Mary listened at his feet splashing through a pool left by the rain. His overalls would have to be washed again, but that troubled her less than the vague uneasiness that gnawed at her heart. July was not himself. He had gone off and left her with supper to cook, all the things to feed and the cow to milk.
Night fell and the baby had gone back to sleep but July had not come home. Mary drew the pots a little farther away from the fire so the food they held would not scorch or become dry, then she went to the door and looked up and down the street for sign of him.
Children were playing games in the dusk, shouting, singing, screaming out when the one who was “booger-man” ran out from a hiding-place to catch somebody, but Mary’s mind was too full of something else to notice them. July loved his home, he loved her and Unex; what made him stay so long? The little new moon slowly fell behind the black trees; a multitude of cold white stars crowded the sky, twinkling, sparkling, now and then one of them dropping toward the earth, marking a path for somebody’s soul. The fire dwindled and almost went out for lack of a stick of wood, but Mary sat on the doorstep, alone, and an aching uneasiness had her flesh trembling and all her bones weak.
One by one the houses grew dark and silent, tears rolled out of her eyes and fell in her lap. July had forgotten her.
The dawn brought him. A puff of cool air pushed in with him when he opened the door. Mary sniffed it softly for a faint scent of Cinder’s perfume came with it on July’s clothes.
“You needn’ walk so easy, I’m wake, July. I ain’ shut my eyes all night long. I’m sick as I only can be. Wo-rry-ation kills me. Whyn’ you tell me you was gwine off an’ not a-comin home?”
July gave her no answer, but with his jaw locked he sank into a chair and began putting on his boots to go to his work in the swamp. Mary could not tell if he heard her or not for he made no sign that he did. Then anger stirred her.
“Whyn’ you answer me, July? Whe you been? What de matter ail you?”
Then he straightened up. “Nuttin’ ain’ de matter ail me. I been in de woods shootin’ a little crap, dat’s all. You ought not to quarrel if I pleasure mysef a lil.”
“I can smell de stench o Cinder’s scent on you, so you needn’ lie to me. I ain’ no fool. I got some sense—some sense—”
July shrugged. “If you got so much sense, whyn’ you bank de fire last night? ’E’s dead as a wedge. Now I got to go borrow a piece from somebody to hotten me some victuals to eat.”
He knelt on the hearth, muttering and stirring among the ashes, moving blackened chunks of wood, trying to find a live ember. When he found one he laid a fat splinter on it and blew it into a blaze. Mary wept quietly for she could think of no words to tell July how hurt she was, how utterly grieved at the way he was doing her now. She’d forgive him if he would only come sit on the bed beside her and hold her hand and ask her pardon. She was even willing to get up and go to him and beg his pardon for being vexed, if he would only look at her. But he didn’t. He ate some food and left her without saying goodbye.
X
Maum Hannah kept Unex while Mary picked cotton all the week until Saturday, when she washed the clothes early and ironed them all before noon. She was starting to the spring to fetch water to scour before night when Doll, July’s sister, came by. When she saw Mary still working she burst out laughing, “How-come you duh scour when evybody else is pleasurin? How-come so?”
Mary began trying to explain: July didn’t like her to be roaming around and trapesing up and down the road. He liked to find her at home whenever he came in.
Doll laughed. Being July’s sister, she could say things about him nobody else could say. “Lawd, gal,” she began seriously, “if you pay ’tention to July, you would pure work yousef to death. Put down dat scourin brush. Come on go to Grab-All wid me. Some fine new dress cloth come on de boat yesdiddy. You need some new clothes, well as me.”
Mary was afraid to do it at first, for July had not come home for dinner yet, and he liked his victuals to be nice and hot. But Doll insisted, so she put up the scouring brush and changed her dress, put on a clean white apron and her fine hoop earrings and went to the store with Doll.
The dress cloth was beautiful, but she had no money to buy a single yard. June treated Doll and herself to a bag of candy and a bottle of soda-water and after they had laughed and talked a while, he bought them each a string of beads and a can of salmon, then they came on home.
July was standing in the door when they walked up. His face was frowning and he had little to say to any of them. Doll had prepared Mary for that very thing. Doll warned her
