Trouble's Child by Mildred Pitts; Walter Page A

stand and cry aloud for forgiveness. But fuh what ? Her shame and guilt turned to anger. She stared straight ahead as if contracted, petrified. Voices, pleading and condemning, flowed over her. She sensed Titay trembling beside her and knew tears were flowing down her grandmother’s cheeks. Still she could not bring herself to move or speak.
    The service ended and the members left, their stares burning in Martha’s mind. She walked home, shouldering her wounded dreams, wondering how she would ever redeem herself and leave Blue Isle with her grandmother’s blessing.
    Martha slept late. She woke with a start. The silence around her was like that in a deep cave, and for a moment she thought she was still asleep. Then she heard the Gulf, like the heartbeat of a giant, coming through the momentary silence.
    For days now no one had come or passed close to their house. Titay would remain in her room most of the day. At twilight she would walk down to the edge of the Gulf. Martha grieved for her grandmother and wished she could undo the shame she had brought upon them.
    Martha lay still, thinking it must be almost noon. Her mind told her that she should eat, but her body rejected food. She was full all the way up into her throat. What a fool I was. Never shoulda gone that far jus t’ see im . She tried to bring back the warm feeling she had known when Hal gave her the mirror; to recall the sheer joy on the boat, but all that came was a feeling of shame. It had been so wonderful, and it had turned so ugly.
    In her mind she saw Hal as he had been the last time she saw him—hands deep in his pockets, his shoulders hunched. The shame crowded in on her again. How could he say he’d marry? He knowed I wanted t’ leave this place .
    She remembered that he had said he would help her go away. But how could she face him again? Did he now think, like some on the island, that she was brazen, without manners, conniving? No, she could never look at him again. How could I be stupid nuff t’ think he liked me? Never shoulda gone t’ the Gulf. Then nobody’d knowed how I felt and it coulda last foever .
    She sighed and looked at her rope-burned hands. The swelling was gone, but they were still a little sore. Titay demanded nothing from her, and Martha was grateful she could stay indoors, mostly in her own little room.
    How would she face the cold stares, the ugly whispers and the self-righteous indignation of the women? She knew well what was in store. The silent isolation meted out on Blue Isle was worse than flogging. Maybe she should have repented, asked redemption and been restored.
    Noise from nearby houses—the sound of singing mixed with the rattle of dishes being washed—let her know the meal was over. Martha turned out of bed and opened her window wider. Then she heard movement in the front of her house and footsteps coming toward her room. She scrambled back into bed.
    A knock put her on guard. She did not answer. She raised up just as Titay peered in the room. The look on Titay’s face forced Martha out of bed. “What is it?” she asked in dismay, taking her grandmother’s arm leading her to the bed.
    â€œAnd t’ think I brung er in this world. She talk t’ me like I’m a … oh.” Titay’s breathing came in gasps. Martha had never seen her in such state.
    â€œWho, Granma? Who?”
    â€œThat girl, Ocie. Called me a old woman … say I ain’t got no order in m’ own house, so I ain’t fit to birth no baby o’ hers.”
    The hurt in Titay’s voice shocked Martha. “What she mean, no order …”
    â€œTis that Cora,” Titay interrupted. “She’ll midwife Ocie. All the women gather round er now. Her way is won.”
    â€œDon’t say that, Granma.”
    â€œTis true. Oh Mat, I’m old and tired.”
    Martha looked at her grandmother. Her thin shoulders were covered with a worn black shawl.