Maum Hannah took her hand. “You ain’ to talk such a talk, Si May-e. De Book say if we call nobody a fool, Gawd would burn we in Hellfire. Fool is a awful sinful word. Honey, do don’ say em no more.”
The women began murmuring, nodding their heads.
“Dat’s de Gawd’s truth, Auntie.”
“You’s right to talk to Si May-e.”
“Si May-e is a heavy case in dis world.”
“A heavy case fo-true.”
Mary raised her arms and tightened her headkerchief. “You have to excuse me, Auntie. Doll got me vexed an’ befo I knew it de word slipped out my mouth. But if Doll had any manners e wouldn’ be throwin up July’s name to me, an’ blowin at me like a porpoise.”
“You must be forgot July’s my own brother, enty?” Doll snapped out.
“No, I ain’ forgot, Doll. An’ I ain’ forgot July used to be my own lawful husband too. Reverend Duncan read out o de Book over me an’ July, but July didn’ count dat readin no more’n air. Not July. E went off wid Cinder just de same as if e was a single man. Just de same. An’ Cinder was my own second cousin, too. But July left Cinder de same way.” Mary laughed carelessly. “No ’oman livin couldn’ keep a sometime man like July.”
“De Lawd have mussy,” Maum Hannah sighed, and the other women stirred uneasily.
Mary loosened the string which held her full skirts tied up short, then she straightened up.
“Let me tell yunnuh someting. July’s been gone a long time. I don’ know whe e is, an’ I don’ care. But if de boat yonder on de river would fetch em home today, cold an’ stiff in a box, I could look at em same as if e was a stranger. Not a drop o water wouldn’ drean out my eyes.”
Maum Hannah jumped.
“Jedus, gal, you pure scare me when you talk such a talk. Gawd’ll make you eat dem same words yet. No matter whe you is, or whe July is, yunnuh two is man an’ wife. Yon can’ change dat. When Gawd joins people togedder nothin can’ put em apart. Nothin. Not even sin.”
“How long is July been gone, Si May-e?” one of the midwives asked.
Mary reflected. She could not remember exactly. Seraphine was in her sixteenth year now, so July must have been gone over sixteen years.
“How much chillen you had since July went?” asked another one.
“Plenty, sister, an’ all of em is a-livin an’ a-growin fine. Most of em big enough to work evy day. We has plenty to eat, plenty to wear, plenty to pleasure wid too.”
“Mind how you brag, Si May-e,” Maum Hannah warned.
“I ain’ braggin, Auntie. All dis I’m tellin is de Gawd’s truth. Me an’ my chillen don’ need no man. We can git on better widout em. I can easy pick three hundred pound o cotton in a day. I can hoe a acre clean o grass quick as any ’oman on de whole plantation. I done birthed all my chillen de old way an’ I ain’ never had a backache in my life.”
Nobody answered this, and Mary looked Doll in the eyes.
“I know yunnuh talks about me behind my back, but I don’ mind. Talk all you want to. I ain’ no member o de church. I been baptized an’ I been a member four different times in my life. A member, de same as you. When I git old an’ tired seein pleasure, I’m gwine to seek and pray an’ be a member again.”
She looked around and smiled.
“If I was fat or either old, I might would settle down, but, tank Gawd, I ain’ neither one. Not yet.”
Maum Hannah got stiffly to her feet.
“Come on, gal,” she said, taking Mary by the arm, “le’s go home. Gawd’s house ain’ no place fo sinful talk.”
“Befo I go I want to hear how to birth chillen de new lawful way, Auntie.”
“Don’ let’s talk dat talk now, not till we get out o Gawd’s house. It ain’ decent. No. It ain’ fitten to hear. I declare to Gawd, it made me have sin to hear about em.”
“You had sin, Auntie? I bet you ain’ sinned, not in forty years.”
Mary could not help laughing, but Maum Hannah looked very sad. “You’s wrong, honey, I sins all de time. Every breath I breathe, every word I say is a sin. Dat’s how-come I have to pray so much an’ ask Him up yonder to help me be faithful an’ hold out to de end.” She wiped her eyes and got to her feet. Mary took her arm, and together they went down the aisle and down the steps of Heaven’s Gate Church.
The misery in Maum Hannah’s knee was much worse since she heard the indecent things the white people wanted the midwives to do when they caught children.
“You ought to sit down, at home, Auntie, an’ let de misery rest.”
Maum Hannah shook her head. Sitting still was the worst thing for it. She needed to stir around. A bed or a chair will trick you if you stay still on them long at a time. They will draw out your strength and leave you weak as water. A hot earthworm poultice would help her to shed the misery. It always helped her. When she got home she would brew some green walnut tea and get Keepsie to pour it on the ground near Ben’s woodpile where the worms were thick. They’d rise up and he could get her a plenty for a poultice. Earthworms are fine things to run out pains and miseries. Thank God for making plenty of them.
“Tell me what de lady said, Auntie.”
“I can’ talk dat talk, honey. No. But I’ll tell you dis much; de lady had a razor wid em. E took em out an’ showed em right in de house o Gawd. E say all de midwives must carry razors. Great Gawd. Dat is one sinful ’oman in dis world.
