Leaving Gee's Bend Read Online Free

“Get on with you, Etta Mae!” Mama waved her arms in the air like Etta Mae was a fly that needed swatting. “Don’t need your help. Just need Ludelphia.”
    I locked my eye on Etta Mae but didn’t say a word.
    So it was true. The devil’s lye was set out for Etta Mae. Whatever those bad things were that happened in Mobile, Aunt Doshie had already spread the word. And now my mama was so scared she was sending away the very person who could help her.
    Now what was I supposed to do?
    As Etta Mae eased toward the door, Mama worked to get her feet up under her. But each time she got about halfway up, she’d sink back down again. Etta Mae and me looked at each other, our eyes wide. Why was Mama so weak?
    “Don’t go,” I mouthed to Etta Mae, then watched as she slipped outside the screened door. Wasn’t no sound of footsteps on the porch, so I knew she was staying close. I turned my attention back to Mama and tried to make my voice sound like Daddy’s. “It’s okay. Everything’s gonna be okay.”
    One more time Mama tried to lift herself. When she fell back, she landed crooked. Her eyes popped open as she hit and there was a crunching sound.
    “The eggs!” she said, her voice cracking. She dipped her hand into the pocket of her apron. When she pulled out her fingers, they was dripping with egg yolk. “Every one of ’em broken!”
    Broken eggs meant no corn bread for supper. Broken eggs meant waking up in the middle of the night with a grumbly belly. I felt my shoulders slump. I should have collected them eggs myself. Instead of planning my quilt and worrying about my eye patch, I should have been helping my mama.
    I blinked back tears. “It’s okay, Mama.” I reached around her back to untie the apron strings. “Don’t you worry about them eggs.” Because we got bigger things to worry about, is what I wanted to say. But wasn’t no need to say such a thing. Mama was the one with weak legs and a cough and a baby ready to come out. Wasn’t much of nothing I could tell Mama that she didn’t already know.
    Even though I knew Etta Mae was just out there on the porch, I ain’t never felt so alone as I did right then. Didn’t take but a few big steps to cross from one side of the cabin to the other, but did it ever feel empty with Mama stuck there on the floor.
    I fingered the needle and scraps in my pocket. Mama always said wasn’t but one way to do things, and that was one stitch at a time.
    First I had to get them drippy eggs out of Mama’s apron. As I scooped the yolks and whites into a wooden bowl, I imagined tearing Mama’s calico apron into strips and laying ’em out to be the edges of the quilt I was making for Mama. All them reds and browns and greens would liven it right up.
    When I was done with the eggs, I threw open the shutters to let some good light into the room. Then I hooked my arms under Mama’s armpits. “Come on, Mama,” I said as I pulled her toward the cornshuck pallet that was hers and Daddy’s. Mama lifted her body some and groaned as she settled onto the bed. Then her breathing started coming fast and noisy and I knew from the times before that she was having birthing pains.
    I grabbed her hands, even though mine was shaking. “I’m right here, Mama.” But what good was that? I didn’t have no idea what to do next.
    As Mama’s legs stiffened and she clenched her fists, I told myself that this is how it’s supposed to happen. Ain’t no way to get a baby out without pain. So I just kept talking to her, mumbling “it’s okay, Mama, don’t you worry” over and over again until the sounds joined together and it was like singing a song.
    Only Mama wasn’t singing. She didn’t talk at all no more, and her breath only came in sharp bursts.
    Then everything changed. Mama’s legs got limp and her breathing slowed down. I knew from before it wouldn’t be long before the pains came again. What I needed to do now was focus. Just fix my mind on something so I could start