CHAPTER 20
I walked up to Mr. Wilson’s the next morning, and found him with the hood up on his truck. “Ain’t having troubles with the engine, are you?” The freshness of mid-April sunshine made for near-perfect weather.
He stuck the dipstick back in. “Just piddling. What you up to?”
“Wanted to ask about letting Roy, Clemmy, and Fancy help me plant tobacco this week.” I leaned my elbows against the fender.
He pushed down on the hood to be sure it was locked. “Reckon I can spare them Saturday. Roy’s in the low ground if you want to ask him.”
The field was behind a stand of woods below Mr. Wilson’s house. Roy was busy plowing. I waited for him to finish the end of the row. “How you doing, Roy?” After last night, I was nervous being this close to him.
“I’m all right, Junebug, you?” He squatted and picked up a fistful of the dark sandy soil, letting it sift between his fingers.
“Trying to keep up with things. Come by to ask about you, Clemmy, and Fancy helping me plant my tobacco field on Saturday.”
Roy pulled off his straw hat and wiped his head on his sleeve. “Reckon we can do that. How come you need three of us?”
“Fancy suggested maybe her, me, and you could work the field while Clemmy fixed dinner. She came to the house yesterday to help me make some butter so I could stop wasting so much milk.”
He surveyed the bright sky. “Then I guess we’ll be there Saturday morning.” Roy turned back to me. “You making out all right staying by yourself?”
I sat on the ground beside him. “Gets to be lonesome, but I know things take time. Wish I’d learned to cook better.” I gave him a grin. Lonesome as long as I ain’t doing it with your daughter lay on my tongue, which I figured was probably forked by now.
He smiled back. “Clemmy or Fancy can help you with that. Fancy is about as good a cook as her momma.”
“When she came over yesterday she fixed some biscuits and dang if they wouldn’t compare to Grandma’s.” And then we got in the bed and had sex.
He grinned with a daddy’s pride. “That gal sure can make a biscuit.”
* * *
Roy, Fancy, and Clemmy showed up early on Saturday morning. Low clouds had come across early, but had kept going toward the south. I finished hooking Sally Mule to the wagon. A big barrel filled with water and fertilizer was already loaded, and the plants were stacked in the back. Roy took the reins and headed to the field while I showed Clemmy around the kitchen. Fancy pointed out the canned vegetables in the pantry and the butter and milk in the refrigerator. “I helped Junebug make the butter yesterday.” Clemmy eyed the two of us. From her look, I considered maybe it wasn’t Roy I needed to worry about.
In the field, I hand-pegged the holes, Fancy dropped in the plants, and Roy came last with the water. Once we got a rhythm, we made good time, not a lot of talking. Our shadows had started to stretch when Roy looked at the sun. “I’m guessing it’s about dinnertime.”
I unhooked Sally Mule from the wagon, and she trotted straight to the barn and waited for me. I dropped a couple of ears of corn and a handful of hay in her stable box, staying a while to scratch her nose. While she munched, Sally watched me with her soft brown eyes, contented to have a rest and a meal. I wondered, if she could talk, what would she say?
“Are you lonesome, girl? I bet you miss Granddaddy and Grandma as much as me, don’t you? If you won’t so dang big, I’d let you come stay in the house.” I laughed out loud, imagining Sally in the bed and eating at the table. “One question I’ve always wanted to ask you, Sally. What do you have to live for? The only future you got is working pulling a plow or a wagon until you drop dead. That don’t seem fair to me.” It was sad to think about.
She moved her head up and down, shook her ears, and tried to bite my fingers that were in the stable box beside the last ear of corn. “Sore subject, huh?” I scraped my fingernails up her neck and patted her with gentle slaps. Sally went back to eating and I headed to the house, my own stomach growling for lack of food. I could smell collard greens cooking all the way out to the yard.
I stepped inside the screen porch and started to wash my hands at the water bowl. “Smells mighty good, Clemmy. Where’s Fancy and Roy?”
She spooned food into bowls. “They’re outside setting up the table for us to eat.”
“Clemmy, don’t you believe it’s silly for me to sit in here by myself and y’all out there? We ain’t strangers.”
She stopped, a hint of a smile on her face. “What in the world would folks think?”
“We’re the only folks here, and the only ones that matter.”
She gave me a look that was like a patient momma with a foolish child. “You want to come outside with us?”
“Wherever you say.”
Clemmy studied me. “Then why don’t you help me tote this food and we can enjoy the sunshine.” She was a woman who walked with her head up and looked a person in the eye when she talked. I figured Fancy got her gumption from her momma.
“I’ll bring the buttermilk Fancy helped me make the other day.” I felt I’d won a little battle.
Roy gave Clemmy a stare when he saw us coming, and Fancy’s eyes got wide. “Move your plate over, Roy. Junebug, sit beside Fancy.” We got busy on the food, the only sounds were spoons and forks scraping.
Roy smacked his lips. “Clemmy, you make this buttermilk?”
“Junebug said Fancy made it.”
“It don’t taste right.” Roy turned his head and spit out what was in his mouth. “Fancy, did you put any fat-curd in the buttermilk?”
She stopped the fork of food on the way to her mouth. “I didn’t put anything in it.”
“You didn’t put fat-curd in to take out the poison?”
“What are you talking about?” Fancy set the fork on her plate.
Roy grabbed his throat, hacking and coughing. “Oh Lord, she’s killed us.”
Fancy grabbed my glass and threw it on the ground, then reached for Clemmy’s. “Momma, you never told me nothing about that!”
Roy poured another glassful from the jar and drank it down, leaving a big ring of white over his upper lip.
Fancy stood staring, her cheeks turning red. She grabbed a piece of corn bread and threw it at him. “Kiss my butt.” The laughter felt like family.
By midafternoon the work was done. I took fifteen dollars from my pocket and handed the money to Roy.
“You know you ain’t got to pay us, Junebug. I said when your grandma died I’d help you with anything I could, so I figure we’re just being neighborly.”
“To me a day’s work gets a day’s pay, so I’m asking you to take it.” White neighbors helped each other because it was expected they would get help in return. No colored folks had their own farms so it was only right to pay with money.
“I’d like to ask you something, Roy. It’s a lot harder than I thought taking care of all the things Grandma did, like keeping the house up, washing clothes, and cooking. Maybe you would consider, on the days you don’t need her, if Fancy might come and help. She could earn some extra money and it would be a big relief to me.”
Fancy got busy with some bug in the grass. Roy looked at Clemmy. “Reckon I’ll allow she can come every couple of days after school. But you remember the talk we had, Junebug?”
“Yep.”
“Ain’t nothing changed.”
“Won’t no harm come to her as long as I’m around.” I wanted Fancy, and was determined to do whatever it took to keep her.