“What you thinking bout?” Ella ask, and I realize, I done interlaced my fingers with hers. The ceiling is a blur, my eyes sting, so I hide my face in the bend of my arm to keep from letting the tears escape. I’m ashamed to tell ‘a Iain crying cause of Grit.
I find myself when I think about what Grit must be going through in the other room, thinking bout dying ‘aself, then with Mama and Jenny nem treating ‘a like she already dead.
“Nobody I ever seen fore they died was ever ready, but Miemay,” I say for some reason.
“Miemay lived a long life. She was round bout ninety-five or ninety-six. Probly was ready to go cause everybody she knowed done went on.”
“Nah, what’n that.” I put my hand on my stomach, trying to touch and soothe the uneasiness that’s a feeling of obligation to deny Miemay was ready to die, cause everybody else she know dead. We lay silent for a while. Ella looking off in ‘a own direction, when I add, “We still here, she know us, and loved us. Miemay liked taking care of us, and helping us have our babies.”
“Why you think she was ready then?”
“I don’t know if anybody ever ready to go. It was just ‘a time. She use to tell me, ‘death a natural part of life, we all dyin.’ Miemay what’n scared, she knew where she was going.” My voice trails off, as I think about ‘a jumping in and out of ‘a body. As I think about ‘a leading folks to the light.
“She what’n scared of nothing.” Ella smile agreeing, feeling Miemay spirit, and it’s like she walking in the room. All her strength be here, with us.
“On top that, she had a chance to live how she wanted. What’n always trying to please people way other folks do. She ain’t let fear rule ‘a. The threat of burning in hell what’n enough to break ‘a, or make ‘a mind.”
Ella laugh at that. “Sho what’n. I member Reverend kept tellin ‘a, ‘You betta come to chuch or you gone burn.’”
Then we both laugh, mocking Miemay saying to Reverend Patrick, “Gawd everwhur, boy!” We elbow each other in bed and laugh. Tears streaming down our eyes, we recount the story, line for line.
“Oh, ya thank Gawd only come ta yo chuch, boy?” I say.
“Thank you, John DaBaptiss or somebody?” Ella say.
“You savin folk nah?” I say.
“Let me find out Jesus done come back, and walkin mongst the poe-ass niggas of Zion,” Ella shout, tickled.
“Nah dat’s, blaspheme’n, Miemay,” Reverend say. I puff my chest out and sit up even more ridiculous than Ella.
“Betcha cain eeben spell dat big word,” Ella moan low way Miemay did when she said it to Reverend, or how she did when she get going on somebody.
“Why I’m gone spell a word for somebody cain’t even read? You ain’t got no way of checkin whether I can or cain’t spell it no how,” I answer all smart, high and mighty way Reverend did; looking down my nose and playfully fixing my collar.
“Readin ain’t hep chu none, cause you sho ain red dat Bible. And I might cain’t read but I bet chu I know moe of it den you, Patrick. How ya lak dat nah?”
“Oh lord,” Ella finish. “‘Any day nah, come see bout me any day nah, and I know it betta den you. Any day. How you lak dat nah?’ That was ‘a favorite sayin, what’n it? That’s when she really be gittin on you. ‘How you like that nah?’ Ima have to start sayin that when Prentice gittin on my nerves, and I want to git back on his. How you like that nah?”
Knocking on the door tells us we’re too loud, and I just know it’s gone be Mama or Jenny fussing and telling us to hush our mouths. When the door open, it’s Grit, so me and Ella hop to our feet.
“What’s so funny? I wont to laugh, too. All this sadness round here, you think I be already dead,” Grit say, holding ‘a new baby and still walking like she pregnant.
“Come over here and sit down,” Ella say and try to help ‘a to the bench at the foot of my bed, but she hold still.
“I’m tired of laying down, and sitting. Been two days since I had the baby, and I feel fine.”
“Good,” I say, running my finger along the baby arm, and kissing his little hand. Inhaling him, I try to release the heaviness of the moment when I exhale. Still it lingers and make the morning stale.
“I’m going downstairs,” Grit announce defiant. “And maybe even out on the porch when the sun finally come up.”
“Not with Mama and Jenny nem down there. Honey, you be lucky you can use the toilet by yo self,” Ella tease.
“I’m going down stairs,” Grit say in a way don’t leave room for arguments. “I’m tired of living for other folk. Tired of doing what I’m told, and trying to make everybody else happy.” Putting ‘a baby’s mouth to ‘a nipple, Grit look at him like he some kinda revelation.
“Thought I’d be tired, and old when my time come. Thought my kids would be grown, married, might even have some grandbabies. Everybody say my time is now. Truth is though, I’m feeling more like myself than anything. My pregnant self anyway. Anyhow, I don’t want to lay around no more. Think I want to take a walk or something.”
Chapter Sixteen
NAMING
It’s been four days, and Grit still ain’t gave birth to that sack. Everybody gone to church, just me, her and the baby sitting upstairs. I moves to help ‘a up, but she fan me away.
Getting up, she move like it ain’t nothing. Opening the curtains and windows, letting sun and cool air in. She say, “Sure is nice outside.”
We go out walking, and it’s silent. It’s like we the only ones alive on earth. Me, her and the baby. I listen to the wind stirring, not enough to feel, just enough to hear.
“I don’t know when the last time I was off like this. Iain never missed a Sunday from church. Now I see how it could be good to stay home some times. It’s nice, ain it?”
I’m holding ‘a baby and we going pass the barn. I’m just looking at all the work folks done done since Grit got here. They done filled my smoke house with meat. Somebody done cleaned out my little garden, and left some vegetables for the house.
Shoot, every since my sisters got here, folks been bringing food. They always do when a baby come, like they always do when somebody die or bout to die. They said Grit wouldn’t last another day, and here it is the fourth day. Show you what folks know.
I looks over at Grit, and wonder if it’s her will keeping ‘a here. I think about how Miemay fought death all them days and months, waiting for this house to get done. Then I think about what Grit got to live for, and I’m thinking on ‘a kids, and husband. It be something awful if she gone. But we’ll make a way, we always do. I don’t want to think about Grit dying. The thought of it breaks my heart.
If anybody should go, probly should be me. I got the least amount of folks depending on me. I won’t be missed let Daddy nem tell it. Then things go back to being right, I guess. Everybody be getting what they think they spose to have, I expect.
“Linny, you hear me talking to you? You always in yo head.” Grit touch my arm.
“What you said?”
“I said something is wrong, I don’t know, I feel funny. Like I need to git on back to the house or something.”
I give ‘a my arm and we start moving, quick, and she gittin it. Soon as we get to the stairs she bow down, hold on to the banister. “Oh Lawd!”
“What’s wrong?” I ask, concerned and looking at ‘a trying to gauge what it is. She don’t say nothing, she just bite ‘a lips, and I see she hot. Then right there on my front porch I see it come gushing out, down ‘a legs into ‘a boots.
“Oh Jesus!” she cries, as we climb the steps, and then the steps inside the house. I don’t know what to do, I think about getting somebody, but know I cain’t leave ‘a here by ‘aself.
“Lay down,” I order her, putting the baby in the bed beside ‘a so we can watch him, too. I open ‘a legs, and look, and sure as a summer day can be long that hole done opened back up.
I run down stairs to get some water, and get Miemay midwife tools. I’m so worried my hands won’t be
steady. Fore I go back in the room, I get myself together. Ain no use to us both worrying or being upset.
When I know I can act like I got everything under control, I bust back in the room. I move quickly, silently. If I don’t think about it, it won’t hit me that she might die right here, right now.
Oh lord, let ‘a make it, let ‘a live. Don’t let ‘a die on my watch, Lord. I what’n never the kinda person ask you for much. Fact is, I don’t even know the last time I came to you for nothing, but, Lord, please guide my hands. Lord, guide my mind, and lead me.
After I wash my hands, I reach up in ‘a. “Feels like-” I stop, and I must be frowning cause Grit frowning, too, like she mocking me. I feel like our faces the same, and we both feeling round in ‘a, but it’s just me.
“What’s wrong?” Grit say, after I don’t speak for a while and we just looking at each other.
“Feel like…” I don’t want to say it and sound crazy. I don’t know what’s going on with her. Maybe it’s the cord and the bag all bald up in ‘a, I’m feeling.
“What is it, Luhnay?” She call my name the way Miemay do, or the way Mama use to when I was in trouble.
“Feels like,” I start again, and look at ‘a ashamed I don’t really know what it is. Worried, that no matter what I say it’s gone get Grit all upset and hysterical. “Feels like… another baby in here. Feel like a baby head do.”
“Oh,” she say all calm, suddenly letting go all the air like she relieved.
How calm she be make me uneasy. I wonder if this ain’t the calm before the storm.
“Yesterday, I was trying to fall off to sleep, but my stomach was so busy, I kept thinking how it felt like I was still expecting.”
“Iain never heard of no babies being born days apart,” I say.
“Me neither,” Grit say, reaching for my arm and pulling herself up.
“Ima go boil some water.”
“Ain’t no time for that.” She laugh a little like the pain a relief.
Soon as she stand, she grab holt to the bed like she might go down on the ground. I hold her, and wish there was more than just me here. She start to walk holding on to the wall. When I can move, I put out all the pads I got near a chair, where she can hold on and squat. Every so often I check and the hole giving way, and that cord coming on out slowly.
“Oh, oh,” she moans and leans into the pain. Holding on to the chair she gets a good grip and starts to push.
I reach in to see where the baby is, and turn his shoulders so it don’t rip ‘a. I’m trying to get a good grip, but the space so tight and whenever she breathe and stop pushing, it’s like he go on back up in there some. I try to hold tight to his head, but it’s hard cause he wet and slippery. I don’t want to hurt him, or break his neck.
“Easy now, you almost done,” I say, looking in Grit eyes trying to see how she doing. She seem better than she did with the first one, and this one coming fast. When I get him out the way of ‘a tail, I say, “Come on, give me all you got.”
When she push, the baby getting free.
“One more!”
Then she grit ‘a teeth, and make this loud noise Iain never heard from ‘a, and fore I know it there be another little one in my arms.
“This one a girl,” I say smiling and reaching for the scissors to cut the cord.
Grit laugh, relieved. I don’t think it’s a real laugh. She been told she gone die and now she gone live.
I feel like crying, I’m so happy. We both looking at ‘a beautiful baby girl. When the heart beat stop in the cord, I cut it and wrap the baby in blankets.
“All folks been talkin bout is if I have a boy we got to name him Granger. You know, I hadn’t thought about names for a girl really. I had been wanting to give Granger a boy myself. So, you already know what I’m gone name this one.”
“Do I?”
“Ima name ‘a after you. Gone name ‘a Madelyn, just like ‘a auntie.”
Breathing deep, I look at the small little bundle. Feels like she mine. When I caught Granger, Jr., felt like I couldn’t be more relieved or more happy, and now, there is something pass that. I cain’t believe how beautiful lil Madelyn is. And some part of me wonders if this ain’t how Miemay felt when I was born, and they named me after her.
Then I think about how Grit naming this baby after me, cause she hadn’t been thinking of a name for ‘a girl. Then I think about how all Grit wanted was a boy. Then I wonder if Mama ain have no name for me cause she wanted another boy. Then I think about how Mama didn’t even name me, Miemay did. And I wonder, if Mama ever wanted me at all.
Chapter Seventeen
A PROPER LADY
“Yah!” I command, leaning left, holding the reigns, guiding Anastasia down an old dirt road lined with big oak trees, standing like guards of the past. Use to be a plantation here; it was abandoned after the Civil War. I what’n born then, but Miemay use to tell me stories bout how grand this house use to be.
Seem like ages ago with another war brewing, but we all still be standing in the shadows of its dead. The people ain never come back here after the war. They say the women stayed on while the men went to fight. They say all the men were killed, and the women left before the Union could make it down here. Now, it all be ruins. The house stand like a reminder of what use to be, feel like a lot of what was, still is right here on the edge of Zion.
Every once in a while, at some church function out on the green, people get to talking bout what they could do to make our town better, and this land, the Hilliard House always come up. Folks be going on bout how we should put this land on our town schedule and do something with it. The yard would be so beautiful if somebody would keep it up.
All these beautiful flowers, make you know God still in control. No pruning or watering, and there be more colors and flowers here than any other kept garden in Zion. That’s how you can tell it’s some good land, cause the grass done got so tall, and the trees so strong, seem like the plants swallowing the house, and eating the memories to survive.
Then again, fixing this house up or taking care of the yard, or using the land is just for talk. Some white people already say we don’t deserve the land we on. If Hilliard was somewhere else, it be full of white folks, but they ain trying to live surrounded by no niggas. Still, any nigga take it upon hisself to do something to the Hilliard House, be good as dead. This the house where the Klan meet before riding through Zion. When they come to remind us they still here and that they like God, still in control.
One time when me and Miemay was coming from town, cause you got to go pass the Hilliard House to get anywhere in Zion, she told me they hung a whole family. It wasn’t enough to hang the men, they hung babies, a grandmother, two pregnant women and raped the young girls before killing them. The worst part of it all, was they was known niggas. The grandmother was owned by the Harpers, and raised some of the men who put ‘a neck in the noose.
It’s the story we remember and tell each other whenever we forget our place. They hung they own mammy, maid, cook, and field hands for moving into a empty house. Miemay said the police ain never come. Nobody talked about it, and it what’n put in no papers. The Klan even gave a speech to Zion right in the middle of the town. They warned all niggas, we were never to sleep in that house where white folks once laid they heads.
Ain much land left to the Hilliard House. The house set off far from the road. Years before I was born, a man and his woman were out here naking, when the Klan caught them behind the house. Before that day, lovers use to sneak here, and get to know each other.
The Klan tied the man to a tree, and beat him almost to death. The woman was raped. They say the man asked them to kill him so he could stop hearing the woman begging them to stop. As for that woman, they say she was strong cause she ain never talk about what happened, except to say she glad they didn’t kill ‘a man. These beautiful tall strong trees, be the same trees they hang strangers from, or niggas they catch out too late by theyself.
The sound o
f Anastasia’s hooves hitting the red earth hypnotize me. Pass the Hilliard place, I’m taking in clean rows of one crop or another. I dream, and try to breathe in the sky. Seem like the sky inviting me to ride to the end of the horizon, and away from Zion. Every time we riding, feel like I make a decision to stay here. Now Miemay gone, feel like the question being posed more often. Feel a hankering to be somewhere else, see something else. Want to know what else under the sky sides this town.
It take all morning to go round Zion. When Anastasia feeling up to it, we go the whole way round, and through the worn roads. Feel like I’m flying when I’m riding her. Feel like I own the earth and anything is possible.
Anastasia a proud horse, seem like she be happy when I’m pleased. I try to pay attention so I ain’t too hard on ‘a, but she fast, beautiful, got strong legs and like to show me what she can do. When I think I’m doing too much, I can feel ‘a wanting to give me more in ‘a trot. She hop a little, like “Let’s go!” So we do. We’d ride all over the world if we could.
We back to riding every Saturday morning, like we use to before Miemay got sick. Ain’t normal for a woman to ride horses way I do. We all get taught how to ride when we young, but I ride for fun. Most women could probly still remember how to harness horses if need be, or get a buggy together. Still, mostly men do it cause women don’t travel by themselves no how. Ain’t lady like to be out on no horse like this either. That’s the reason I get up and out so early in the morning. Specially now, I’m back to wearing dresses. So this the only time I get to be free in my pants.
Anastasia’s mane, and my hair flapping in the wind like flags of freedom. Feels like me and Stasia one, chills rush over me when it feel like we racing together against time. Then I see the family’s buggy. Almost wont to turn around and go another way, since I got these pants on. But I don’t want to break my stride. Plus, I know they hear me coming. And besides all that, it’s time to get on back so Stasia can get some water, we been riding since first light.
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