up to the Good Lord.” I wished she would stop telling me that. She sank back in her chair with a sigh. Her brown skin looked pale, like coffee with a lot of cream in it. Her lined face sagged with exhaustion.
“What about you, Lillie? Are you feeling okay? Is there something we can cook up to give you more strength?”
“Honey, if I knew a secret to give a hundred-year-old woman more strength, I’d be the richest woman in Kentucky.”
“You’re one hundred years old?”
She smiled her gap-toothed grin. “I’ll be a hundred and one this Fourth of July.”
That meant she must have been born in 1835. Had she been a slave? She would have been a grown woman in 1865 when the War Between the States ended and the slaves were emancipated. I had read the novel Uncle Tom’s Cabin , which told about the horrors of slavery. I wondered if Lillie had lived through some of those horrors. I wasn’t supposed to ask nosy questions, but I wanted to know what her long life had been like.
“Were you born here in Kentucky, Lillie?”
“Nope, across the state line in Virginia.”
“Were you ever a slave?”
“I’ve been many, many things in this sorry life of mine, and a slave is just one of them.”
“It must have been a terrible life.”
“Lord knows it was.”
“Did you live on a plantation?”
She nodded slowly. “My mama and me were field hands. Don’t know anything about my daddy. But there was an old granny on the plantation who delivered all the babies and knew all kinds of tonics and potions to help people. She decided one day that she’s gonna pass her knowing on to me. That’s how I learnt. Pretty soon we was in big demand all over the county. Anybody got a sick slave or a baby doesn’t want to be born, they send for us. Massa make a lot of money off us.”
“What happened when the war started? Were you near any of the battles?”
“Talk about battles—I seen more suffering than I ever hope to see again. Too much for one lifetime. They send me out after the fighting’s over to help patch those poor boys up again. They didn’t use nice little bullets either, like the one that went through Mack. No sir. They had great big balls of metal that tear up your arm or leg when they hit you. Umm, umm, them’s bad times. But even worse than them broken bodies were the broken hearts.”
“What do you mean?”
“Folks get set on having their own way, and they end up with their hearts broken when it don’t happen. God’s the one who’s deciding what’s going to be and what ain’t. He knows what’s best even if we’re too stubborn to realize it sometimes. We’re like little kids fighting over the wishbone, squabbling about who’s gonna get his wish. Bible says that even though we make lots of plans, it’s the Lord who’s gonna have His way.”
She closed her eyes, and I thought she might be falling asleep. But then she opened them again and said, “What’s your story, honey?”
“My story? I don’t have one.”
“Mmm, mmm. No story? That’s the saddest thing I ever heard.”
Her reaction made me mad. “Of course I have a story—everyone does. Just not a very exciting one. I grew up in Illinois. I worked as a librarian . . .” I paused so I could maintain my composure. “I love books, so when I heard that your library needed some, I held a book drive in our town. Then I came down here to deliver them and help out.”
She studied me as if my skin were transparent and she could see what was going on inside me, watching my heart beat and the blood whoosh through my veins. Her scrutiny made me uneasy.
“You ever been in love?” she asked. The abruptness of her question startled me.
“Me? I had a boyfriend, but we broke up. That’s one of the reasons I came here. I needed to get away for a while.”
“I ain’t asking if you had a boyfriend. I ask if you ever been in love.”
“It’s the same thing.”
“Oh no, it ain’t.” She laughed out loud, and it made me angry. I
“What about you, Lillie? Are you feeling okay? Is there something we can cook up to give you more strength?”
“Honey, if I knew a secret to give a hundred-year-old woman more strength, I’d be the richest woman in Kentucky.”
“You’re one hundred years old?”
She smiled her gap-toothed grin. “I’ll be a hundred and one this Fourth of July.”
That meant she must have been born in 1835. Had she been a slave? She would have been a grown woman in 1865 when the War Between the States ended and the slaves were emancipated. I had read the novel Uncle Tom’s Cabin , which told about the horrors of slavery. I wondered if Lillie had lived through some of those horrors. I wasn’t supposed to ask nosy questions, but I wanted to know what her long life had been like.
“Were you born here in Kentucky, Lillie?”
“Nope, across the state line in Virginia.”
“Were you ever a slave?”
“I’ve been many, many things in this sorry life of mine, and a slave is just one of them.”
“It must have been a terrible life.”
“Lord knows it was.”
“Did you live on a plantation?”
She nodded slowly. “My mama and me were field hands. Don’t know anything about my daddy. But there was an old granny on the plantation who delivered all the babies and knew all kinds of tonics and potions to help people. She decided one day that she’s gonna pass her knowing on to me. That’s how I learnt. Pretty soon we was in big demand all over the county. Anybody got a sick slave or a baby doesn’t want to be born, they send for us. Massa make a lot of money off us.”
“What happened when the war started? Were you near any of the battles?”
“Talk about battles—I seen more suffering than I ever hope to see again. Too much for one lifetime. They send me out after the fighting’s over to help patch those poor boys up again. They didn’t use nice little bullets either, like the one that went through Mack. No sir. They had great big balls of metal that tear up your arm or leg when they hit you. Umm, umm, them’s bad times. But even worse than them broken bodies were the broken hearts.”
“What do you mean?”
“Folks get set on having their own way, and they end up with their hearts broken when it don’t happen. God’s the one who’s deciding what’s going to be and what ain’t. He knows what’s best even if we’re too stubborn to realize it sometimes. We’re like little kids fighting over the wishbone, squabbling about who’s gonna get his wish. Bible says that even though we make lots of plans, it’s the Lord who’s gonna have His way.”
She closed her eyes, and I thought she might be falling asleep. But then she opened them again and said, “What’s your story, honey?”
“My story? I don’t have one.”
“Mmm, mmm. No story? That’s the saddest thing I ever heard.”
Her reaction made me mad. “Of course I have a story—everyone does. Just not a very exciting one. I grew up in Illinois. I worked as a librarian . . .” I paused so I could maintain my composure. “I love books, so when I heard that your library needed some, I held a book drive in our town. Then I came down here to deliver them and help out.”
She studied me as if my skin were transparent and she could see what was going on inside me, watching my heart beat and the blood whoosh through my veins. Her scrutiny made me uneasy.
“You ever been in love?” she asked. The abruptness of her question startled me.
“Me? I had a boyfriend, but we broke up. That’s one of the reasons I came here. I needed to get away for a while.”
“I ain’t asking if you had a boyfriend. I ask if you ever been in love.”
“It’s the same thing.”
“Oh no, it ain’t.” She laughed out loud, and it made me angry. I
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