“Tis bout time. You gotta cide on a dress fuh the festival. You leadin the dance, yes?”
“Granma, I don’t think they really want me.”
“Who say sich?”
Surely her grandmother had heard the gossip. Why was she pretending not to know what was going on? Martha wanted to cry out, You tole that I wanna go way, but she couldn’t bring herself to say that to her grandmother. “I’ll think bout a dress,” she said.
As they made the rounds, Martha listened. Although the women never said anything in her presence, Martha felt that they watched her suspiciously. In silence she went about her work. She prepared cayenne leaves to burn slowly in fetid rooms to fumigate and purify the air; she concocted tea for colicky babies; she watched the ritual of preparing bodies for burial. She went her way as though unaware of the gossip of the women.
Three days before the fishing festival Titay called to Martha in a firm voice, “Come heah!”
Before Martha could ask why, Titay shouted, “How come yuh say you won’t lead festival cause you gon go way?”
Martha, surprised by the tone, could not answer.
“Why?”
Martha stared at the floor.
“Heah I am blievin you’s a good woman, ready t’ take m’ place cause yo work been good. I see in yuh the makin o’ a strong midwife, n bhind m’ back you go n say yuh leavin, yes?”
Martha looked at her grandmother in disbelief. “I didn’t say that, no, Granma.”
“Then who did? Why yuh lie, Mat?”
“Please, Granma, I didn’t.”
“Then who?” Titay shouted.
“I don’t know, less it be you!”
“You dare call me liar?”
It was as though her grandmother’s words had banished her to hell’s fire. “Oh no, Granma,” she cried. Shocked at her thoughts and behavior, Martha rushed from the house and fled down the path to the Gulf.
The sound of the waves compounded her fear and shame. She felt as if her grandmother was playing games with her. Titay must have told.
Martha watched the waves, knowing that she had done a terrible thing to suggest that Titay had lied. Then she wished Titay had slapped her face. She would feel purged, cleansed. But Titay wouldn’t. Now there would be a terrible silence between them and that would be far worse than a licking.
Though the sun sank and twilight was almost purple, Martha still lingered at the edge of the Gulf. Then it was dark. She hurried on the path.
In the center of the island women were gathered under the chinaberry tree, laughing and talking. As she passed they became quiet. In the dark she could feel their hostile stares.
She found the door to her grandmother’s room closed, which meant that Titay was deep in meditation, communin. Martha wanted to cry out, I’m home, Granma, but she was too ashamed. She went quickly, quietly to her room.
Hand-clapping to the beat of the music rang throughout the island. The fishing festival was underway. Martha paced up and down the room, her hands over her ears, trying to close out the merrymaking. Her long, ruffled white gauze skirt and full-sleeved blouse were perfect for a leader of the dance. Her hair, braided in plaits with many colorful beads, fell to her shoulders. If only she felt as lovely as she looked.
She thought of the past days and the silence between her and her grandmother. She had wanted to ask for forgiveness and to try to probe with Titay into the reasons why someone would want to play that horrible trick on them. But she could not break through Titay’s stony silence. Titay acted as though Martha did not exist.
Martha went to stand in the front door of the house. The music taunted her. Cora will lead. Cora LaRue! Oh no, she thought. That’s exactly what Cora wanted, to take the dancers to the sea. Cora by yo house, yes?… We jus seen er … She move quick thout sayin the time o’ day … Gert’s words flashed into Martha’s mind.
Suddenly she dashed from the house tying an emerald green scarf around her waist as she ran. Her heartbeat quickened with her footsteps.
As she came to the square, shouts from the crowd urged a dancer on. Dust rose as a gold and green skirt thrashed the air. Cora danced wildly, alone in the center of the circle. Martha was too late. So Cora will lead em, she thought, stopping on the edge of the circle. Then to her surprise, the crowd opened to include her, and in that moment Cora’s rhythm was broken.
Cora flashed an angry look at Martha, encouraged the musicians and started a new dance.
Martha suddenly felt shy. She looked around the circle. Ocie was standing between her husband and Beau. Both men were wearing the simple white cotton pants and blousy shirts of the fishermen, even though Tee was the only one going on the voyage. Beau smiled and winked at Martha. Martha lowered her eyes. Wish I liked im cause he sho act like I’m his heartstring.
A shout came from the crowd. “Dance, Martha!”
Martha’s shyness returned and she didn’t know what to do. She felt the urge to respond, but she couldn’t even clap her hands to the music.
Then Tee shouted, “G’on, Martha, shake a leg, girl!” Ocie, Beau and others joined in, and the rhythm became, “Dance, Martha, dance.”
Cora glared at Martha, stamped her foot angrily and pushed through to the edge of the circle.
I’ll show er, Martha thought. She closed her eyes, swayed to the music, raised her arms and snapped her fingers. Her movement was like a smoldering fire that bursts into flame and leaps to consume all in its way. Martha danced.
Later, as everybody danced, lost in the music, Titay shouted, “Le’s move t’ the sea.”
Martha took the scarf from around her waist and waved it high as she led them all. With scarves from their waists and heads as banners, the women danced with Martha to the sea.
On the shore, the fishermen kissed the women and children. Martha glowed with the excitement of the moment. She was surprised when Tee stooped to kiss her forehead and whispered, “Don’t wait heah too long.”
She wanted badly to embrace him, but that was forbidden, so she smiled and said, “You diffunt, yuh know?” That was their goodbye as he moved to go aboard the fishing boat.
Whispering winds and sunlit waves urged the fishermen on their way. Beau swam alongside the boat with the men and boys who were remaining in the village. The women on the woodland shore sang and waved their flowing scarves.
Titay placed her hands on Martha’s shoulders and drew Martha to her. Martha trembled. Her throat felt closed as she fought back the tears. For a moment she could not speak. Then she said, “Fuhgi me, Granma. I know now twas Cora who started it all.”
“Tis all over now. But I knowed you’d come t’ yo senses and be the woman t’ take m’ place.”
Martha moved, reluctantly, out of Titay’s arms. Titay joyfully rejoined the women on the shore.
Martha now stood alone, apart from the shouting crowd. She watched the boat become a dark speck and disappear. Tee’s whispered caution and Titay’s words battled in her mind. Twisting her scarf, she felt afraid. Alone. How could she ever leave Blue Isle?
SIX
Howling wind and clapping thunder woke Martha. Lightning flashed, as she jumped out of bed and ran to the front of the house. Titay was already up, preparing for the storm watch. Martha helped to fill oil lamps, secure windows and pad doors with worn quilts. She waited with a frown on her face as Titay busied herself covering the mirror.
Her grandmother believed that mirrors drew lightning and that they also had to be covered when someone died. Martha doubted this. Miss Boudreaux say mirrors do nothin but reflec. Like light on water.
Over the wind, voices and loud knocking sounded. “Titay, Titay, let us in.” A group of women had come.
As a gust of wind rushed through the open door and put out the lamp, a flash of lightning lit the room. In that flash, Martha saw a flickering vision of Ocie and other women, struggling to close the door.
Then the storm hit. Rain slashed upon the house. The rain, the wind and the Gulf joined in a terrifying noise.
Martha saw her grandmother’s hand tremble as she lit the lamp.
Finally the women and their frightened children settled around the room: some on the floor, some on chairs. No one spoke, but the women’s eyes and their movements told that they too were afraid. They crossed themselves: touched forehead, breast, left and right shoulders with the tips of the fingers and thumb of the right hand. Lips moved in silent prayer for the men at sea. Martha sat apart from the women, in a corner, wondering what they were thinking. She wished Ocie had sat close to her.
Ocie sat near her mother-in-law, Gert, with her legs crossed, her elbow on her knee, chin firmly in her hand. She patted one foot as the other swung in and out with a quick rhythm: in and out, in and out. Her eyes closed, her face tense, she looked old and more frightened than any of the other women.
Suddenly Ocie fell upon Gert and cried out. “Tee won’t come back from the Gulf, I know.”
“Talk only that you know, cha. What yuh mean, he won’t come back?” Gert asked, enfolding Ocie in her arms.
“He made me promise not t’ tell. But he was bo’ned gift t’ the Gulf. He got a lil hole at the top o’ the ear. Can’t hardly see it, but tis there.”
Gert cried out. “He got no hole in is ear, no.”
All the women talked at once, for they believed that a person with a small hole in the ear was sure to die of drowning.
“But he do, yes. And he know it all the time,” Ocie cried.
“But I bo’ned the boy and I never seen it. Titay, you seen im; did he have what she say?”
“Calm yoself. I see nothin like that on Tee. But a wife see what none other don’t see.”
Wind swooped around the house and the lamp went out. Lightning played around the room; thunder crashed and rolled. Children screamed in the darkness. Then there was silence as Titay relit the lamp. She moved it to the floor and said, “Come, le’s sit round the light.”
They all huddled together. Martha sat with eyes down, unable to look at Ocie, who was crying softly now.
“Le’s not chase trouble,” Titay said softly. “Wolf scratchin at the door don’t always git in.”
There was a lull in the wind, and the quiet in the room was overwhelming.
“Talk t’ us, Titay,” one of the women said.
“Tell us a story,” another asked.
What story would she tell? Would she tell about the stormy night Martha was born? Martha hoped not. She hated to be reminded of it.
“Tell how the rattler come t’ git its rattlers,” someone said.
“No, Miss Titay, tell bout how men got strength and women got power,” Cam pleaded.
Titay folded her arms and looked at each one in the room. Then, in her warm storytelling voice, she began.
“Once on a time when the land had mo fruit, mo fish and mo fowl than the peoples could eat, man and woman lived tgether equal. Woman was strong as man and never had t’ take low. When they had a fight, woman could win as often as man could.
Then one day woman beat man so bad, he got mad and went up t’ see the Lawd. ‘Lawd, please gimme strength so I can put that woman in er place.’
The Lawd gi’e the man mo strength. Soon as he got t’ the house, he commence bossin the woman and pushin er round. They got t’ fightin. Oh, she fought like a tiger, but he got the best of er. She caught er wind and went at im again. But on the third time he put the wood on er back and the water on er face. She knowed she was whupped.
Woman was so hurt, she went up t’ the Lawd. ‘Lawd, how come yuh gi’e man mo strength?’
‘Cause he ast fuh it,’ the Lawd said.
‘Well, you oughta see how he actin, bossin me round. You oughta gi’e me mo strength.’
‘I can’t gi’e you mo strength cause I gi’ed it t’ man. And what I gi’e, I don’t take back.’
Woman was so mad, she went straight t’ the devil and told im what had happened.
‘Don’t be so upset, woman. Git the frown off yo face and go on back and tell the Lawd t’ gi’e yuh that bunch o’ keys on his mantle. Bring em back heah t’ me and I’ll tell yuh how t’ use em.’
Sho nuff the keys was there and the woman got em. She was tired o’ goin back n forth tween the Lawd and the devil, but she had t’ do somethin t’ live wid that man. So she went on back t’ the devil.
There was three keys on that bunch. The devil took the keys and said, ‘Now this first key is t’ the kitchen. Man sho favors his food. This second key is t’ the bedroom. He can’t do thout sleep. And this third key is t’ the cradle. He loves his generations. Now I want you t’ lock them three doors and don’t open em til he say he gon use his strength fuh yo good and yo desire.’
Woman went home and locked the doors. The man come and found he couldn’t git in. ‘Who locked this door?’
‘Me. The Lawd gi’ed me the keys.’
The man got mad, but the woman didn’t care. She ain’t unlock nothin.
Things got so bad the man had t’ go back up t’ the Lawd. ‘Lawd, how come you gi’e that woman them keys?’
‘Cause she ast fuh em. I gi’ed em t’ er and the devil showed er how t’ use em.’
‘Please gimme some jus like em so she can’t be in control.’
‘What I gi’e, I don’t take back. Woman got the keys.’
Man went on back home. ‘Woman, le’s share this thing: you have mo strength sometime and I have the keys sometime.’
‘Got t’ think bout that.’ Woman went to scuss it wid the devil.
‘No, don’t you share nothin. Let im keep mo strength, and you keep yo keys. That’s power.’
So t’ this day, man got mo strength, and woman got mo power.”
There was laughter and Martha felt the calm that touched them all. She could never replace her grandmother in the hearts of the people.
The storm passed. From her back door Martha watched the dark water swirl beneath her. As far as she could see, the land was flooded. Water and sky were the same dark color. Trees sagged with heavy moss. The unpainted houses that a few days ago were bleached white by the sun were now black, drenched with rain.
Martha felt numb, swollen with a lump in her chest that would not go away. They had waited. Now they were sure; all but two of the fishermen were safe. One of Alicia’s cousins had been swept overboard during the storm and Tee had tried to save him. They both had drowned. Why Tee?
Martha looked out over the Louisiana land of bayous, rivers, snakes and cypress where she had been born and where her ancestors had been slaves. Not far away a raccoon swam by. His dark eyes and nose floated above the water while his paws felt for frogs and shellfish below. Except for the sound of the swirling water, the earth was silent.
The tolling church bell, calling the people to come and sit all night with the families of the dead, made her more miserable. Martha knew that she and Titay would go, but in her own grief for Tee, Martha did not want to face Ocie and Gert. She wanted to be alone.
Martha glanced at her grandmother. Titay stood at the stove, her attention on the shrimp and rice dish she was preparing to take to the wake. She seemed so small, but relaxed in a way that shut her off from Martha and the world.
What was Titay thinking now? Her husband, Martha’s grandfather, had gone down into the Gulf; her son, Martha’s father, had gone by way of a storm. Titay knew well the wind and the towering dark waves. She had made many gifts to the Gulf of Mexico.
Martha turned again to the swirling water. Did Titay and the people on the island know something that she could not fathom? Could Tee have been born to drown? If so, then she was born to trouble. Was she also evil? Could she become like Cora LaRue? Once she and Ocie had slipped into Cora’s house. It frightened her now to think of the jars and bottles with snakes, spiders, frogs, lizards and unknown things. Some animals were in water, some were turning to dust. People said Cora made her hoodoo potions from those.…
“Girl,” Titay called. “Time t’ git ready.”
When she had put on her heavy rubber boots
to guard against snakes that might still lurk in the flood water, she said to Titay, “Lemme help yuh, Granma.”
She tied the string of Titay’s oilskin hat and helped Titay into her coat. Then they stood in the doorway to wait.
The dull gray of evening was turning quickly to deep purple, and night sounds filled the air. Crickets chirped. Frogs answered one another in a battle of sounds. Lightning bugs blinked pinpoint sparks in the darkness.
Soon Martha heard singing as the men and women waded toward them carrying torches made of tree branches. The fire-lights reflected on the water, brightening the night.
Beau came to help Titay and Martha. Martha refused his hand and quickly stepped down into the swirling water. She was so involved with her thoughts that she didn’t sing as she marched along to the church. The small building was filled with friends and families of Tee and Alicia’s cousin. Titay embraced the women and kissed the babies.
The singing kept up, one song after another. There was hand-clapping and foot-stamping, but Martha still felt numb. Her hands sweated, and her heart felt crowded in her chest. Her eyes were hot and dry.
Around midnight all became still. Everyone waited and listened. Right at twelve a rooster crowed. Then another farther away, and still another. When the round of cock crowing ended, the wife of Alicia’s cousin stood and talked about her husband. The whole family took turns, with Alicia talking last. Then it was Ocie’s turn. She stood and for a long time she trembled, and Martha thought she would fall. But finally Ocie tried to speak. Her voice sounded full of tears. Beau went to stand beside her. Then she straightened her shoulders and said in a clear voice, “I speak fuh m’ husband, Tijai. He was a good man. Not easy scared, and strong.”
Martha’s mind was full of Tee. He was good. Kind and thoughtful. Different from the others. Was he different because he was a born gift to the Gulf? Like she was different because she was born in a storm? No, Martha thought. If Tee believed that, he would have been afraid of water. Instead he tried to defy the Gulf and save a life. Not only that, he had understood her longings. He had dared to tell her to leave the island. He had not thought her strange. Martha felt the pain of having no one to talk to now—no one who understood.
Trouble's Child Page 3
