Trouble's Child by Mildred Pitts; Walter Page B

One’s medicine; one’s poison. You’s gonna have t’ know, never guess.”
    Martha’s doubts surfaced and she felt uneasy. “Granma, do I have t’ keep all this in m’ head? Can’t we write it down?”
    â€œT’ do this work, girl, take mo’n knowin. Take bein gifted. Tis a way o’ livin. Yuh can’t do this work wid jus yo hands n mind. You mus have the spirit. If it’s writ down then anybody that read could think they know it. This is meant only fuh a few and you one o’ em. I’ll teach yuh and yo good works’ll tract the nex one fuh the mantle t’ fall on. You special, Mat.”
    Martha wanted to cry out, What yuh mean, special? She could not keep all that Titay knew in her head. She had learned a lot from her grandmother, but there was just too much to store in her mind.
    Her thoughts kept wandering back to her work at home and to Hal. Would he continue to live on the edge of the island, or would he leave soon? He wasn’t like them at all, with his strange clothes, his talk so different and his odd ways, moving up and down shore with his nets, bottles and papers. People wondered, but Martha was not about to explain what he was doing.
    As she chopped roots and gathered leaves, she daydreamed about the time she had gone on the boat. There were so many things she should have asked then.… Did women where he came from marry at fifteen?
    â€œMat, girl, where yo mind?” Titay asked. “Fill yo basket.”
    With the basket filled at last, Martha walked ahead of Titay down the trail back toward home.
    Near the chinaberry tree Ocie was enjoying the sun on that cool day. She waited for the younger girls to come to her to take their lessons: to learn to plait hair, to make pillows from moss and to protect themselves and smaller ones from poisonous snakes and plants. Ocie would soon be ready to replace Gert, who had supervised Ocie’s training.
    â€œHey, Mat,” Ocie called, “got a minute?”
    â€œI’m busy.”
    â€œGimme the basket and go see er,” Titay said.
    As Martha walked over to Ocie she churned inside with worry. Seeing Ocie sharpened Martha’s guilt for wanting to leave the island. Ocie was satisfied here and the island was at ease with Ocie. And why not? Hadn’t she quilted, and married soon after? Hadn’t she, as had many women, made her gift to the Gulf?
    â€œGirl, guess what’s happenin?” Ocie asked.
    â€œWhat?” Martha found a warm spot on the grass.
    â€œThat stranger gonna stay on. Mebee fish.”
    â€œThe men won’t fish with im,” Martha said drily, as though she hadn’t given it a thought.
    â€œThey will, yes,” Ocie said with authority. “They might be usin his boat.”
    â€œWho say sich?”
    â€œOh, tis round.”
    â€œThat’s no proof he’s stayin, no.”
    â€œThe men visit im evey day.”
    Martha showed no sign of the excitement she felt.
    Ocie went on. “The women all say he make a fine ketch of a husband. Mebbe Titay speak t’ im fuh you, yes?”
    Martha looked up and the frown on her face and the look of anger in her eyes made Ocie say, “But yo hand’s out soon, yes?”
    â€œI ain’t thinkin bout no gittin married,” Martha said quickly. She picked at the grass.
    â€œYou will after yuh show yo quiltin patten.”
    Martha sensed that Ocie wanted to talk, to be friendly. And Martha wanted to talk too, if only to find out what the people thought about Hal. Did they know she had been on his boat? There were so many things she wanted to know, yet she was afraid to ask questions. She might reveal more than she wanted known.
    Finally she said, “I gotta go.” She didn’t look at Ocie as she got up from the grass.
    â€œWait, you don’t,” Ocie pleaded.
    Martha was tempted to stay awhile longer, but the thought of gossip frightened her.