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Praise for the Writing of Mildred Pitts Walter
Because We Are
A Coretta Scott King Honor Book
A Parents’ Choice Award Book for Literature
“Walter draws readers into a complex situation with finely paced writing, good integration of themes, and an understanding of the feelings of young men and women.” —School Library Journal
The Girl on the Outside
A Christian Science Monitor Best Book
A Notable Children’s Trade Book in the Field of Social Studies
“[Walter] re-creates the tenor of the times from both black and white perspectives and gives the incident immediacy for today’s younger teens …” —Booklist
“We are moved … by the courage required of these children and their parents …” —School Library Journal
“A moving, dramatic re-creation of the 1957 integration of a Little Rock high school as seen through the eyes of a black girl and a white girl.” —Booklist
“A vivid story … written with insight and compassion, its characters fully developed, its converging lines nicely controlled.” —Bulletin of the Center for Children’s Books
Second Daughter
“Based on a real case, this admirable historical novel is unique for the perspective it lends to the Revolution and its profound impact on the lives of all Americans.” —Kirkus Reviews
Trouble’s Child
A Coretta Scott King Honor Book
“Walter immerses readers in Martha’s internal struggle, holding their attention to the last page. The quickly paced text utilizes the native dialect, further adding to the aura of the isolated island setting as Walter shows how ritual and superstition dominate.… While Martha’s particular problems are unique, adolescent readers will easily empathize with her predicament of feeling confused by the pull from so many different directions at this stage of life.” —School Library Journal
Trouble’s Child
Mildred Pitts Walter
The folk-tale, Strength and Power, told by Titay is loosely based on a tale collected by Zora Neale Hurston in Mules and Men, first published in 1935.
To my friends,
Marie, Karen,
Margie, and Barbara
ONE
The small building that served as both church and school on Blue Isle was ready for the last event of the school year. Martha surveyed the room and smiled. The rough hand-hewn pews had been dusted and arranged in neat rows. Pine board walls were covered with wild azaleas; their fragrant honeysuckle sweetness filled the room. Ropes of pink, green and white crepe paper crisscrossed the ceiling beams, adding to the festive air.
The noise behind the flimsy curtain on the makeshift stage announced the arrival of the children. Martha rushed backstage and said she would tie the crepe paper bows on the girls’ dresses. She could see that the teacher, Miss Boudreaux, had her hands full.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re here, Martha,” Miss Boudreaux said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“I don’t mind hepin, teacher,” Martha answered softly.
Crepe paper crackled as bows were tied and flowers pinned. The noise and excitement in the place reminded Martha of the time she had stood behind the curtain, nervously awaiting her turn to appear on the stage.
Now her role in all this confusion was a different one. She listened to the teacher doing last-minute coaching and felt a tinge of sadness. She had been out of school now for a whole year, having graduated from the eighth grade. She missed studying and being with her teacher. She and Miss Boudreaux understood each other. They liked each other, that Martha knew.
The people on Blue Isle believed that a child born in a storm was born to trouble. Miss Boudreaux, aware that Martha was often taunted because she had been born during a storm, gave Martha special attention. She encouraged her to stay after school to erase the chalkboard and to talk. During Martha’s last year, Miss Boudreaux let her help mark papers. When she was out of the room, Martha had been left in charge.
Now Martha stood in the middle of the confusion watching the teacher trying to control her temper as she cautioned students to keep quiet and still.
She sho pretty, Martha thought. Miss Boudreaux’s green dress was lovely with her green eyes, light complexion and her long brown hair.
Noise from the front of the curtain blended with that behind it. Martha peeped through the curtain. Titay was just walking in and Martha felt a rush of happiness. Titay was her family. She watched as Alicia, Gert and the other women gathered around Titay and felt proud to be a Dumas. Eveybody loves m’ granma, Martha thought. Then she noticed Cora LaRue turn her head away as Titay walked by. Well, all cept Cora.
Ocie, a friend and former classmate, was down front with Tijai, who was called Tee. Beau, another friend, was just behind them. Martha knew that the empty space beside Beau was being saved for her. Everyone on the island expected Beau to ask for her hand.
Ocie was turned in the pew so she could talk to both Tee and Beau. Tee’s dark eyes sparkled as he looked at Ocie. Everyone could tell that they were engaged to be married.
Miss Boudreaux, having somewhat quieted the children, joined Martha at the curtain.
“Tis almost full,” Martha said.
“I’m glad. I just hope we do as well tonight as we did with your class last year. But your class was special. I miss y’all.”
Martha felt a surge of warmth and a longing. She wanted to tell her teacher how she missed studying and how she wanted to go on to high school. As if the teacher knew what she was thinking, Miss Boudreaux said, “Martha, what are your plans?”
“Oh, teacher, I don’t know. I sho would like t’ go on t’ high school.”
“Well, there’s St. Joan’s. But that’s fifty miles away.”
Martha felt that there was little hope of her going that far. No one that she had ever heard of had gone away from Blue Isle to high school.
Miss Boudreaux smiled and said, “I just bet when I come back this fall, you will be engaged to some fine young man and ready to follow in the footsteps of that wonderful grandmother of yours.”
“Oh no, teacher, don’t say that. I wanna go way from this place.” But Martha knew that now, because she was fourteen, the pressure on her to get married would increase. Every girl on the island was expected to announce her readiness for marriage by the age of fifteen. This announcement was made by showing a special quilt pattern. Once engaged, a round of quilting parties was given in the girl’s honor.
“I wanna finish high school, yes,” Martha said.
Miss Boudreaux looked at Martha with a sad smile, as if to say, getting away won’t be easy. She put a hand on Martha’s shoulder. “Thank you so much for helping back here. We must start now. Go out front and listen so you can tell me honestly how it was.”
When Beau saw Martha, he waved. “Over here, cha.” Through his happy smile she saw that quizzical frown line on his forehead. In spite of the two pox marks on his olive-tinged face—one on his nose and the other on his chin—by village standards, he was good-looking. Like Miss Boudreaux, Beau was a mulatto.
Tee greeted Martha warmly too. In Martha’s eyes Tee was better looking than Beau. She liked Tee and was more at ease with him. Maybe that was because nobody expected her to marry Tee! He and Ocie were laughing and teasing, and Martha wished she could be as carefree and talkative with Beau as Ocie was with Tee.
“I shoulda knowed you’d be back there hepin the teacher,” Beau said, and laughed as Martha sat beside him.
“That’s Martha,” Ocie said. “Still shinin up
t’ the teacher.”
Martha, stung, tried to smile. Tee, sensing Martha’s hurt, said, “One thing sho—Martha can teach rithmetic good as Miss Boudreaux.”
Suddenly the place was hushed. Miss Boudreaux was before them. Martha settled to become an attentive critic.
Later that day she walked with Ocie on the dusty rutted road toward the trail that led to the Gulf of Mexico. The Gulf lay about two miles from the houses that were built high above the ground, protected from floods. The girls were on their way to join others on Blue Isle in saying goodbye to Miss Boudreaux. During the school year the teacher came to the island by boat each day.
Just as they came to the trail leading directly there, a gust of wind caught the dust up into a whirl that twisted around and around in a twirling funnel. The twisting wind raced toward Martha and trapped her in its middle, then just as quickly twirled away, high into the air.
“A devil’s whirl,” Ocie cried. The people believed that a person caught in a middle of a whirl of wind would see the devil.
Martha, flustered by the wind, busily dusted her clothes and smoothed her hair.
“Did yuh see the devil?” Cora’s harsh tone surprised Martha. Where had she come from so quickly?
“I had m’ eyes closed,” Martha answered quietly, unnerved by the sudden appearance of Cora and the question.
“Don’t lie. You saw im cause that wind choosed you.” Cora looked at Martha with positive contempt and hurried on.
“Did yuh really see the devil?” Ocie asked with fear in her voice.
“Wid all that dust n grit? I tole yuh, I had m’ eyes closed. You don’t blieve the devil’s in somethin like a puff o’ dust, do yuh, Ocie?”
“Yeah, and you better blieve it too.”
Martha realized that she should not have asked that question. She walked behind Ocie silently on the trail that led to the Gulf.
Many of the sixty families on Blue Isle were represented at the gathering. Some had come by pirogue, a small boat hollowed out of a log. This small boat was the most commonly used transportation on the island.
Standing with the crowd, Martha wished she could have another minute alone with her teacher. She felt now more than ever that she should leave this place. Oh, why couldn’t she be like others around her—happy with what she already knew? Satisfied, finished with school. No, she always wanted to know more.
With everyone shouting and waving goodbye and calling hurry back, Martha suddenly felt a rush of loneliness. As the boat moved out into the Gulf she longed to let everybody know how close she felt to Miss Boudreaux. She shouted, “Goodbye, Anita Marie.”
The hush in the crowd and the frowning dismay on Titay’s face let her know that she had done a terrible thing. No one on Blue Isle called the teacher by her first name in public.
Martha walked home with her grandmother, regretting the outburst. Her stomach felt weak, her hands perspired; she sensed that she had humiliated and hurt her grandmother. But she didn’t know how deep that hurt was until Titay said to her, “Mat, I don’t like sayin this, but you’s a child bo’ned t’ trouble.”
TWO
Martha dressed hurriedly. She wanted to be out of the house before her grandmother was up and about. Ocie would be waiting, ready for them to begin hanging the stretched frame for Ocie’s final quilting party. Even before Ocie was fourteen she had already shown her quilt pattern. Tee had bid for and won her hand. Many quilting parties had been held for Ocie and for weeks now the island had buzzed with preparations for her wedding.
Five quilts had been finished. Ocie and her mother had embroidered pillowcases and other linens. Now the final quilting party would be held at the home of Gert, Ocie’s mother-in-law to be.
Children passed Martha’s house on their way to pick mayhaws, the small applelike fruit that made fragrant jelly. Their talk, their laughter and the clicking of sticks to startle snakes reminded Martha of the times she and her friends had done the same.
“Mat,” Titay called. “Where you at?”
Oh no, Martha thought. “I’m heah, Granma.”
“We gonna git that sassfras tday, yes?”
Martha felt her lips pouting. Why she choose tday t’ clect sassfras? “Granma,” she said, “Ocie want me t’ hep er git ready fuh the party.”
“You gon go wid me.”
Martha knew that her grandmother was still upset with her for calling the teacher by her first name. She did not say more. Never git t’ do what I wanna do.
Before long, armed with a stick to drive away snakes, Martha walked behind her grandmother on the trail that would take them from the Gulf, deep into the woods. She carried their large handwoven basket on her head.
The commissary, the social center for the 250 people on the island, was near this trail. This small store was owned by a mulatto, Ovide. With its weather-bleached siding, the commissary looked like other houses on the island except for its roof. Made of tin, the roof gleamed in the midst of houses covered with paper, seamed with tar.
Here mail was delivered. Men met to talk and women visited together while they waited for sugar, flour, lard and cane syrup from barrels placed around the room. They exchanged recipes and dress patterns and often haggled with Ovide about the price of cotton calico. But bargaining rarely changed the price, for there were no other stores.
Martha waited impatiently as Titay, having decided to order wire for a new clothesline, disappeared into the commissary.
Just then Ocie walked up. “Where you go, cha?” she called to Martha. “Thought you hepin me tday.”
Martha’s face burned. “Granma still upset wid me. Gotta go wid her.”
“How come yuh didn’t tell er you’s hepin fix fuh the party?”
Titay reappeared and walked on toward the trail. Martha lowered her voice. “I did. But you know her. I’ll come soon as we git back, yes.”
Ocie shrugged and went into the commissary, leaving Martha hurt and disappointed.
Martha caught up with her grandmother, who moved with a slow but steady pace. Titay was old. Her body appeared frail. Her hair was white like the frothy foam of waves; but her voice was strong, her hands steady and her mind clear. She was the island’s midwife and the people looked to her for health care and wisdom.
Soon they came to the place where they often gathered sassafras bark, roots and leaves. The leaves were ground into a seasoning called filé for use in gumbo, a seafood soup. The root bark made delicious tea that some people on the island drank as a tonic.
Usually Martha was happy in the woods listening to the birds, smelling magnolia blossoms and carefully handling delicate touch-me-not flowers. When she was younger, she often left Titay to chase butterflies and to play hide-and-seek with shadows of the trees. In the woods among green and growing things she could forget she was the granddaughter of the island’s caretaker. There Titay was her grandmother, telling her stories about the animals and other wonderful things in the woods. But today her mind was not on picking leaves. She wanted to be away from the woods with Ocie, sharing the excitement of the quilting preparations.
“C’mon, girl, fill yo basket. Where yo mind?” Titay called.
Martha said nothing but speeded up the collection of the bright green leaves. She picked easily, moving closer and closer to Titay.
Suddenly she saw something in the underbrush near her grandmother. For a moment she couldn’t breathe; she wanted to shout, but she knew Titay must not be startled into making a sudden move. Martha rattled the bushes with her stick.
“Oh, I didn’t see it, no!” Titay cried as the snake slithered away.
Martha shivered. Was Titay getting careless, or was her grandmother losing her eyesight? Martha was tempted to insist that they go right home, but she knew her grandmother would not think of leaving. She carefully beat the bush before starting to pick again.
The sun had moved toward the middle of the sky when Martha and Titay left the woods. At home they found a pail of mayhaws the children had left at their do
or. Martha felt a surge of anger and disappointment. Helping to preserve mayhaws would delay her even more.
Titay was delighted. She looked at Martha. “Why you poutin?”
“Granma, I promised Ocie …”
“Yuh go when I say go. Now go head n p’pare them leaves; I’ll take care the mayhaws.”
Martha worked fast. She still wanted to have time to see if everything was ready for Ocie’s party.
“Now you can scald them jars fuh this jelly,” Titay said.
“Aw, Granma.” If only she hadn’t blurted out the teacher’s first name. She wished she could tell Titay that she was going anyway. But she wouldn’t dare. No one talked back to the elderly, and especially not to Titay.
“When yuh learn not t’ talk so much, I can let yuh go round the women thout me.” Titay went about her work. Martha sullenly did the jars.
Finally Titay said, “Now you go. But I want you t’ member this: tis the shallow brook that babbles and tis still water that runs deep.”
By the time Martha arrived the party was well underway. The women had already made three rolls of the quilt and their fingers were moving rapidly, forming the tiny stitches that made the pattern stand out so beautifully.
“Hey, Mat, c’mon in heah and start in threadin these needles,” Alicia called.
“Look at er. Don’t she look good?” Gert said.
“Like new money. I swear the girl done growed like overnight,” Cam said.
“She useta be a cute lil girl wid a cute lil figger sayin, stand back, boys, til I git a lil bigger,” Ocie said. “But she can’t say that no mo. She’s a cute girl wid a cute rigger, step up, boys, cause she ain’t gon git no bigger.”
All the women laughed and Gert said “Yeah, and Beau better stop his lollygaggin round heah, cause Mat’s gon be ready soon, ahn, Mat?”
Martha’s feeling of ease slipped away.
“Tell us, Mat, when you gon show yo patten? Tis bout time, yes?” Cora LaRue asked.
“Le’s git Ocie married first.” She didn’t want to talk about marriage to Beau, or to anyone, especially in front of Cora LaRue. So Martha said, “Ocie, le’s see yo weddin dress patten.”
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