Roots_ The Saga of an American Family - Alex Haley [328]
Tom shook his head. “I’se got to do better—”
“Sho’ wish Virgil an’ dem was he’pin’ mo’.”
“Can’t blame dem. Hire-out fiel’ work jes’ hard to fin’, ’cause mos’ massas needin’ it hires free niggers what works fit to kill deyselves to git dat twenty-five cents a day less’n dey starves. I jes’ got to make mo’! Gran’mammy, Sister Sarah, an’ Miss Malizy, dey’s all gittin’ ol’!”
“Yo’ gran’mammy right roun’ sebenty now, an’ Sarah an’ Malizy nigh ’bout eighty.”
A sudden thought struck Matilda; her features took on a faraway expression. “Tom, you know what jes’ come to me? Yo’ gran’mammy use to say her African pappy kep’ up wid how ol’ he was by droppin’ l’il rocks in a gourd. You ’member her sayin’ dat?”
“Yas’m, sho’ does.” He paused. “Wonder how ol’ was he?”
“Ain’t never heard, leas’ not to my recollection.” A puzzlement grew on her face. “Would ’pend when was you talkin’ ’bout. He’d o’ been one age when Gran’mammy Kizzy was sol’ from him an’ her mammy. Den he’d o’ been ’nother age whenever de Lawd claimed’im—” She hesitated. “Wid Gran’mammy pushin’ seb’nty, you know her pappy got to be long dead’n gone. Her mammy, too. Po’ souls!”
“Yeah—” said Tom, musing. “Sometime I wonders what dey looked like. Done heared so much ’bout ’em.”
Matilda said, “Me, too, son.” She straightened in her chair. “But gittin’ back to yo’ gran’mammy, Sarah, an’ Malizy, every night down on my knees, I jes’ ax de Lawd to be wid ’em an’ I prays any day yo’ pappy git dere wid lump o’ money in ’is pocket an’ buy’em.” She laughed brightly. “One mawnin’ we looks up an’ dere all fo’ be, free as birds!”
“Dat be sho’ one sight to see!” grinned Tom.
A silence fell between them, each in their private thoughts. Tom was pondering that now was as good a time and atmosphere as any to confide in his mother something he had kept carefully guarded from anyone, but which now did seem likely to develop further.
He used as his avenue an earlier query of Matilda’s. “Mammy, while back you ax if ’n I ever think maybe ’bout gittin’ married?”
Matilda jerked upright, her face and eyes alight. “Yeah, son?”
Tom could have kicked himself for ever having brought it up. He all but squirmed seeking how to go on. Then, firmly, “Well, I’se kinda met a gal, an’ we been talkin’ some—”
“Lawd-a-mussy, Tom! Who?”
“Ain’t nobody you knows! Her name Irene. Some calls ’er ’Reeny.’ She b’longst to dat Massa Edwin Holt, work in dey big house—”
“De rich Massa Holt massa and missis talks ’bout own dat cotton mill on Alamance Creek?”
“Yas’m—”
“Dey big house where you put up dem pretty window grills?”
“Yas’m—” Tom’s expression was rather like that of a small boy caught taking cookies.
“Lawd!” A beaming spread across Matilda’s face. “Somebody cotched ol’ coon at las’!” Springing up, suddenly embracing her embarrassed son, she burbled, “I’se so happy fo’ y’all, Tom, sho’ is!”
“Hol’ on! Hol’ on, Mammy!” Extricating himself, he gestured her back toward her chair. “I jes’ say we been talkin’.”
“Boy, you’s my close-mouthdes’ young’un since you first drawed breath! If you ’mits you’s much as seed a gal, I know it mo’ to it dan dat!”
He all but glared at her. “Don’ want no whisperin’ to nobody, you hear me?”
“I know massa buy ’er fo’ you, boy! Tell me mo’ ’bout ’er, Tom!” So much was tumbling in Matilda’s head that it poured out together... across the back of her mind flashed a vision of the wedding cakes she would bake...
“Gittin’ late, got to go—” But she beat him to the door. “So glad somebody be catchin’ all y’all young’uns fo’ long! You’s jes’ my bes’!” Matilda’s laughter was the happiest Tom had seen her in a long time. “Gittin’ older, guess I’se same as Gran’mammy Kizzy, wantin’ mo’ gran’chilluns!” Tom brushed past, hearing her as he strode outside, “I live long ’nough, might even see some great-gran’chilluns!”
CHAPTER 106
A Sunday several months before, Massa and Missis Murray had returned home from church, and the massa almost immediately rang the bell for Matilda, whom he told to have Tom come around to the front porch.