Scarlet Sister Mary

Mary had grown up in Maum Hannah’s old house in the Quarters like a weed, and, although she could remember her mother faintly, Maum Hannah and Budda Ben were the only parents she knew. Maum Hannah was old and Budda Ben was crippled, but Mary had laughed and played through most of her fifteen years with clothes enough to wear and food enough to eat and pleasure enough to keep her happy. She worked almost every day in the fields, picking cotton, stripping fodder from the corn, planting or gathering potatoes and peas; never working too hard, for she could always stop and rest, or laugh and talk with the other field hands.

Fetching water up the hill from the spring was no burden for her lithe young body for as soon as she had grown big enough to toddle back and forth holding to Maum Hannah’s apron, she had helped fetch water, first a tin can full, then a small bucket full, until at last she could come up the hill with three full-sized buckets, all filled to the brim, one balanced on her head and one in each hand.

Helping wash clothes every week was fun, for all the Quarter women gathered together at the spring on washday, and their cheerful bustling about as they dipped up water and filled the tubs and big iron pots, and cut wood to keep the fires burning bright, made the work a frolic instead of drudgery.

At fifteen she was a slender, darting, high-spirited girl, a leader of the young set, and all ready to be married to July who was, perhaps, the wildest young buck in the Quarters.

Mary had worked hard all the week and now she lay still with half-closed eyes until all of a sudden Maum Hannah threw up her hands and groaned, “Do, Master, look down and see what a rat is done!”

Mary’s heart flew up into her mouth. Cold chills ran over her as she ran to see what had happened. There it was, a great hole gnawed deep into the bride’s cake’s tender meat. Candy rice and rich yellow cake crumbs sprinkled the shelf and the floor. She wanted to cry out, to scream, but her voice froze in her throat and she fell into bitter dumb sobs. Maum Hannah’s head shook gloomily from side to side. Such bad luck was hard to face. But her hand reached out and gave Mary’s shoulder a comforting pat. “Don’t fret so hard, honey. You eyes will get all red an’ ugly. Wipe de water out ’em on you gown-tail an’ go get me some eggs an’ sugar out de safe. I aim to make some new icin an’ mend dis cake so nobody won’ never know it was hurt exceptin you an’ me an’ Gawd an’ Satan. We won’t even tell Ben. Satan is de one sent dat rat here to kill we joy an’ make we have sin today. But I’ll show em, ’e can’t rule me. I done fought wid ’em too many times in my life to let ’em get de best o’ me now. Now, you go on back to bed an’ get warm, whilst I whips up de icin.

Sister Mary stood up and slipped out of her nightgown, which dropped near to the pot Maum Hannah was stirring. The old woman looked up with a merry twinkle in her eyes. “Is you crazy, gal? Look how you duh fan ashes in de victuals. Fo Gawd’s sake put on some clothes. You ain’ to stand up buck naked like dat. You’s a grown ’oman now. Is you forgot?”

Mary laughed and stretched out her long slim body until every muscle was taut. What did she care if Maum Hannah saw her buck naked now when she had seen her so a thousand times? But Maum Hannah’s laugh had cut off and she was leaning forward with her eyes blinking and gazing as if they could not see quite clearly. They were searching Mary’s body from head to foot, marking each line, each curve, as if something astonished and distressed them. Mary crouched down and, picking up a garment, hurriedly put it on, but Maum Hannah’s eyes were wise and keen. There was no use to be covering up now.

“What de matter ail you, Auntie? How-come you duh gaze at me so hard, like you ain’ never seen me naked befo?” Mary tried to sound cool and guiltless, but she could not look Maum Hannah in the face.

“May-e⁠—honey, I can’ hardly b’lieve my own eyes. What you been doin, gal?” Her piercing eyes cut into Mary’s heart.

It was no use to lie, or to try to deceive them. Nothing could escape them when they shone like that.

Why had Cinder come back?

“Is I scared you?” Cinder asked with a dry little laugh. “You jumped all over when you seed me.”

“No⁠—no⁠—you just make me feel surprise. I didn’ know you was home an’ when my eyes first fell on you, I thought right at first, you might be a sperit.”

“No, gal, I sho ain’ no sperit. Dis is de same old mean Cinder a-walkin in de flesh.”

As they shook hands slowly, Mary noticed that Cinder’s hand was as hot as fever, so she said as kindly as she could, “Come set down whe de air is cool here by de window, an’ tell me how you do an’ whe you been.” Mary tried her best to sound pleased and cordial as she placed the chair beside the window.

Cinder sat down carefully, spreading out the fine rustling cloth of her black silk skirt. She was dressed in the finest of clothes. Gold was in her front teeth, and her cheeks were covered with a dust of white powder which made her look pale and strange. She was nervish too. Her hands acted tremblish and her face had a twist-mouth look.

Talk was hard to make. “How’s July?” Cinder asked and Mary answered, “July’s well,” then a silence lay heavy between them again.

“You is mighty dressed up and it a Friday.” Cinder smoothed out her skirts again.

“Open you eyes an’ look good, Auntie.”

Maum Hannah leaned and picked up something, then she hurried to the fire with it. She broke into a laugh.

“Great Gawd! What is dis? Whe you come f’om, gal? You most scare Aun’ Hannah to deat’! Gawd bless you! Lemme wrop you up an’ git you warm. Po lil ting! You mos’ froze, enty?”

Mary jumped up out of the bed herself.

“Fo Gawd’s sake, Auntie, who had dat baby?”

“Gawd knows, gal, I found ’em in de corner behind de organ. ’E’s most freeze too⁠—”

Mary took the child in her hands. The two women looked at each other. Both were perplexed. Whose child was this girl-child?

“May-e⁠—you reckon you could-a had dis chile an’ didn’ know?” Maum Hannah suggested.

“Do, Auntie!” Mary laughed. “Now how could dat be?”

“Den who dat fetch ’em here? I been catchin’ chillen all dese years. I know I ain’ never caught one off de naked flo’ befo in my life. Who dat put ’em on de flo’? Must be somebody.”

“I know ’e ain’ me. No, Jedus. When I birth chillen, I know it. Mebbe you had em, Auntie.”

“Shut you mout’, Si May-e, don’ gi’ me none o’ you’ slack talk! No! Whose baby is dis? Whose?”