Scarlet Sister Mary (1928, Bobbs-Merrill Company)/Chapter 16
With each morning the sun rose earlier, a great shining blossom that moved across the sky, making the day warmer and brighter. All the cabin doors and windows were flung wide open at dawn to let in the light and air. The men laughed and talked on their way to work. As soon as the women finished their household tasks, they sat on the door-steps in the sunshine, sewing, gossiping, their eyes taking account of everything, their tongues scattering truthful news along with bits of scandal. Sunshine is good for everything and even the tiny babies were brought out to enjoy it as soon as the early morning chill was out of the air.
When Mary finished her work she went outside too, and sat on her door-step, sewing pieces of cloth into a frock for Unex who had outgrown every garment he had. With the spring he had taken on new life, and he never could get enough goat's milk and pot-liquor. His cheeks were rounding out and his legs were getting strong, thank God! He could run a little and he never tired of playing with the children who gathered every day at Maum Hannah's house.
The oats were heading out. The water boy starting out on his lazy way to the spring to get water for the plowmen cut a buck and wing step, then beat thudding measures on the bottom of his empty bucket.
A tiny wren perched on a twig of the crape-myrtle tree sang a few blithe notes that were so full, so beautiful, that Mary's heart thrilled to its happiness.
She turned her head slowly and sat hardly breathing so as not to frighten the shy thing away as she watched its small brown throat swell and throb with the song. Its round, beady, black eyes shone and sparkled with joy as they cast quickly this way and that, looking for the knot-hole in the tree where it built its nest last year. When a blue-darter hawk, with a shrill cry and a flight like a thin gray shadow, hid in some of the trees near by, the wren quickly fluttered away for safety. All the little chickens scattered as the hens in the yard began cackling out terrified warnings; but the red rooster walked boldly up to the door-step and facing Mary crowed fit to split his throat. Somebody was coming.
There was not a bite to eat in the house. Mary put down her sewing and, taking some eggs from the basket on the safe, began mixing a sweetened bread. She put it into the three-legged oven on the hearth to bake, then she took the empty eggshells and strung them and hung them up be side the chimney in the place of the old ones which she threw into the fire.
"You time is out," she told the old shells. "But you done you work good. De hens is a-layin fine. I'm much obliged to you." She stood watching the bread rise and brown, and her eyes fell on her love-charm lying on the mantel. She had never worn it although Daddy Cudjoe had made it strong so that it could not fail. Good old Daddy Cudjoe. He was a kind old man even if he did work black magic.
The red rooster would not stop crowing. Somebody was coming. Sure enough, yonder was June, dressed in his best clothes, coming on the path across the field. When he came in Mary saw that his face was as long and solemn as Brer Dee's.
"What de matter all you, June?" she asked. "How-come you look so mournful?"
"I is mournful."
"How-come you is all dressed up in you Sunday clothes an' it in de middle of de week?"
He sat down on the steps in the sunshine and, taking out his plug of tobacco, cut himself a chew. June would take his time, in face of a house afire. Presently he spat far out to one side, then he answered her question; he was tired of living here in the Quarters; he had no home of his own; Doll fed him well and washed his clothes and patched them, and did all she could to make him contented; but he was not satisfied in his mind; he was going away and find work, yonder in town, or somewhere.
Two slim young girls passed by, going to the field to set out sweet-potato slips. Their skirts were tied high around their hips, old floppy straw hats shaded their eyes, and their low words were followed by laughter as they glanced at June.
"How you do, Si May-e? How you do, June," they called out, then walked on with long easy-swinging steps, their bare feet making hardly a sound.
How happy they were. They were young and strong and well. Field work was easy to their sinewy bodies. Stooping, bending over hour after hour, was nothing at all to them. They were as busy with life as the bees with spring blossoms. They could work all day, then dance and sing all night, for their hearts were light and their bodies full of hot red blood. June's eyes followed them, out of sight.
"Plenty o willin gals in de Quarters, June. Whyn' you marry one an' settle down an' have a home o you own, stead o livin with Doll?"
June chewed on, then he turned and looked full in Mary's eyes.
"I'd been a-married an' settled down long time ago if I could a had my way. But July got my gal." He spat and sighed deep. "What is done is done. Nobody can' change em. I'm gwine off on de boat dis evenin. I'm gwine to some far country where I don' know nobody."
"You must be ain' well, June. You must a eat someting heavy fo you breakfast to talk such a sad talk."
"I ain' hardly eat no breakfast. I ain' had a bit o appetite, here lately."
"How about tastin a piece o hot sweetened bread? E's just ready to come out de oven."
She hurried to the hearth and broke him a piece of the bread, then she reached up on the mantel and took down the love-charm. She could not let June go off and leave her.
Should she touch him with it, or hold it in her hand? To be certain she would do both. Holding the tiny bag tight, she rested her fingers on his shoulder.
"June," she said in a voice that was husky and low, "please don' go. Seems like if you was to leave home, I couldn' hardly stand it."
June turned and looked at her. His mouth was too full to speak, the yellow crumbs were all over his lips, but as soon as he could swallow he burst out.
"Why, Si May-e, I didn' know you would take it so hard. Fo Christ's sake, looka de pure water in you eyes."
Mary smiled and shook her head.
"No, you don' see no water in my eyes. I'm done quit a-cryin. But I sho would wallow all over de ground and bawl like a stuck hog if you was to go off an' leave me an' Unex."
"Den, I'll stay, Si May-e. I didn' know you'd feel so bad about my gwinen."
That was all. June showed no sign that he had been conjured, but she had done it with her eyes wide open, knowing June, knowing what it all might come to. He showed that the conjure rag had laid its heavy spell on him without tarrying.
The red rooster stepped out in front of the steps and called the hens to make haste and come see some fine tasty thing he had found. Mary knew he was fooling them, playing a trick on them.
Did June mean all the things he was saying to her now? Did she look as young as a single girl? Did he think as much of her as he said? Her heart seemed to stop beating. Her breath was cut off. She could not answer him a single word.