Page from a Tennessee Journal (AmazonEncore Edition)

a friend. It’s not for you nor me to question what Ben Roy says or does. He had to honor his word.” There was a catch in Fedora’s throat. “Fact is, Hettie ain’t here today, and she ain’t settin’ foot in this house no matter how much you scream and shout. And somebody’s got to feed this baby.”
    “Did Hettie send any milk with him?” Eula ventured.
    A colored woman could be milked like a cow and the liquid dripped into an empty Mason jar, Eula knew. Tillie aimed a trembling finger toward the carpetbag on the bed. Fedora stood unmoving, staring at it. Eula crossed the short distance to the bed and pulled out the Mason jar full of Hettie’s milk. Without warning, Fedora thrust Little Ben into Eula’s arms and started toward the door. Eula hadn’t held a baby in more than twenty years. Doc Starter wouldn’t let her hold her daughter after the girl had been born dead. He wouldn’t even hand the body to Alex. Eula dropped to the bed, fighting to control her own misery. The squealing child soothed enough to allow her to unscrew the lid to the jar. Unsure what to do next, she looked toward Tillie who shrugged her shoulders at the doorway. Fedora turned around.
    “Dip your finger in and see if he will suck it off ’n them. I ain’t touchin’ it.” Fedora answered Eula’s unspoken question.
    Eula stared at the jar of mother’s milk, and her own eyes clouded with tears.
    “What’s goin’ on in here?” The sound of Belle’s voice snapped Eula’s head up. “Oh, come on, let me do that. You all act like you ain’t never fed a baby milk from a wet nurse befo’.” Belle pulled Little Ben out of Eula’s arms.
    Dipping her fingers into the jar, Belle poked them into the baby’s mouth.
    The child sucked on Belle’s fingers from tip to knuckle.
    “This little one’s sure hungry.” Belle looked at the Mason jar. “I’m surprised Hettie’s got enough milk to fill that thing up. Fedora, ain’t she nursin’ for two?” Belle pulled out a square of clean cloth from the carpetbag, dipped it into the Mason jar, and gave it to Little Ben.
    Fedora remained silent.
    “Colored women have lots of milk.” A calming Tillie spoke up. “Her boy’s four months. He eats after Little Ben’s had his fill.” Tillie buttoned her shirtwaist.
    The baby’s slurping could be heard throughout the room. Belle dipped the cloth into the milk while Little Ben fussed at its temporary absence.
    “Fedora, don’t that make three yella-skinned children Hettie’s dropped?” Belle slipped the soaked cloth into the baby’s mouth as Fedora turned in slow motion toward the door and moved her feet across the threshold.
    Before she had gotten out of earshot, Eula’s youngest sister-in-law turned on the next woman in the room.
    “Eula, I do believe I saw that tenant of yours comin’ out of the nigger church on Sunday.” Belle soaked the cloth.
    Every time Belle, who hadn’t made it beyond the fourth grade, used that profane word, Eula winced. How could her baby brother have married a woman so unrefined?
    “I’m not right sure what you believe, Belle. What tenant you talkin’ about?” When Eula thought of the exchange in all the years to come, she would remember that Belle had led her into that trap like a fox treeing a rabbit.
    “That nigg…, uh, colored woman on your mid-forty. What’s her name?” Belle must have caught the frost in Eula’s voice.
    “You talkin’ about Welles? That family tenant farmed our mid-forty last year?”
    Glancing at Little Ben, Eula stood and started toward the door. Through the kitchen window, she could see Fedora standing outside, apart from the others.
    “That ain’t the way I hear it.” The smirk in Belle’s voice matched the one on her face.
    “I heard her man’s been gone for almost a year.” Belle’s voice sounded like it wanted to sing a church solo.
    Standing in the doorway, Eula finally turned to her sister-in-law. What was the woman trying to say to her now?
    “Nothin’ to it. Alex hired a man to bring in the crop last fall, is all. Everthin’ worked out just fine.” She knew she should move her feet as fast as she could after the escaped Fedora. But, something in that curious look on Belle’s face held her fast.
    “I saw that Welles woman steppin’ out of Bobby Lee’s store with her belly ’bout as big as an August watermelon. And, the way she was dressed, I don’t think I’ve ever seen such fancy on a nigger in all my life.” Belle put