Gone Crazy in Alabama Read Online Free Page B

and he and I got out. He went around to lift Vonetta and Fern out of the truck bed. My sisters and I became six knees in shorts galloping toward our grandmother. Before she had time to scold and fuss,Vonetta, Fern, and I were on her, circling her, squeezing her and feeling her squeeze us. Yes, we were surely missed. I took it all in: the firm but biscuit-doughy feel of Big Ma’s arms; her gardenia talcum powder and Dixie Peach hair grease dabbed under her wig around her temples. It was good to be circled by hands that smelled of pine cleaner and to be blotted by her coffee-breath kisses.
    When Big Ma couldn’t stand another squeeze, she pushed us off of her and said, “Let’s not carry on for all the neighbors,” although the only neighbor within any visible range was Mr. Lucas.
    â€œCome on, rascals!” our great-grandmother cried, her arms stretched outward. We ran over and hugged her, but carefully. Big Ma’s mother was wiry and upright but tender-skinned and small-boned. She rapped us all on the tops of our heads, one, two, three, and said, “Look at my young’ns,” as if there were an army of us. “Just look at you! All those heads inching to the sky.”
    â€œAll right, all right. Let’s look at them inside.” Big Ma was anxious to not be seen. It was too late. Mr. Lucas’s house sat less than a half acre beyond the vegetable garden to our right side. He leaned against one of the white posts that ran from his porch to his roof, and he waved to us and called out to Big Ma. Big Ma waved her arms but only to tell her neighbor, “Stop that waving.”
    She said to Uncle Darnell, “Go drive that rig back over to him before he comes down here.”
    â€œCan’t,” he said. “I need to get to town.” Uncle D andMr. Lucas had worked out an arrangement to share the truck even though Mr. Lucas hardly drove it.
    Big Ma scolded us. “See what you all started up?”
    Mr. Lucas didn’t have as much land as my great-grandmother, but he had a few fruit trees and pecan trees on his property. The last time we drove down south, he had planted a pecan tree in Ma Charles’s yard for shade. That pecan tree was hardly the same tree he’d planted a few years ago. The tree was full of pecans and its trunk and branches were now good for climbing. I couldn’t hide my smile. Between the tree’s height, sturdiness, and branches that formed a seat, I knew I’d found my hiding place.
    Ma Charles took her time to bend down to scratch Caleb’s ear. “That’s a good dog. Let ’em know across the creek that I have young’ns. Let them know my roots aren’t cursed. Sing, boy. Go sing! That’ll show her!” Caleb raised his throat and snout and did just that while Vonetta and Fern petted him.
    â€œMa! Will you hush about a curse!”
    Ma Charles ignored her daughter. “That’s right! Sing, boy. Sing so she knows we have life on this side of the creek. Sing!”
    Uncle D dropped our bags on the porch and said, “I’m going to town for spark plugs. I’m taking Mr. Lucas with me.”
    â€œYou take him into town,” Big Ma said. “But make sure you tell him tonight’s for family. Just family.”
    Ma Charles said, “Son, tell him no such unkindness.”
    And Uncle D, who was probably used to being between his mother and grandmother, was already in the truck.
    Fern hopped from her left foot to her right, doing her “Gotta, gotta” dance, and Vonetta hopped along with her. They both looked around for a dreaded but familiar sight. I did too.
    I asked what we all needed to know. “Ma Charles, where’s the moon house?” That’s what we called the small blue wooden shack with half-moons painted on its front door and sides.
    â€œThe outhouse?” Ma Charles threw her head back and laughed. “The outhouse is gone,” she said.
    â€œThen