Page from a Tennessee Journal (AmazonEncore Edition)

off of Thornton land. Still, every Sunday she would come by here to visit yo’ grandma Charity.” She took a deep draw on the relit pipe. “Yo’ grandma Charity had herself a man caller by the name of Jessie. Much younger than yo’ grandma. I swear to goodness, that grandma of your’n was a high stepper.”
    Becky had slipped back in time. Suppose Annalaura couldn’t bring her aunt back in time to help?
    “I ain’t gonna dwell on it.” Becky slumped back in the chair. “Jessie forced yo’ momma and she come up with a baby she didn’t want to tell yo’ daddy about.”
    “Forced her? Forced her to do wh…” Dawning shock stopped the word in Annalaura’s mouth. “You mean he…like…you?”
    “No. Not like us. Jessie wasn’t white. He knew better’n to take what wasn’t his. Yo’ momma was married to yo’ daddy just like you is married to John Welles. A black man should know to respect that. Yo’ momma was powerful ’shamed and didn’t tell nobody ’til it was too late. Just like you. Ain’t none of us knowed it ’til the conjure woman come up and told us Geneva was near ’bout dead. I fetched me a wagon off of young Ben Thornton and lit out for the conjure woman’s house. Got yo’ momma back home.”
    Annalaura almost lost her perch on the chair. “Auntie, what are you saying?” The words cut her throat. “Momma died of the consumption.”
    “I tell you like it was. Yo’ momma died befo’ the rooster crowed that next mornin’. Died with Jessie’s baby still half in her.” Rebecca clamped her eyes shut.
    “Momma died with a conjure woman? Died because of a baby?” Annalaura shook her head. “Daddy? What about my daddy? Did he know? Did he kill the man?”
    “Jessie lit out of here even befo’ yo’ grandma left for Oklahoma, and don’t nobody know where he went.”
    “I’ll fix you some herbs that’ll help yo’ baby’s color come in darker.” Becky’s regular voice returned. “Best when a white man’s chile come out tan. Less trouble that way. Chile can be passed off as a throwback. My Johnny came out white.” Aunt Becky drifted off into that other place where her Johnny still lived.
    Annalaura could see by the rheumy stare in her aunt’s eyes that she wasn’t coming back this day.
    Annalaura pushed herself up from the chair and headed for the door. “I thank you kindly for the soup.”
    “You got fo’ chil’ren. I’m too old to raise another dead woman’s young ’uns. No conjure woman.” Aunt Becky shut her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. The creaking rocker sped up.
     
     
    No conjure woman. That’s what Aunt Becky had said. The sun had passed its height two hours ago. The sky threatened snow again. Annalaura made every step she took on the long walk home a slow one. Iced-over rutted ponds did not bother her this time. She needed every precious moment of this trip to plan out a way to keep Alex from knowing that this baby was his. There was no need to congratulate herself on her morning efforts. She had tried every lovemaking trick John had ever shown her, and some others that just popped into her head when she lay with Alex. This morning, every frisky move kept the man’s mind off babies, but in a few weeks, all of Lawnover would know of her pregnancy. She would give it her best efforts, but she couldn’t be sure if a repeat performance would keep Alex’s mind occupied on her, and off his baby. John Welles was a different story.
    She’d felt it in her marrow ever since August, but sometimes that little flicker of hope that John might find his way back to his children jumped into her head. But when her husband let Christmas pass without a sign, she knew she’d been right all along. John Welles was gone. Even so, word of the baby would get to him wherever he was, and as certain as colored would always tend tobacco, he would divorce her. Annalaura stopped by the side of the lane, standing no more than two feet away from an iced-over puddle. She waited to catch her breath from the flip-flopping of her heart. She clutched the coat to her chest. Despite his cattin’ around with every flirting colored woman in Lawnover and his gambling ways, John had his loving side.
    But every time she thought she could feel real love for John Welles, he would up and disappear for weeks at a time.
    Hard as it was, she could manage the loss of her husband at her side because she never really had all of him anyway. But divorce was a cold, final thing.