Honey was a week old when I traveled the mile and a half to Loretta Adams’s door and knocked.
“Iffin’ that’s Bluet, get on in here, child.”
“It’s me, Book Woman, ma’am.”
“And poor-sighted I am, not deaf,” she answered back, as always.
Candles flickered and cast extra light in the cabin. Loretta sat at her table, her head bent to fabric, sewing.
“I’m making a new apron. This one’s so tatty.” She plucked the yoke of her old one she wore.
“Sure is looking pretty, Miss Loretta.”
Loretta whipped a few more stitches into the new cobbler’s apron, inspected its cotton lace trim. “You haven’t been by,” she chided. “I don’t have the tea made.” She stuck her needle into a pincushion and pushed away the long apron panels.
“No, ma’am. I’m not here to read today.”
I walked over to her chair and bent down. “I’m here to show you Honey.” I lifted back the baby’s light covering and moved her closer to Loretta’s face.
Honey made soft noises.
“Honey? A baby?”
“Yes, ma’am, my baby. She’s mine.”
She didn’t respond, and I know’d her manners wouldn’t allow her to pry.
Loretta peered closer at Honey, and the babe cooed, struck up her tiny fists, and yawned. “Let’s put her on my bed,” Loretta said.
Myrtle and Milkweed crawled out from under the woodstove, and Loretta scatted them out the door. The old woman hobbled over to the bed faster than I’d ever seen her move.
“Let me hold her, child. Could you open the curtains wider?” She sat down on the mattress, and I placed Honey in her arms.
I pulled back the homespun curtains, and the light spilled across Loretta’s adoring smile.
“Miss Loretta—”
“Have a seat. Sit,” Loretta urged and patted the spot beside her, intent on studying Honey.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“She’s precious.” Loretta lifted Honey’s small blue hand, gently stroked her tiny fingers.
“Yes, ma’am, she’s a good babe sure enough.”
“Perfect. I haven’t held myself one of these in ages,” Loretta said in a strange choked voice. “Thank you for bringing her by.”
“Miss Loretta, I need to ask if you would be willing to keep her while I’m on my route, if you’d feel up to it, that is. I’d pay you square, and the babe don’t need much—”
“Up to it? You don’t need eyes to know what Honey needs, child. I raised my li’l sister, fed, cleaned, clothed, and rocked her, and she was a fussy babe too. And she grew into a fit child and a fine young woman. Raised her boy after she passed too. I can sure ’nough take care of our sweet Honey.”
I sighed, relieved. “Yes, ma’am, I thought you’d do a fine job is why I brought her to you. And I’ll pay on time.”
“I won’t accept money,” Loretta said firmly. “Can’t accept pay for being in the company of this angel.” She shot Honey a big, toothless grin, dipped her wagging head to the babe. “An angel, the prettiest petunia,” she told Honey. “A right purty blue-eyed Mary beauty…”
“I insist, ma’am. It wouldn’t be right.”
“Ain’t having it.” The woman blinked and rubbed her tired eyes, and I could see they were paining her.
I figured Loretta would be too proud to accept payment. I thought a moment and said, “Only if I can pay Doc to drop by and treat your eyes with his fine city medicine.”
“Doc’s a smart man,” she said. “Know’d him a long time.”
“He is, and he’ll care nicely for you, Miss Loretta. He could fit you for spectacles.”
“Spectacles.” Loretta peered out the window and then squinted down at Honey.
“They’ll help your weak eyes see—and they’ll fix ’em up good as new.”
“Oh, to see again.” She pondered, rubbing them. “That would be a fine thing. Fine thing as any.” She picked up my hand, squeezed it. “Thank you, child, thank you for bringing me Honey. She shan’t want for naught. I’ll tend to her right good.”
My heart told me Miss Loretta would do just that. “I’ll make sure I fetch you milk and bring clean diaper cloths.”
But she didn’t hear, for she was under Honey’s sweet spell. Loretta bent over and brushed her lips across the baby’s soft head, picked up her tiny hand, spread the fingers, and kissed each nub. When Loretta raised her eyes, I could see they were bright and shiny, youthful and strong.
“Me an’ Honey’s gonna get along jus’ fine, child,” she said, handing her to me. “Where’s my broom?” Miss Loretta jumped up like a spry young’un and began bustling about. “I have to get this place cleaned. Oh, land sakes! I must shake out the rugs. Clean my stove. This place ain’t fit for a new babe. Not for my Honey girl.”