A Day to Pick Your Own Cotton - Michael R. Phillips [75]
Emma looked at her in surprise.
“I reckon so, Miz Aleta. He probably be ’bout ready fer sleep. His tummy’s full er milk.”
“Can I take him into the parlor and rock him in the rocking chair?”
“Yes’m, Miz Aleta. Dat be fine. Jes’ put a towel under him in case he make a mess from one end or da other.”
Katie went out with Emma to help her get the water to bathe in the washtub. When she was finished and drying up, Katie went back into the house. As she entered the kitchen she heard the soft sound of singing coming from the parlor. Slowly she stole across the kitchen floor to the door.
There sat Aleta slowly rocking William and quietly singing.
“Day is dying in the west, angels watching over me, my Lord.
Sleep my child and take your rest, angels watching over me.
All night, all day … angels watching over me, my Lord.
All night, all day … angels watching over me.
Now I lay me down to sleep, angels watching over me, my Lord.
Pray the Lord my soul to keep, angels watching over me.
All night, all day … angels watching over me, my Lord.
All night, all day … angels watching over me.”
Slowly Katie walked into the room.
“Where did you learn that?” she asked.
“Mayme taught it to me.”
“It was beautiful, Aleta. William must like it too—he’s sound asleep.”
Katie sat down and began humming the tune again, and in another minute they were both quietly singing it together.
A few minutes later they heard the sound of Emma’s footsteps. Before she was even into the room, she was humming along in high harmony. When she saw her little son sleeping in Aleta’s lap, she said a surge of motherly affection went through her heart like she’d never felt before.
She sat down and slowly the song came to an end and the room grew quiet. It was Emma who first broke the silence.
“We got ter do sumfin ’bout poor Mayme, Miz Katie,” she said.
“I don’t know what to do, Emma.”
“But we got to, Miz Katie. I don’ think we can do dis alone, ’cause I ain’t like Mayme. I can’t do things like she can. You an’ she’s always havin’ ter take care er me, an’ I ain’t smart like the two er you an’ I’m feared sumfin sick ob what’s ter become ob us if Mayme don’ come back. Yer real smart, Miz Katie, an’ yer so good ter me, but I ain’t gwine be much help like you need.”
“You’ve been a big help, Emma,” said Katie. “And you’re learning to do more things all the time. And you’re taking fine care of William.”
“Oh, Miz Katie, yer jes’ always so nice, but I knows dat I ain’t got da brains in my head dat you gots in one hand. So I’m jes’ sayin dat we gots ter do sumfin’. Cause dis is all my fault, an’ poor Miz Mayme wouldn’t be in dis fix ’cept fer me bein’ such a cocked loon wiff dat bad egg.”
“It’s not your fault, Emma. Sometimes bad things just happen.”
“Miz Mayme wouldn’t be in dis fix ’cept fer me, an’ if I know what she’s doin’ right now, it’s dat she’s not tellin ’em where I’s at. She’s in danger on account er me. So it’s my fault, Miz Katie, an’ we gotter do sumfin ’cause if dey git riled enough dey’s bound ter string her up. I seen what whites kin do when dey git riled. I member where I was at afore when dey strung up an ole uncle jes’ ’cause a chicken was missin’. An’ dat William McSimmons, he’s a mean one when he wants ter be. So we gotter go help her. I’s gotter try ter do sumfin.”
Katie thought a minute.
“All right, then, Emma,” she said. “I’ll go back to the McSimmons place. I don’t know what I will do, but you’re right, I have to try to do something.”
“Dat ain’t what I said, Miz Katie. I said I’s gotter try ter do sumfin. So if you’s goin, den I’m goin’ wiff you.”
“What about William?” asked Katie.
“I’ll take care of him, Katie,” Aleta now said eagerly.
“Can you stay here alone, Aleta?” Katie asked. “Without getting scared?”
“Yes, I promise. I’ve seen you feed him out of the bottle sometimes, and I know how to clean him if he makes a mess. And if someone comes, we’ll hide in the cellar.”
Katie turned again to Emma. “Aren’t you afraid of being seen, Emma?” she asked.
“I reckon I am. But if dat’s what’s gotter