Playing by the Rules: A Novel (19 page)

Nana picked up Saint and put her inside the house as if she wanted to spare the animal from the nasty confrontation. Then she returned to her garden in silence and continued working the rest of the afternoon.

By nightfall, Nana was exhausted and her back was aching. She ran a bath with Epsom salts and could have soaked for hours if Granddaddy hadn’t called her into the living room to see history in the making. After twenty minutes of winding down and giving her muscles a rest, she got out of the tub, dried off, put on her bathrobe, and went downstairs. She got there just in time to see Cicely Tyson receive a Best Actress award for her performance in the movie
The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman
. Last year, when Nana first heard it was coming on TV, she’d invited everyone over to her house to see it. The movie was so spectacular that it left
them all practically in tears, including Billy, although even to this day he would never admit it. Now Nana was watching Cicely win the Emmy Award for Best Actress, and the movie itself win for Best Drama. That was the good news. The bad news was that it made her think about the oppressive slave images, the struggle for freedom, and the hardships of plantation life that her ancestors experienced. Those were times that she wanted to push aside and the movie made her sad, thinking about that period of history all over again.

That night when she and Granddaddy went to bed, Nana prayed the gardening she’d done that day wouldn’t make her body ache with pains, or worse, throw out her back so she’d be unable to move in the morning. As she closed her eyes and finally sank into a comfortable sleep, the last thing she remembered hearing was barking. In her dream, there were the sounds of bloodhounds in the distance. She saw a young woman with twisted braids in a dirty white dress who looked to be about six months pregnant. Running through a tobacco field, then into a forest, the young woman holding her belly kept looking behind her as she continued her journey through the wetlands. Panting and out of breath, she stepped over rocks and fallen branches, trying to get herself and her unborn child out of harm’s way. Then the slave woman stopped long enough to feel the baby move in her stomach and seemed to be relieved. But the sound of bloodhounds grew louder and she began to panic.

Nana’s eyes popped wide open. Her body was shaking, waking up from her disturbing dream. Trembling in bed, her breathing was quick, and she put her hand across her chest to see if she was having a heart attack. She looked over to Granddaddy, who was sound asleep, and when her breath became steady and she didn’t die, she decided not to wake him up. She stared out the window
until her ears captured the sound of the great-horned owl chanting “hooo-hooo” and wondered who the woman was in her dream. It was almost dawn when she ventured downstairs to make some coffee. As she watched the liquid bubble inside the percolator, she decided to blame her dream on Cicely Tyson and
The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman
and swore off watching awards shows on television before bedtime ever again.

“I had the strangest dream last night,” Nana said to Sadie, Theola, and Vernelle as they sat on her front porch, working on their Dogwood quilt that was draped over the round white wicker table.

“What about?” asked Vernelle, chewing Chiclet gum with her white purse at her side. She carried the same white purse with her wherever she went, making it a permanent part of her wardrobe. It got to the point where some folks thought the purse held secrets that she wanted to guard inside, that she didn’t want to let out of her sight.

“It was about this slave woman,” said Nana, making a back-stitch on fabric cut into the shape of a green leaf.

“Did you watch that TV awards show last night?” asked Theola, putting her needle through the three layers of quilt. “That Cicely Tyson was something else in that Jane Pittman movie, wasn’t she?”

“Yes,” admitted Nana, looking at Theola. The white streak that blazed through her friend’s hair reminded her of a snow trail on a mountain. Almost every time she looked at Theola’s hair, it made her picture an image in black and white.

“Maybe that triggered it,” said Sadie, fanning herself with her free hand, in the middle of one of her hot flashes.

“That’s what I thought,” continued Nana. “But the young woman in my dream was obviously pregnant. She was running
away from a plantation and dogs were chasing after her. Poor thing kept rubbing her stomach.” Nana put both hands to her ears. “And those hound dogs were justa howlin’,” she complained. “Woke me up in a cold sweat.”

“That musta been truly awful, Ernestine. I imagine you must be exhausted, not getting any sleep,” said Vernelle, changing her hoop’s position while she swiped her nose with the back of her hand. Her allergies were acting up and her nose was itching. “Pollen is out today,” she added, looking at the air as if she could actually see the particles and prepare a defense against their next attack.

“It’s obvious to me,” said Theola. “That dream means that someone you know is pregnant.”

“Maybe it’s Elvira,” offered Sadie. “Wouldn’t that be good news?”

“Could be that someone’s chasing you,” added Vernelle. She dropped the hoop and sneezed into a tissue.

“I like Sadie’s idea,” said Nana. “Elvira being pregnant. I can’t wait to become a great-grandmother. You’re the midwife,” she said to Vernelle. “What do you know about pregnant-women dreams?”

“Well, I’m no expert. I only know how to deliver real babies.” Vernelle put the used tissue in her white purse and closed it, then screwed her hoop back into place. “I think it has to do with that show you saw on TV. The whole thing may be as simple as that.”

“Who else we know have anything to do with being a mama?” asked Sadie, looking up from her glasses.

“Y’all know Louise’s boyfriend is searching for his mama.”

They all looked from the quilt to Theola.

“Somebody said something ‘bout that at the church, ‘cause they seen the ad in the
Chronicle
a while ago.” Theola leaned over to Nana and whispered loudly. “At least I know Medford
used
to
be her boyfriend,” she added. “Lately, I’ve been seeing Louise and the Outsider out and about. Ain’t no secret they’ve been together.”

“I know. I seen ‘em too. Guess I have to take the blame for that. It’s ‘cause of that little girl that I encouraged them to stay.” Nana shook her head. “I thought I done right, but maybe I done wrong.”

Sadie patted Nana’s hand and added, “Medford ain’t had a mama since he was born. What that grown man look like lookin’ for a mama now? It just makes me think of Psalm 127, ‘Sons are a heritage from the Lord. Children a reward from him.’ Medford should just settle for that.”

“What I heard was he just wants to know his family,” said Vernelle. “Can’t blame him for takin’ an interest. You know what they say, ‘better late than never.’ ”

“Unless he’s using it as an excuse.” Theola examined her stitches closely to make sure they were even and in line.

“An excuse for what?” asked Nana.

“Not to get married,” declared Theola.

The Ladies looked at Theola, who sometimes said too much. This was one of those times when they wished they could wrap her white streak around her mouth to keep it shut.

“He’s in love with Louise,” defended Nana.

“Judging by what I seen lately, she ain’t in love with him,” retorted Theola as if she were an expert on the subject.

“Don’t be so harsh now, jumping to conclusions,” said Nana. “How you know what’s inside someone’s heart?”

“I don’t,” said Theola. “I’m just judging by what’s in they pants.”

“Theola, you are fresh!” said Sadie. “No wonder Clement keeps as far away from you as possible. He can see you got less sense than no money in the bank.”

“Aw. I just like to have fun, that’s all,” said Theola, throwing a
hand at Sadie. “Sex keeps you young and if you ain’t having it, trying to get it is the next best thing, and if that don’t work, talking about it at least makes you feel good.”

“Now what about this boy’s mama?” asked Vernelle in between sneezes, getting the conversation back on track.

“All I know is that he showed up in a basket on Clement’s doorstep one day. He thought about naming the baby Moses, but later thought better about it,” reflected Nana. “It’s a good thing he did.”

“Didn’t your husband investigate the incident?” asked Sadie, pushing her glasses back onto the bridge of her nose.

“Sure did,” replied Nana. “But it weren’t no lengthy investigation and since no one was harmed, they dropped it.”

“I remember when that happened,” proclaimed Theola, holding her hoop firmly into place.

“Folks just thought it was a blessing that a baby was heaven sent.” Vernelle took out another tissue and let out a sneeze that sounded like it came from a tuba.

“But the truth is, babies do got mamas,” said Theola, holding her hoop to her face to scrutinize her stitches. As the only member of the group who didn’t wear glasses, she was determined to keep it that way, despite the fact that she was farsighted and couldn’t see anything close. “I just think the poor fella is walking down a dead-end road.”

“Ernestine, how long you gonna keep the Outsider in town?” Sadie asked, switching topics again. “You know that ain’t right,” she added.

“Because of the girl…Ruby Rose, I said they could stay until the Annual County Fair,” Nana answered.

“How she doin’?” asked Vernelle.

“Ain’t seen the chile in over a month. Poor thing is having a bit
of a hard time with her brother being with Louise,” said Nana. “I am too, to tell you the truth, but I think it’s making the girl hateful.” Nana shook her head in disgust.

“‘… for man’s anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires,’ ” said Vernelle, ending her Scripture quote with a sniffle.

“I can’t imagine,” said Theola, feeling sympathetic. “Growing up without a mother. Now the only family she’s got is off galavantin’ with some hussy.”

Sadie and Vernelle turned to each other and gasped.

“Excuse me,” Nana said. “That ‘hussy’ is my granddaughter.” This time when Nana looked at Theola, the white part in the middle of her hair looked like it had been painted on with a brush.

“Nothing personal intended, Ernestine,” Theola said apologetically. “No reflection on you, of course.”

“I know you been preoccupied with your tomatoes,” Vernelle said to Nana. She took a pack of Chiclets from her purse and passed it around the table. “And I know it’s not foremost on your mind, but don’t let them hang around like clothes in a closet or age spots on your skin. Girl or no girl, they are Outsiders and they can’t stay permanent.”

“All I can say is, while he’s here he can keep making me hawthorne root tea. It helps keep my blood pressure down. It’s cheaper than going to a doctor and it works,” stated Sadie. “I just hope he gives me the recipe before he leaves.”

“I hate to say it, but the slippery elm bark tea he gave me for my heartburn did the trick,” added Vernelle. “But I may have to schedule some laying-on-of-hands time to help my hip. I must confess, I’m glad you’re not getting rid of him too soon.”

“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout,” giggled Theola, turning
her head to Nana. “And don’t kick him out before I get Clement in there to see him, Ernestine. ‘Cause maybe he’s got something in that bag of his to make opposites attract.”

“You’re as twisted as a branch on a dogwood.” Sadie shook her head. “There’s absolutely no help for you.”

Theola laughed so hard, she made the whole table shake.

“Y’all hear the gas shortage is finally over?” asked Vernelle to get the conversation going again.

“Hallelujah!” sang Nana, checking the back of the quilt to look for a wrinkle or a tuck.

“No more sitting in lines. No high prices. No odd-or-even days,” said Theola.

“I don’t know why you care, Theola. You ride your bike most days.”

“I know. I’m just tired of y’all complaining.”

They all laughed.

“You smell that?” asked Sadie, sniffing the air with her glasses at the tip of her nose.

Vernelle tried to sniff, but her sinuses were clogged as if the pollen had turned to cotton that someone had shoved up her nose.

“Ummhmm … sure smells good,” said Theola. “Smells like it might be coming from the cottage. Don’t tell me that boy can cook too… oooh weee!”

“Cool your jets, Theola,” Sadie said, waving her hand because she felt another hot flash coming.

“Ernestine, you might have another kind of problem on your hands,” said Vernelle, cutting her eyes in Theola’s direction.

“Never mind me,” Theola declared. “I ain’t thinking about that boy, but I know who is.” She locked eyes with Nana. “The problem Ernestine might have is another granddaughter, namely Louise, in violation of Rule Number One: ‘Never Marry an Outsider. If You Do, the Boll Weevil Will Bite You Back.’ ”

Theola’s comment scared Nana half to death, and she had to call Louise for her own peace of mind.

“Did you read that book,
The Correct Thing to Do, to Say, to Wear
?” Nana blurted out, bypassing “hello.”

“I read parts of it,” confessed Louise, hearing the agitation in Nana’s voice.