How the Soul Sings

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

 

            Later that morning, when my momma and my aunt had finally made up and I decided that I was brave enough to crawl out of my room, still fearing that I had a tongue lashing coming, I could hear them and the other ladies – Willa Jane and Grandma Evee, all laughing and chattering down in the kitchen. Everything seemed to be back to normal. I overheard my momma mentioning something about maybe getting some sheep as I crept down the stairs, trying to be silent like a ghost so nobody would notice me.

“Do you think you even have enough pasture for them?” Willa Jane asked my momma.

“I don’t know; I still gotta do some figurin’. I was thinking we could do sheep’s milk cheese and soap and all, just like with the goats. The recipes and formulas are pretty much the same, just got to adjust them here and there, as needed.”

“Aren’t sheep kind of, well, smelly and gross?” Aunt Loraine says.

“They used to say that about goats, and you’ve seen how well that’s turned out.”

“Umm-hmm.” Evee mumbles, seeming to agree with Momma.

“Good-morning, Miss Charlie.” Willa Jane calls out to me. 

“Good-morning, Ma’am.” I say passing by her, heading for the toaster; she made some raisin bread the other day and I was hoping to still get some of it. Then they all went back to talking amongst one another, except, I could tell that some of it was about me, but they were trying to not be so obvious about it. “Well, she must be about to start gettin’ her monthly.” Will Jane answers my Aunt in regards to something she said that had to do with last night, I was pretty sure. I drop my butter knife on the counter and stop dead at what I was doing, turning sharply to look over my shoulder at them.

“It must be because of the red hair that runs in our family.” Momma says.

Then Evee interrupts, “I may be blind now, but I still remember that child havin’ blonde hair.” 

“Well, yes, but it’s always ran a little red, like a strawberry blonde.” 

“What ev’a you say, Miss MaryAnn. I know that child ain’t no redhead. She may be gettin’ fiery like you, but that because of you; hair ain’t got nuttin to do wit it.” 

“Or maybe it’s because of you, Evee. Lord knows that girl spends all her time with you.” My aunt added in.

“That ‘cause she learn that as a woman, you got to speak up fo’ yo’self, ‘cause ain’t no man ev’a gone do it fo’ you. You wait fo’ that, you be waitin’ a real long time.”

I hear and see the others nod and hmm and haw, agreeing with her, as I slide out of the kitchen and to the back porch. My dog comes along with me and puts his head in my lap when I sit down on one of the redwood Adirondack chairs, eating my toast.  ‘Ok, so they ain’t mad at me.’ I think to myself, slightly tossing my head side to side like I was keeping beat with a song. Any more feeling relieved and I probably would have been hummin’ one.

      By the time summer was nearly over, my momma had herself some sheep and then that’s about when she got the idea that she and Willa Jane would travel down south to Texas and even Mexico, if they had to, to find their boys. Evee told them that they were just better off letting those boys come on back home when they were ready, preferably when the war was over, but they both had a fire lit under them. 

Momma figured that they’d bring the boys back and then deal with whatever, if anything happened, from there. Evee said, “What ya gone do if that don’ work? Send ‘em to Canada next?” Willa Jane told her to not be so pessimistic, Aunt Loraine agreed with Evee and this caused another disagreement between her and Momma.