The Sittin' Up Read Online Free Page B

like everything in the Low Meadows wanted to come alive and walk with us to town to tell Mr. Gordon that the angels came and got Mr. Bro. Wiley.
    I couldn’t keep my eyes off the sky. The clouds were dark again and sad, as if they were crying too. Mr. Bro. Wiley leaving was something to cry about.
    â€œLook like the storm is coming back, Papa.”
    â€œWell, I-I sure hope not, but the wind getting high again. White folk in town say a big storm is coming all the way from Jamaica.”
    â€œWhere’s that?”
    â€œI don’t know. I send you to school every day when it ain’t ’bacco and cotton season. You-you need to look at the globe and tell me.”
    â€œI hope the storm don’t get here ’fore the sittin’ up.”
    â€œNow-now, that ain’t in the books. Only the Lord knows that,” Papa said.
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    Mule Bennett finally made his way down to Low Meadows
Lane. The first person we saw when we got back on Low Meadows Lane was Ma’s only brother, Lionel. Everyone called him Goat. He was all dressed up like he was going to church with a nice straw hat that covered his gray hair and slightly hid the patch over the eye he lost in an accident at the sawmill.
    My uncle lived down on the riverbank in one of the old slave cabins that he fixed up. He even put a new floor in his house—a tile floor. He got the tile real cheap at the factory he used to work at over in Woodland. He got fired from there just like he did at the sawmill. He claimed he was sick with the flu, but his boss saw him over in Weldon shopping the same day. Now he can only work for Mr. Thomas and I reckon Papa keeps his brother-in-law’s lies a secret from his boss.
    Ma swears Uncle Goat is the biggest liar in Northampton County. Papa said that ain’t so. He said Uncle Goat is the biggest liar in the state of North Carolina. That’s how he got the nickname Goat. Ma said he eats the truth up faster than a goat eats grass. One day while we were picking butter beans from the garden that Ma loved so much, I asked her, “Is Uncle Goat as big a liar folks say he is?”
    â€œI’m afraid so, child. I don’t know where Goat got his lying from ’cause our daddy and ma were God-fearing folk that never told a lie a day in their lives that I know of. Goat lies to hear himself talk. It’s the way he is.
    â€œOne day I reckon all my brother’s lies gonna catch up with him. One day real soon.”
    â€œWell, how do you know when he’s lying, Ma?”
    â€œIt ain’t what he says. It’s this crazy look he gets in that one eye the Lord left him with. You want to see him mad, just catch him in a lie. Catch Goat in a lie, and he’s ready to fight.”
    â€œThat ain’t right.”
    â€œN’all, Son. That ain’t right,” Ma said. She kept on filling the old rusty bucket up with butter beans.
    â€œI reckon that’s why he ain’t got a wife?” I said.
    Ma wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand and laughed.
    â€œI reckon that’s the main reason. Now get back to work.”
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    â€œMornin’, Stanbury. Mornin’, Bean,” Uncle Goat called out when we got close.
    â€œHey, Uncle Goat.”
    â€œMornin’, Goat. You need a ride?” Papa asked. I knew he was wondering why Uncle Goat wasn’t in the field working.
    â€œI’ll walk. I’m gonna go to Jackson to see my gal.”
    Papa slowed Mule Bennett down so he could get a good look at my lying uncle.
    â€œJackson? Gal? What gal?” I thought to myself. He supposed to be working.
    â€œFine, but-but stop by and see your-your sister when you come back. Mr. Bro. Wiley died last night and Wife tore all to pieces.”
    Uncle Goat threw his arms in the air.
    â€œLord, I didn’t know. I’ll go to the house to see about Baby Sister when I get back.” Uncle Goat