Page from a Tennessee Journal (AmazonEncore Edition)

voice call through the open kitchen door.
    “Eula, when you bring out your plates, would you grab some for my table, too?” Belle may have been an ongoing irritant for Cora Lee, but Eula had long ago gotten used to the ways of her sister-in-law.
    If she hadn’t married Eula’s youngest brother, little Belle would have been the one scrubbing and cooking for others, and not the hired colored girl she liked to flaunt in front of Eula. Trying to balance the heavy platter of chicken, Eula struggled to slide the big bowl of greens next to it without spilling everything. Now, if she could just grab the pan of sweet potatoes, she could get out of the kitchen in just one food trip. Eula was smiling to herself as she started her careful way across the kitchen floor with her burden when she heard the baby’s cry.
    “Momma, he just won’t take it. Can’t you speak to Papa?” Tillie’s shrill voice verged on the hysterical.
    Eula stopped and turned as she carefully reset all the serving dishes back onto Fedora’s table. She walked toward the back bedroom where the commotion was getting even louder.
    “Hush up, Tillie,” Fedora hissed at her daughter. “If you can just keep yourself still and stop that dratted screeching, the baby will take the tit.”
    Even though the window was open to capture the windless air, Fedora’s forehead was beaded with sweat. She stood alternately jostling Tillie’s two-month-old son in her arms and pushing the infant’s mouth at Tillie’s exposed breast.
    The baby, Little Ben, was as red as the strawberries due to come in next month. The little arms and legs flailed in all directions.
    “Fedora. Tillie. Can I get you all somethin’ to help out with Little Ben?” Eula stood in the doorway.
    Being around babies still upset her, but the frantic scene in the room compelled her to offer whatever help she could. Both women turned their heads in her direction. Tears streamed down Tillie’s cheeks. Tillie squirmed in the rocker her mother wouldn’t let her leave, her hair hanging in loosening strings from its pompadour. Every time Fedora tried to push Little Ben’s mouth onto her nipple, Tillie flapped her hands hopelessly in the air and rocked away from the baby.
    “It ain’t workin’,” Tillie screamed at Eula. “Please, Auntie, talk to my father. I need Hettie.”
    “Hush yo’ mouth before I smack you one.” Fedora crooked the baby in her arm as she turned to the bedside table in the back room and dipped her finger into a half empty jar of honey.
    Apparently uncaring of the sticky trail dripping across her carpet and her bedcovering, Fedora walked over to Tillie and smeared the honey on her daughter’s nipple. The girl reacted as though her mother had caught her breast in a wood vise.
    “Noooo.” Tillie looked like she could swoon at any moment.
    Eula hurried over and stood between mother and daughter, her heart racing. “My Lord, is there somethin’ wrong with Little Ben?” She stared at the squalling infant, too frightened to reach out a hand to comfort her great-nephew.
    “He’s starvin’ to death is all, Aunt Eula. Starvin’ to death because of my father.” Tillie shoved her breast back under the cloth of her bodice.
    “He’s doin’ no such thing. You’re the mother. You can feed him.” Fedora held the baby in her arms as he frantically nuzzled at his grandmother’s clothed chest.
    “He does look hungry, Fedora.” The last thing Eula wanted was to challenge her sister-in-law.
    “He’s hungry because Hettie’s not here to feed him.” Tillie rocked the chair hard. Eula feared she might just pitch forward and fall flat on her face.
    “He drinks Hettie’s milk best. ’Sides, mine is ’bout dried up. I can’t wet-nurse no baby. Momma didn’t wet-nurse me.” Tillie shot an accusing eye at Fedora. “Grandma Thornton didn’t wet-nurse you, Aunt Eula. Only colored did that. Why should I have to wet-nurse this baby?” Tillie folded her arms tight under her breasts, making them poke out all the more.
    “Because it’s an emergency. There’s plenty of milk still in there if you just let this baby get started.” Fedora took her free hand and pushed on Tillie’s breast, setting up fresh howls from the young woman.
    Eula knew better than to inquire on the whereabouts of Hettie.
    “Emergency? Emergency?” Tillie’s voice screamed out of her mouth. “You call having to cook for some family in Clarksville an emergency?”
    “Your papa owed her to