by ANDREA SMITH
Tilde nodded. She looked at her granddaughter one last time. Then they were gone.
Wynn sat in the high chair at Bonnie’s table, gumming a soft cookie. He watched every move that his mama made with the new baby. When Ruby-Pearl fingered the patch of curls on top of the child’s head, Wynn stopped chewing. Bonnie could see him contemplating the small, gurgling creature that lay in the wicker basket.
“She look jes’ like Natalie,” Ruby-Pearl said.
“Who look jes’ like Tilde,” Bonnie added. She used a dishcloth to wipe the beads of water from the outside of a bottle, then handed it to Ruby-Pearl. Wynn flung his cookie on the floor and let out a shriek when Ruby-Pearl lifted the new baby from the basket and slipped the bottle into her mouth.
“You done had yo’s already, sweetheart,” Ruby-Pearl said to Wynn. “She jes’ a lil’ ole thing. But you my baby. My onliest baby.” The boy was so agitated that he tried to climb out of the high chair. Bonnie carried him to the pantry, where she retrieved another animal cracker. Wynn calmed but he kept his eyes on Ruby-Pearl.
“You too good, Bonnie,” Ruby-Pearl went on. “After Tilde opened her mouth to Pine, I’da made her hit the road and take her grandbaby wit’ her.”
“Ain’t the chile’s fault.”
“Maybe not,” Ruby-Pearl said, “but I cain’t see how she could even twist her mouth to ask you to take this baby.” Ruby-Pearl pulled the bottle away and gently placed the baby over her shoulder. “You call the other Sisters?”
“Not yet. I been meaning to since yesterday, but it’s so nice havin’ the chile ’round.”
Ruby-Pearl looked up excitedly. “You thinkin’ on keepin’ her?”
“Oh, no…heck no!”
“But Naz is gone now and—” Ruby-Pearl caught herself. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Didn’t mean to sound so insensitive.”
“It’s okay,” Bonnie replied. “At least I got this lil’ gal to take my mind off things…even if it is jes’ fo’ a little while.” Bonnie looked at the child longingly. “I would keep her,” she said, “but this is Tilde’s grand.”
“Say no more. That woman’ll be in yo’ business from now ’til kingdom come.” Ruby-Pearl looked at her with gentle eyes. “I’ll tell you this much, though, if no mo’ babies come, then you gon’ be Wynn’s mama too. You and me.”
“Thank you, dear.”
Bonnie set Wynn back in the high chair. He banged the top of it with his spoon. “Tell me something,” Bonnie asked. “When does it stop?”
“What, honey?”
“This…loneliness.”
Ruby-Pearl’s demeanor remained tranquil and patient. That’s what Bonnie liked about spending afternoons with the woman. Even with Wynn fussing, their time together was always peaceful.
“With me, it lasted for years,” she said. “But that was my choice. I decided to set there in that cold stew…that’s what my mama used to call it. Cold stew. It wasn’t until you put Wynn in my arms that I started to change. And you know what?”
Bonnie leaned against the counter as she listened.
“I wish to God that I had changed things a lot sooner.”
Bonnie nodded. “You gon’ think I’m crazy when I tell you this…”
“I’m sho’ I won’t.”
“One day last week,” Bonnie said, “I was hurtin’ so bad that I got in my car and drove to Taliliga again.”
“No.”
“Oh yes I did!”
“And what did you do when you got there?”
“I never made it,” she said. “I stopped right before that old covered bridge.”
“Why’d you go?”
Bonnie smiled ruefully. “I wanted to ask Naz to come back home.”
“Why’d you stop?”
“My pride felt a little bigger than my loneliness, I guess. I’m jes’ glad that I came to my senses befo’ I made a fool a myself. But I could do it again, Ruby-Pearl. This baby took my mind away from it fo’ a while. But, Lord,” Bonnie said, “I do miss that man.”
“It ain’t fo’ nobody to tell you what’s right or wrong.” Ruby-Pearl rocked the baby. “But if Naz do come back, what kinda life would you have? Things’ll never be the way they were.”
“I know, but—”
“Ever’ time that man leave the house, you’ll be wondering. Where he goin’? Who he with? And don’t let him think ’bout takin’ one of his weekend hunts.”
“My God,” Bonnie whispered.
“I know it hurts,” she said. “But, honey, it gets better. And please,” Ruby-Pearl urged, “use me! Talk to me. Talk to yo’ friends. Don’t do what I did. Don’t set in that stew fo’ too long.” Wynn raised his arms toward her. She lifted him out of the chair and he squirmed until she set him on the floor beside Godfrey. “I meant to tell you,” Ruby-Pearl said, her tone changing. “I decided on a birthday for Wynn.”
“Decided on one?”
“We don’t exactly know what day it is, remember? I thought that his official birthday should be the day that Wynn came to me. I know we’ll be off by a few weeks, but August seventh sound like a good day fo’ a celebration.”
“That’s just a couple weeks away.”
“Yep, and we gon’ ha’ a big old party for my lil’ man. What you think, baby?” she asked Wynn. The boy pulled himself up to standing as he grasped on to Godfrey’s back. “Look at that big boy,” Ruby-Pearl said, clapping. “And you so sweet, Godfrey,” she said, stroking the dog’s back.
“He seem to know how to treat these babies,” Bonnie said about Godfrey. “They pull his hair, yank his tail, and he jes’ wince and move on.”
“And speakin’ of movin’ on,” Ruby-Pearl said. She took her purse, then picked up her son. “When you gon’ call the Sisters?”
“I’m fixin’ to dial Miss Idella now.”
“Oh, honey,” Ruby-Pearl said sadly.
“Time jes’ ain’t come yet,” Bonnie said.
“Or maybe it did and you gave it to me.”
“Don’t start that.” Bonnie took the basket and set it on the dining room table.
“Miss Idella’s gon’ make one of her chocolate cakes for Wynn’s party,” Ruby-Pearl said. “One of them layer cakes that she—”
Just then, Bonnie heard a voice yelling her name from outside. Moments later, a young woman burst through the front door, her hair flying every which way and her eyes wild.
“Natalie,” Bonnie said, moving toward the girl.
She wore a pair of tennis shoes, and beneath her baggy dress, Bonnie could see that her stomach was still slightly distended. “Please, Miss Bonnie,” she cried, “please tell me she’s still here. Tell me you haven’t given Malina away.”
A tall, lanky young man entered behind her and stood by the door.
“Slow down there, sweetie,” Bonnie said.
“Is she here? Is my baby here?”
“Yes, yes, she’s right there in the basket,” Bonnie said.
Natalie dashed toward the basket so fast, Bonnie got scared for the child. But then Natalie’s demeanor softened as she reached to pick up the baby. She settled in one of the dining room chairs and kissed her daughter over and over until the child began to cry.
“I don’t understand,” Bonnie said. “Didn’t you ask yo’ mama to bring the baby here?”
“No,” the young man replied. “We ain’t knowed nothing ’bout that.”
“Tilde is jes’ mean!” Natalie spat. “Mean as a snake!”
“What happened?” Bonnie asked. Ruby-Pearl sat in the armchair with Wynn in her lap. The boy sucked his pacifier, wide-eyed, as he watched the hysterical girl.
“Malina is my baby,” Natalie said breathlessly. “And I woke up yesterday mo’nin’ at my auntie’s house and Malina was gone. Jes’ gone! I didn’t have a car or anyone to drive me from Virginia, so I called Kevin…he’s Malina’s father,” she said, pointing at the young man.
“How do, ma’am,” Kevin said.
“I begged him to come get me and
bring me here!” Natalie stood up and grimaced from the pain.
“You okay there, sweetie?” Ruby-Pearl asked.
“I’m fine.” She moved the basket to the couch and sat on the soft cushion with a sigh. “Doctor gi’ me stitches and I’m still kinda sore.” Natalie rocked her body from the pain, or perhaps just plain anger. “I knew Mama would bring Malina here.” Natalie unbuttoned her top. She lifted the child from the basket, then quieted her with her breast. “Mama kept tellin’ me, all the while I was pregnant, that Miss Bonnie could find a home fo’ the chile. She said that when I give the baby up, then I could go to school. Tilde,” Natalie spat, “she don’t listen to no-damn-body. She didn’t hear a word I had to say.”
“She was…worried,” Ruby-Pearl said.
“You know that’s a lie,” Natalie barked. “Tilde ain’t never meant nobody no good! Not me, not my daddy, not you,” she said to Ruby-Pearl. “She call you a monster-faced woman.”
Ruby-Pearl didn’t flinch from the insult.
“And ever’body in the Three Sisters know that she don’t have no use for you, Miss Bonnie.”
Bonnie had always been cautious of Tilde. It was hard to believe that, at Bonnie’s most vulnerable, Tilde had lied. But withal, there was part of Bonnie that understood that Tilde thought she was doing the best thing for her daughter. How sad it is, though, when a mother’s best involved lying, stealing and betraying her own blood.
“I know I’m only sixteen,” Natalie said. “But me and Kevin…we want to keep Malina. From day one, we wanted to keep her.”
“Tilde never tole me that Natalie was in Virginia,” Kevin put in. “I showed up to see Natalie one day and she was gone. Tilde say I should forget about her and my chile and go’n ’bout my business.”
Bonnie could tell by the young man’s calloused hands and heavy brogans that he worked the fields. That alone told the whole story. Natalie was college-bound, and as far as Tilde was concerned, Kevin, a field worker, would simply hold her back.
“We’re sorry to get you mixed up in this, Miss Bonnie,” Natalie said, “but you know as good as me that if it ain’t Tilde’s way, then it ain’t no way.”
“What are you two gon’ do?” Bonnie asked.
“We’re leaving the Three Sisters,” Natalie answered. “Kevin’s gonna get a job when we get to where we goin’.”
“What ’bout your schoolin’?” Bonnie asked.
“I’ll go to school, after Malina’s a little bigger.” Natalie handed the baby to Kevin and buttoned her top. “They say I’m smart. I doubt that Malina’ll take that away.”
“Look to me like you need to rest a while,” Ruby-Pearl said.
“Why don’t you and Kevin have dinner with me,” Bonnie suggested. “We’ll set down and talk…you can even spend the night.”
“Thank you, Miss Bonnie,” Natalie said. “But I’m sho’ that Tilde’ll be lookin’ fo’ me soon enough. If you’ll jes’ get Malina’s things, we’ll be on our way.”
“On yo’ way where?” Ruby-Pearl asked.
“No disrespect, ma’am,” Natalie said, “but when Tilde ask where we run to, you can say that you honestly don’t know.”
Ruby-Pearl put her arm around the girl’s shoulder. Bonnie brought the baby’s bag out and gave it to Natalie. “You sho’ you don’t wanna stay and ha’ something to eat?”
“Thank you, ma’am, but no.” Natalie hugged Bonnie. “I ’preciate all you done,” she said.
Bonnie was worried for the girl but she also understood that Natalie and her new family needed to make their own decisions, their own way. Bonnie gave her the last twelve dollars in her purse. Ruby-Pearl gave her eight. Bonnie suddenly thought about Tilde and how angry she would be. Pine would surely ask more questions about the Sisterhood. But somehow Bonnie felt good about what she had just done. Maybe Natalie wouldn’t be a scholar…she might not get to school at all. But the girl would get to love and raise her own child. And Tilde or no, it was her God-given right.
SIXTEEN
The wash had been drenched by the rain and dried again in the summer air. Now dark clouds hovered above the day and threatened to open up and saturate the clothes again. Bonnie knew she should take them down from the line but she couldn’t muster the energy. Malina was gone only a day and the child’s absence seemed to magnify the emptiness in the house.
A strong wind made the kitchen curtains rise and the back door squeak on its hinges. Bonnie peered at her laundry basket beside the door, but turned back to the morning paper. She thought about preparing breakfast but hated the idea of cooking just for one. She suddenly wondered if Naz was having breakfast right now. Did he sit with Lucinda and her daughter and eat like a family? Did Lucinda make him grits and eggs for breakfast or short ribs of beef for dinner with those tiny carrots that he liked? Bonnie pounded the kitchen table with her fist, angry for letting her mind drift there. Her man had been gone almost two months now and surely the loneliness should be letting up. Was Naz hurting as bad as she? Was he missing her as much as she missed him? Maybe he was. According to Horace, Naz had attended only one of the Brethren meetings but not any of the hunting or fishing trips. Melancholy and sadness, she thought. They were the only things that could make Naz Wilder forgo his outings.
Thunder rolled in from the woods. Bonnie wearily took her laundry basket out to the line and began plucking clothespins from over a white sheet. She snapped the sheet straight then folded it. It felt cool against her body. Bonnie pulled down a pale green tablecloth and the wind lifted it straight up toward the sky. The warm breeze felt good. There was something comforting about a gray day. Maybe because it seemed the world had slowed down a bit. And Bonnie needed the time to try and catch up. She moved to where the line had doubled around a spruce and jumped at the sight of a boy sitting just feet away. His eyes were closed and his head tilted up, allowing a curtain to skim across his face. He was about seven or eight and his dark body appeared stark against the pale linens.
“Hey there,” Bonnie called.
The boy bolted to his feet. He peered nervously across the lawn, then back at Bonnie.
“Where you come from?” Bonnie asked, holding the top of the clothesline with one hand.
He didn’t answer.
“What’s yo’ name, boy?”
“Noah,” he said.
“You lost, Noah?”
“I ain’t lost.” His legs, scarred from old mosquito bites, looked like two brown twigs under baggy pants cut off at the thighs.
“Been pickin’ blackberries in the woods?” she asked.
The child stayed focused on his feet.
“Ain’t gonna talk to me, huh?” she asked. “Okay, I’ll jes’ talk to myself, then.” The boy watched as Bonnie folded the sheets. Every once in a while Lola Flocker’s kids would wander this way to pick berries in the bramble, but this boy looked too young to be one of them. Bonnie set her basket beside the boy as she piled her folded sheets in. “You know who Noah was?” she asked.
The child looked up. “My daddy,” he whispered.
Bonnie smiled. “He wadn’t the first.” She pulled a pillowcase from the line. “Yo’ mama ever tell you ’bout Noah in the bible?” she asked.
“My mama dead,” he said. “But she most prob’ly tole me when I was little.”
“When you was little?” She chuckled.
“Hey, boy!” a deep voice suddenly called.
Noah took off running across the back lawn. Bonnie pulled down the last sheet and could see a barrel-chested man lumbering across the grass. His hair, receding from his forehead, was matted in the back. He wore a blue flannel work shirt with the sleeves cuffed to the top of his arms. Denim jeans were caked with mud at the hem. He bowed his head respectfully when he approached Bonnie.
“How do, ma’am,” he said.
“Sir,” Bonnie replied.
“I’m lookin’ fo’ a woman…name is Wilder,” he said.
Bonnie looked at the man cautiously. “That would be me.”
“Okay,” he said nervously. “Didn’t know if I come to the right place. I saw that big ole brick house a few miles back. Didn’t ’spect no woman lived there, though. Ain’t had no womanly touches.”
“I see.”
“Name is Noah Bailey Sr., ma’am,” he said. “This my son, Noah Bailey Jr.”
“I met Mr. Man here,” Bonnie said.
Senior Bailey’s face was as tight and tan as a bulldog’s.
“Well…” he stuttered. “My son…Noah is his name…”
Bonnie knew Noah Bailey Sr.’s type. Much like many men in the Three Sisters, he was barely educated, proud and hardworking.
“Would you like to come up on the porch and set down?” Bonnie asked.
He looked at the gray morning sky. “’Bout to come up a bad cloud,” he said. Then he nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I believe that be best.”
Noah Sr. carried Bonnie’s laundry basket to the porch. His son ran ahead and took a seat on the top step.
“Can I get you some sweet tea?” she asked.
“Yes’m,” the boy cut in.
“Noah,” the man barked. “You keep yo’ mouth shut, you hear me, boy?”
“Yes, sir,” the boy answered.
“If I might make a suggestion,” Bonnie said. “S’pose I take Junior in the house and get him a drink. Then we could talk.”
The father thought for a moment. “Yes’m,” he finally responded. “That be okay.”
The boy’s eyes opened like two searchlights when they entered the house. Bonnie watched as he took in the jars on the counter filled with flour and cornmeal, as well as the daisy-shaped magnets that dotted the refrigerator door. Bonnie pulled out a kitchen chair.
“You wanna eat something?” she asked.
He looked out toward his dad. “What you got?” he whispered.
“Got some peanut butter,” she whispered back.
“Got any ham?”
Bonnie pulled her head back, surprised by his nerve. “How ’bout turkey?” she asked.
“Okay,” he said.
From the refrigerator she removed the foil-wrapped carcass, cut several pieces and set them between two slices of brown bread. Noah’s skinny legs wagged under the table as he leaned on his elbow and watched. Bonnie had forgotten how easy older children were. Unlike adults, she didn’t feel the need to keep up a conversation. And unlike babies, her attention didn’t have to be on them the whole time. She set the sandwich before him, along with a glass of cold milk. He dug in like a grown man.