Mama Hattie's Girl

  “Yes, Miss Lena,” said the old woman. “Gittin’ me a little change. I’m always short when it comes time to pay my bills.”

  “I got a store in this block,” said Miss Lena in an angry voice. “You ain’t got no license to sell.”

  “See my purty plum tree out in bloom,” said Miss Hattie. “Soon I’ll have plums to sell too. They makes good jelly. People pays me ten cents a quart for ’em. Run in, Lu-Bell, and turn the radio up higher. That’s my favorite program comin’ on—at five o’clock: When a Girl Marries. Won’t you set down and listen to it, Miss Lena?”

  Lula Bell knew that Miss Lena objected to other people selling things from their front porch. She knew too that Mama Hattie refused to quarrel with her neighbors. There was always some way to keep from quarreling. The girl turned the radio up as loud as she could. The program came on full and strong, loud enough to be heard a block away.

  Miss Lena rose from her chair and took an abrupt leave.

  “Tell that chile to turn that thing down lower,” she said, pausing on the step. “We ain’t none of us deaf—yet. If you keep it that loud, Miss Hattie, it might could scare your hens and stop ’em from layin’.”

  When Lula Bell came outside, the Insurance man was there. He took his little book out of his pocket.

  “How about some nice fresh fish, Mr. Robinson?” asked Miss Hattie.

  “What kind you got?”

  “Sheepshead, and one big ole red snapper left,” said the woman. “Fifty cents for the lot.”

  “They’re kinda small,” said Mr. Robinson, but he handed out a half dollar.

  “Thank you, sir,” said Miss Hattie. “Now I can pay you.” She emptied all the change out of her pocket and handed it to the man with the half dollar.

  “Good,” he said. “I’ll mark you paid up.”

  He hurried down the street, stopping in at all the houses.

  A woman came out in the next yard to hang clothes on the line. She began to sing:

  “All God’s chillun got shoes,

  You got shoes, I got shoes,

  All God’s chillun got shoes.

  When I get to Heaven,

  I’m gonna put on my shoes,

  And I’m gonna walk all over God’s Heaven.”

  Her voice was loud and strong. It seemed to be trying to drown out the radio program.

  Miss Hattie frowned in Miss Annie Sue’s direction, but there was nothing she could do. Her neighbor kept on singing.

  “Go water my plants, girl,” said Mama Hattie.

  Lula Bell filled a pail. She dipped water from a cup onto the potted geraniums, ferns, crotons and other plants.

  “I never did like a sandy yard,” said Mama Hattie. “It all gits tracked in the house. Some day I’m gonna git me a load of yellow sand and two or three loads of black muck, and plant me some grass.”

  Lula Bell sat down on the step. She kicked off one shoe, sending it flying across the yard.

  Mama Hattie called out sharply: “Girl! Put that shoe back on! Don’t you go throwin’ things across the yard like that. What you limpin’ for?”

  “My shoes hurts my feetses,” said Lula Bell.

  “Is them the new red Sunday shoes your mama bought you for Christmas?” asked her grandmother.

  “Yas’m,” said Lula Bell. “They’re too tight. She got ’em too small for me. I had to go all day with the strap unbuckled. I like to fell and broke my neck … two-three times.” She laughed as if it were a great joke.

  “You better find that shoe before the dogs carry it off,” said Mama Hattie. “When Imogene gits home she’ll set your clothes afire.”

  Lonnie and Eddie came up and went into the house.

  “Boys,” called Mama Hattie. “Time you got them bikes fixed. Soon it’ll be Saturday and you-all will be wantin’ to go to the golf links to make your Saturday change.”

  Lula Bell came out in blue jeans. She began to look for her shoe. The border of the yard was a tangle of palmetto bushes and twisting vines. She got down on her knees and crawled through the hedge. She came out in Miss Annie Sue’s yard.

  “Why, Lula Bell!” cried Miss Annie Sue, stopping in the middle of her song. “I thought you was a dog. What you doin’?”

  “Huntin’ for my shoe,” said the girl. “It’s red, with a strap and a buckle. You seen it anywheres?”

  “That old dog Bowser of Pody Warren’s went by jest now with somethin’ in his mouth,” said Miss Annie Sue. “Mighta been a red shoe with a buckle on it.”

  Lula Bell crawled sadly through the thicket, back into her own yard. She wondered if Imogene would bless her out for letting Bowser eat up her new shoe. How could she go to school wearing only one shoe?

  Then suddenly she saw it—not the shoe, but something worse—a great long snake with black and white marks on its back. It was lying directly in her path and she couldn’t get around it on either side. One hand flew to her mouth, and her heart began to pound so hard it shook her whole body. Then the scream came out of her mouth—the long, vibrating scream of a terrified child. The next minute she was being dragged backwards by her own feet into Miss Annie Sue’s yard. Strong hands held her ankles so tightly that she screamed now, not in fear, but in pain.

  “A snake! A snake!” She repeated the words over and over.

  Suddenly both yards were full of people. Eddie ran for a hoe and used it to kill the snake. After it was dead, Lonnie held it up. It was only about half as long as she thought it was.

  “What did you kill it for?” asked Pody Warren. “I’d a took it alive and kept it for a pet.” Everybody knew that Pody’s house and yard were a haven for all kinds of animals.

  Just then Imogene hurried up in alarm, on her way home from work. Lula Bell skipped over from Miss Annie Sue’s yard and threw herself upon her mother.

  “A snake! A snake!” she cried, sobbing.

  “But the snake’s dead, honey,” said Imogene. “You don’t need to cry now. James Henry, you and Eddie go bury it in the chicken yard. See, girl, the boys are going to bury it.”

  Imogene and Lula Bell walked up on the porch, arm in arm. The people scattered.

  “When’s my daddy comin’ home?” demanded Lula Bell suddenly.

  “What’s that got to do with findin’ a snake in the bushes?” asked Imogene.

  “If he’da been here, my daddy woulda saved me from the snake,” said Lula Bell.

  Imogene and Mama Hattie looked at each other. Without a word, Imogene opened the screen door and went into the house.

  “Come here, Lula Bell,” said her grandmother. All through the snake performance, Mama Hattie had not moved or spoken. The girl went and leaned against her knees.

  “Not afraid to climb trees like a boy,” said Old Hattie, “but skeered to death over a pore little ole snake. Actin’ like a baby—I’m ashamed of you.”

  Lula Bell hung her head.

  “What you scream so loud for?” her grandmother went on. “I know. You was jest puttin’ on a show. That pore little ole snake wouldn’t hurt a fly. I thought you had a little sense. There’s your Sunday shoe—out under the hedge, right side the gate. Better go git it.”

  Lula Bell limped across the sand, picked up the shoe and put it on. She left the buckle unstrapped, and limped back to the porch.

  “It hurts me somethin’ terrible,” she said.

  But Mama Hattie’s eyes were closed. She did not answer.

  CHAPTER II

  The Plum Tree

  “Mama, I don’t feel so good,” said Lula Bell.

  It was a hot day in late June, several months later. The sun made a bright patch on the blue linoleum floor.

  “You won’t feel so good if I take a switch to you,” said Imogene. “Now you get outa bed and wash and dress yourself. If I’m late to my job, Mrs. Netherton will fire me sure. Hurry now—breakfast’s ready.”

  Imogene poured the coffee and Mama Hattie fried pancakes. Lonnie and Eddie ate their fill and got up to go.

  “There’s a
job for you boys at home today,” said Mama Hattie.

  “But we promised we’d be at the golf links by nine,” said Lonnie. “A man from Illinois asked for us special. He said we caddy good.”

  “Go along then,” said Mama Hattie. “Be sure and bring me back eight dollars!”

  Lula Bell pushed aside the lace curtain that hung at the bedroom door. She stood there in her pajamas, leaning her head against the door frame. She looked sad and woebegone.

  “You lost your last friend, puddin’ pie?” asked her grandmother.

  Imogene left the house and Lula Bell did not call good-by.

  “Come on, honey, the pancakes sure is good. Cane syrup too.”

  Lula Bell sat down in her chair, but she leaned her head wearily on her hand and did not open her eyes. Mama Hattie fixed three pancakes with butter and syrup and set them in front of her. Lula Bell picked up her fork and took a bite.

  “Wow!” she cried, pressing her hand quickly to her jaw. “That hurts! I can’t eat!”

  “Where do it hurt, sweetie?” asked Mama Hattie. She bent down to look closer. “Lawsy sakes, chile, your jaws is all swoll’ up. Your cheeks is fat as balloons. Looks like you got the mumps on both sides at once.”

  “Mumps …” wailed Lula Bell. “No, I ain’t. Floradell and Geneva and me is goin’ to the show today.”

  “No, girl,” said Mama Hattie. “You’re stayin’ in bed.”

  Lula Bell began to scream. “I wanna go to the show with Floradell and Geneva …” But screaming made her jaws hurt, so she stopped.

  “I’ll step over to Miss Lena’s and git you some sardines,” said Mama Hattie. “They’ll cure the mumps quick. You can eat the sardines and I’ll grease the swelling with the oil. Good thing Lonnie and Eddie’s both had ’em.”

  Miss Hattie walked heavily over to the store and came back with two boxes of sardines. As she came into the yard, she chased some boys away from the plum tree. “I’ll tan your britches if you steal my plums!” she called out angrily.

  “That Miss Lena she says, ‘Looks like somebody’s got the mumps, you comin’ over for sardines. I reckon twenty children round here’s had it. Could it be your precious Lu-Bell this time?’ But I held my tongue. I didn’t answer her back.”

  Soon Lula Bell had sardines inside her, sardine oil smeared on her cheeks, and her head tied up with a bright red scarf. She crawled back into her bed.

  “I gotta git them plums picked before all the kids on the street steals ’em,” said Mama Hattie, talking to herself. “The boys might coulda picked ’em, if they’d stayed home for once. Them plums been slow comin’ on, but they’re purty and purple now. I can sell ’em right off the porch if I can git ’em picked. I sure do need a little change. Insurance a dollar seventy this week, seven dollars comin’ due on the kerosene stove …”

  Lula Bell lay on her bed with arms and legs stretched out. She groaned miserably. The sardines made her feel worse, not better. She had no desire to pick plums.

  “Lonnie and Eddie can do it tomorra,” she said. “Oh Mama Hattie, I feel jest like I’m gonna die.”

  “You’re a long ways from dyin’, puddin’ pie.”

  Mama Hattie went about her work. After the breakfast dishes were done, she went out in the back yard and built a fire under the black wash pot. She carried buckets of water from the tap to fill the pot. She brought out a basket of clothes for washing. She put them in to boil when the water was hot. She poked them with a stick.

  The day was pleasantly warm. Birds were chirping in the trees and bushes. A mocking bird sang close by. Mama Hattie liked to wash outdoors in the warm sun and fresh air. She had done so all her life, and it was not easy to change, no matter what Imogene said. Imogene liked to go in for the latest style. Well—a washpot out in the yard and a rubbing board in a tin tub were good enough for Old Hattie.

  But when she began to rub the clothes, she raised her hand and looked at it. The joints were stiff and enlarged. She could not press her fingers into her palms. Ar-thur-itis, the doctor said. Nothing but old-fashioned rheumatism. She leaned over, and found it hard to breathe.

  “Gotta set down,” she whispered, making her painful way to the back step. “Doctor said my heart was bad, swoll’ up two times too big. I could tell him somethin’—what made my heart so bad … It was totin’ too heavy a load … totin’ too heavy a load … ever since my old man died, and long before that. All my life I been doin’ it, but I ain’t givin’ up now.”

  She sat down on the step, leaned her head against the door frame and dozed. A few hens came up and pecked and scratched around her feet.

  “Mama Hattie!” called Lula Bell from inside. “Can I go out and play under the plum tree?”

  The old woman woke with a start. “You git back in your bed and stay there till I tells you to git up.”

  “Mama Hattie, I’m hungry,” cried Lula Bell at the window, “but I can’t swallow nothin’. I et a cracker and it got stuck in my throat. You gonna let me starve myself to death?”

  “You be good and stay in bed, honey,” said Mama Hattie. “I’ll kill a big ole hen and stew it and make pot dumplin’s. They’ll slide down easy.” Old Hattie liked good food herself. She could not bear to be hungry or to see anyone go hungry.

  “Hurry up and make ’em quick,” called Lula Bell.

  After the washing was on the line, the old woman went out front and looked at the plum tree. It was loaded now with fruit, each limb weighed down heavily. The plums looked so good, no wonder people helped themselves as they walked by.

  Maybe she could pick them herself: She brought an orange field box and placed it carefully on the sand. She stepped up on it and steadied herself against the trunk. She could reach a few plums but not many. It took a good climber like Lula Bell to crawl out on the limbs and strip the tree. Reaching up made Mama Hattie’s heart begin to pound. It was a solemn warning. She knew she must not try it. Slowly she got down and went back around the house.

  Mumps! And just when the plums needed picking!

  Old Hattie chased a chicken into a corner and caught it. She wrung its neck, picked and dressed it. She lighted the oil stove and put it on to stew. Then she heard voices out front. She hurried to the window.

  “Leave that tree alone, you kids!” she shouted. “Don’t you dare eat them plums, or I’ll come out with a switch. That’s my plum tree and them’s my plums. Git out!”

  Two boys and two girls went scampering away—the Hobbs children. They were kin to Lena Patton—cousins or something. Miss Lena must have put them up to it. Miss Lena was determined not to let her sell her own plums. Well, she’d show her …

  Suddenly she felt tired and knew she must rest. If only there was some one to watch the plum tree while she took a nap. She looked in the bedroom and saw that Lula Bell was sleeping. She stretched out on her own bed, thinking she would listen and hear if any one came. She felt tired in every bone, and before she knew it, began to doze.

  Lula Bell woke up soon and smelled the chicken cooking. She was glad her grandmother was cooking it for her to swallow easy. Mama Hattie was always good to her—she felt she’d like to do something kind in return. What could she do to please Mama Hattie? She looked in the door and saw her grandmother in bed asleep. She pulled on her blue jeans and a cotton shirt. Hearing a commotion in the yard, she ran to the front door.

  The Hobbs children were back again. And over in front of her store stood Miss Lena watching. Lula Bell grabbed the yardstick lying on Imogene’s sewing machine and rushed out.

  “You git outa here!” she yelled. “Leonard! Ernestine! Clarence and Nona, you jest let my mama’s plums alone!” She chased the children down the street.

  Lula Bell came back and sat on the step to rest. She felt a little weak. After all, she had eaten nothing but sardines since the night before. She pressed her stomach and it felt empty.

  “I gotta git them plums picked,” said Lula Bell. Tiptoeing into the kitchen, she found some quart glass jars and brought them
out. “I’ll surprise Mama Hattie,” she said. Her swollen jaws felt better now. “Maybe I ain’t got the mumps after all. I’ll pick the plums first. Then I’ll git ready to go to the show at four o’clock.”

  She shinnied up the tree and began to pick. James Henry Thorpe passed by with a BB gun, but he did not stop or look her way. Popsicle and Shadow Pearson, who lived down the street, came over and watched. The four Hobbs children returned, and Geneva Jackson came ready for the show. They all begged for plums to eat, but Lula Bell shook her head.

  “My mama’s got to sell these plums, ten cents a quart,” she told them.

  She filled several jars and set them on the porch. By the time she climbed the tree the fourth time, she began to feel sick. Her jaws pained her and she felt dizzy. But she kept thinking how pleased Mama Hattie would be.

  “Can you reach these out on this-here limb?” asked Geneva. “Then people can’t git ’em from the sidewalk.”

  “I’ll try,” said Lula Bell.

  The limb was slender, and she slid along it as far as she could go. Dizziness returned, so she gripped the limb with both hands. Her weight was too much for it, so it broke. Everything went black before her eyes, and she fell to the ground.

  The children screamed and flew in all directions, as if they were to blame. They left the girl lying there sprawled in the sand. Mothers in houses near by began to scream and run. Then one by one, the children came back. Filled with curiosity, they stood and stared.

  “There’s Lu-Bell’s mama a-comin’.” Popsicle pointed up the street. “Bet she’s gonna ketch it.”

  Imogene came running as fast as she could on her high-heeled shoes. By the time she reached the yard, a crowd had gathered. She took a quick look at Lula Bell lying on the ground.

  “Has anybody called a doctor?” she demanded.

  “No ma’m … no … we thought …”

  “Mr. Andy!” Imogene shouted to the man standing at the door of the Chicken Shack. “Telephone Dr. Carter to come quick.”

  Mama Hattie came stumbling out of her bedroom greatly upset. She had had a bad dream. In her dream some one had been run over by a truck. She awoke to noise and confusion as real as that of her dream. When she saw that Lula Bell’s bed was empty, she knew that something had happened to her grandchild. Her heart began to pound. Then she remembered.