At the kitchen table the three of them drank hot sassafras tea with cream and honey. Titay and Hal talked. Martha listened, her chest crowding all the way into her throat with happiness.
Yet there were so many questions crowding her mind. How could her grandmother have gone away from the island and not understand her longing to go? If only she could say to her: You went. How come I can’t go and see fuh mahself? The urge was so strong, she jumped up from the table and moved to pour herself more tea.
“I’m glad yuh cided t’ stay awhile heah,” Titay finally said.
“I’m glad I found this place. I could be working near New Orleans and never know it exists. The water around here is a rich source. I like your island.”
“You are not afraid?”
Titay shot a glance at Martha.
“Should I be?” Hal’s voice was so calm, Martha felt doubly ashamed. Ashamed that she had asked such a stupid question and that she had embarrassed her grandmother by using Hal’s language. Looking down, she said, almost in a whisper, “O’ sto’ms?”
“I have a shortwave radio that tells me about storms out in the Gulf. But you know, sometime wind and rain can come up so fast it isn’t reported. Those storms can be violent too.”
“Them’s what we call squalls,” Titay said. “They come fast n gone jus as quick. Gotta watch em. They can be mean.”
All too soon, the evening grew late. Titay saw Hal to the door and said goodbye. Before Martha had finished cleaning the dishes, Titay was in bed and Martha was alone with her thoughts. Why did I ast that stupid question? Tryin t’ use his talk? Titay paid tention too, but said nothin. Never do that again. Hal’s smart. Know so much. That’s how come Titay like im, talk t’ im so much. If only she’d see that I can’t take her place til I learn somethin. Til I know.
The moon, having won over the clouds, shone through her window. Martha lay on her bed. The rhythm of the Gulf seemed to regulate her breathing. She thought of Hal on his boat, living right on the water. She remembered a time when she had seen the moon as a gleam of light shimmering on the waves. In a rush of joy she hugged herself, and in her own embrace fell asleep.
During the next weeks Martha spent her days working with Titay and her nights poring over her lessons, listening to the calls of the wild geese and the rumblings of the Gulf. In the late-night silence that came in between those sounds her mind wandered to Ocie, who had not yet come to see Titay. Tee loomed in her memories. Thinking of Tee aroused thoughts of Hal, and loneliness fixed itself into her life.
The rumors about Ocie were disturbing. Martha often found herself listening to Gert and Alicia pleading with Titay to talk to Ocie. Martha wondered about Titay’s response—that the patient chooses her caretaker and that a good caretaker goes only when called. What if Ocie didn’t call?
She watched the closeness of Cora LaRue and Ocie with alarm. The two were everywhere together. The women said Cora had hexed Ocie so that Ocie could not come to Titay. Martha knew better. Ocie wanted Cora because she knew that Martha would come to help with Titay and Ocie did not want Martha as midwife.
It was also rumored that Cora LaRue had hexed Martha so that Martha would never have a quilting. She would dry up and die an old maid. The women said Cora would prosper and take Titay’s place.
But Martha no longer allowed herself to be trapped in the net of questioning: when the quiltin? When the hand be out fuh marryin? In the dying days of winter she was at ease.
In spite of the women’s gossip, she was happy. A certificate to prove that she was ready for tenth grade was her proudest possession; and her work pleased Titay and the women. It was as though her world and time were in a delicate balance.
ELEVEN
Now it was summer again—the sun was shimmering. Greens of the earth and the deep blue of the sky gave a lushness to living things along the shore. Martha often felt that the warmth that made the earth sing with life sprang from deep within her.
She felt herself growing, changing: her long lean body now rounding, softening, her breasts no longer buds but blossoms. She needed no reminding: she knew she was a woman.
Often she felt tight, tense inside like a drum’s skin; and then again she felt free, roaming in the woods alone, imitating the songs of the birds, dancing with the rhythm of the waves and the wind in the brush. Sometimes, her appetite gone, her nights sleepless, she still bounded around with a burst of energy, her skin glowing, her eyes bright. Titay often asked if she were feverish. Couldn’t Titay see that at times she was so happy that she could burst, and at other times she wanted to dissolve in tears?
She knew Cora was frantically trying to win the women’s favor, even if she had to do it with fear. Sometimes, even now, Martha shuddered to think that Cora might have led the dance at the fishing festival.
But as much as Martha respected her grandmother’s ways and her grandmother’s concern for everyone, she sometimes wished Cora had won. Then I wouldn’t feel so tied down t’ the peoples’ care. I’d be free from it all n long gone. Oh, I need somebody t’ hep me t’ know what t’ do.
She felt like bounding around the room—the small space was stifling. She rushed out and got her basket even though her mind was not on gathering herbs. She left without telling Titay that she was leaving.
Martha ran to the edge of the wood beyond a place where she and Titay often gathered herbs. This path was seldom used. Tangled with deep green vines and fern, it led to the secluded place where Hal’s boat had been moored for a thorough cleaning.
The bushes pushed against Martha and pulled at her skirt. She tapped the ground with her stick to scare off snakes. Even though she knew the area well, she was afraid.
Maybe she should go back. But if she did, she would not have a chance to see the boat before the islanders were through with their noonday meal. Then she thought, Why’m I so took wid this boat? She remembered the day Hal had asked if she knew how beautiful she was. Can’t keep my eyes off you.… Now she felt the longings that she could not understand when she heard his voice. Her heart raced and she felt a sudden rush of shame. She wanted to watch Hal in the distance as much as his boat. She hid her basket and hurried on.
The leaves, ferns and brush were so thick in this place she could hardly see the small path on which she walked. It was not good to be alone on this trail. What if a snake bit her and no one was around to help?
Her pulse throbbed and she found breathing hard. Should she go back? Was someone following her? Now she almost ran, and the moist heat made her sweat. The dampness, mixed with the strong smell of flowers, green creepers, dead leaves and brush, made her more aware of danger, but she went on, deeper and deeper into the woods.
A noise startled her. What if she were seen here? She could not say she was collecting herbs without a basket. I ain’t got no business heah, she thought.
She ran on toward the Gulf. The brush thickened again, but she was not so afraid now. Only the stillness bothered her. No birds sang, no frogs croaked, she saw not even a butterfly on the wing.
Her heartbeat quickened at the loud pounding of the waves. Then she saw the Gulf. And from where she stood it looked like all the water in the world.
Anchored away from the shore, Hal’s red and green boat shone against the brown water. And on the top of the hull Marraine had been repainted in bold black letters. The boat was clean; its sails were up. Martha’s excitement increased as she watched the boat rise and fall on the waves, the ladder on its side touching the water.
Still careful, she moved in the brush so that she could look up shore, then down. Away down the shore the men who had been helping Hal were taking the trail home for their noonday meal.
Then she saw Hal on deck waving goodbye to them. How well he gits long wid the men, she thought. They had never accepted another stranger as quickly as they had Hal.
Alone, with the Marraine a distance from her, she listened to the pounding waves as they washed around the boat and rocked it back and forth in its moorings. If only
Hal would go back to Ohio and take her as a passenger on the boat. But when would he be leaving? She should ask him.…
Martha was so involved in her daydreams, she did not notice the rising wind. In the distance thunder rumbled, and sailing clouds had covered the sun. It could be a squall. Heavy rains, thunder and lightning could make the Gulf treacherous. She must get home.
She could not go back the way she had come. Lightning among trees could be deadly, the flooded path could hold dangerous snakes. And if she were on the trail close to the water, waves could wash her out into the Gulf. But she could run faster on that trail close beside the Gulf and there would be no trouble with animals. Still, she would risk being seen by the men on their way home. What could she do?
The wind came in gusts. Martha decided to risk the trail near the shore. With her head down against the wind, she moved closer to the Gulf. Thunder crashed overhead and green lightning flashed. The wind was now so strong she feared she would be blown into the water. But on she went, not knowing how, and almost not feeling the sting of the mud and brush. The wind whipped her without letup. The thunder still crashed and lightning flashed again and again as the Gulf roared angrily.
Now every step was a struggle, but she could not stop. There was nothing between her and the raging water and the wind of the squall. Then she was at the place where the Marraine was anchored, away from the shore. The big black letters stood out against the dark of the Gulf and the sky. Huge raindrops splattered the land and water. “God save me,” Martha cried.
In an instant she knew she could take shelter on the boat—but Hal was on the boat.
The raindrops passed and suddenly there was a lull in the wind. The good spirits had protected her, Martha thought. For a moment she watched the Marraine float on the water and remembered the day she had climbed the ladder and gone over the side. Then she knew she should not have paused. The gray clouds opened and the rain poured down. The Gulf slashed up over her and she was washed off the path. Martha panicked. She tried swimming back to land, but the wind, the rain and the Gulf were all against her.
She let the waves carry her to save strength as she tried to reach the Marraine. What if she was washed past it? She must keep her head and not be so afraid! She bobbed on the waves and reached for the ladder. The sea was so rough that she missed. She rode the waves and reached out again. She must get on the boat or be washed away. Again she tried. Her hands caught hold, and she climbed up onto the deck.
She shivered, drenched with rain and the water of the Gulf. The roar of the wind and the Gulf hurt her ears. Through the pouring rain she saw Hal trying to lower the sails. The boat rocked up and down on the waves. “Hal!” she cried. “Hep me!” Her words were drowned in the wind.
Martha felt sure the sails would be blown overboard and washed away. Waves slashed over the boat and flung Martha back and forth, the salt water stinging her nose and eyes and burning the cuts on her body.
The boat shuddered and creaked, pitching in the wind. Then Martha saw the anchor line disappear, and the boat headed toward the shore. If the boat smashed it would be splintered.
Before she could get her balance Hal was shouting orders to her to save the sails. He rushed to start the motor to move the boat out into the Gulf.
The wind whipped the sails and Martha knew they would be blown into the sea. Hal screamed directions, but with the loud snapping and cracking of the sails, Martha heard nothing that he said. She hung on to the halyard with all her strength. Her hands, burning as though scalded, bled, but she still hung on. Finally she lowered the sails. The boat raced shoreward with the wind. Martha watched, desperately afraid it would smash—they would drown! Suddenly the motor sputtered. It roared, and the boat lurched away from the shore.
The loosened sails fluttered and Martha had an idea. She began stuffing them into the opening of the companionway that led below.
Faster and faster the land seemed to be moving away from Martha. Her heart pounded with fear. She had sought refuge on the boat only to be washed over the horizon. Fighting against the wind she looked at Hal and she saw that he was in control. He shouted to her to release the anchor line attached to the front of the boat.
At the bow of the boat she pitted herself against the full blast of the driving waves. Pressing her body against the railing, she held tightly with one hand while the other searched for the anchor release. She prayed she would not be washed away. Finally, the anchor slipped into the water and Martha clung to the railings, praying the anchor would hold.
Thunder rumbled in the distance. Waves washed up in a spray now and the wind was no longer a roar. Martha lay next to Hal on the wet deck, exhausted.
He squeezed her hand and asked, “How did you get here?” Before she answered, he said, “Oh, I’m glad you’re here. I’d have lost the Marraine without you.”
She told him how the squall had driven her on to the boat. Then she was quiet, glad that Hal was quiet too. She listened to the waves as they rocked the boat back and forth, up and down, and she felt a oneness with the boat, the brown Gulf and the sky. Aware of Hal beside her, she was filled with a quiet, peaceful joy. Her mind flashed to the day Cam’s baby had been born, to the quiet of that day and the unexpected joy she had known with Titay and Cam.
Then she recalled the recent howl of the wind and roar of the Gulf. She looked at Hal. With his eyes closed, he seemed as relaxed as she felt. She placed her other hand over his and let it stay. Finally she said, “Mebbe a child bo’ned in a sto’m could be bo’ned t’ trouble.”
“What?” He raised up to look at her.
“See, heah they say I’m bo’ned t’ trouble cause I was bo’ned in a sto’m. I saw this birth and it was so quiet. Evey time I said somethin, Granma said, Sh, sh. I was thinkin yuh can’t say sh t’ a sto’m. So mebbe in noise like that I am bo’ned t’ trouble, no?”
Hal chuckled as if embarrassed by her openness. “Could be. We’re all born to some trouble, especially if we’re different.”
“Yeah, like m’ friend Tee. He was bo’ned t’ drown, so people say. And he did.” She explained about the hole in Tee’s ear.
An amazed look came over Hal’s face and Martha was not sure he believed her, but when he spoke he was serious. “Oh, that. I’ve heard of that superstition. Strange, it’s different in every area. In Texas, some people believe that little hole means you have extra senses, can predict the future. That little hole is a preauricle pit. It means nothing, Martha, but a little skin missing. Lots of people have it—it’s quite common. Listen, what we believe is often what we get.”
“I git so scared cause these people round heah blieve so much I can’t understand it all. Like m’ granma …”
“But your grandmother knows so much, Martha. And she has a lot to teach anybody.”
“I know. And I like knowin all the things she say, yes. But I can’t keep em all in m’ head, no.”
“Write it down.”
“I tell yuh, I can’t put all that stuff tgether. I wanna leave this place.”
Hal rolled over on his stomach to face her. “Why would you want to leave a place like this? It’s so beautiful, quiet and peaceful. There’s so much to learn here.”
Suddenly she knew she was talking too much and that she had been on this boat too long. She jumped up and moved to the bow and stood looking out toward the horizon. Happiness returned as she remembered that once before she had stood there and felt the wind and the rhythm of the waves. Then there was a sudden revelation: Mebbe I’m bo’ned t’ trouble, but I ain’t evil. The world came closer and she felt at ease, at peace with herself.
“Martha.” Hal came and stood behind her. He slipped his arms around her waist and drew her backward to him. Her heart beat so wildly that she hardly heard the whisper in her ear. “Did I upset you when I asked why you want to leave this place?”
“No.” She moved out of his embrace. She could not look up at him, nor could she say to him all that she wanted known about why she must leave.
> He reached out and lifted her face so that she looked into his eyes. “Don’t be upset with me.”
“I ain’t. You see this place wid two eyes, so you see much that is good and beautiful. I see wid one eye. I have t’ see mo’n this place ’fo I can know if it’s what you say.”
He laughed and drew her to him. “Oh Martha, my serious Martha. I’ll do all I can to help you go.…” He held her close. His firm tenderness frightened her and she stiffened. Then he softly kissed her forehead. His lips lightly touched her closed eyes. When he kissed her mouth, all the happiness in the world seemed centered in her heart. She wanted to hold onto him and that happiness forever. Then the fear returned and she broke away. “Please take the Marraine in closer, yes.”
Nearer the shore she knew she should leave the boat; still, she lingered. Again he held her face in his hands and moved to kiss her lips. Quickly she turned her head and his lips brushed her cheek. There was an invasion of yearning that she had not known, ever. Martha, pulling away, ran across the deck, down the ladder and swam to shore.
Martha hurried along, following the Gulf trail that would take her home. Gray clouds rolled swiftly. She watched her shadow appear, disappear with the sun. She could not remember ever being so happy. Hal would help her go away! Then the church bell tolled, calling the people together. Had something happened to Titay? Martha’s step quickened with fear, and she moved as fast as she could along the trail.
As she neared the village she heard voices.
“Heah’s er basket she hid in the woods,” Cora said.
“Why’d she hide er basket?” Titay asked, alarmed.
“I tell y’all she was headin tward that Gulf, deep in the wood.”
“Where there ain’t almost no shore?” one of the men asked.
“Where women that spects our way never go lone,” Cora said.
Trouble's Child Page 7
