The boards I had heard were laid across concrete cinder blocks to form a bridge over the small lake in our yard. Daddy was wearing waders and he sloshed through the water to help Livvie. We would have frogs in the millions. Normally I would’ve run to Timmy and Henry’s room, dragged them out of bed, gone and jumped in the water. No doubt Daddy would’ve lost his temper and screamed at us to quit goofing off, get into dry clothes and help him. But today everything that had been normal was falling away by what I had seen the night before. I wondered if Daddy knew that I knew. Maybe I would use it against him. No, I wasn’t that brave. There would be nothing on my face that he would be able to identify or trace. I felt sick inside, faint. I had to gather myself and go downstairs to face everyone.
I dressed and went to the kitchen. Livvie was there, pouring out cereal for everyone. Aunt Carol was having a glass of juice. She had spent the night in our house because the storm had started to kick up something terrible and Uncle Louis had thought it would be better for her to be with us, Momma being gone and all.
“So I said to Louis, I said, ‘Louis? Don’t forget to feed the babies,’ that’s what I call my dogs, ‘and let them in the bed with you because they’re gonna miss their momma.’ Do you know what he said?”
“No’m,” Livvie said. Livvie was staring at her so funny that I thought for a moment that she knew.
“Morning,” I said.
“Morning, Susan. Well, he said, ‘Carol, honey? Your babies can stand one night away from you, but what am I gonna do?’ Isn’t that just like a man? Can’t live without us! I swear, he loves me so! Well, I guess I’d better end this tea party and get on home to my Louis.”
“Yes’m, you do that. I imagine he’s missing you something terrible.”
Then Aunt Carol picked up her pocketbook to leave and turned to us to say good-bye, and there was Livvie drinking a Coke from Momma’s best crystal goblet. No one was allowed to use her crystal, especially a colored woman. Momma saved that crystal in case President Kennedy decided to come for dinner. Aunt Carol turned purple, puffed up like a blowfish and stormed out of the back door. I was stunned, but I didn’t say a word.
The morning gathering of our tribe was getting under way at the same moment of Aunt Carol’s departure. First came Maggie in shorts and a T-shirt and her hair up in a ponytail. She looked more like she was going out to a beach party than getting ready to clean a yard. She always looked like that. Perfect.
One by one, they swung into action, doing their parts to help. Maggie stirred powdered juice into a pitcher and the boys set the table with paper plates. I kept my face straight, hiding under the mask of just waking up. They expected me to be crabby in the morning. But I was just plain shocked and, I thought, hiding it pretty well.
“Can’t be wasting no water washing dishes, y’all ’eah me?” Livvie was giving orders and handing out paper cups. “Yemoja done dump all the water in the sky on us yesterday.”
“Who?” I said.
“Yemoja, Obatala and Oya. Yes, sir, they done they worst to Charleston. Nearly blow us all to kingdom come.”
She was talking about her African gods again. I decided they must have something to do with storms. We knew that when there was a big storm we had to wait a day or two to be sure the water came back on and was all right to drink. We’d fill the sinks and tubs before a storm to drink, wash dishes or flush the toilets. Naturally, my brothers and my father would use the occasion as an excuse to use the yard as a toilet. Maggie and I would hold it until we turned blue. On Sullivan’s Island, we were proud to have our own water supply—a combination of deep wells from which blended water was pumped by electricity. But when the lights went out, drinking water went with it. Truth told, the water reeked of sulfur but made the creamiest grits. Anyway, in a day or so we would have water and lights again. In the meanwhile we would put orange juice on cereal and laugh about it. We were professionals in the aftermath business. At least no one would have to fight about taking baths tonight. Until the power came back on we had a holiday from all that.
“No electricity. Sophie’s going to have a fit that she can’t have her toast and egg,” Grandpa Tipa said, coming in the kitchen. “Can’t you children say good morning?”
We were busy stuffing our mouths with Frosted Flakes and Tang at this point.
“Good morning, Grandpa,” I said. “Did you sleep okay?”
“Of course I did. Said the rosary, you know. It’s what good Catholics do when we need protection,” he said. “Mrs. Singleton, I nearly ran myself ragged protecting my property yesterday! Thank you for clearing the porch for us. We certainly have a lot of electrical plugs in this house. I must’ve unplugged one hundred things.”
“Think his Hail Marys saved the Island?” I whispered to Maggie.
“No, it was the plugs,” she replied.
“Well, I’d better go deal with Sophie,” he said. “Oh! Mrs. Singleton! I forgot to ask, how did you and all the Africans make out last night?”
“Me and the Africans made out just fine, thank you, sir. Just fine,” Livvie said, narrowing her eyes at him.
I could see she wasn’t pleased but she decided to let the remark pass. He had to let her know that she came from a tribal world of dark skin. He was such a big pain in the butt. He embarrassed me all the time when he said things like that.
Tipa fixed a plate of bread and a bowl of cereal and carried it off to Sophie’s room. A few minutes later we heard a plate crash. Everybody stopped moving, waiting for the screaming to start. Either it was dropped by accident, or old Sophie had thrown it against the wall. I darn well knew it was the latter and I was glad Daddy was still in the yard. He didn’t support Grandma Sophie’s theatrics.
“Usually she only eats one piece of toast, no crust, light butter, not margarine, and a poached egg for breakfast,” I offered as an explanation, meeting the surprised look on Livvie’s face. “Same thing every day and only Tipa can fix it. If I fix it, she knows if somebody else fixed it and don’t ask me how. Then she pitches a huge fit. Lunch is tomato soup, with one piece of toast cut in nine squares floating in it, and plain tea. It’s because she’s a genius.”
“What kind of fool you talking, girl?” Livvie said.
“Momma says Grandma Sophie is a genius and geniuses have weird little habits. Grandma Sophie has more than her share, if you ask me,” I said, thinking that if she could tell Aunt Carol to kiss off by drinking out of Momma’s best glass, then I could throw a little dirt on old Sophie and Tipa.
“A genius? How is she a genius?” Livvie stood now drying her hands on a dish towel.
“She does trigonometry in her head while she sleeps,” Maggie said.
“I heard tell of that, but do y’all think she threw that plate?” Livvie asked.
“Yep,” said Timmy.
“She does it all the time,” said Henry. “I’d get my butt whipped for sure if I did that.”
“It’s how it is around here, Livvie,” Maggie said. “It’s so embarrassing I don’t ever bring my friends here. Excuse me, I’m going to get busy putting the porch back together.”
“I’ll come and help you in a minute,” I said to Maggie and turned back to Livvie. “Yep, and she eats only Cream of Wheat for supper. Same bowl, same spoon and if you switch it she can tell.”
“Think she’s peculiar?” Timmy asked.
“Well, I don’t know,” said Henry, “I’d like to have pancakes every day and spaghetti every night.”
“Yeah, sure, squirt, so would I but I don’t have a temper tantrum if I don’t get it!” Timmy said.
“Don’t call me squirt or I’ll sock you one,” Henry said.
Maggie got up and left the room. We were all quiet. Livvie just kept standing there looking at us like we were a bunch of escapees from the nuthouse. Finally she said, “Humph,” and began fixing some food. She handed Timmy a banana and a sandwich of bread and butter, then reached in the dark refrigerator for a Coke and gave it to Henry.
“Go on, no
w, take this to y’all’s Daddy. See iffin y’all can help him clean up the yard,” Livvie said. “Don’t be opening the refrigerator and especially the freezer until the power comes back on!”
“Okay! Okay!” they said, slamming the back screen door nearly off the hinges. A few seconds later we heard, “Sorry!” Then a lot of giggling as they ran down the back steps.
“Them boys,” Livvie said.
She sat down at the table next to me. It was unusual for a Negro housekeeper to sit next to anyone in the family, except a baby. I didn’t mind a bit but at the same time I hoped no one would catch us.
“You all right, Susan?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Humph. You’s a terrible liar. You ain’t fine. That’s all right. Iffin you want to talk to Livvie, I’m ’eah. I just want to know one thing and it ain’t about your aunt.”
“What’s that?”
“You think your grandmomma be right in the head?”
“I think she thinks she can do whatever she wants. I mean, Daddy raises the devil about her sometimes, but then Momma cries and Tipa gets mad and says it’s still his house and have some respect for your elders and all that junk. Then Daddy goes over to Uncle Louis’s, they drink a bunch of beer and Daddy comes home and it’s okay for a while.”
“Humph,” she said. “Got a bad spirit in her. I gone fix it too. All right, enough of this long talk. I got to go clean up Mrs. Asalit’s floor. I gone talk to her, don’t you worry.”
I didn’t tell her about how Daddy would give Momma the back of his hand and I didn’t tell her how Uncle Louis never did anything to help Momma with Grandmomma. I watched her take the paper towels, a grocery bag for the broken dish and the container of salt. She probably already knew everything about us anyway.
“What do you need salt for?” I asked.
“Humph,” she said, “buckra children don’t know nothing. Come on, Livvie will show you.”
I went with her out of curiosity. Their room was empty. Grandpa Tipa had taken Grandma out to the front porch to calm her down. We could hear their voices through the open French doors of their bedroom. Their bed was unmade only on one side. Tipa had slept on top of the covers, probably dressed. Sure enough, broken china covered the floor by the closet door. Livvie began to pick it up and I helped her.
“Watch your feet, child. Why don’t you go put on shoes?”
I had a sudden thought that it had been ages since anybody had cared whether or not I got hurt. The tears came rolling down my cheeks and Livvie stood up and pulled me into her arms.
“There, there now. It’s all right, chile, just cry it all out,” she said softly to me.
I could feel my chest heaving with sobs but no noise came out, just great sighs.
“I know,” she said quietly.
“How?” I said.
“Honey chile, when you’re an old woman like me, you’ll be amazed at what you can know just by looking at someone, especially when they don’t want you to! Why don’t we pray together about this a little bit?”
“Pray? Are you kidding me? I’d pray that they both go right to hell,” I said.
“Susan, iffin you don’t want to pray, that’s all right, but sooner or later, you got to give it over to the Lawd. It’s His business to punish, not our business. And, honey, listen up to Livvie, I gone tell you something. It don’t pay to hate nobody, ’cause the only person who gets hurt is you. The person you hate, half the time don’t know about it and the other half they don’t care. So don’t hate them, just know they is stupid. Grown-up don’t mean you can’t be stupid.”
“Boy, that’s for sure.”
“Ain’t got nothing to do with you. Don’t mean because they is bad that you is bad. Just means they is stupid. They make a crazy decision and didn’t expect to get caught.”
“How did you know?”
“Chile, all I had to do was look at your Aunt Carol and she start to run her mouth a mile a minute, looking every which way except at me. And your daddy? Normally he’d be cussing up a blue streak. But he’s out there smiling and cleaning up he yard. How did you get in their business anyway?”
“Went out to the shed to get a flashlight. Got locked out and had to go to the front door. First, I heard them. Then I saw Mrs. Simpson on her porch watching them and laughing. I had to peek. I wish I hadn’t.”
“Yeah, I expect you do, but it’s natural to peek. That don’t make you bad, just normal. Too bad that woman saw them. Harriet say she something terrible.”
“Yeah, you know she’ll tell the immediate world and then Momma’s gonna die from the shame of it.”
“She ain’t gone tell a living soul nothing. I see to that.”
“What are you gonna do? Cut off her tongue?”
She giggled like I loved to hear.
“Yeah, Gawd. I gone to her house with your momma’s big scissors hid in my apron and when she start yapping, I gone grab it and snip!”
“That would be great! You’d be famous! Gosh, Livvie, when I talk to you I feel normal.”
“You are normal. You is all normal. Your brothers is just boys, that’s all. And Maggie’s a young lady trying to grow up and dignify herself. Can’t blame her for that, can we? Now, your grandmomma and granddaddy, they is old, honey, and old folks got their ways. Can’t change them. Be a mistake to try. In fact, it’s a mistake to try and change anybody.”
“Doesn’t work anyhow,” I said.
She looked at me, picked up the remaining pieces of ceramic and put them in the bag.
“Umm-hmm,” she hummed, “no, we can’t change them, but we can move they spirit! Yes, sir, we can do that sure enough!”
What was she talking about? The next thing I knew she was sweeping the floor. Then she stopped and opened the container of salt, poured some in her hand and started humming “Go Tell It on the Mountain.” She sprinkled some in each of the four corners of the room and turned to me.
“What?” she said.
“Nothing,” I said, “nothing at all.”
“Gone clean up the spirits in this room, that’s all. You watch, you’ll see. Gone cut me some roots and make a little cunja bag and pin it to they mattress too. They don’t have to know, do they?”
“Ain’t gonna hear it from me,” I said.
“Good. Humph. All this fool in this house is just that. I gone take care of it. You watch. Gone fix that mirror too. You believe me?”
“Yeah, I believe you.”
I did believe her and I didn’t know why. Except that since she’d been here, things had, in fact, started to change. The house was a lot cleaner, I always had underwear in my drawer, Sophie didn’t stink anymore and Daddy hadn’t whipped anybody lately. But it was more than that and her fried chicken. Her passion for righteousness was stronger than our frenzy.
We went back to the kitchen to clean up the remains of our makeshift breakfast.
“Where do you get your strength, Livvie?”
“What do you mean? Ain’t you heard nothing I ever say?”
“Yeah, of course, I listen to you, but still…”
“Ain’t no but. You wipe off the table and I gone tell you my story. ’Eah, take this cloth and get busy.”
“Okay.”
She looked out the window remembering, shook her head and started to talk.
“When I was a little girl we didn’t have nothing. I mean, we was so poor that my momma lined my shoes in cardboard when they got holes. I only had one pair and they was my treasure. She stuffed the walls with newspaper when it got cold, and Lawd, it got cold. But me and my brother knew we had love and that was the most important thing to us. And we always had plenty to eat. Cornbread, milk, field peas…something always on the table.
“My daddy, he was born after the Yankees came, in about 1875, and oh, how he loved to tell the stories about the Yankees. He was scared to death of them bluebellies because he believed they would come and kill you or carry you off. Maybe he told us that so’s we wouldn’t wa
nder off down the road, like we liked to do.
“His daddy and mammy was still living on the plantation when he was born, even though they was free to go. His daddy had been a slave and when Mr. Lincoln freed everybody, he say where he gone go to? So, they stay and tend they own patch and work for Mr. Archibald Barnes.
“My family lived in a little cabin on the plantation, the same one where my daddy was born. All his life, my daddy was a sharecropper to the same man’s family his daddy had belonged to. The Barneses they owned a big plantation out on the Wando River called Oakwood. My brother, Leroy, and me, there wasn’t no school around there, so they put us in the field to work picking cotton. But I was a right smart little girl and in fact I can read a little and do some numbers, but yes, ma’am, I was put out in the field when I was only nine years old. Makes you grow up quick. Hard work makes you strong. I work hard every day; that’s where I get my strength. That and knowing who I am. You children think you got it so bad, you wouldn’t know what trouble looked like if he walked right up to you and shook your hand!”
Livvie sighed and waited for me to say something.
“I know that, I mean, somebody’s always got it worse,” I said.
“That’s exactly right.”
“I know, I agree, but Livvie, sometimes it’s so crazy around here I think about running away. I mean, I’d never do it because where would I go? But it’s too much, you know?”
“Yeah, chile, I know better than you can think I do, but you belong right ’eah. You is a Hamilton and this is where they call home. I know something else you ain’t learned yet.”
“You probably know plenty more than I ever will.”
She laughed a little at that and shook her head. “Mm-hm, chile, these old eyes have seen it all, but what I want to tell you is this. When folks around you do crazy things, it’s the devil trying to distract you from your purpose.”