The Sisterhood of Blackberry Corner

by ANDREA SMITH

  “I ain’t studyin’ no Horace Dean,” Thora said, sliding out of the car.

  “I need some time to think,” Bonnie insisted. “Some time alone.”

  “You ain’t jes’ sayin’ that?”

  “No, honey.”

  “Come on, git back in the car,” Horace called.

  Thora gave Bonnie a hug. “I’m gon’ check on you tomorrow.”

  “I know you will.”

  “Crazy people gon’ be callin’ you,” Thora warned. “So don’t you even answer the phone.”

  “I won’t.”

  “In fact, I’m gon’ call Ruth on the party line,” Thora said, sliding back into the car. “I’m gon’ tell her not to put no calls over to Blackberry Corner…’cept fo’ me, that is.”

  “Thank you, honey.”

  Before they left, Thora called out, “Stop all them contrary thoughts, Bonnie. Jes’ remember, it wasn’t yo’ fault, girl!”

  The house was deafeningly quiet. And, though smack in the middle of August, it seemed more drafty than ever. Bonnie thought she had cried all she could when Naz had left. And now, three months after the fact, the tears flowed just as heavily. She walked out back and looked toward the woods. If Naz came home right now, not only would Bonnie accept his apology but she would beg his forgiveness for not accepting it sooner. She heard the phone ring, but decided to take Thora’s advice and let it be. She needed to walk off the pain. Bonnie paced below the back porch, her arms folded across her chest, then started through the overgrown grass. The wind whipping through her hair felt good. She stood at the edge of the woods. The blackberries were in full bloom. She suddenly wondered if the berries would even return next season. Since Naz wasn’t around to prune them she feared that the blackberries were gone for good.

  “Bonnie,” a voice called from the house. Ruby-Pearl was standing by the back porch. Here was a confrontation that she’d hoped not to have so soon. Bonnie knew she couldn’t avoid it. She also knew that she deserved any and all of Ruby-Pearl’s anger and disappointment. Bonnie made haste across the backyard.

  Ruby-Pearl was wearing her Sunday clothes. A peach-colored dress was banded with a patent-leather belt. Her gray hat was brightened with tiny white flowers. “You okay, sweetie?” Ruby-Pearl asked.

  “Am I okay?”

  “Thora Dean told me that she was bringing you home today.” Ruby-Pearl sat on the top step. Bonnie sat beside her. For a moment, all that could be heard was the distant sound of wind in the woods.

  Bonnie fingered the pleats in her dress. “Ruby-Pearl,” she started, “I didn’t want you to have to feel this kinda pain again.”

  “I ain’t made a glass!”

  Bonnie was stunned. “I thought you would be angry.”

  “Bad things happen,” she said. “Sometimes more than once. I decided to take my own advice,” Ruby-Pearl went on. “I refuse to sit there with the onions and potatoes. I didn’t listen to my mama the first time, but I sho’ as shootin’ am gon’ listen this time. And I’m gon’ somehow, someway, get my baby back.”

  “That’s wonderful, Ruby-Pearl.”

  “Yes. But the question is…what you gon’ do?”

  Bonnie folded her hands in her lap. “They charged me with illegal adoption.”

  “And?”

  “Did you jes’ hear what I said?”

  “Pine had to get you fo’ somethin’. We all knew that. They didn’t like all that baby business and they had to get you with somethin’. The sheriff jes’ mad ’cause they can’t find none of them babies.”

  “Except Wynn…”

  “And Noah.” Ruby-Pearl shook her head. “Ain’t it funny that the two people caught up in this thing was the two kids that we took?”

  “And Natalie.”

  “No, honey. That there is on her mama…not you and not me. Tilde is runnin’ ’round screamin’ and blamin’ everybody under the sun. But she’s in a lotta pain right now. She’s angry, Bonnie. But I think that even she know…deep down inside…that it was her own doin’ that harmed her chile.”

  “What about Wynn?” Bonnie asked. “Have you seen him?”

  “Twice since they took him. I went by the county home both yesterday and today. Fo’ fact, I jes’ come from my visit.”

  Bonnie shut her eyes.

  “Edie-Grace say that ’cause I’m a single lady, it’s gon’ be hard to adopt him. But I’m gon’ keep goin’ ’til they kick my butt out or ’til they let me take my baby home.”

  “And you will.”

  “She also said that I might be able to have Wynn as a foster child.” Ruby-Pearl sighed anxiously. “I’ll take him whatever way I can git him…and maybe after a while, I’ll find me a husband.”

  Bonnie reached out and took Ruby-Pearl’s hand. “You sound like you got a plan, dear.”

  “If I talk strong, I’ll feel strong.” Ruby-Pearl unhooked her belt. She let out a breath like she had been holding it the entire time. “I don’t know how Thora Dean do it. Don’t know how she wear these kinda dresses every day. And the shoes…oooohweee,” she said, massaging the back of her leg. Ruby-Pearl didn’t look up when she said, “I seen Noah at the county home.”

  Bonnie knew that the conversation would come to this. Somehow she didn’t want to hear it. She felt guilty having given up.

  “How is he?”

  “They say he don’t talk much. But he asked me when you were comin’.”

  “If you cain’t get Wynn, then you know I cain’t get Noah. Not only am I a single lady, but a single lady that been to jail.”

  “Oh, please,” Ruby-Pearl said. “Ain’t like you public enemy number one.”

  “Prob’ly best if I stay outta the chile’s life altogether.”

  “Don’t do it, Bonnie. Don’t set in that stew. ’Cause if you set a week, you’ll set a month. A month turn into a year…”

  “I hear what you sayin’.” Bonnie stood up on the porch.

  “Go see the boy,” Ruby-Pearl said. “If you ain’t gon’ fight fo’ him, then you need to tell him good-bye. At least his daddy had the decency to do that.”

  “I’ll see him.”

  “Why don’t I believe you?”

  Bonnie walked to the front door.

  “How ’bout we go to the diner?” Ruby-Pearl asked. “Polly got smothered chicken tonight. Come on, honey, just you and me?”

  “Not today,” Bonnie said.

  “Tomorrow, then. We’ll go to the movies too.”

  “Maybe,” Bonnie said. Though she knew she wouldn’t. Bonnie didn’t want to talk with anyone or see a soul. She didn’t want to be jolted back to good sense or told how she should be feeling. Bonnie wanted everyone to stay away. She wanted to be left alone to sit with the onions and the potatoes.

  After rapping on the locked screen for over ten minutes, Miss Idella had finally set a pot of stewed oxtails on the porch and left. Olive tucked a foil-wrapped lemon cake inside Bonnie’s old newspaper and moved on. And before driving off, Delphine had yelled something about how much they all loved Bonnie.

  A week since her arrest, Bonnie had kept herself apart from everyone, including the Sisterhood. The curtains remained drawn and the blinds shut. She had even locked her doors to Thora and Ruby-Pearl. Bonnie wouldn’t even consider going into town to shop, for fear of running into folks. Some were calling her a hero, but the town was equally filled with others who thought that what she had done was wrong, a sin. Even Bonnie realized that her isolation, especially from her friends, was only making her sink deeper into the blues but she couldn’t seem to change things. And each thought of Noah, Wynn or Natalie just buried her deeper in guilt and regret.

  A quick rapping sounded on the door. Then came Thora’s angry voice, “Open the damn do’, Bonnie! You hear me?” Thora paused. “This the last time I’m comin’ out here.” Thora had said this for three days, but still she returned. “Horace and I are leaving for Huntsville this weekend. Honey, I need to see you and talk to you!”

  Bonnie sat in fro
nt of the TV with the sound off. She knew her friends were worried. She knew she was being selfish. And she also knew that it was all she could do to get up in the morning.

  “Look, honey,” Thora said, “I know you sad. But lockin’ yo’self away ain’t gon’ help a bit!” She paused. “Come on, open the door! Damn it to hell!” Bonnie couldn’t blame Thora for being furious, but she just didn’t have the energy to hear another uplifting speech about “brighter days.” “You robbin’ my nerves, Bonnie Wilder! I swear, fo’ God!” The woman pounded then stopped. “You go’n, then, you stubborn lil’ thing! Go’n, set ’round and feel sorry fo’ yo’self and see if I care!” Thora’s footsteps clunked down the steps then faded.

  Bonnie knew that if she let Thora in, the woman would stay and talk all day. Talk about Noah, talk about Natalie…talk about everything that she couldn’t face right now. Bonnie simply wanted quiet. Quiet was nice, quiet was comforting. She rose listlessly from the sofa and turned to go into the kitchen, then jumped sky high to find Thora Dean standing right in her face.

  “Girl, I’m sick of yo’ mess!” Thora said.

  “How in the world you get in here?”

  “I crawled through that damn dog door. Tore my stockings, scraped my knee and Godfrey licked me all in my face. I must really love you, Bonnie.” Thora eyed her from head to toe. “And look at you! Look like death on a spoon!”

  “That’s why I ain’t let you in,” Bonnie said, walking to the kitchen.

  Thora followed. “You ain’t the pityin’ kind. So I’m wonderin’ why you been layin’ ’round this house and takin’ the blame fo’ things you ain’t even done.”

  “Thora,” Bonnie said as she made a pot of coffee, “please go home.”

  “You gon’ hear me, first!” Thora stood at the counter right beside Bonnie. “I’m jes’ as hurt by Natalie’s death as anybody…”

  Bonnie busied herself in the immaculate kitchen.

  “And it’s a shame,” Thora went on. “But, honey, you ain’t had a dime in that dollar.”

  Bonnie refused to look at Thora but she heard her words. “If I hadn’t started with these babies, Natalie might still—”

  “If you hadn’t started these babies there might be a few mo’ children floatin’ in the creek…I mean, who the hell knows!”

  Bonnie stood at the stove watching the coffeepot.

  “And as far as Naz is concerned…” Thora went on.

  Bonnie felt her head begin to throb.

  “He ain’t comin’ back! You hear me? Yo’ man is gone. So you need to forget him.”

  “Stop it,” Bonnie spat.

  “You stop it! He’s gone! Naz got him another woman now.”

  Bonnie broke down in tears. Hearing the words out loud, point blank, was like hearing them for the first time.

  “I’m sorry, but the man been gone three whole months…that’s like a lifetime…and you ain’t heard word one from him,” Thora said. “Everybody know you done been to jail, but did yo’ own husband come? No! And he didn’t come ’cause he with his other woman!”

  Bonnie suddenly flung a stack of pots off the stove.

  “That’s right,” Thora said, standing beside her. “You go ’n and git mad. ’Cause that what you s’pose to do.”

  Bonnie threw the can of coffee grinds across the room.

  “That’s right, baby,” Thora said.

  “Oh, God!” Bonnie screamed.

  “Wait jes’ a second now,” Thora said. “Cain’t be cussin’ God. You go’n and cuss that lyin’ cheatin’ skunk of a husband—”

  “Nothin’!” Bonnie screamed. “Absolutely nothin’,” Bonnie yelled as loud as she could, then pushed the jars of rice and flour off of the counter. The clay bins burst open when they hit the floor. “Not a goddamned thing,” Bonnie cried.

  “Nothin’ what, baby?”

  “I ain’t done nothin’,” she cried, “nothin’ but love that man!” She pitched her coffee cup and saucer onto the floor.

  “Oh, honey, I know.”

  “And s’pose it wasn’t me, Thora? After all this time, s’pose it wasn’t even me?”

  “Wasn’t you what?”

  “S’pose it was Naz that couldn’t have no children! And I waited and stayed with that man and I coulda been married to someone else and had all these children—all these gals and boys—but I stayed wit’ him! And now it’s too late.”

  Thora led Bonnie around the debris to the kitchen table. Bonnie’s feet were covered in flour.

  “It ain’t too late if that’s what you really want,” Thora said. “But you got to get on wit’ things…you have a house to keep, friends to see—and mo’ important, you already got a chile that needs you.”

  “No,” Bonnie said, her head staring down into her lap.

  “That boy loves you. Ruby-Pearl say he waits for you to come ever’ day.”

  “That’s why I cain’t see him.” Bonnie could feel her body rocking. “I’ll never get Noah. So why I wanna get his hopes up that I’m gon’ be his mama. I cain’t do that to him. I rather let him stay there with Edie-Grace and have some kinda stable life.”

  “Stable?” Thora said. She pulled back on the harshness in her voice. “At least talk to him, Bonnie. The last thing he saw was you, his mama, being put in the sheriff’s car. Lord knows what that chile must be thinking.”

  “I cain’t see him. I jes’ cain’t.”

  Thora shook her head. “I thought you was different,” she said. “Some folks saw yo’ picture in the paper, read ’bout what you did with the babies and thought you was somethin’ good. But takin’ in them kids was easy! Putting a baby in the arms of women who wanted nothin’ more…that was easy! But talkin’ to Noah, a chile old enough to know the difference between what’s fair and what ain’t…well, that takes some doin’. And you know what, Bonnie? You ain’t nuthin’ but a coward!”

  Thora rose and turned off the flame under the coffeepot. Bonnie sat quietly as Thora swept up the flour, the rice, and left.

  Three days later, Bonnie went to the county home. She finally got the nerve, the courage, to go and get her boy. But Edie-Grace said Noah had been placed with a couple two days ago and the adoption was expected to go through. Noah was gone. Two days ago. Thora had told her to get off her ass and see her boy. But she didn’t go then. Like the other bad decisions in her life, Bonnie had no one to blame but herself.

  Bonnie bolted up in bed. She had been dreaming of a dozen crying babies left at her doorstep. The crying sounded so real that Bonnie thought she still heard it. There couldn’t be a baby. After all that had happened, no women would have the nerve to come to Blackberry Corner. Bonnie pulled on her robe and ran down the hall. Usually, Godfrey alerted her to strangers, but the dog was nowhere to be found. She walked to the back porch. Naz sat in the rocking chair, the dog happily at his feet. He had a baby cradled in his arms. The image was so surreal on this early morning that Bonnie stood without saying a word.

  “I went to a reunion game,” he said. “Down there in Baton Rouge.” He rocked the infant. “All the fellas were there.” His face brightened. “C. C. Baker, Lyle Porter, Jet Jackson…all them guys. Dewey’s there too. He told me to tell you hey.”

  Naz seemed bone tired, exactly as she felt herself. Like a person who had completely lost their way.

  Without looking away from the infant, he said, “I miss you, Bonnie. Miss you bad.”

  She shut her eyes. God, but his voice sounded so good.

  “And I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said. “I swear fo’ Jesus. But this baby…she the onliest reason I stayed.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said. “Who is this chile? Why are you here?”

  “This is Lucinda’s chile,” he said.

  “Your chile?”

  He nodded wearily.

  “You somethin’ else, Naz Wilder.” He was like a strange creature she couldn’t quite fathom. “After three months you come back to my house with another woman’s chile?” She clasped her
hands to stop the pain. “Lordy, ha’ mercy!”

  “When I found out she was pregnant, I couldn’t leave…I couldn’t walk away.”

  “You stayed with the mama ’cause she was pregnant?”

  “Yes.”

  “But why the hell are you settin’ on my porch with Lucinda’s chile?”

  “She’s gon’,” he said.

  “Where?”

  Naz shrugged. “I gave her money to go. Say she always wanted to go north, so I made her leave.”

  “Why?”

  He seemed to take an eternity before he answered. “The reason I stayed wasn’t just ’cause she was pregnant. I stayed to get the baby.”

  Bonnie was incredulous. “So you planned on bringing Lucinda’s chile for me to raise?”

  “I didn’t exactly plan it, Bonnie.”

  “What the hell is it, then?” she said, losing patience.

  “She knew I didn’t want no baby wit’ her. She knew it from day one.”

  “I heard enough.”

  “She knew I’d leave if she had a baby.”

  “What are you sayin’, man?” she yelled. “Why are you tellin’ me this?”

  Bonnie had seen Naz in awful pain over the years. Emotional pain of having to give up his career. The physical pain of his knee, which sometimes swelled to three times its size at just the threat of rain. But this was the first time she had ever seen her husband cry. Bonnie looked at the splintered porch floor. She knew that if she looked at Naz, she might go to him.

  “This…ain’t the first time Lucinda been pregnant,” he whispered.

  “She got three other kids,” Bonnie said. “And by three other daddies, I might add.”

  “I mean, this ain’t the first time she been pregnant…by me.”

  “That’s enough.”

  “I told her I didn’t want no babies by her. I say my wife, my real wife, is the onliest one could carry my seed.” Bonnie could hardly listen. “Then she called me one day, a few months later. I thought it was ’cause she wanted me to come see the child. But she told me that she had lost the baby and wanted me back.”

  “And of course you went runnin’.”

  “It wasn’t until she got pregnant this second time that…”—Naz rocked the child—“…I found out what had happened.”