’t have been able to see otherwise,” I said, standing in front of the beveled mirror on the armoire, brushing the waves in my hair and pinning it up into a chignon.

  He sat on the side of the bed, wearing only a T-shirt and long underpants, his head hung low. “To hell with that! Seems like I’s in better shape ’fore leaving for the service. I had two jobs and they didn’t pay too bad, either.”

  I didn’t respond.

  He looked up at me. “I fought just like them white boys. I was in those awful trenches, too, Pearl.”

  Willie was no stranger to hardship. Had been on his own ever since he’d left Fredericksburg at fourteen and headed to the city. Other coloreds were doing the same, leaving their farms for better jobs.

  “I know it was rough, but at least you were able to save some money from the service,” I said.

  He looked at me with despair in his mahogany brown eyes. “The factory jobs are taken, and the people over at the government office keep telling me to check back. The money I have won’t last long if I can’t find work.”

  I walked over to him. “I can pay the rent, Willie,” I said, rubbing his shoulder.

  Frowns rippled across his sweaty forehead. “I ain’t gonna let no woman take care of me. I’m the man. I wear the pants ’round here.”

  I sat down beside him, and put my hand on his knee. “I sing at the club three times a week. I get my regular pay plus tips. I don’t do too badly. Besides, I paid the bills when you were away.”

  “Didn’t you hear me? I ain’t letting no woman run me. I am a man,” he said, raising his voice.

  Many times his stubbornness got in his way. Often he was too rowdy for me, and getting him to listen was a task of its own. “Calm down,” I said in a soothing tone. “Something is going to happen. A job will come through. Now come on; it’s almost time for us to leave.”