Trouble's Child (2 page)

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 door. 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.”

Ocie was pleased to show her material and pattern. Both were simple, but nice. She had chosen soft white calico with fine lace and tiny buttons. It would be a dress that could be worn many times after the wedding to parties and festivals.

The women settled to quilting and their talk turned to prices at the commissary. Then they talked about plans for the fishing festival, the biggest event on the island, which came every year at the end of summer. Finally their conversation turned to their children.

“Say, Cam, you's lookin mighty pretty round heah,” Cora said. “Yo skin like velvet. You ain't in child way agin, no?”

There was deep silence broken by Cam's uneasy giggle. She covered her mouth to hide a missing front tooth. “Ah, Miss Cora, leave me lone.”

Martha lowered her eyes, trying to relieve the hurt she felt for Cam. Only a few days ago, Cam had come to visit Titay, upset because she felt she was expecting another child. It would be her fifth, and her youngest was only nine months old. She and Titay had talked for a long time. When Cam left, Titay was silent, and Martha knew her grandmother faced a problem she could not solve.

Just then Tee came through the door. “Look who I brung,” he said, ushering Titay into the room. Everyone applauded. Cora said, “You jus in time t' tell us bout Cam.”

Titay gave Cam a quick look, then turned to Cora. “What's t' tell?”

“Aw now, Miss Titay, look at er. She's too pretty. You mus know there'll be a new baby round heah soon, yes?”

Everyone knew that Cora wanted to take Titay's place as the island midwife and caretaker, but the women were afraid of her. It was rumored that she practiced hoodoo. Her question now was meant to put Titay on the spot.

The women were quiet as Cora kept her angry eyes on Titay. In that throbbing moment, Martha wondered how Titay would answer.

“Ah,” Titay said. “That need no word from me, no. If it be so, we'll know sooner or later, ahn?” She moved to place a hand on Cam's shoulder.

Martha caught Cam's eye and responded to her smile.

Cora's anger chilled the room, but Titay calmly took her place at the quilting frame to do the work in the center of the final roll.

Martha smiled again. Even if Titay's eyes were failing, she still made the neatest, most even stitches, twelve within an inch.

Just as the frame was being taken down, the men began to arrive. Soon the party moved outside and shouts went up for Ocie and Tee to do the courting dance. Drumbeats and hand-clapping set the rhythm. Ocie stood still, marking time to the music, while Tee did steps that moved from the simple to the most difficult.

Tee strutted on his toes, moving his shoulders, neck, arms and head. Ocie teased with her eyes and smile while she stood in place, keeping time to the beat. The tempo increased and Tee's whole body caught the music.

Martha, fired by the music and movements, clapped and urged the dancers on.

After the courting dance everyone was ready for cake and lemonade. As they settled and were served, the men began to swap tall tales. The women listened and laughed. Only Cora was bold enough to add a story of her own and sip the elderberry wine that Tee's father brought out for the men to sample.

Martha sat on the ground, close to Titay, watching, listening and laughing at the stories. She felt at home, but with an uneasiness hard for her to explain. It was like moving down a smooth, endless road without a single curve. She looked up at Titay and said, “I'm ready t' go, Granma, when you ready.” Then she leaned her head on Titay's knee and listened to the laughter.

THREE

The Gulf was calm, and the murmur of the waves seemed to be whispering a blessing on the day of Ocie's wedding. Martha slept late. When she awoke, the sun was hot in a cloudless sky.

She lay in bed wondering how she would fill her days now. She wouldn't have Ocie. With Tee in her life, Ocie would have much more in common with the married women.

Oh, if only she could leave this place. She wished she had talked more to the teacher, had tried to create some plans. But going to high school would mean being away from home for months. Suddenly she recalled that snake sliding off into the brush.
Who'd look after Granma? Wish I had a big family
.

Martha had never known her mother. Her father, Titay's youngest son, had drowned in the Gulf before she was five years old. He was now only a faint memory. Then she thought,
There's Beau and gittin married
. But she quickly put that out of her mind.

If only there was someone who understood her. She was only fourteen, and her life was already over.
Silly!
There was still a lot to do. There was the fishing festival only two months away.
Who's gon lead em dancin down t' the sea? Titay, probly. Hard t' blieve Granma so old. She's led that dancin since I can member
.

The church bell rang.

Martha was still in bed when Titay called, “You ready in there?”

“I'm comin, but you go on, Granma.” She was glad now that she had decided to wear the pale blue voile dress that had belonged to her mother. Though the sheer cotton was more than fourteen years old, it was still lovely and fitted her just right. She wished she had a wide, soft straw hat like the one the teacher wore in the sun. Titay's parasol would have to do.

The green of the trees was deep and solid and shining under the brilliant silver sky. Stepping lively on the trail, Martha admired her tall lean shadow, sheltered by the small parasol. As she walked along enjoying the sounds and fervor of her island, she forgot that moments before she had thought her life over.

Near Ocie's house Martha's excitement increased. All of Ocie's family were getting in line for the wedding march to the church. Suddenly Martha wished she had gone earlier to see if her friend needed anything: something borrowed, maybe. Then she saw Ocie with her father. Ocie looked nervous, but pretty.