Leah complained that the worst part was she couldn’t enjoy her victuals
any more. She’d just as soon have a cup and saucer in her mouth as
those teeth. It made no difference what she ate, now, everything tasted
all the same.
“Fo’ Gawd’s sake take ’em off an’ rest you’ mouth to-day!” Maum Hannah
exhorted her. “You may as well pleasure you’self now and den. April
ain’ gwine see you. Not to-day!”
“Somebody’d tell him an’ dat would vex him,” Leah bemoaned.
But Maum Hannah took her by the arm and looked straight in her eyes.
“Honey,” she coaxed, “Gawd ain’ gwine bless you if you let April suffer
you dis way. You an’ April all both is too prideful. Take dem teeth off
an’ rest you’ mouth till dis quiltin’ is over. It would fret me if you
don’t.”
Screening her mouth with both hands Leah did rid her gums of the
offending teeth, but instead of putting them in her apron pocket she
laid them carefully in a safe place on the high mantel-shelf.
* * * * *
The room buzzed with chatter. How would such a great noisy gathering
ever get straightened out to work? They were as much alike as guinea
fowls in a flock, every head tied up turban-fashion, every skirt
covered by an apron.
Big Sue welcomed every one with friendliest greetings, and although her
breath was short from excitement, she talked gaily and laughed often.
A sudden hush followed a loud clapping of her hands. The closest
attention was paid while she appointed Leah and Zeda captains of the
first quilts to be laid out. Zeda stepped forward, with a jaunty toss
of her head, and, shrugging a lean shoulder, laughed lightly.
“Big Sue is puttin’ sinner ’gainst Christian dis mawnin’!”
Leah tried to laugh, her tubby body, bulky as Big Sue’s, shook
nervously, as her giggling rippled out of her mouth, but her eyes
showed no mirth at all.
“You choose first, Leah. You’s de foreman’s wife.”
Leah chose Big Sue.
“Lawd,” Zeda threw her head back with a laugh, “Yunnuh two is so big
nobody else wouldn’ have room to set on a bench ’side you.”
The crowd tittered, but Big Sue looked stern.
“Do, Zeda! You has gall enough to talk about bigness? T’ank Gawd, I’m
big all de way round like I is.” She cast a wry look toward Zeda, then
turned her head and winked at the crowd. But Zeda sucked her teeth
brazenly. She was satisfied with her shape. She might not look so nice
now, but her bigness would soon be shed. Just give her a month or two
longer.
“You ought to be shame, wid grown chillen in you’ house, an’ a grown
gal off yonder to college.”
“When I git old as you, Big Sue, den I’ll stay slim all de time. Don’t
you fret.” Zeda laughed, and chose Gussie, a skinny, undersized, deaf
and dumb woman, whose keen eyes plainly did double duty. When Zeda
looked toward her and spoke her name, Gussie pushed through the crowd,
smiling and making wordless gurgles of pleasure for the compliment Zeda
had paid her by choosing her first of all.
“I take Bina next!” Leah called out.
“Bina’s a good one for you’ quilt. E’s a extra fine Christian.”
“You better be prayin’ you’se’f, Zeda,” Bina came back.
“Who? Me? Lawd, gal, I does pray.” Zeda said it seriously, and her look
roved around the room. “Sinners is mighty sca’ce at dis quiltin’. Who
kin I choose next?” She searched the group.
“Don’ take so long, Zeda,” Big Sue chided. “Hurry up an’ choose. De day
is passin’. You an’ Gussie is de only two sinners. You’ ’bliged to pick
a Christian, now.”
“Den I’ll take Nookie. E’s got swift-movin’ fingers.”
The choosing went on until eight women were picked for each quilt, four
to a side. Then the race began.
The two quilt linings, made out of unbleached homespun, were spread on
the clean bare floor, and covered over with a smooth layer of cotton.
“How come you got such nice clean cotton to put in you’ quilt?” Zeda
inquired with an innocent look across at Big Sue.
When Big Sue paid her no heed, she added brazenly, “De cotton April gi’
me fo’ my quilt was so trashy and dark I had to whip em wid pine-tops
half a day to get de dirt out clean enough to use.”
Still Big Sue said nothing.
“You must be stand well wid April.” Zeda looked at Big Sue with a smile.
Big Sue raised her shoulders up from doubling over, and in a tart tone
blurted out, “You talks too much, Zeda. Shut you’ mouth and work.”
“Who? Me?” Zeda came back pleasantly. “Great Gawd! I was praisin’ de
whiteness of de cotton, dat was all.”
Two of the patch-work covers that Big Sue had fashioned with such
pains, stitch by stitch, square by square, were opened out wide and
examined and admired.
“Which one you want, Zeda? You take de first pick.”
“Lawd, all two is so nice it’s hard to say.”
Gussie pointed to the “Snake-fence” design, and Zeda took it,
leaving the “Star of Bethlehem” for Leah. Both were placed over a
cotton-covered lining on the floor, corner to corner, edge to edge, and
basted into place. Next, two quilting poles were laid lengthwise beside
each quilt, and tacked on with stout ball thread. The quilts were
carefully rolled on the poles, and the pole-ends fastened with strong
cords to the side-walls. All was ready for the quilting.
Leah’s crew beat fixing the quilt on the poles, but the sewing was the
tedious part. The stitches must be small, and in smooth rows that ran
side by side. They must also be deep enough to hold the cotton fast
between the top and the lining.
Little talking was done at first. Minds, as well as eyes, had to watch
the needles. Those not quilting in this race stood around the hearth
puffing at their pipes, talking, joking, now and then squealing out
with merriment.
“Yunnuh watch dem pots,” Big Sue cautioned them. “Make Breeze keep wood
on de fire. Mind now.”
The quilts were rolled up until the quilting poles met, so the sewing
started right in the middle, and as the needles left neat stitches, the
poles were rolled farther apart, until both quilts were done to the
edges. These were carefully turned in and whipped down, with needles
running at full racing speed. Zeda’s crew finished a full yard ahead.
The sinners won. And how they did crow over the others! Deaf and dumb
Gussie did her best to boast, but her words were stifled in dreadful
choked noises that were hard to bear.
Big Sue put the wild ducks on to roast. They were fat and tender, and
already stuffed full of oyster dressing, the same dressing she fixed
for the white folks. She said the oysters came from near the beach
where the fresh salt tide made them large and juicy.
What a dinner she had! Big Sue was an open-handed woman, for truth.
Some of the farm-hands stopped by on their way home for the noon hour.
Coming inside they stood around the fireplace, grinning, joking and
smoking the cigarettes they rolled with deft fingers.
Everybody was given a pan and spoon. Zeda and Bina helped Big Sue pass
around great dishpans of smoking food, and cups of water sweetened with
molasses. For a time nothing was said except the exclamations that
praised the dinner. Indeed it might have been a wedding feast but for
the lack of cake and wine.
The wild ducks, cooked just to a turn, were served last. Their red
blood was barely curdled with heat, yet their outsides were rich and
brown. Lips smacked. Spoons clattered. Mouths too full dropped crumbs
as they munched.
A grand dinner.
“Take you’ time, an’ chaw,” Big Sue bade the guests kindly. “You got
plenty o’ time to finish de rest o’ de quilts befo’ night.”
* * * * *
As soon as the edge was taken off their appetites they fell to talking.
Big Sue did not sit down to eat at all, so busy was she passing around
the pans of hot food, and urging the others to fill themselves full.
As more men came by and stopped, the noise waxed louder, until the
uproar of shouting and laughter and light-hearted talk seethed thick.
When all were filled with Big Sue’s good cheer, they got up and went
out into the yard to smoke, to catch a little fresh air, and to wash
the grease off their fingers. The pans and spoons and tin cups were
stacked up on the water-shelf out of the way where they’d wait to be
washed until night.
The quilting was the work in hand now, and when the room was in order
again, and the women rested and refreshed, Big Sue called them in to
begin on the next set of quilts.
April went riding by on the sorrel colt, on his way back to the field,
and Big Sue called him to come in and eat the duck and hot rice she had
put aside specially for him. But he eyed her coolly, rode on and left
her frowning.
Zeda laughed, and asked Big Sue if April was a boy to hop around at her
heels? Didn’t she know April had work to do? Important work. The white
people made him plantation foreman because they knew they could trust
him to look after their interests. He not only worked himself, but he
kept the other hands working too.
Leah sat silent, making short weak puffs at her pipe.
Maum Hannah’s deep sigh broke into the stillness.
“I ever did love boy-chillen, but dey causes a lot o’ sorrow. My mammy
used to say ev’y boy-child ought to be killed soon as it’s born.”
“How’d de world go on if people done dat?” Bina asked.
“I dunno. Gawd kin do a lot o’ strange t’ings.”
This made them all stop and think again.
The kettle sang as steam rushed out of its spout. The flames made a
sputtering sound. The benches creaked as the women bent over and rose
with their needles. Bina sat up straight, then stretched.
“If all de mens was dead, you could stay in de chu’ch, enty, Zeda?”
Bina slurred the words softly.
Zeda came back, “Don’ you fret ’bout me, gal. Jake ain’ no more to me
dan a dead man.”
“Yunnuh stop right now! Dat’s no-manners talk. Jake’s a fine man, if
e is my gran. I know, by I raise em. When his mammy died an’ left em,
Jake an’ Bully and April was all three de same as twins in my house.”
Maum Hannah spoke very gravely. Presently she got up and went into the
shed-room. She came back smiling, with a folded quilt on her arm. “Le’s
look at de old Bible quilt, chillen. It’ll do yunnuh good.”
She held up one corner and motioned to deaf and dumb Gussie to hold
up the other so all the squares could be seen. There were twenty,
every one a picture out of the Bible. The first one, next to Gussie’s
hand, was Adam and Eve and the serpent. Adam’s shirt was blue, his
pants brown, and his head a small patch of yellow. Eve had on a red
headkerchief, a purple wide-skirted dress; and a tall black serpent
stood straight up on the end of its tail.
The next square had two men, one standing up, the other fallen
down--Cain and Abel. The red patch under Abel was his blood, spilled
on the ground by Cain’s sin. Maum Hannah pointed out Noah and the Ark;
Moses with the tables of stone; the three Hebrew children; David and
Goliath; Joseph and Mary and the little baby Jesus; and last of all,
Jesus standing alone by the cross. As Maum Hannah took them one by one,
all twenty, she told each marvelous story.
The quilters listened with rapt attention. Breeze almost held his
breath for fear of missing a word. Sometimes his blood ran hot with
wonder, then cold with fear. Many eyes in the room glistened with tears.
The names of God and Jesus were known to Breeze, but he had never
understood before that they were real people who could walk and talk.
Maum Hannah told about God’s strength and power and wisdom, how He knew
right then what she was doing and saying. He could see each stitch
that was taken in the quilts, whether it was small and deep and honest,
or shallow and careless. He wrote everything down in a great book where
He kept account of good and evil. Breeze had never dreamed that such
things went on around him all the time.
Yet the quilt was made out of pictures of the very things Maum Hannah
told. Nobody could doubt that all she said was the truth. In the
charmed silence, her words fell clear and earnest. The present was
shut out. Breeze’s mind went a-roaming with her, back into the days
when the world was new and God walked and talked with the children He
had so lately made. As she spoke Breeze shivered over those days that
were to come when everybody here would be either in Hell or Heaven. It
had to be one or the other. There was no place to stop or to hide when
death came and knocked at your door. She pointed to Breeze. That same
little boy, there in the chimney corner, with his foot tied up, would
have to account for all he did! As well as Breeze could understand,
Heaven was in the blue sky straight up above the plantation. God sat
there on His throne among the stars, while angels, with harps of gold
in their hands, sang His praises all day long. Hell was straight down.
Underneath. Deep under the earth. Satan lived there with his great
fires for ever and ever a-burning on the bodies of sinners piled high
up so they could never crumble.
Maum Hannah herself became so moved by the thought of the sufferings of
the poor pitiful sinners in Hell, that her voice broke and tears dimmed
her eyes, and she plead with them all:
“Pray! Chillen! Pray!
“Do try fo’ ’scape Hell if you kin!
“Hell is a heat!
“One awful heat!
“We fire ain’ got no time wid em!
“Pray! Chillen! Pray! For Gawd’s sake, pray!
“When de wind duh whip you
“An’ de sun-hot duh burn you
“An’ de rain duh wet you,
“All dem say, Pray! Do try fo’ ’scape Hell if you kin!”
On the way home through the dusk Breeze stopped short in his tracks
more than once, for terror seized him at the bare rustle of a bird’s
wing against a dry leaf. When the gray shadow of a rabbit darted across
the path and the sight of a glowworm’s eye gleamed up from the ground,
Big Sue stopped too. And breathing fast with anxiety, cried out:
“Do, Jedus! Lawd! Dat rabbit went leftward. A bad luck t’ing! Put dem
t’ings down! Chunk two sticks behind em. Is you see anyt’ing strange,
Breeze?” She sidled up close to him and whispered the question.
Breeze stared hard into the deepening twilight. The black shadows were
full of dark dreadful things that pressed close to the ground, creeping
slowly, terribly. The tree branches rocked, the leaves whispered
sharply, the long gray moss streamed toward them.
“Le’s run, Cun Big Sue.” Breeze leaped with a quick hop ahead, but her
powerful hand clutched his shoulder. “Looka here, boy! I’ll kill you
to-night if you leave me. No tellin’ what kind o’ sperits is walkin’.
I kin run when I’s empty-handed, but loaded down wid all dese t’ings a
snail could ketch me! You git behind me on de path.”
The black smoke rising out of the chimney made a great serpent that
stood on the end of its tail. For a minute Breeze was unable to
speak. His heart throbbed with heavy blows, for not only did that
smoke serpent lean and bend and reach threateningly, but something
high and black and shapeless stood in front of Big Sue’s cabin, whose
whitewashed walls behind it made it look well-nigh as tall as a pine
tree. It might be the Devil! Or Death! Or God! He gave a scream and
clung to Big Sue as the figure took a step toward them.
“Yunnuh is late!” April’s voice boomed out.
“Lawd!” Big Sue fairly shouted. “I was sho’ you was a plat-eye. You
scared me half to death! Man! I couldn’ see no head on you no matter
how hard I look. How come you went inside my house with me not home?”
April grunted. “You better be glad! I had a hard time drivin’ a bat out
o’ you’ house.”
“A bat!” Big Sue shrieked with terror. “How come a bat in my house? A
bat is de child of de devil.”
April declared the bat had squeaked and grinned and chattered in his
face until he mighty nigh got scared himself.
“Lawd! Wha’s gwine happen now? A bat inside my house! An’ look how de
fire’s smokin’!”
She hurried Breeze off to bed in the shed-room whose darkness was
streaked with wavering firelight that fell through the cracks in the
wall. Fear kept him awake until he put his head under the covers and
shut out all sight and sound and thought.
He was roused by a knock on the front door. Big Sue made no answer,
and another knock made by the knuckles of a strong hand was followed
by a loud crying, “Open dis door, I tell you! I know April’s right in
dere!” This was followed by the thud of a kick, but no answer came from
inside. Breeze could not have spoken to save his life, for sheer terror
held him crouched under the quilts and his tongue was too weak and dry
to move.
Where in God’s world was Big Sue? The first of those knocks should
have waked her. Sleep never did fasten her eyelids down very tight,
yet with all this deafening racket, she stayed dumb. Had she gone off
and left Breeze by himself? The voice calling at the door sounded
like a woman’s voice at first, but now it deepened with hoarse fury
and snarled and growled and threatened, calling Big Sue filthy names.
Breeze knew then for certain it was some evil thing. His flesh crept
loose from his bones. His blood ran cold and weak. He realized Big Sue
was not at home. Maybe she was dead, in her bed! The thought was so
terrible that in desperation he lifted up his head and yelled:
“Who dat?”
At once the dreadful answer came.
“Who dat say ‘who dat’?” Then a silence, for Breeze could utter no
other word.
Outside the wind caught at the trees and thrashed their leaves, then
came inside to rustle the papers on the cabin’s walls, and whisper
weird terrible things through the cracks. The thing that had knocked on
the door was walking away. Its harsh breathing was hushed into sobs and
soft moans that made Breeze’s heart sink still deeper with horror.
For a minute every noise in the world lulled. Nothing stirred except
the ghastly tremor that shook Breeze’s body from his covered-up head to
the heels doubled up under his cold hips.
A sudden fearful battering in company with despairing howls, crashed at
the door! It would soon break down! There was no time to waste putting
on clothes! Hopping up into the cold darkness, Breeze eased the back
door open and slipped into the night.
The horrible door-splitting blows went right on. Thank God, somebody
was coming. Running, with a torch. Breeze forgot that snakes were
walking, and leaped through the bushes over ground that felt unsteady
to his flying feet. His heart swelled with joy and relief, for the man
hurrying toward the cabin lighting his way with a fat lightwood torch
was Uncle Bill. Twice Breeze opened his mouth to call out, but the only
sound he could make was a whispered--“Uncle Bill--Uncle Bill!”
Following the torch’s light he could see a black woman cutting the door
down with an ax. Who in God’s name would dare do such a thing? Uncle
Bill walked right up to her and shook her soundly by the shoulder.
“What is you a-doin’, Leah? Is you gone plumb crazy? Gi’ me dat ax!” He
jerked the ax from her hands and she began shrieking afresh, and trying
to push him back. But she couldn’t budge him one inch. Holding her off,
with his free hand he made a proper, polite knock, although the door
was split and the dim firelight shone through its new-made cracks.
“Dis is me, Bill, Miss Big Sue,” he called out, a stern note deepening
his voice.
Leah shrilled out harshly. “You better open dis door! You low-down
black buzzard hussy! You wait till I gits my hands on you’ throat! You
won’ fool wid my husband no mo’ in dis world!”
Fully dressed and quite calm Big Sue appeared. She answered with mild
astonishment:
“Why, Leah! How come you makin’ all dis fuss? You must want to wake
up de whole plantation? You ought to be shamed. I never see such a
no-manners ’oman!”
“Whe’s April?” Leah howled. “Whe’s April, I tell you? Don’ you cut no
crazy wid me to-night! I’ll kill you sho’ as you do!”
“Fo’ Gawd’s sake, Leah! Shut you’ mouth! I dunno nuttin’ ’bout
April. You is too sickenin’! Always runnin’ round to somebody’s house
a-lookin’ fo’ April!”
“Yes, I look fo’ em. You had em here too! See his hat yonder on de
floor right now! You fat black devil!” Seizing Big Sue’s kerchiefed
head with both hands Leah tried to choke her, but Big Sue wrenched
herself loose and with a wicked laugh raised one fat leg and gave Leah
a kick in the middle of her body that sent her backward with a slam
against the wall.
“You’d choke me, would you? I’ll tear de meat off you’ bones!” Big Sue
screamed, but Leah crumpled sidewise and fell flat on the floor, her
eyes lifeless, her face stiffened.
Big Sue had roused into fury. She staggered forward and bent over and
rained blows with both fists on Leah’s silent mouth, until Uncle Bill
grappled her around her huge waist and dragged her to the other side of
the room.
Big Sue bellowed. “You’d choke me, enty? You blue-gummed pizen-jawed
snake! Gawd done right to salivate you an’ make you’ teeth drop out.”
For all the signs of life she gave, Leah may as well have been dead.
She lay there on the floor, limp and dumb, even after Uncle Bill took
the bucketful of water from the shelf and doused her with it. She
didn’t even catch her breath. Uncertain what to do, Uncle Bill knelt
over her and called her name.
“Leah! Leah! Don’t you die here on dis floor. Leah! Open you’ eyes. I
know good and well you’s playin’ ’possum.”
Except for the fire’s crackling and the low chirping of one lone
cricket, the stillness of death was in the room.
“Put on you’ shirt and pants, Breeze. Run tell April Leah is done
faint off. E must come here quick as e kin.”
The darkness of the night was terrible as Breeze ran through it toward
the Quarters. A cedar limb creaked mournfully as the wind wrung it back
and forth. Its crying was like sorrowful calls for aid. Breeze tried
to hurry, to make his legs run faster, but they were ready to give way
and fall. His feet stumbled, his throat choked until he could scarcely
breathe. His brain wheeled and rattled inside his skull. How horrible
Death is!
A few stars twinkled bright away up in the sky, but the waving
tree-tops made a thick black smoke that covered the yellow moon.
High-tide glistened in the darkness, all but ready to turn by now.
Leah’s soul would go out with it if something wasn’t done to help her.
Lord how awful her eyeballs were, rolled back so far in her head!
Jesus, have mercy! The thought of them made Breeze senseless with
terror. Tears gushed from his own eyes and blinded him.
April was not at home, and Breeze raced back, but already Leah was
coming to. She lay on the floor, her fat face, black as tar against
the whiteness of the pillow under it now, was set and furrowed. Her
toothless jaws moved with mute words, as if she talked with some one
the others could not see. She kept fumbling with the red charm-string
tied around her neck, as her dull eyes rolled slowly from one face to
the other.
Breeze longed to fling himself on the bed and cover up his head, but
Big Sue sat storming and panting with fury. Leah ought to be ashamed of
herself, running over the country at night trying to bring disgracement
on her.
“Whyn’t you answer Leah when e knocked?” Uncle Bill asked her.
Big Sue jumped at him angrily. “How’d I know Leah wasn’ some robber
come to cut my throat? Just ’cause Leah is married to de foreman an’
livin’ in a bigger house dan my own, an’ wearin’ finer clothes, dat
don’ gi’ em no right to break down my door wid a’ ax! No. Leah ain’
no white ’oman even if e do buy medicine out de sto’. No wonder e got
salivate. Gawd done right to make dat medicine loosen all Leah’s teeth
an’ prize ’em out so e ain’ got none to be a-bitin’ people up wid.
T’ank Gawd! Bought ones can’ bite. I wish all e finger-nails would drop
off! E toe-nails too! Leah’s a dangerous ’oman. E ain’ safe to be loose
in dis country. No. Leah’d kill you quick as look at you!”
XIV
CHURCH
Sunday morning rose with a pale clear sky, and a sun that glittered
bright and hot as it mounted.