The Sisterhood of Blackberry Corner

by ANDREA SMITH

  “Mr. Randall,” Bonnie started, “I’m afraid that I can’t help her.”

  “Tell her something,” he said. “A nice little story about a nice little lady that brought you a nice little baby girl. Just tell her something.”

  “I ain’t in the habit of lyin’, Mr. Randall.”

  “Then tell her the truth!” Bonnie could hear that he was beginning to lose his patience. “That’s the point, ma’am. I don’t have a problem with the truth and neither does Gussie.”

  Naz had claimed that Bonnie was selfish. He contended that taking in the babies had more to do with filling something inside of her than it did with helping the children. Maybe not talking to Augusta had more to do with Bonnie herself, than sparing the girl any pain.

  “Have her call me,” Bonnie said.

  “You’ll talk to her?”

  “I suppose…”

  His voice elevated. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “She’ll call. And thank you, Mrs. Wilder. Thanks a lot.”

  TEN

  Maybe it was the two glasses of wine. Or sitting on Blackberry Corner with Bonnie and Thora, giggling from twilight until the pitch-black dark. Whatever had caused it, Ruby-Pearl Yancy seemed absolutely giddy. Thora refilled her glass, then emptied the last of the blackberry wine into Bonnie’s cup.

  “It seems our bottle is empty, Miss Bonita,” she said, struggling to lift herself from the sofa.

  “I ain’t gon’ be fit to walk after all this,” Ruby-Pearl giggled.

  “Then stay the night,” Thora said. “I cain’t tell you how many times I fell out right here on this couch.”

  “And the woman woke up with cat paws all in her face,” Bonnie laughed.

  “In her face,” Ruby-Pearl said. “Guess you cain’t iron them out.”

  The women’s laughter seemed bigger than the joke. Clearly, they were feeling no pain.

  “You’re welcome to stay, Ruby-Pearl,” Bonnie offered. “Thora sleeps here sometimes when Horace and Naz is gone.”

  Ruby-Pearl burst out laughing, then covered her mouth with her hand.

  “Girl, let it out,” Thora said, twisting open a third bottle of wine.

  “I’m fixin’ to wake up Wynn,” Ruby-Pearl said in a loud whisper.

  “He in the back room,” Thora said. “And he might as well get used to it.”

  “Used to what?” Ruby-Pearl asked.

  “Hearin’ you laugh. Might even have to hear you moanin’ and shoutin’ once you find yo’self a man.”

  “Thora Dean,” Ruby-Pearl squealed. “You are a caution, is all. I don’t know why folks say…well, that you…”

  “A bitch,” Thora offered. “All stuck up and ever’thing?”

  Ruby-Pearl shrugged.

  “I love bein’ stuck up,” Thora insisted. “And if that’s the onliest thing that separate me from these old town biddies…girl, I’m jes’ fine with bein’ stuck up as hell!”

  The women’s laughter rang through the silent house, so at first they didn’t hear the knock at the door. Bonnie hadn’t had as much to drink as Thora and Ruby-Pearl, but her legs wobbled when she went to answer.

  A woman, perhaps the same age as Bonnie herself, stood behind the screen. A little girl that appeared to be about six, with two wiry plaits jutting from either side of her head, gripped the skirts of her mother’s blue dress. In the woman’s arms was a newborn wrapped in a white blanket.

  “Miss Bonnie?” she said.

  “Yes.” Thora and Ruby-Pearl stood behind her.

  “You prob’ly know why I’m here.”

  Up until now, Bonnie had only seen one of the mothers. She assumed the others were like Wynn’s mama: young and frightened. This woman didn’t appear to be either. “Maybe you better tell me why you’re here,” Bonnie said.

  “Amelia…” the woman started. She clutched the baby close to her chest. “She my seventh chile…”

  “Gracious, a lie,” Thora said.

  Both the woman and her young daughter peered over Bonnie’s shoulder.

  “It ain’t easy,” the woman went on. “And I’m ’bout to celebrate my thirty-first birthday.”

  Bonnie felt a twinge. She was thirty-one, just like this woman, with neither chick nor child.

  “It’s jes’ me by myself now,” the woman explained. “My husband run off when I got pregnant with Amelia and I ain’t seen ’im since. And, well, Miss Bonnie, I cain’t do it again. Not even one mo’ time.”

  “Po’ thing,” Ruby-Pearl whispered.

  “I heard ’bout you,” the woman said, looking at Bonnie.

  “From who?” Bonnie asked.

  “She say you don’t ask no questions…”

  “She…?”

  “Say you a nice lady who’ll give a chile a chance.” The woman seemed to be studying the house, taking in as much as the porch would allow.

  “Who in the world is she?” Thora asked.

  “I rather not say.” The woman looked at Bonnie again. “Can you help me, ma’am?”

  “Honey, are you sho’ you cain’t care for her?” Bonnie asked.

  “I don’t wanna leave her…I swear…but I don’t have no mo’.”

  Bonnie stepped out on the porch. Ruby-Pearl and Thora remained behind the screen. “No mo’ what?”

  “No mo’ energy, money, patience.”

  “No mo’,” Ruby-Pearl repeated.

  “Well, you come to the right house,” Thora said.

  “Are you absolutely sho’ that you want to do this?” Bonnie asked again.

  “Yes, ma’am.” The woman paused. “But befo’ I do…befo’ I leave Amelia here…”

  “Yes, honey…?”

  “I need to see yo’ house.”

  Bonnie pulled her head back in surprise. “I beg yo’ pardon?”

  “I’m sho’ you a nice lady and all, but I don’t wanna leave my chile in no dirty, nasty house.”

  “I know that’s right,” Thora chuckled.

  Bonnie couldn’t believe the nerve of this woman. Then she considered that if she were ever driven to give her child up to a perfect stranger, she’d probably have the same concerns. Bonnie opened the screen and allowed the woman and her small daughter to enter. When they saw Thora close up, both she and the little girl stared.

  “You a movie star?” the woman asked.

  “Ain’t you sweet,” Thora said, patting her shoulder.

  “Are you?” the woman persisted.

  “I shoulda been,” Thora answered.

  Ruby-Pearl rolled her eyes.

  The woman walked softly through, inspecting the room. “Don’t see no baby things,” she said. “Babies need things.”

  “I got a few stuffed toys in the other room,” Bonnie said. The little girl’s gaze instantly went to the back. The woman walked down the short hall and the child followed. Ruby-Pearl walked with them and looked in at Wynn sprawled across the bed.

  “That yo’ child?” the woman whispered.

  “Mine,” Ruby-Pearl replied.

  The woman looked at Ruby-Pearl like she had just noticed her for the first time. Bonnie could see the question in her expression as her eyes took in the scars on Ruby-Pearl’s face. The woman stared so blatantly that Bonnie thought she’d ask about what might’ve happened. But after a moment, she began to examine the living room again. Her daughter trailed her like a shadow.

  “Ever’thing look fine,” the woman said, though she seemed to be still inspecting.

  “Glad you approve,” Bonnie said. “We’ll do all we can to find her a good home.”

  “How?” the woman asked. “You jes’ gon’ give her to some woman?”

  Bonnie was so used to girls dropping their babies then fleeing in the dead of night that this woman and her questions seemed strange…almost intrusive. Yet Bonnie completely understood. “There’s a group of ladies that will help me care fo’ yo’ lil’ girl,” Bonnie explained.

  “And we got plenty of mamas that we visit,” Thora said, “and we make sho’ they nice people s
o that this precious chile—”

  “Amelia,” the woman insisted. “That’s her name.”

  “Amelia,” Bonnie said.

  The woman stopped at the family pictures hanging on the living room wall. She eyed the photo of Naz in his Black Crackers uniform. “I know him,” she said.

  “A lot of folks know him.” Bonnie smiled. “He used to play for the Atlanta Black Crackers.”

  “Black Crackers?” the woman said. “Ain’t never heard of no Black Crackers. I know ’bout some white crackers, though.”

  Thora laughed out. “Ain’t she somethin’, Bonnie?”

  “That man,” the woman went on, “he look jes’ like this fella that live by me in Taliliga.”

  “That where you from?” Thora asked. “Taliliga?”

  “Yes—” The woman suddenly caught herself. “Thought we weren’t gonna ask no questions.”

  “That’s my husband in the picture,” Bonnie explained. “His name is Naz Wilder.”

  “Maybe you’ve seen his picture in the paper,” Ruby-Pearl said to the woman.

  “Naz ain’t play no baseball in a hundred and twenty-two years,” Thora said. “Hell, colored folks and white folks is playin’ together now…sort of.”

  “Yo’ man look jes’ like Mr. Justice,” the woman said. “Same face.” Bonnie suddenly recalled the old-timer in the Big Buy. It seemed that he had called Naz a similar name. Then again, the elderly man seemed so confused that Bonnie couldn’t understand what he was saying. “He and his wife, Miss Lucinda, live just a few miles from me,” the woman went on.

  “Naz jes’ got one of them kinda looks,” Bonnie said.

  The woman continued to finger the knickknacks on a small shelf in front of the pictures. She suddenly stopped and pressed the baby’s cheek to her own and held the child there. It was as if the reality of leaving the child finally hit her. The woman had to take a deep breath to regain her composure.

  Bonnie touched her gently on the arm. “Are you certain that you won’t be able to—”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the woman answered. Tears streamed down her thin face. “You be a good girl, Amelia,” she said. “Mama only doin’ this to gi’ you a good life.”

  “Can I kiss her?” the older daughter asked.

  Bonnie felt her heart breaking as the woman knelt in front of her daughter with the baby.

  “Bye, Amelia,” the little girl said. “You be good, now.” She kissed her sister. Then the woman handed the baby to Bonnie.

  “Whoever take her, Miss Bonnie,” the woman started, “please make sho’ they calls her Amelia. That was my grandmama’s name.”

  “I will,” Bonnie promised. “But, honey, I gotta ask you one last time—”

  “I’m sho’,” the woman answered. “She’ll be fine, right?”

  “More than fine,” Thora said as she put her arm around the woman’s shoulders.

  “You smell so good,” the woman said to Thora as they walked to the door.

  Bonnie stood with baby Amelia in her arms as the woman and her daughter walked toward the road. They got into a rusted blue Chevy parked outside the gate. Thora and Ruby-Pearl waved as the car drove away. Then they went inside and called the Sisterhood.

  Miss Idella arrived on Blackberry Corner wearing a nurse’s pinafore and cap, carrying her black nurse’s bag. Whether Miss Idella knew a lick about nursing remained to be seen, but she certainly looked the part. The woman was the picture of calm and composure. She lifted the tiny chocolate girl wrapped in the soft white blanket. All the while Miss Idella mumbled, “What the good Lord do! What He jes’ do!” Miss Idella removed the baby’s clothes and diaper. She opened her bag and pushed past tongue depressors, cotton swabs, a bottle of rubbing alcohol and what looked to be a bag of lemon drops. She finally removed a stethoscope, placed the instrument around her neck, blew her warm breath on the steel end and placed it on the baby’s tiny chest.

  “Babies’ hearts beat faster than us’n,” she said. “Beat like they been runnin’ a relay race.”

  “That’s normal?”

  “Oh yes,” she said, pressing the sides of Amelia’s neck and her stomach. “You know I ain’t no doctor,” she said, taking the stethoscope off, “but near as I can tell, she seem like a healthy lil’ gal to me.”

  “What He jes’ do,” Bonnie repeated.

  “Praise ’im,” Miss Idella said.

  “I’m gon’ sho’ly miss lil’ Amelia,” Bonnie said.

  “Amelia?”

  “Her mama want the new parents to keep her name.”

  “We cain’t say that fo’ sho’,” Miss Idella put in. “But I’ll tell Olive.”

  Bonnie nodded.

  Miss Idella took Bonnie’s hand. “I guess it’s time, honey.”

  “Maybe I oughta give Amelia one mo’ bottle…”

  “Bonnie,” Miss Idella said, “it’s time to wish her well.”

  The Sisters had decided that when a baby was passed from one to the other, each woman would offer a quick prayer before the baby went to the next. Bonnie sent her blessings, then sadly gave the blanketed child to Miss Idella.

  “Olive’s cousin,” Miss Idella said, holding the baby to her chest, “she’s already waitin’ on the Manstone side of the creek. I’m takin’ the chile to Olive, she’ll take her to Delphine, who’s gon’ row her to her new mama.”

  “Delphine gon’ row?” Bonnie asked.

  “Girl, Delphine got six kids. She row that boat better than most men.”

  Miss Idella sensed her apprehension. “LouAnne Penny,” she said. “She a nice lady. Thora and Ruby-Pearl both met her.”

  “Yes,” Bonnie said. “They say she’s lovely.”

  “I met her myself when Olive’s daughter got married,” Miss Idella added. “LouAnne and her husband already got a lil’ girl. Pretty as she can be. Olive say that when she told LouAnne about this chile…say her lil’ girl got so excited ’bout bein’ a big sister that the chile wet her pants.”

  Bonnie laughed along with Miss Idella.

  “Wish I could keep her,” Miss Idella said, rocking the baby. “You don’t know how much I’d like to keep this pretty lil’ gal.”

  “Yes, I do too,” Bonnie muttered.

  Miss Idella kept her head down. “Maybe one day he’ll change his mind.”

  “Ma’am?”

  Miss Idella moved her whole body when she rocked the baby. “Naz a good man,” she said, glancing at Bonnie. “Maybe he’ll look at one of these children and decide that this is the one.”

  Bonnie felt ashamed that Miss Idella, or any of the women, knew the reason. But surely the older woman could read it in the pain in Bonnie’s face.

  “Them boys talk,” she said, answering Bonnie’s unspoken question. “My Clebert talk to Scooter, Scooter talk to Teddy, Teddy talk to Naz. Ever’ once in a while they all jes’ talk together.” Miss Idella sucked her teeth. “They say us women cain’t keep our mouths shut. Girl, them mens is worse than we’ll ever be.” She smiled tenderly. “I know you love yo’ man, Bonnie Wilder. And he sho’ly is nuts fo’ you. Maybe he’ll change his mind.”

  “Maybe,” Bonnie said.

  Miss Idella wrapped the blanket snugly around the child. “Time to get on over to Olive. She cain’t wait to see the baby…even if it is jes’ fo’ a second or two.” Miss Idella left the house. Before she started for her car she glanced around the yard. “Coast is clear,” she jokingly whispered.

  “Yes,” Bonnie answered.

  “And the eagle is fixin’ to fly…” she said.

  Bonnie felt sad watching Miss Idella carry the child away. But the melancholy hardly had time to take hold, because another baby girl came the next day, and a boy two weeks later. Any nerves that the women might have felt in the beginning melted like early frost as, again and again, the Sisterhood was fired to action.

  ELEVEN

  Minnie Nesby kicked off her beige canvas shoes that had the back cut out of them. She sighed as she spread her bare toes and sunk back i
nto the soft sofa cushion.

  “I would tell you what a fine-lookin’ place you got here,” Minnie Nesby said. “But, girl, I cain’t see too far in front of me without my glasses. Left ’em sittin’ right at home in the chifforobe.” She laughed. “Smell good in here, though. Smell like you got a fine-lookin’ place.”

  “Thank you…ma’am,” Bonnie said. She titled her head toward Thora for an explanation of who the old woman was and why she was here on Blackberry Corner.

  “Befo’ I tell you ’bout things,” Thora said, “maybe Miss Minnie want some refreshments.”

  “Forgive my bad manners, ma’am,” Bonnie said. “Can I get you something? Sweet tea, lemonade…?”

  “Thora told me somethin’ ’bout some blackberry wine y’all got up in here…”

  Bonnie couldn’t help but chuckle at Minnie Nesby. And Minnie Nesby seemed to enjoy chuckling at herself. Bonnie retreated to the kitchen, quickly uncorked a bottle and set three cups beside it. The only old woman Thora ever spoke of was Mama Dean. And this wasn’t Mama Dean—the woman was bedridden. Minnie Nesby’s voice suddenly exploded in laughter, a laughter that seemed as heartfelt as it was free. When Bonnie returned to the living room she saw that the old woman’s whole body was quaking from laughing so hard. Bonnie had to admit that Minnie Nesby had a rustic charm. And she looked as earthy as she sounded. A blue-black pageboy wig covered her head as unnaturally as a hat and bits of white hair peeked out from her temples and rose from her kitchen like puffs of cotton. A crocheted white shawl draped over a gray cotton blouse. And she wore pants. Most women in the Three Sisters hardly ever wore pants, especially when they went visiting.

  “Me and Horace were eatin’ in Mayweather’s Diner jes’ a while ago,” Thora began. “Miss Minnie come in and ask Polly Mayweather how she can get to Blackberry Corner. She ask if there’s some kinda bus that could take her here.”

  Bonnie poured into one of the cups and handed it to Mrs. Nesby.

  “’Course, Polly point at me,” Thora went on. “I look at this sweet old lady and it’s gettin’ late and stuff and I says, ‘I’ll take you there, ma’am.’ I dropped Horace at the club and then we come on over.”