TEN

“You hurry back heah and don’t come sayin you weary, yuh hear me?” Titay called as Martha rushed out of the house. She went along the path that led to the school.

“Hey, cha,” Ocie called. “Yuh goin like a house afiah. Ain’t got no time fuh yo friends no mo, ahn?”

“Hey, please don’t say that, Ocie.” Martha was surprised that Ocie would even speak to her after the scene at the commissary.

“Ain’t it true? I sho don’t see yuh. Always uner the teacher. I got some news, but go on. Our way ain’t good nuff fuh yuh.”

Stung by Ocie’s tone, Martha felt trapped between the women and Miss Boudreaux. Between the old way and the new. But she must hurry. She would be late and Miss Boudreaux would probably chide her again.

If only she could go away to school and have the time she needed for her studies. It was all finally coming together for her. Lessons with Miss Boudreaux and what she was learning from Titay were clearly related. Words she wrote in her composition book were like the words Hal spoke. What if she spoke like that?

She wished that Ocie was still a friend. Then she would have someone to tell that the teacher was always surprised at how well she did algebra; how much fun she had seeing things in her science book that she knew already; and that the things about the earth, water, light and animals that she did not know, she found exciting to learn.

She wished her teacher could understand why it was so difficult for her to talk words that she wrote. What would the women think if she went around saying: I do not … he does … she is … you are? That I’m crazy, she thought. Then she remembered Ocie words:… got no time fuh yo friends no mo … you always thought you better’n us. She knew she would never talk book talk in front of those women, no matter what Miss Boudreaux said.

Miss Boudreaux was waiting. Martha tried to appear calm as if she were not late, but her hands perspired and her stomach churned. She gave Miss Boudreaux her algebra assignment first.

“You did all these?”

“Yessum. They come easy, teacher.” She breathed a sigh of relief. She was not considered late.

Miss Boudreaux kept her longer than Martha had hoped, insisting upon language drill. Martha resisted learning something that she would never use. She thought it was a waste of time.

As she prepared to leave her teacher she was filled with mixed emotions. Part of her wanted to give in to the way of the island and part of her wanted to give in and talk and act like Miss Boudreaux.

She gathered her books and papers and took leave, feeling the teacher’s kind but questioning eyes upon her back.

Miss Boudreaux called to her. “Martha, I believed you when you said you wanted to finish high school. I think you can. You’ll soon be in the tenth grade.”

A smile spread over Martha’s face. “Me, teacher. Tenth grade!” She covered her mouth to stifle a shout of joy and ran from the room.

The house was filled with laughter when Martha got home. Women were in the kitchen and the smell of fresh coffee sent out a warm welcome. Everyone seemed to be talking at once. Martha longed to burst in and shout her news, but she slipped into her room to listen instead.

“Magine me a granma!” Gert said.

“Oh, I hope yuh do git a boy baby as fine as yo Tee was,” Alicia said.

Oh, Lord, Martha thought, hitting her head with her fist. That was Ocie’s news and I didn’t listen.

“How fur gone is Ocie?” Martha heard Cam ask.

“I don’t know, but Tee be drowned since September,” Gert said.

“She could be fo months, or mo,” Titay said. “You tell that girl she better git heah to see me, and fast.”

“What’s wrong with these younguns waitin so long t’ tell?” Alicia asked.

“Chile, I don’t think she knowed. Commence tellin me she feel funny. Like nibbles inside, and I look and she spreadin aready.” Gert laughed.

Martha continued to listen, wishing that she had not gone to see Miss Boudreaux but that she had stayed and talked to Ocie. So Ocie’s pregnant, Martha thought. Her mind ran to Tee and she wished he were alive.

“Ain’t Ocie had no mornin sickness?” Titay asked. “No dry heaves?”

“Naw. She ain’t had none o’ that, no. Strong lil ole woman that Ocie be, and just turned sixteen.”

“How old Mat now, Miss Titay?” Cam asked.

“Fifteen, next birthnight.”

“That girl better git on with er nouncement. What y’all waitin on?” Alicia asked.

Martha’s scalp tingled and her hands began to perspire. She strained to hear Titay’s answer.

“She all wrapped up in this heah work now,” Titay said. “But yuh know Mat. Take er own good time. We see. But tell that Ocie she better git heah. She late aready.”

“Yeah, she be den-thick with that Cora lately,” Gert said. “Jus hope she ain’t thinkin bout Cora midwifin er.”

Miss Know-It-All.… Our way ain’t good nuff fuh yuh.… Surely Ocie would not risk going to Cora. Martha thought of Cora’s attitude toward Titay and Titay’s way of midwifery and felt a sense of alarm.

That night, Titay and Martha shared a light supper and cleared the dishes with almost no talk. Martha wanted to ask about Ocie’s pregnancy. When had Ocie become den-thick with Cora? Surely Ocie knew that Cora was not a true midwife and that to waste time was a great risk.… There were other questions she wanted to ask, but she recalled the women’s words about her quilting and decided she had better not risk getting Titay onto that subject. She excused herself and went to her room.

The wind came in sweeps and gusts. Dark clouds raced in the sky, playing hide-and-seek with a full moon. Before beginning her assignments Martha stood in her window watching shadows come and go as the moon peeped through darting clouds. Low laughter mingled with voices of people passing, some stopping briefly to talk to Titay in the front of the house.

Finally she settled to her work, wondering if the reward would be worth the labor. She thought of her teacher, so different from her grandmother. If only there was some way to be proud and happy in Titay’s way. But there were other things that she must know, see and do. She wanted to know how Titay’s herbs worked and why. Titay only knew they worked and that was enough for Titay.

Why couldn’t that be enough for her? She fell upon her bed, her head buried in her folded arms, fighting the rising frustration.

“Miss Titay, anybody home?”

Martha jumped from her bed, her heart pounding at the recognition of Hal’s voice. She couldn’t understand the feeling of excitement that Hal’s presence always brought since that day in the commissary when he had looked at her. The warmth that had spread through her then often came at the sound of his voice. But she didn’t want anyone to know that, especially Hal. Why had he come?

He had been coming by more frequently, staying longer just to talk. Martha was always surprised at how much Titay had to say to him. Titay was known as the great listener, but with Hal her words overflowed.

“Where do you hide your list of all the herbs you use?” Hal asked.

“What yuh mean, lis?” her grandmother answered.

“I name and label all the things I find here and keep a record in a book too, so I’ll know what I have.”

“I ain’t got nothin like that, no,” Titay said, and laughed.

“But how do you know what you have and how to use it?” Hal seemed truly surprised.

Titay laughed again. “So t’ write make it true, ahn? I got it heah in m’ head. I know how t’ use it from m’ heart.

“I learnt m’ trade heah but I thought I need know mo. So I went out there. I learnt a lot. But I seen plenty meanness and sufferin in lean-tos fuh my people near them main hospitals. The peoples woulda been better off at home. That’s when I cided t’ come on back heah and take care folks in they own houses.”

Titay, quiet for a moment, sighed and said, “I jus wish Mat’d unerstand that I can teach her all she need know right heah. Cause I done learnt a lot heah too. Nuff t’ know ain’t nothin new uner the sun.”

Martha listened and felt pride and shame simultaneously. Her grandmother had great wisdom; but could she teach Martha all that Martha needed to know? Some of the things Titay believed Martha could not understand: bad luck mirrors, snapping turtles—children born to trouble in storms. She longed to go into the front of the house and join the talk, but a young woman could not join in conversation with her parent and a young man unless called to do so.

“How bout a lil tea?” Titay asked.

“I’d like that very much.”

“Mat, Mat,” Titay called.

Martha felt a shiver of excitement.

“Mat, you sleep in there? We got compny. Put water on.”

Martha hurried from her room and quickly prepared hot tea. Small thin tea cakes for occasions such as this had been greatly diminished by the women earlier that day. But there were still enough.

At the kitchen table the three of them drank hot sassafras tea with cream and honey. Titay and Hal talked. Martha listened, her chest crowding all the way into her throat with happiness.

Yet there were so many questions crowding her mind. How could her grandmother have gone away from the island and not understand her longing to go? If only she could say to her: You went. How come I can’t go and see fuh mahself? The urge was so strong, she jumped up from the table and moved to pour herself more tea.

“I’m glad yuh cided t’ stay awhile heah,” Titay finally said.

“I’m glad I found this place. I could be working near New Orleans and never know it exists. The water around here is a rich source. I like your island.”

“You are not afraid?”

Titay shot a glance at Martha.

“Should I be?” Hal’s voice was so calm, Martha felt doubly ashamed. Ashamed that she had asked such a stupid question and that she had embarrassed her grandmother by using Hal’s language. Looking down, she said, almost in a whisper, “O’ sto’ms?”

“I have a shortwave radio that tells me about storms out in the Gulf. But you know, sometime wind and rain can come up so fast it isn’t reported. Those storms can be violent too.”

“Them’s what we call squalls,” Titay said. “They come fast n gone jus as quick. Gotta watch em. They can be mean.”

All too soon, the evening grew late. Titay saw Hal to the door and said goodbye. Before Martha had finished cleaning the dishes, Titay was in bed and Martha was alone with her thoughts. Why did I ast that stupid question? Tryin t’ use his talk? Titay paid tention too, but said nothin. Never do that again. Hal’s smart. Know so much. That’s how come Titay like im, talk t’ im so much. If only she’d see that I can’t take her place til I learn somethin. Til I know.

The moon, having won over the clouds, shone through her window. Martha lay on her bed. The rhythm of the Gulf seemed to regulate her breathing. She thought of Hal on his boat, living right on the water. She remembered a time when she had seen the moon as a gleam of light shimmering on the waves. In a rush of joy she hugged herself, and in her own embrace fell asleep.

During the next weeks Martha spent her days working with Titay and her nights poring over her lessons, listening to the calls of the wild geese and the rumblings of the Gulf. In the late-night silence that came in between those sounds her mind wandered to Ocie, who had not yet come to see Titay. Tee loomed in her memories. Thinking of Tee aroused thoughts of Hal, and loneliness fixed itself into her life.

The rumors about Ocie were disturbing. Martha often found herself listening to Gert and Alicia pleading with Titay to talk to Ocie. Martha wondered about Titay’s response—that the patient chooses her caretaker and that a good caretaker goes only when called. What if Ocie didn’t call?

She watched the closeness of Cora LaRue and Ocie with alarm. The two were everywhere together. The women said Cora had hexed Ocie so that Ocie could not come to Titay. Martha knew better. Ocie wanted Cora because she knew that Martha would come to help with Titay and Ocie did not want Martha as midwife.

It was also rumored that Cora LaRue had hexed Martha so that Martha would never have a quilting. She would dry up and die an old maid. The women said Cora would prosper and take Titay’s place.

But Martha no longer allowed herself to be trapped in the net of questioning: when the quiltin? When the hand be out fuh marryin? In the dying days of winter she was at ease.

In spite of the women’s gossip, she was happy. A certificate to prove that she was ready for tenth grade was her proudest possession; and her work pleased Titay and the women. It was as though her world and time were in a delicate balance.