The Big House: Story of a Southern Family (Book 1)

By J. Keck

"I don't know how Mama knew Daddy was going to hurt us," Minnie says. She yanked us out of the bed and over to the wall. The door flew open. There was a huge explosion! Daddy had fired his shotgun into our bed."
Minnie leaves boarding school to spend the summer at The Big House, her cherished Grandpa's home. She enjoys adventure, but she also learns of the dangers posed by the land and a river that can seduce the unwary. The arrival of Minnie's great-grandmother provides her with a fearless female role model, as well as tales of the elderly woman's antebellum past and how she survived the Civil War. She also learns of her Grandpa's struggle to build a post-Civil War cotton and lumber empire in a wilderness of swamps, disease, and treacherous men willing to steal and murder.
Minnie's valuable lessons: one must face one's fears head-on, and one must never willingly become a victim. At the close of Summer young Minnie experiences devasting uheaval, but her innate courage allows her to face her fears . . . and to eventually triumph over them.

A Gold Medal winner of the 2015 Global eBook Awards, this story is poignant, heartbreaking in turns, and empowering, transporting the reader into the heart and soul of a bygone era. A timeless story, it reflects the very best of the American character when confronting adversity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Apr 20, 2012
• ISBN: 9780985032302

Book preview

youth.

Part One

CHAPTER 1

NO TIME FOR TEARS

Memphis 1925

I

saw the look in his eyes at dinner and I knew there was trouble comin’. Daddy started drinking early when he got home. By the time dinner was on the table, he wanted to fight, but he didn’t start off fighting.

He slouched back in his chair—casual-like—and his eyes narrowed like a big cat’s. Ladies, tell me what cha’ll been doin’ today? He waited. He just waited for Mama, Jeanette or me to say something, anything. Then he started to pick at it—the tone was wrong; it was insulting or disrespectful.

"You’re not sayin’ what you really mean."

I reached up and tugged at my locket, running my fingers along its heart-shaped edge. Knowing that Mama’s picture was inside gave me a sense of comfort until I saw her look sharply over at me. I stopped and lowered my hands below the table, flicking at the corner of my napkin and dreading what might happen next.

Unblinking, Mama stared at him, her gaze unwavering. The flush on her neck said she was already angry.

Go on, ladies. He leaned forward slowly and deliberately, arms outstretched, his big hands gripping the corners of the table. Go on, y’all can tell me, he said menacingly.

Daddy squinted at us, looking first at Jeanette and me, then at Mama. Jeanette and I nervously eyed each other, not sure what he wanted to hear—what would appease him, what would not provoke him. When we hesitated too long, he slammed his fist on the table and exploded, "You goddamn women, sittin’ there colludin’ against me! Colludin’! I’ll not have this goin’ on in my house. I swear I’ll—"

Glaring at Mama he stood up, furious, lifted his hand and made a fist. Seeing Jeanette and I flinch, he reached down and grabbed his plate of food. This . . . he yelled. This is slop! Just plain slop! Wouldn’t feed it to a lousy pig! You and that cook are just trying to kill me, woman. Kill me. I’m gonna—

Daddy flung the plate across the room. He threw it so hard that the food held to the plate until everything crashed against the wall. Meatloaf and vegetables fell to the floor, tomato sauce splattered the pale blue wall, bright red clots of sauce oozing and sliding down its smooth surface and over the hardwood floor to the edge of the Persian carpet.

Jeanette and I sat there, scared, not knowing what to do or what to say. Only Mama bolted up from her chair, glaring at Daddy. Neither of them backed down. They just stood there and glowered at each other.

Now see what you’ve done! Daddy’s hands were clenched, fists made for fighting—for hurting someone. He took a step toward Mama, but Mama’s jaw was clenched. She was really fuming. Then, he stopped, frozen muscles in his face and body struggling to release their tension. His shoulders dropped abruptly. He lowered his arms to his sides, though his hands remained clenched. Daddy took a deep breath and grimaced, trying to make his lips form a smile. He shook his head. You shouldn’t make me get so angry, Nora . . . especially in front of the children. You know better than to do that, Mama, he said, almost imploringly.

We heard the cold rage in his voice. The corner of his upper lip rose slightly and quivered, exposing the sharp eyetooth. "We’ll deal with this later, woman, in private." He sighed, as if—once again—he were forced to correct an obstinate child. Daddy turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.

A well-educated Yankee, he had been talking like the men who worked for him on his riverboats, which he knew got under Mother’s skin. Though she’d be the last to admit it, even she dropped her g’s when she got either tired or angry.

Seeing Mama’s gaze follow Daddy out of the room, I realized she’d stood her ground, not cowering or yielding to him. She bent over and picked up her napkin off the carpet and sat down in her chair. Mama took a deep breath, lowering her eyes to her lap where she straightened and smoothed out the cloth. Without lifting her head, Mama said, Minnie, Jeanette, her voice quavering not from fear, but from anger, go on now and eat your dinner; it’ll get cold.

She looked up and addressed us directly, her voice softening noticeably. "Don’t mind Daddy, he’s just tired. One of his boats almost sank in the river—the paddle wheel or something went wrong, causing him a lot of grief. Says bringing down Grandpa’s cotton and the load he picked up here in Memphis was too much for it. So he had to load some of it onto the Whisper, then he’ll take both the boats down to New Orleans."

We sat there not saying a word, just nodding our heads. Mama had never talked to us like this before—like we were grownups. I almost felt privileged that she’d speak her mind in this way.

He told me neither one of them was fully loaded. It’s gonna cost him extra to do that—the trip down—but he had to do it since he was runnin’ late on the delivery. Tomorrow . . . Mama, looking tired, took a deep breath, went on, "He’s goin’ up river with the Johnny to pick up a load. He didn’t want to use the Johnny like that—on such short notice. He’s gonna be short one man. Looks like he’ll be piloting the Johnny. Oh, my. She took another deep breath. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. To be fair, your daddy’s got his worries."

Looking at us but not really seeing us, Mama caught herself thinking out loud and called Annie. Annie, could you come in? Annie . . . ? As the cook came through the kitchen door, Mama pointed to the splattered wall.

There’s been an accident.

Yes, Ma’am. Annie walked over to the food and broken china lying on the floor. Without a word she reached down and began to pick up the broken pieces of the plate, laying them carefully on the palm of her hand. I’ll bring back the bucket, Miz Nora, and clean up.

Mama, I didn’t mean to say anything that—

Minnie! Just . . . eat your dinner. We won’t talk about this anymore.

Yes, Ma’am, I said respectfully, not wanting to be on the other side of her anger. I looked over at Annie, catching her eye. She didn’t say anything but turned slowly to go back to the kitchen.

Oh, yes . . . Mama paused. Y’all sleep together tonight. Minnie you go and stay in Jeanette’s room. Hear me?

Yes, Ma’am, we said together. I reached under the table and grabbed Jeanette’s hand. It was ice cold and limp. I squeezed her hand, but she still didn’t respond.

Later that evening, I could hear Daddy yelling at Mama. I lay there in bed with Jeanette. The rain was coming down real hard, but the sound of the rain couldn’t cover up what was happening inside of our house—in their bedroom. I heard Mama cry out. He must’ve hit her. I suspected Mama had said something really mean (maybe calling him a low-class Yankee), because he yelled back at her, I’ll fix y’all!

A long, scary silence followed. Not long afterward, I heard someone coming down the hall. The door to the bedroom opened, and I saw Mama standing there. The light in the hall made her look taller, her long golden hair pulled up atop her head. She closed the door, climbing into bed with Jeanette and me as if nothing had happened.

She whispered, You girls be quiet and go to sleep. We all heard Daddy coming down the hall, stumbling and shouting, I’ll fix y’all!

The next moment—I don’t know what made Mama know Daddy was going to try to hurt us—she grabbed both of us by the hand and yanked us out of the bed. Rushing us across the room, Mama pressed her back tight against the wall behind the door, pulled us close in front of her, and covered our mouths with her hands. I could hardly breathe. The door flew open. There was a huge explosion. Daddy had fired his shotgun into the room, aiming it right at the bed!

Pillows and the comforter erupted; feathers mushroomed into a gigantic plume up to the ceiling and spread out across the room, each feather slowly, eerily drifting down like snowflakes, some of them landing on us. I don’t know why, but at that moment I thought of dandelions, remembering what it was like to blow on the fuzzy puffballs and watch them explode, the silvery strands floating in the air in the field next to the Big House, Grandpa’s house in the Arkansas delta. We would chase them as they were caught on a warm summer breeze, right up to the house where I followed one of them around the back corner when—

I almost ran right into Marie, who was Grandpa’s cook and Annie’s mother. Marie was holding the chicken next to her breast, talking to it real sweet. "Mrs. Johnson, that’s right, ma chere, that’s right . . . just a li’l—"

That surprised me. I had always been told not to give a farm animal a name, not to make it a pet.

Marie paused, laid the chicken down on a wood block. Just a li’l longer, just—

And now I could see Marie had a knife in her hand, bringing the blade down swiftly, cutting Mrs. Johnson’s head off in one swift motion. The headless chicken started jerking and twitching hard. Blood spurted out and hit me. My face and new white dress were spotted with chicken blood! I stood there stunned and shocked and frightened.

Marie saw me. At first she grinned broadly, the grin widening into a big smile, but Marie’s smile quickly faded as she watched me look at my dress and slowly back up at her. Don’t worry, honey. I’ll have you in the house and clean you up fine. Miss Nora won’t even know. Won’t see a thing. You’ll be alright. C’mon—

Marie dropped the dead chicken and grabbed my hand. I smelled chicken blood; I felt the warm, wet, sticky blood on her fingers. The memory began to fade. I felt Mama’s hand pressing against my lips so hard it hurt. We stood there, all of us motionless, hardly breathing.

Daddy dropped his gun to his side and turned around, mumbled something and stumbled down the hall. Mama, slowly dropping her hands from our mouths, came around in front of us, looked down and shook her head. Don’t say anything to anyone. Hear?

Mama went over to the bed and carefully folded up the comforter and pillows on the bed, keeping the remaining feathers inside, then she placed all of them behind the door where we’d been standing. She went over to the chest, opened the lid, pulled out a heavy, crocheted bedspread and two pillows, and she made up the bed.

Come over here and get in she said in a tense, hushed voice.

Mama, I said, that’s your best spread, you made it for—

I know. It’s only for tonight. Just get into bed, she said impatiently. Tomorrow I’ll have fresh bedding brought up. But in the morning, listen to me, put the pillows and spread away in the chest, then fold up the sheets and put them on top of the bedding against the wall.

As I slid in between the sheets I felt the ragged holes against my skin where the gunshot had torn through the material.

Mama! The sheets . . . the sheets got holes in them; it feels so—

Hush up, Minnie! You hear what I say?

Mama bent over Jeanette and hugged her, Honey, she said softly, Daddy loves you. He was just out of his head. She brought up her hand and stroked Jeanette’s hair. You’ve got beautiful hair. It’s even blonder than mine.

Mama, doesn’t Daddy love me, too? I asked.

Mama didn’t say anything. She just pulled the spread up to Jeanette’s chin and kissed her on the cheek. Now, go to sleep, Angel. (That’s Mama and Daddy’s name for Jeanette.)

As she was leaning back from Jeanette, I asked again, "Mama, doesn’t Daddy love me?"

Even in the dark I could see Mama’s face. She looked kind of exasperated with me as she brought herself up straight. Her face twitched and her eyes narrowed. There was a slight pause as if she were considering what she was going to say. "Minnie, Daddy cares for you . . . but . . . you’re not . . . you’re not his blood. There was a silence when she said bluntly, You know what I’m saying. He’s your stepfather! I’ve told you and your sister, Bonnie, that before. And that, she said impatiently, that’s all I’ve got to say about that. So go to sleep and don’t bother me with such silly talk again."

As Mama went to turn, I heard her say, I’ll go and tend to Daddy. She walked to the other side of the room, opened the door and closed it behind herself. I figured she was going back to their bedroom where Daddy had probably passed out.

It was then that I began to shake all over. Lying in bed, I was gasping for breath and my heart was beating so hard I thought it’d explode right out of my chest. I couldn’t move; I was so scared. As my heart slowed down from its pounding, I turned to Jeanette. She was just staring up at the ceiling. I couldn’t hear her breathing, but I knew she was alive because her eyes would flutter every now and then.

The darkness of the room couldn’t hide the color of her hair. At least, I thought, I’ve got curls, even if my hair is brown. Trying to find something more about myself that they could love, Why, my eyes are bluer than hers, too. But, I knew that it mattered to them that I was older than Jeanette. Nothing in this world is ever going to change that fact, I realized. Twelve, especially nearly thirteen, is older than six. Jeanette’s just cuter than me.

I didn’t want to feel this way—especially now—but I couldn’t help myself: I was angry that Mama didn’t kiss me too. Then I felt guilty feeling that way. I was her big sister and as Mama said, It’s your responsibility to look out for her.

Even though my heart had slowed and I’d closed my eyes, I just couldn’t sleep. When I looked over at Jeanette, now her eyes were closed.

Jeanette. Jeanette, are you asleep? I whispered. She didn’t move or say anything. Jeanette?

Still she lay there unmoving, asleep, I supposed. Without a word more, I slowly pulled back the sheet and spread and crawled out of bed. Feathers covered the floor. As I stepped onto the floor I could feel some of the feathers sticking to the bottoms of my feet. I went over to the closet, took off my nightgown, slipped on my dress and sweater, then brushed off the bottoms of my feet and buckled them into my shoes. I opened and closed the door behind myself as quietly as possible, stepping down the hall on the tips of my toes.

As I was passing their bedroom, the door was flung open and Daddy was standing there glowering at me, his eyes all glassy, the smell of liquor on him.

Girl, where’d you think you’re goin’, he roared.

He reached out with one hand, grabbing hold of my sweater. Mama, standing behind him, screamed, No, James, no!

He yanked me toward him. That’s when I saw the knife in his other hand. No, Daddy … please, no.

I yanked back and took him off balance. I heard Mama yelling, You damn fool, what’re trying to do, kill the child? Stop! Hear me? Stop, I say! I twisted out of my sweater, leaving Daddy holding it in his hand. I fell backward to the floor. Then I pulled myself up, turned around and ran.

I stumbled on the runner in the hall but caught my balance—there was only the night light on—when I hit the corner of the table with my hip, but I didn’t feel any pain. I just knew I had to get out of there. I remember almost falling down the staircase, then grabbing the umbrella next to the front door. I fumbled with the door lock; I tried to get it to open. My hands were shaking so bad, ’cause I could hear Daddy bellowing upstairs. I tried and tried. It sounded to me like Daddy was comin’ down the stairs. Then—finally—I got it right and opened the door.

I ran down the dark street. The rain came down in sheets of water; the wind turned the umbrella inside out. But still I ran headlong into the night. All was blackness until the sky was lit up from a lightning bolt, followed by a scary roll of thunder, a powerful gust of wind and the pounding rain.

Nothing else existed for me until I saw the light. Then, as if magically, I was standing inside a room; a couple was seated, eating, talking and laughing. I realized that I was in the ice cream parlor not far from home. I tried to slip into the corner—not wanting to be seen—but I’d been spotted and called over to Norma Jean and Bobby’s table (everybody in the neighborhood knew they were sweethearts).

Minnie, I declare, child, what . . . what in Heaven’s name? Why, you’re drenched to the bone! gasped Norma Jean. With that, she reached around and pulled the coat off the back of her chair, draping it around me.

Girl, you just sit down right here with us. I declare, you’ll catch your death of cold. She took one of my hands, one at a time, and rubbed it vigorously between her own, turning my bluish skin pink. I couldn’t help noticing that her nails were painted—a bright red at that! By this time I’d started to shiver. The coat felt warm and comforting, but I dreaded the questions that would come next.

Minnie, she exclaimed, Does your mother know you’re out in this weather? Now, wagging her finger in mock disapproval, Norma Jean tried to look stern, but she kept breaking into a smile. Does she, Honey?

I looked down at my hands and fidgeted. Thank goodness, Bobby came to my rescue. Aww shucks, Norma Jean, can’t ‘cha see she’s just wantin’ a little something sweet? ’Fess up, he prodded me in a good-natured country manner. Minnie. What d’ya want anyhow? Without waiting for me to reply, he went on, I’m gonna get you something good. Choose anything!

Chocolate, just some hot chocolate, I said. My lips moved, but hardly any sound came out. I was so scared I could barely whisper, Chocolate, just some hot chocolate.

Bobby leaned over and said with a big smile, Speak up, Minnie, I didn’t get that!

This time it was Norma Jean who came to the rescue. I think Minnie’d like a hot chocolate. Is that right, Darlin’?

Yes, ma’am. Yes, ma’am, it is.

Bobby began to tease me, Minnie, if you don’t speak up for yourself, you’re gonna get left out in the rain, girl. Turning to Norma Jean, he said, How’s that for an educated man? That, Norma Jean, was a pun. Norma Jean scrunched up her face, knitting her brow.

Honey, a pun is word play.

At this point, I could see Norma Jean was already losing interest. She was smiling, nodding her head, but her smiles were fading like a morning glory at the end of the day. Also, Norma Jean’s eyes were glazing over from Bobby’s educated talk.

Well, Honey, what’d you think of my fancy word play—my pun? Bobby asked impressively.

Oh, Bobby, Norma Jean’s face now taking on a look of true amazement, just one year of college and here you are, I declare, sounding like a college professor. My, oh, my . . . Bobby, you sure are smart, she said in continuing amazement, leaning back against her chair.

I watched Bobby, sitting there. He pushed his chair back on two legs, puffing his chest out proudly. Norma Jean sure did know how to say all the right things at just the right time, even if she didn’t seem too smart herself. But, I figured, Bobby didn’t seem to be paying too much attention to whether or not she understood exactly what he was saying.

I glanced over at Norma Jean. She was pretty. Probably the prettiest girl around. She painted her lips. She’d even cut her hair! Also, I couldn’t help but notice that I could see almost to her knee; one leg crossed over the other, her high-heeled shoe dangling lazily from her foot. It was then I remembered when Mama saw me looking at one of her magazines with all the new styles for women, she grabbed it right out of my hands, muttering, Jezebels! They’re nothing but hussies, common hussies.

At this point Bobby called out to Wilbur, the soda fountain clerk, Bring this young lady here a hot chocolate, and . . . don’t hold back none on the whipped cream! He looked back at me, saying, C’mon, Minnie, how ’bout a li’l smile, huh?

I tried to give Bobby my best smile.

Bobby was on a roll and turned back around and looked over at Wilbur, gushing, Put some whipped cream and sprinkles—lots o’ sprinkles—on top of Minnie’s hot chocolate. You hear me?

Norma Jean reached over and placed her hand on top of Bobby’s hand, slightly tilted her head to the side and cooed at him, Bobby, I declare, you’ve jus’ gotta be the nicest, most generous boy in this town.

Bobby’s eyes softened into big brown puddles. Bobby gazed at Norma Jean with this long, soulful look. Aww, Honey, you’re really something. Mmmm hmmm!

Then the two of them just sort of sat there looking into each other’s eyes for a long, long time. It was kind of embarrassing for me to be sitting there with them making eyes at each other. Finally, Wilbur showed up. He put the hot chocolate in front of me and said, What are you goin’ to say to this nice fella, Minnie?

Thank you, sir.

Then, I saw him put a banana split in front of Bobby: three scoops of ice cream, strawberry and chocolate syrup dripping over the sides of the dish, whipped cream spirals reaching so high, topped with cherries. And, it wasn’t enough! Bobby wanted more.

Wilbur, I’d sure appreciate it if you could put a li’l more whipped cream on this here creation of yours. You’ll get a nice, big, fat tip if you do. Bobby flashed a big smile, Jus’ a li’l more, that’s all, okay?

Bobby Lee Bradford, Norma Jean exclaimed in mock alarm, that’ll be the absolute death of you! You’re goin’ to end up in an early grave if you keep eatin’ like this. Then where’ll I be!? Rolling her eyes at him, she went on, I really can’t imagine what I’d do without you, Bobby, I—

I saw Bobby’s eyes twinkle—mischievous-like. Oh, no, you don’t, boy. Don’t you go riling me up, or I’ll tan your bottom.

Bobby arched his eyebrows, exuding, Oh, Norma Jean, you wouldn’t! Would you?

Norma Jean made a face at him, Bobby you’re a card. You’re so funny. Just what am I goin’ to do with you? I declare. She reached out and pinched his rosy cheek. Boy, you better watch your p’s and q’s with me, or I’m goin’ to . . .

Or what, Honey? Bobby’s eyes narrowed, his lips wet, creasing into a mysterious smile.

The two of them were fixed on looking at each other again, having such a good time; they started laughing until Bobby looked down at his dessert. Oh my gawd, the ice cream’s meltin’, and he dove in without another word.

Once Bobby had finished his banana split and Norma Jean her malt, he looked over at me. Minnie, you enjoy that? Must’ve, ’cause it looks like you drank all of it down. Bending over and gazing into my cup, Yep, jus’ as I suspected, not a drop left.

The next thing I knew, Bobby picked up his napkin—and I couldn’t believe it—Minnie, you got some of that whipped cream right over . . . and he dabbed the cream off from above my lip.

I don’t know why but I couldn’t remember ever feeling the way I did at that moment—with Bobby Lee giving me all the attention; being such a gentleman as Mama would say. Then, of all things, I couldn’t believe it! He was saying, Minnie you’re gonna be one pretty girl when you grow up.

Bobby just smiled wide; his teeth were so perfect and so white.

My face was hot. Norma Jean must’ve seen it, saying, Minnie, I declare, young lady, you are actually blushing. I felt my face getting even hotter. I was so embarrassed!

Norma Jean chuckled and said, Bobby you say the cutest things. You be careful Minnie, (I noticed, though, she didn’t take her eyes off Bobby) he’s goin’ to turn your head with all that sweet talk. I should know, he does it all the time with me. With that, she had Bobby’s full attention again. So, that was it! Now, I understood what those words meant, she had him eating right out of her hand.

Bobby, beginning to stand up, reached over and gave Norma Jean a peck on the cheek. Tomorrow, I got to try to get to school on time. Always seems I’m late for the first class. And I know who’s at fault, he said, winking at Norma Jean. I’ll take care of Wilbur, then I’ll drive y’all home. Minnie first. Then, he looked over at Norma Jean and grinned, I’ll take you home last, Honey.

Norma Jean’s eyes glistened. She just sat there, looking real happy with herself.

As Bobby pulled the chair out for me, I thought, He’s got a car, too!

When we pulled up to the house, the rain had stopped. I saw the light on in the downstairs. I knew Mama was probably waiting for me. Maybe she’s going to slap me, I thought, for causin’ her so much worry. But somehow I didn’t think she would.

When I got ready to get out of Bobby’s car, I couldn’t believe it.

Minnie, you sit right there ‘til I open that door for you, young lady, said Bobby.

Norma Jean chimed in, You’re with a real gentlemen here, Minnie.

He came around and opened the door for me—even more—he bent over and kissed me right on my cheek, just like he did with Norma Jean. I didn’t know what to say. My first kiss from a man! That’s when I hated Norma Jean. She’d know just the right thing to say at moments like these. I didn’t! Also—this was the worst part—I hated Norma Jean most of all because she had Bobby Lee Bradford and I didn’t!

As I stepped out of the car and started to go, Bobby said so polite and all, Well, young lady, I’ll walk you to the door.

No! It just jumped right out of my mouth. Uhhh . . . please, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t, I said.

Bobby smiled, saying confidential-like, I think I understand. Then he winked at me, turned, and got in his car. I could hear him drive off as I ran to the house.

Slowly—and as quietly as possible—I opened the front door, crept into the entrance way, looking into the parlor. No one was there. I walked over to the lamp and turned the light off, realizing that Mama had turned it on for me. Now my heart began to beat faster as I went up the staircase and down the hall. Not hearing a sound except for Daddy’s snoring, I figured they were both sleeping.

I opened the door to my bedroom, closed the door. I stood there a moment, trying to hear anyone moving around in the house. Nothing. Slipping into my nightgown, I crawled into bed with Jeanette. I lay there, listening hard to the silence. I could feel my heart slowing down. I could breathe. Still it was a long time before I finally fell asleep. If Mama had heard the car start up and pull away or had heard me coming into the house, she never said so.

… . .

The next morning while Jeanette and I were dressing, she came over and tugged on my arm. Minnie, why was Daddy so angry? I really got scared. Her eyes filled up with tears.

I don’t know, I said. But Mama’s going to be hopping mad at us if we’re late.

I could see she was about to cry when we heard a knock on the door.

Yes, Annie, I hear you. We’re almost ready, I called out, We just . . .

Unexpectedly the door opened and Mama walked in and looked directly at me. Young lady, cover up those breasts! Have you no shame? You’re already starting to show. She walked over, grabbed my dress lying across the bed, then shoved it into my hands. I can already see you’re goin’ to have big, ugly breasts.

I pulled the dress across my chest and tried to hide myself. I saw her disgust. Just as quickly she turned around and, as she walked away, Mama snapped sharply, Don’t y’all keep us waiting any longer. Hear me? Jeanette stood there sort of frozen-looking. I said quickly, Yes, ma’am. We’re sorry.

I noticed Mama wore her favorite possession—her mother’s ring. A beautiful freshwater pearl set in a delicate gold mounting, I knew something important was going to happen. The ring brought Mama comfort in times of good and bad.

Mama turned and closed the door with a bang. I dressed in a hurry, trying to buckle one shoe as we raced out of the room, forgetting entirely to close the door.

Once we were seated at the breakfast table, while Annie was bringing in hot biscuits, Mama took charge and said, We think it’s time for you to join your older sister at the boarding school.

Jeanette and I looked at each other when Mama abruptly brought our attention back to her by saying, Minnie, you’ll be leaving before the end of the week.

I looked at Annie. She just shook her head slightly as if to say Not now, chil’.

Daddy remained silent and buttered his biscuit.

Mama picked up her coffee cup and took a sip. The school let me know when we sent off Bonnie last year that they have a place for you, too. So Minnie, it’s about time that you started growing up. Well . . . Mama said, I’ll phone them up today and make the arrangements. Shouldn’t take more than a couple days at most.

Yes, ma’am, I said, bewildered, not knowing what to say. Even if I’d known how to put the words to what I was feeling, Mama would never forgive anything that sounded like backtalk.

Mama, Jeanette started, I—

Jeanette, honey, you’ll be staying here. You’re only six. It may not seem like much to you, but Minnie’s maturing. Won’t be long before Minnie’s thirteen, and then . . . Mama paused, peering over our heads at the wall. The muscles in her jaw began to tighten. Anyway that, that’s the way it’s got to be.

Jeanette and I knew once she made a decision, there would be no more discussion. It was final.

Dropping her eyes back on us, I heard Mama say, Daddy’s got a lot on his mind. The boats and business are going take him away a lot. Jeanette, you’ll be enough for Annie to handle, especially since I’m going out to your grandpa’s for a while to help out.

Jeanette and I looked at each other again. Then we both looked at Annie, who was still standing near the table. Mama, thinking that Annie was waiting to be dismissed, said, You can start clearing the table now, then bring us some more coffee, Annie.

Mama went on, "Seems that professor and some of his students from the university want to come out and dig into those old Indian mounds next to the river. He’s collecting their pottery; writing a book about them.

Oh, I don’t know, Mama shook her head, looking irritated at the thought, just what all he wants to do out there. But, your grandpa seems to think it’s all right. So between that, keeping him entertained—he’ll be staying at your Grandpa’s—and the other things I need to tend to there, I’m not going to have any time for y’all.

I looked down at my napkin and felt the pain in my chest of those last words from Mama: I’m not going to have any time for you.

"Also, your grandpa’s cousin up North, whose son