PART ONE

I

Friday evening, and the old country bus was ram-packed with market women and school children as usual. At every corner, the bus would bend over so badly, all the baskets with yam, banana, fish and breadfruit mad to fall over, not to mention the people—pack like fresh sardines on top one another. Gwennie hang onto the railing, her bag with the potato pudding she bake overnight clutch tight underneath her arm. Through the tiny square windows of the old bus, she could see the shops sailing by, canefields with stalks bowing in the wind, the cemetery with break-down tombs, Aunt Emmy’s house, the old church, the pond . . . Gwennie yank the string and the bus rattle and squeal to a full stop rolling all the dry coconuts down the aisle and on top of people’s corn toes. She tread her way careful, pushing pass sweaty market women, big baskets and boxes until finally she jump off the bus.

Outside, she brush the market smell and bus grime from her blue pantsuit and walk up to the brown gate. Nothing ripening-up yet, only sweet-smelling yellow blossoms on the trees lining the gate and plenty bees flying round. The ground was still damp from the rainy season, and the weeds spring up tall in Grandma’s garden choking the roots of her fern and morning glory. Tomorrow, sure as rain, Grandma going to send her to pull them out. A little wisp of grass tickle the back of her leg, and absently Gwennie use her foot, scratch the spot. It tickle again, and as she turn round to see what it was crawling up her leg, her face meet with a large grin covering over Luther’s face.

‘But look at me dying trial! Luther, you here playing games. There it was. I thought it was bees or something.’

Luther laugh. ‘Jesus, Miss Gwennie, you deaf just like an old horse. You know how long I been standing up here?’

Gwennie look up in his face. She like the way the little sprinklings of grey at his temples make him look older than his twenty-five years. But then him would laugh, and the two dimples pinching his cheeks and the gap in his front teeth would remind her that she at least five years older. ‘Couldn’t be that long. I just come off the old bus.’ She brush her suit again.

‘I was under the orange tree’, him point, ‘shading from the sun. It sure is a hot one today. Can’t talk long though, I have to get back to the bridge now.’

‘How’s that coming along?’

‘About four more weeks left before it ready.’

‘Bet you don’t want to leave. Not with all that good food mama cooking. Look how you stout-up and everything.’

Him laugh again. ‘You better stop teasing me, Miss Gwennie. And why stay here anyway, all the good women gone. Not much choice from what left.’

‘You not looking hard enough, man.’

‘Maybe.’ A faraway look come into his eyes, and as him stare into the hills surrounding the little district, Gwennie had to wonder how come she never set eyes on him long before two months ago, or even before she marry Walter. Him was such a gentleman: kind, church-going and everything. Even with the children, him was real good. Whenever she bring them down to visit Grandma, him was always playing with them, taking them out on Grandpa’s old donkey June, telling them Anansy stories and buying them all kinds of nonsense. Last time she come, him even teach her to play dominoes. And after few games she was giving him big-big six love.

‘Well, I must get back to the bridge, Miss Gwennie. But I will see you.’

Her good-bye stuck in her throat, and she watch until his shirt-tail turn the corner and she couldn’t see him anymore. She brush her pantsuit one more time, pick up the bag with the pudding, lift up the latch and step through the gate.

Grandma was sitting in the front room as usual, her little scraps of cloth all over the place. Her head was bent forward and she hummed, swaying back and forth, the rhythm going with each stitch.

‘Who that humming so sweet that hummingbird ownself would shame to hear it?’ Gwennie walk silently into the room.

‘Gwennie! But see me dying trial,’ Grandma cry out loud, dashing down the material and hobbling over to her daughter. ‘But how you mean to frighten me so? Every day I think about you, child, wondering when you coming to look for us. How the worthless man—Walter? You pappy worried sick about you. Him plan was to come and see you since I can’t do the walking sake of the foot. How you do, child?’

Gwennie hug her. ‘Doing okay.’

‘How Dave and the bad knee?’

‘Doing much better.’

‘That poor pickney,’ Grandma mutter, seating herself and picking up the sewing again. ‘Fall down mash-up his knee cap. If I did just have me own way, I would bring him to the science doctor meself so him can sprinkle a little water over the pickney’s head. You’d be surprise to see how quick him get better. I keep telling you . . .’

‘You know his father,’ Gwennie say to her. ‘You know him don’t believe in those things. How’s your leg?’

‘Same way,’ Grandma slap her hips. ‘Real bad these days with all that rain. They just pull right up. Only the good Lord can heal it, medear, nothing else.’ She show Gwennie the material. ‘Making underpants for your papa.’

‘Him out working, cutting cane as usual?’

Grandma nod. ‘You know nothing will stop him. Is harvest time for the cane crop now, so him working harder than usual. Doctor say his blood pressure okay, but him complain of headaches all the time. When is not one thing, is the other.’

‘I just see Luther,’ Gwennie say, sitting next to her on the bed, watching the stubby fingers with the break-off fingernails grip the needle and make straight perfect stitches with the thread.

‘Yes, medear. You papa have to tell him that even though him only staying for a little while, this is a house of God. Him can’t be bringing in young gals from out the street in here as him please.’

‘What him do now?’ Gwennie ask her.

‘All the time young gals from about the place just push open the gate, not even close it back so the dogs won’t go out the street, and come right in, asking for him. I get tired, man.’ She kiss her teeth and push up the cat-like spectacles leaning on her nose. ‘When him just come,’ Grandma slap her knee, ‘every Sunday, him get up early and have prayers with us. These days, huh, him come in all hours of the night.’ She stick out her two lips and start to hum.

Gwennie never say anything. She remember that even when she engage to Walter, she still couldn’t come in after nine. Her very wedding day when she take careless quarrel with Grandma, Grandma slap her jaw and tell her, ‘I don’t care how old you be. You must have respect.’

‘Him good about the boarding fee, though,’ Grandma tell her. ‘Always pay up on time, and respectful too. Not a bad fellow a tall.’

II

She never see him again that evening, and as cock crow the next morning, him gone.

‘Don’t stay round much,’ Grandpa tell her. ‘Him is the foreman, so they keep him busy.’

‘Walter gone back to church yet?’ him ask, as them sit down outside on the verandah peeling and eating sugarcane and the little pudding Gwennie did carry.

She shake her head.

‘That man is a hard man,’ Grandpa say, his face sad. ‘Remember how the church used to pack when him go to preach? Everybody want to hear to his sermon. And Lord, him could preach.’ Grandpa shake his head, eyes far back remembering. ‘Now him curse and drink white rum like a blinking jackass. What a shame.’

Gwennie look up in the old wrinkle-up wrinkle-up face. People say they were two of a kind, soft-spoken and just plain good-natured. She wish him never have to work so hard tending animals and cutting sugarcane all the time. All of a sudden she notice how him quiet-up, not saying a word. Gwennie start wonder if him was turning fool-fool, if him forget altogether that them talking. But Grandpa only in deep thought.

‘How him treating you, better?’

‘As usual. Sometimes him okay, other times . . .’

‘My, my! That man is something in truth. What is wrong with my son-in-law? But, you know, as I always tell you, take your things and your three children and come stay with us. Mile Gully School always looking for good teachers. No matter if you don’t have your certificate. They will still take you. This house never too small for me children and grandchildren. Take your things and come.’

Gwennie sigh deep. She wanted to go, bad-bad too. But she couldn’t put up with the eight o’clock bedtime every night, the prayers, church service, night service, and Bible study, three and four times a week. She couldn’t put up with the coming in early after she go out to any night function, and that she couldn’t come and go as she please without telling them what time she coming back. She was a big woman, not a pickney.

And the way Mile Gully’s people love to know and carry people’s business, she couldn’t put up with them a tall. Them would must want to know what happen to the lovely romance between she and Walter that cause them to pick up themselves and take off like breeze go get married. Now she come back with her face heavy, them was sure to laugh behind her back. Not saying that life rosy living with Walter, for only God alone know how bad she want to leave him. God alone see the bruises and the way Walter possessive and treat her and the children. But it not so easy picking up and laying down roots elsewhere.

‘I don’t know why you won’t stop having them,’ Grandma tell her over and over. ‘Stop, man,’ she would say pushing out her two lips. ‘If him treat you so bad, stop. Go to doctor. Make them put you on something. Or tell him to go to hell.’

‘But I tell him,’ Gwennie would say to her, a little bit weak. ‘All the time, I tell him. But him don’t care.’

‘Because you too soft and him know that. Huh, I would set out for that wretch, get scissors or something, and God help me. What I wouldn’t cut . . .’

But Gwennie know better than to take any more of Grandma’s advice. She find out now that she no match a tall for Walter when him come home drunk. Last time she lick him with the piece of board Grandma tell her to keep under the bed for protection, him drag it out of her hand and knock her with it instead. She still have all the black-and-blue marks.

III

She see Luther that evening though, and him was his old playful self as usual.

‘Miss Gwennie, how about a game of dominoes?’ him whisper through the crack of her door after she already put on her night-clothes and say her prayers.

‘Sure.’ She creep out of bed and tip-toe out the room and down the hall so Grandma and Grandpa wouldn’t hear from next door.

‘Last time you give me six-love. Huh, tonight I going to show you who is the man,’ him laugh, setting up the game on his bed.

‘We will see,’ Gwennie say, looking about the room and noticing how bare and untidy it was, with his trousers fling over the door, his shirt hang limp from a nail. ‘We will certainly see who the man is,’ she say again, sitting next to him on the little single bed.

‘You going up back Sunday as usual, Miss Gwennie?’

She look hard at the dominoes in her hands and nod her head.

‘They having a party up the street. Bet you couldn’t tell when last you shake your foot?’

It was true. When she and Walter first get married, most every Saturday night them gone to party. Then one night him and another man catch up in a fight. Him claim that the man dance with her much too long. So from that night, them don’t go out much. And then since the babies start to come, one right after the next, she just lose the urge.

‘Me is a big respectable married woman, Luther. What you think people would say?’

Him suck his teeth. ‘If you spend all your time worrying about other people, you won’t get any place. So you better come.’ Him nudge her, upsetting the dominoes in her hand, causing them to scatter on the bed.

‘See what you do.’ She nudge him in return, upsetting his hand as well.

‘Well, what you say, yes?’

She hesitate. If Walter find out, him bound to quarrel with her. Just like that other time when she did go to that party with Isaiah. Walter and Isaiah used to be best friends. Work and teach side by side at the same Agricultural school. Now Walter don’t even talk to the poor man.

‘Come on, Miss Gwennie, man.’ Him nudge her again, and this time his arm stay next to hers.

And she could’ve moved his arm, for she never like the way her belly was starting to tremble, but the warmth from his arm seem to send little tinklings up her back and she like that. And them stay like that for a while, his arm on hers, and the little tinklings running up and down her back. Then his hand start run lightly up and down her side and she could’ve gone back to her room, but all of a sudden it was feeling real nice to be snuggling up next to him.

And so when her night-clothes start come off, piece by piece, she never do a thing but moan and ease up closer and closer to him, for it was so much nicer than the rush Walter always in. Them did have to take time and not make much noise, for Grandma sleep light. But not even that could stop them from having them own little party right there in the room on the little single bed, pouring rhythms and sweat into one another, moanings and expressions of love better than any juke box.

After the heat wave pass, she realize that the last time it feel so good was when she and Walter was courting. Luther never roll over and fall asleep, instead him caress and hug her, and in no time was ready again. But she tip-toe back to her room, and pretty soon the snoring from next door put her straight to bed.

She never see him at all Sunday morning at prayers, and Sunday evening when time come for her to go back home so she can prepare for school the next day, Gwennie pick up herself and go off to the party with Luther. Grandpa couldn’t understand why Gwennie need go out to dance after such a lovely sermon at church, but Grandma never say a word. When Gwennie tell her she going out, she just push up her two lips in the air and start to hum.

Gwennie never dance with Luther much, for she never want to raise any eyebrows. Plenty of her old-time school friends were there, so she chat with them and dance with them husbands most of the time. When she finally dance with Luther, she never like the way him always hold her close, and the way him always want to dance only to slow songs, especially with so many people looking. And that funny look that come into his eyes when she dance with the other men remind her of the way Walter would look at her.

Them never stay long at the party though, for Gwennie did have to get up early and catch the bus back. So them walk back towards the house holding hands when nobody could see them anymore. Everything was dead-quiet through the graveyard except for them shoes whispering on the night-dew grass. Not even one night-bug was out chirping. And so when the moon slip behind the cloud, anybody who see the two shadows kissing-up in the cemetery that night could dip them finger in blood and swear it was Lucie and Charlie, the couple who pass on last March when them car meet up with the four o’clock train on the way back from them wedding. And this time when her stomach tremble, she just pull him closer so him could press way the little tinklings. And the grass did feel real cool on her back as Luther ease her down on the night-dew, and it was just as blissful as the night before.

IV

Him was gone as usual the next morning when she board the old bus with the market women and school children again. But her mood was good, and the bus ride sail by quick. At school, instead of dragging as usual, the day sail by real fast too. And sometimes she would just find herself, with her two hands holding up her jaw and her eyes fix nowhere in particular, thinking about the night-dew last night, and the juke box the night before. Other times she find herself giggling, and it was only when her students start to look at her funny-funny-like that she finally straighten up herself.

But the minute she reach home, the giggling start up again. Her children notice it first thing, and couldn’t spell sense of this newness that come over them mother. Walter was inside cooking dinner when she go into the kitchen. She tell him ‘Evening’, and him just look at her and grunt as usual. But instead of worrying up herself half to death over the way him talk to her, like she do almost every time him don’t talk to her when she talk to him, Gwennie pop out with a little giggle. For after Luther, Walter look stupid-stupid-like to her now. Walter turn round, look at her, kiss his teeth and walk out the kitchen. Poor man couldn’t understand why she grinning so much when him never give her any joke.

For the rest of the week him never say another word to her. Usually, Gwennie would sit down with her hands holding up her jaw and fret and worry-up herself over how this man won’t talk proper to her, now she just hum and sing when she pass him. But by the middle of the following week, in the middle of all her happiness, Gwennie couldn’t help but notice something troubling Walter. One evening she hear him ask the older boy, Rudi, if his mother did tell him why she never come home last week Sunday evening. Another time, she see him break and throw away one of the little blow-blow toys Luther send for the little girl, Del.

Since she did start teach the two boys to play dominoes and cards, one evening Walter come home and catch them playing. Hell break loose in the house that night. Walter grab up the dominoes and the cardpack, and what him never send flying through the door, him turn on the stove and burn.

Then him start the quarrelling. ‘Gwennie, you don’t have anything better to do than to sit here and teach you sons to gamble. What kind of mother you be?’

Gwennie never answer a word. She and the two boys just sit down and look at him, eyes and mouths open wide.

‘Make I catch any more blasted domino and card playing inside me house and we will see what happen. I don’t want me sons to be blasted gamblers.’ And him storm way into his room and don’t speak again for the remainder of night.

But Gwennie know it wasn’t the gambling so much that was bothering him. It was the fact that she know how to play cards and dominoes and him never teach her.

So that was the end of the domino and card playing tournament. Night time after the two boys, Rudi and Dave, and the little girl, Delores, gone to bed, and since Walter just go straight to his room these days after him eat dinner, she would just sit out in the living room by herself. Sometimes she clean the floor and dust, sometimes she do a little sewing: make dresses for Delores or just patch up her sons’ uniforms since them romp rough at school and often tear out the underarms.

Sometimes she crochet one or two doilies for her bureau or for Grandma’s centre table, so her figurines can look pretty on it. But most of the time she just sit down on the little stool inside the kitchen, her hands holding up her jaw, and re-run the whole weekend with Luther in her head, the way him talk sweet words to her, the way him love to use his tongue and lick-lick her neck, her shoulders, her ears. And then when she think about it long enough till the little tinklings start to move around in her belly, she just sigh deep, get up, stretch and go to her bed.

At night when she crawl in next to Walter, no matter how late, him would always be laying down there awake, not saying anything, but his eyes would be wide open looking up at the cracks and the little water marks in the ceiling. Depending on how dominant the tinklings she would roll over next to him and try touch-touch him up, for these days she notice that him not quite as demanding. And even though she was kind of glad, for most times she tired, it start to bother her. She start to wonder what him lay down there and think all hours of the night when him not sleeping. She know him can’t read her mind, but what if him run into anybody from Mile Gully and them tell him about she and Luther? Walter come from the little district just right across the other side of the bridge. The people from Mile Gully know him well. It wouldn’t be too hard for him to find out if people was going to be doggish and walla-walla them mouth about she and Luther.

With that song, Gwennie start up prayer meetings with God at night. And she would lie down there and ask Brother Jesus if him could please not let Walter find out, for only the Heavenly Father up above could help her if him ever know. Him alone know what Walter capable of doing to her, and she really wouldn’t like to find out. Then she would cry, Amen, roll over next to Walter, and start to touch-touch him up. She could tell him wasn’t use to it, for him would just lay down there not moving. But after she start use some of the lickings and rubbings Luther use, him start to relax.

V

When word come from Grandma that the bridge finish and she sorry bad, for the little boarding money so helpful, it was like somebody come in and take out a whole piece of Gwennie’s inside, and she never know how to put it back. And it wasn’t so much his leaving or the fact that Gwennie never know a God-a-heaven thing about this man—where him come from or anything—but she have a funny feeling that the baby stirring round in her stomach and widening out her hips belong to Luther, and him wouldn’t know about it.

So that damp look start appear round her face, and Walter recognize it too, for it was just like when them use to fight like puss-and-dog everyday. The children recognize it too, for them stop ask her stupid-stupid questions, and even the little girl, Del, wouldn’t cry as much and give trouble. Even the children at school notice it and start to do their homework and come to class early.

When she visit Grandma a few days later, she linger bout the gate waiting for the laugh. Then she would go into Luther’s old room looking for something, a picture so she could show the baby widening out her hips what him look like, a shirt, anything. And Grandma notice the damp look on her face and the way her body look frail even though she expecting.

‘Walter bugging you again?’ Grandma ask her.

‘No,’ Gwennie mumble, starting to cry.

‘Then what is the matter?’

‘Nothing.’

And she mope round the house the remainder of the day.

When Walter see her throwing up all over the place, him figure that maybe she pregnant, but him wasn’t too certain, for she seem thinner than usual. But him help around the house and with the children plenty, trying to please Gwennie and help dry up some of the dampness. Him did grow to like the giggle-giggle Gwennie who come munching up to him at night. Him wasn’t ready to let her go yet.

Gwennie would write Grandma, asking her if she could please check again and see if she put down Luther’s address careless-careless about the place, or if she remember anything about where him live or come from. But Grandma couldn’t remember a thing. And the dampness just take over Gwennie’s whole body and cause her to become thin and sickly.

But when the little girl finally born and Gwennie notice how her grin and dimple cover up her face just like Luther’s, some of the dampness start to go away, and she could allow herself to remember the tinklings in her belly, the moanings and the cool grass. But then she start to notice too that as the dampness ease away, little by little, the more the grin and the dimples resemble Luther’s. Grandma see the grin and figure out right away where it come from. Sometimes Gwennie see her looking at the baby, her face puzzle-up. Then she would look off into space. But them never say a word to one another. Grandma just purse up her lips and hum.

While the grin wipe away some of the dampness and bring comfort, it bring fear too. Everyday Walter would pet and coo the little baby, yet not notice that her hairline shape different from everybody in both his and Gwennie’s family. And after a while, Gwennie start notice too that Walter was looking hard at the little grin and dimple, and everytime him look, his forehead wrinkle over. So Gwennie start to keep the baby out of his way as much as possible, but it never spell sense to hide it from him, for it was Walter’s house and, supposedly, his daughter too.

So Gwennie try figure out how much of Luther, Walter did see. It was only the once though. She and Walter did meet him the same Thursday evening when them bring the children down to visit Grandma. Luther was just moving in and Grandpa introduce them. She still remember the handshake for his hand was strong and sturdy. But she couldn’t remember if him was smiling or not. She know him was in a hurry to look at the bridge before nightfall, and it would spell sense not to be smiling-smiling if you hurrying, but she couldn’t remember.

And so the fear of whether or not Walter recognize the grin on the little girl’s face ride Gwennie day-in and day-out. Cause her to take up praying all hours of the day. And so every time the baby grin, it was like a nightmare. And the nightmare gallop and kick until Gwennie find herself in Grandma’s bedroom weeping and wailing, with the room door lock and the curtains draw tight. And all through the weeping and wailing and moonlight and cemetery and lickings and lovemaking, Grandma never say a word. A few times Gwennie notice her opening up her mouth to cry out unto her Heavenly Father for guidance and strength so she can listen good to what Gwennie saying, but it just dry up right back in her voice box, and so she never bother say anything, she just purse up her mouth and look at Gwennie.

After Gwennie finish cry and blow her nose into the lining of Grandma’s old frock, Grandma ask her: ‘So when you going to tell the man that is not his pickney you have?’

But it seems like it was the wrong question, for Gwennie start up the weeping and the wailing again, but it never matter to Grandma.

‘Me love, I sorry to hear it. But you spread your own bed so you might as well lie down inside it. The pickney is the dead stamp of Luther. Any old jackass can see that. As fool-fool as Walter be, him not that stupid.’

‘But him don’t know Luther?’ Gwennie chime in.

‘Yes, but that not going save you. Everybody down here know him. And you know that people down here just love to dip them mouth into people’s business. As you turn round, them would start the talking, for that pickney can’t hide. She look like Luther too much.’

‘What me going to do?’

Grandma look at her and sigh deep. ‘Huh, you shoulda think about that when you was laying up in bed with this man. But I don’t know, me baby, I don’t know.’ Then she start the humming, and Gwennie who was resting her head on Grandma’s lap, pick up the tune. And the two of them sit down in the room and hum out the entire four verses of ‘He Died For Me, Yes Christ Jesus Died For Me.’

After the hymn finish, Grandma clear her throat. ‘Well, gal, you can tell Walter or you can wait till him find out. Whichever way, it going to be hell. It make sense if you tell him down here with me and your father present, for him wouldn’t be so out-of-order to knock you in the presence of you father. Another thing is you can give the baby to your Aunty Cora to raise, if Walter don’t want it inside the house when you tell him. I can’t say anything more, child. You choose best. May the good Lord up in Heaven look down and help you.’

So with that song, Gwennie go home to her husband and her children. And that night after everybody gone to bed, she sit down in the kitchen on the little stool in the corner and write her Aunty Cora a long letter, the whole time peeping over her shoulder to see if Walter looking. She tell her Aunty Cora about how Walter beat and abuse her, how him take her money and keep other women with her, how life hard and miserable with the man. She tell her Aunty Cora how she want to leave him, but she afraid to just pick up herself and her children and go back to living in Mile Gully, the very same place she marry to escape from.

Then she tell her Aunty Cora about Luther, how his chest big and his arms strong, how his two dimples pinch his cheeks and his grin cover over his entire face. She tell her Aunty Cora how the man teach her things, take her places, and make her feel like real young gal, how him make her feel like somebody. Then she write about the moonlight, the dance and the cemetery, and how the little girl is the dead stamp of him. At the end of the letter, Gwennie ask her if she could please take the baby for only God alone knows what Walter might do. Gwennie fold the letter, hands trembling, lick the envelope, tack on the stamp and hide the letter in the book of Proverbs so she can post it in the morning.

That night when she roll over on the posturepedic mattress, Walter was wide awake as usual looking up at the cracks and watermarks. Cold sweat wash over her. Her heart pump hard. Tonight she never feel like praying though, she just feel weary, she feel beat. And so she lay down there next to him rigid and cold, her night clothes wet with sweat and her heart pumping out loud through her chest. And she lay down there like this, him breathing deep and even, and she in an upheaval.

VI

Gwennie never have many friends. And whether that was to her good luck or her bad luck, only God alone can tell. The one lady she befriend when she and Walter just move up to Porous, gone off to live with her sister in Canada. Walter never used to like her a tall. Used to tell Gwennie how she no good, how she cheap, how she borrow-borrow money and don’t like giving it back, how she love carry-carry people’s business, and him couldn’t understand why a big respectable married woman like she, Gwennie, would want to keep company with this woman.

And so whenever Julia come by the house, Walter could never find anything him put down. Him always asking Gwennie to do this, to do that, to do everything. But it wasn’t only Julia, him would do the same thing when Gwennie’s family come to visit or when Trevor, her school teacher friend whom she meet after Julia leave, come visit. Walter didn’t give one blast that Trevor already married and wasn’t looking any more woman. As long as somebody interested in his wife, that alone mash up every thing.

She remember how she never use to pay him much mind when him start to do it at first. It was only when Grandma bring it up.

‘Now, Gwennie, you is a big woman, and I can’t tell you how you to run you family life, except that you and Walter must have respect for me and your father. But why the hell him have to call-call you every minute and interfere every time I sit down to talk to you. If you can’t tell him to acquire little manners, then I will do it.’

But for some unspoken reason, it still never bother Gwennie much until that day with Trevor. And from that day something lost inside her belly for Walter. It was a Saturday morning, high day, when Trevor drive up and park his car outside the gate. The children were around the back playing. The baby was sleeping. Walter was inside the kitchen listening to racehorse on the little transistor radio and marking down the ones winning. Trevor did just come back from Miami, bringing with him a little present for Gwennie. Gwennie, so glad for the mug and to see her friend again, take careless and start to hug Trevor, only to hear Walter bellow out her name and ask from the doorway where him was watching, if she never have anything better to do than to sit there and carouse with her man friends in his house. And if she couldn’t wait till him leave the house before she do it, him can just imagine what go on when him not there.

Trevor never stay long after that, and shameface, Gwennie just sit down outside on the verandah a long time after him leave. She did have the little mug in her hand and she run her fingers over the rim in deep thought. It wasn’t the first time Walter shame her like that, but it was going to be the last. It was that evening too, that she decide that she have to get way from Walter, for him wasn’t any good. The loan application still in the bottom of her bureau. Maybe she should go ahead and fill it out afterall. For in a way it was her only salvation. Without the certificate them don’t pay her much. And is really lack of money why she stay. The children too. But as the days pass and Walter get from bad to worst, things just seem almost too unbearable. One evening she come home only to find the little ‘I Love Miami’ mug crack-crack up in the garbage.

So because she never have many friends, or at least any close ones, she never have a return address where Aunty Cora could send the letter before Walter open it. One whole week pass. Not a word from Aunty Cora. She did mail the letter the Monday morning and here, today Tuesday, eight days, and still not a word. Wednesday come, gone, not a word. The following morning Gwennie pick up herself and go over to New Green.

Through the entire bus ride, whole heap of things go through her head. She couldn’t figure out if Aunty Cora never get the letter. If she get the letter but don’t answer yet, even though Gwennie did ask her to hurry up and answer. She wonder if Aunty Cora already answer, and Walter open the letter and read it. But then him wasn’t acting funny a tall; him was his sweet self as usual to the baby and to the other three, and was even acting okay to her. If him already read the letter, him would certainly open his mouth about it. If him waiting on her to say something, shit, what she must say. All these things run through Gwennie’s head that Thursday morning in the bus. And even though she love window seat and was sitting at one that very Thursday morning, even looking through it, her eyes wouldn’t focus on a thing, for they were full to the brim with worry.

VII

Her Aunty Cora’s house was bedecked with seven bedrooms, in addition to her thirteen adult-size cats and dogs put together. Aunty Cora was about sixty, and she live in this huge house with the seven bedrooms with her grandson Leslie; one of the eleven children she raise, George; her live-in helper, Miss Irene; and her cousin Miss Gertrude Fines, who still on extended visit, from May Pen. Her Aunty Cora’s been married two times, but both husbands already pass on leaving her with fifty acres of fertile land, two acres of rock-stone, one shop, one house, one church, thirty heads of cow, three bulls, two donkeys, fifteen laying hens, six roosters and one young pullet.

Aunty Cora was fanning herself with a piece of cardboard and sipping white rum from a big mug full of ice, when Gwennie climb up the stairs to the verandah. Aunty Cora never have on her thick glasses that usually sit down on her nose, so she couldn’t tell who it was coming up the steps, whether or not it was Leslie or George, or her cousin Miss Gertie.

‘But is who that walking up the steps and breathing so hard, mad to blow me way? Is you that, Miss Gertie?’ Aunty Cora bawl out, stretching out her neck, squinting up her eyes, laying down the fan and feeling round on the chair for the thick glasses. ‘But look at me dying trial! Gwennie Agusta Glaspole,’ she bawl out, this time with her thick glasses sitting down on her nose. ‘Gal, what you doing here already. You mean to tell me you get the letter already? So where the baby? Gwennie, what happen to you, gal? Sit down on the seat beside me and take a sip of this rum. You look ready to tumble over.’

Aunty Cora take a swig of the rum and give the mug to Gwennie. All this time Gwennie wasn’t saying a word, she just stand up on the steps, her face pucker up like she ready to start the hollering.

‘Come, come, take a sip. I already bury two husbands. I don’t plan on burying another soul before I die, so come. Take a sip of this drink, you will feel much better.’

Gwennie walk over to Aunty Cora, sit down next to her and sip the mug full of ice and white rum.

‘Then, where the baby? You mean to tell me that you get the letter already? I just send it two days ago, shouldn’t reach till this evening or tomorrow the latest, according to how I was figuring. So what Walter say?’

But it seems like that was all Gwennie was waiting to hear. She start up the crying.

‘Come, come, man. Drink up some more of this thing and stop this blasted cow bawling. This is serious business. For if you don’t bring the baby, and you don’t get the letter, no doubt Walter have the letter right now in his hand reading it.’

‘You was taking such a long time to write back.’ Gwennie pause through her eye water, ‘I was thinking that maybe Walter already have the letter. So I come to find out.’

Aunty Cora take the mug from Gwennie and take a long sip. She pick up the piece of cardboard and start to fan. Perspiration was dropping off her nose where the thick glasses sit. ‘Gal, that decision never easy. I into me old age now, done bury two husbands, my time next. The eyes not good, doctor say is cataract, and the arthritis in the two legs now. I don’t have any more milk in me titty for such a young baby. So you see, it not easy. But as blood thicker than water, I will do anything to help me family. So I will take the baby, but it not going to be easy.’

All this time Gwennie don’t say a word. Her head was reeling hard from the heat, the rum and everything. Aunty Cora drain the mug, slap Gwennie on her leg and say, ‘Come, gal, is near lunch time, and you look like you going to pass out right here on the verandah. Come, we go see what Miss Irene make for lunch.’

‘Alright, I soon come, you go on. I just need to get me bearings together. I going sit here little bit.’ And Gwennie sit down on that bench with Aunty Cora’s fan and the empty mug next to her, with her head reeling, and she shut up her eyes and give Papa Jesus thanks. She thank Him for the safe bus ride to New Green, and she thank Him for giving her Aunty Cora such a kind heart. Then she ask if Him could please not let Walter do anything too dangerous to her and the baby. Some things she know she deserve, but after all she only human and . . .

‘Gwennie, come on, come eat the little lunch before it get cold,’ Aunty Cora shout out from the kitchen. So Gwennie cut the prayer short, cry Amen to Papa Jesus, pick up the fan and the empty mug and step through the kitchen door with her head reeling.

VIII

Aunty Cora’s dining hall was almost as big as the entire house put together and just as shine. Gwennie look round for the one picture of Jesus, Aunty Cora keep on her wall, and sit down with her back next to it. Gwennie never like the picture a tall. For is one thing when you pray to Jesus everynight, but is another thing when His picture follow you all about and act like it can read your mind.

After them eat, and Aunty Cora talk to her little bit more about the baby and about Walter and give her money wrap up in a piece of cloth, George and Leslie pack her up a small box of food, walk her to the bus stop, and Gwennie catch the evening bus back to Porous.

But that talk with her Aunty Cora, it look like, was a blessing. For on the bus back to Porous that evening, she make up her mind about certain hard things. First thing was that as long as she live, Walter wasn’t going to find out about that baby. It was a shameful thing she do with Luther, a big married woman like herself have no place doing such a thing, but is not like the baby not going be there to remind her. So, no need for Walter to help walla-walla in her disgrace. As early as can be, she going to christen it at church in Walter’s name.

Next thing she going to do is go back to school and get the certificate—yes, she going to enrol right away. The money them pay her at the school not worth a penny without the little piece of paper. As she shut her eyes and turn round, her paycheck finish. And the thing that hurt the most is that them don’t give her any benefits. She on the last of her four months maternity leave now, and them don’t pay her one red cent for it. The man she work at Porous Primary School for, Teacher Brown, been working there for over eight years now, and every time she take time off to have her babies, him tell her him can’t promise work when she come back, even though each time him rehire her. But nevertheless, she need the reassurance. She just can’t live her life like that—neither coming or going.

As these thoughts run through Gwennie’s head, she start like more and more the ring to it. And as she think about it, she decide that that was exactly what she going to tell Walter. Yes, it falling into place now, just like jig-saw. Her Aunty Cora say she never write anything in the letter to raise Walter’s eyebrow, except that she going to take the baby. So she going to tell Walter she going back to school, for teacher Brown get real strict these days and all, and him laying off people without certificate. So she going to have to send Rudi, Dave and Del to Grandma, and make her Aunty Cora keep Peppy, for Grandma say her hands more than full with the big ones. She and the baby safe, with it staying up at Aunty Cora’s.

Her mind made up, Gwennie step off the bus strong and walk straight-back down Porous road, with the box of food on her head. Porous road was quiet, except for the Richardson’s little baby, Angela, crying in the distance. Besides Gwennie, they were the only other people, out of the five of them that live on the street, that have children. Even the school where Walter teach Agriculture quiet-quiet. Seems like the boys already gone down to supper, she couldn’t see any lights in the rooms.

When she reach number fifteen, Gwennie hesitate outside the door before she let herself in, but it look like Walter was setting out for her, for the minute she enter the house, not even put down the box of food good, Walter light into her with his head, his fist, his feet, his shoes, knock her down flat; she and the box hitting the ground at the same time. She never fight him back, for normally when them fight, she hit him back with book, chair, bottle, pot, anything she catch her hands on, and then if things look serious, she run and lock up herself in the bathroom till him calm down. But this evening different. Somewhere deep inside, she have a feeling this was her punishment from God because of what she do with Luther, and so she just lie down on the floor, and hide her head and her face from his blows with her hands, and listen to him curse.

‘Who the hell you think you is, making arrangements to give away me pickney without even telling me? You think you is God, woman? Well, if you think you bad, you and your blasted Aunty, take that baby and see what happen to the two of you. Think both of you not damn out-of-order. Don’t tell me anything, but making plans behind me back with me own pickney. Everyday you pick up youself, jump on bus, gone here so, gone there so. Don’t have time for family anymore. Now, you catch as far as want to give them way . . .’

And although she never want to cry, for she feel she well deserve the blows him bestowing on her, her eyes suddenly get misty and tears start trickling out of them. Maybe she should’ve told Walter beforehand. Maybe she shouldn’t’ve been so hasty after all. Maybe Walter more ignorant than she think. Maybe she should’ve really approached it a different way. For if anybody see how Walter coo and caw that little girl, there could never be any doubt about his love for her. It was more than him ever show any of the other three children. Maybe it was a damn wrong thing she do, taking it away from him like that, who knows, maybe the little girl would’ve brought them closer, and things would’ve started to work out again, like it used to when them just start out. But these thoughts never linger long inside Gwennie’s head.

A little while later, after Walter finish quarrel and fight, and him slam the door and leave for the night, Gwennie try to get up and see if the children okay, and to see if them already eat dinner and so forth, but the pain in her body hurt so much, she just drop back down on the carpet. And as she lay down there, she think about retribution, she think about her children, she think about her life, her marriage, and she think and think till she fall asleep.

That night she have nightmares, one right after the other. Plenty times she cry out in her sleep. The last dream take place down Mile Gully. It was Independence. She was at a pig-roasting party with people from high school days, standing round, drinking rum and beers, laughing, talking. And the one girl she used to compete with often and never like much, come up from behind and push Gwennie straight into the pig. Poor Gwennie bawl out so loud that she wake right up only to find her big son, Rudi, in his night-clothes, with a basin of hot water and a rag sopping her bruises. Gwennie’s heart so full, all she could do was hold on to him and whimper.

She wake up next morning to a pounding in her head. The house was quiet except for Peppy, she was bawling. Gwennie leap up, but could only see darkness, her head was reeling. She hold her head with her hands, close her eyes tight, and think hard about the pounding until she figure the darkness gone. Then she open them and walk to where she hear the bawling. For a long time, Gwennie never realize how the little boy Rudi, no more than ten, helpful. She never have to tell him to do anything more than once. Evening time when she make dinner, him always set the table and call the others without telling. Morning time, after him wake up, him help Dave and Del get ready. On Saturdays, him help Gwennie shop and even clean house sometimes. But all that time, she never take much notice of how handy him really was.

But after she see how him was holding and swaying the baby to keep her quiet, her heart tremble, for it was the same way she or even Grandma would do it. As far as she could see, the little boy Rudi did wake up early, bathe and feed the baby and then get the other two ready for school. And when Gwennie see all three of them stand up there ready for school, even though hair don’t comb, clothes don’t see iron, and shoes don’t see polish, she just walk over and hug all three and the little baby to her stomach.

Then one morning, not long after, as them get ready for school, she call them together in the kitchen. ‘You not going school, today,’ she tell them. ‘Go pack-up your clothes. You going down to stay with Grandma for a little time.’

And while Rudi pack up his clothes and help the other two pack up theirs, Gwennie sit down at the kitchen table with the little girl, Peppy, in her lap and begin to write three letters.

The first one she address to Walter, since him already leave for work. Still no mention of Luther. Well, she going to leave it that way. She tell him she and the children leaving for Mile Gully and she going to leave all of them down there with Grandma except for the baby. The baby going to live with Aunty Cora, for Grandma can’t manage everybody. Rudi is a big help these days, so him can help Grandma with the other two. Gwennie tell him the reason she leaving is because she going back to school to get the little piece of paper, and she don’t want to burden him with all the children. She can’t very well pick them up and bring them to the boarding school with her, either.

She tell him that the reason she never mention it before now was because she wanted to make sure everything would work out first before she break the news to him. So all that him do to her that night was very much uncalled for, and that was the next reason why she leaving. She really can’t put up with the way him manhandle her all the time. The two of them big people, she don’t understand why them can’t sit down and work things out like decent human beings. In the last paragraph, Gwennie tell him the name of the school and that him mustn’t worry, the children all right with Grandma and Peppy with Aunty Cora, and she know that him will understand that these things she doing are for the better. Then she sign the letter, ‘Love, Gwennie’, fold it up, put it in the envelope, lick it shut and leave it on his bureau.

The next letter was to the baby-sitter, Miss Icy. She used to look after the last boy, Dave while Gwennie at work. She tell Miss Icy she going to get the little piece of paper and that Grandma would look after the children. But thanks very much for her services in the past and she will make sure drop her a line to let her know how things going. The last letter Gwennie address to Teacher Bailey, Rudi and Dave’s headmaster. She tell Teacher Bailey that she was going to get the little piece of paper for good this time and that she going to enrol Rudi and Dave at Mile Gully All-Age School. Gwennie lick on the two stamps on the envelopes and then send Rudi up the road to drop them off at the post.

Then she pack up her things and the little girl things, call and ask one of the handy-men from about the campus to help her bring the heavy grip to the bus stop, and once more, she, Del, Peppy, Rudi and Dave board the bus with the market women and school children for Grandma’s house. As the bus pull out of Porous Square, eye water fill Gwennie’s two eyes. She never tell Walter whether or not she coming back. But she don’t think so. Don’t make sense spend your life with a man who only out to beat you half to death. It don’t spell sense a tall.

As for Luther, well that is another matter. All she can say is that she should’ve been more careful, but she not sorry about what she did that night a tall. No, she not sorry. Maybe after she get the certificate, she will find a teaching job somewhere near the college. Then she could take the children. But it going to be hard for she alone to take care of them. Maybe the little girl could stay with Aunty Cora some more. Rudi could help with Del. Dave growing quickly. But first things first. She going to get the certificate and then time will tell.

Gwennie never stay long at Mile Gully. She did only have time to drop off the children and kiss them goodbye before she board another bus for New Green. She stay over at New Green till the Sunday, and that morning she and Aunty Cora christen the baby in Walter’s name. Then Gwennie board the bus one last time to Churchill Teachers College.