“Left de boy ’lone, Joy. E don’ feel like playin’. His ma was just buried dis evenin’. Come unstring my shoes, son. I ain’ gwine let Joy plague you.”
As he knelt to unlace the shoes Joy appealed to him: “I ain’ plaguin’ you, is I, Breeze? Me an’ you is gwine be buddies, enty?” Breeze looked up and met her slanting eyes, and the smile that lit them seemed to him so lovely, so gentle, he fairly tingled all over. He had never seen anybody like Joy before. Her slight body in its scant, red satin dress was not tall, but it had the straight, swift, upward thrust of a pine sapling. Her slim black arms, bare from the elbows, and held akimbo, came out from shoulders lean as his own. Her short skirt gave a flirt and Breeze’s glance darted to the skinniness of her red-stockinged legs. But her smile had thrilled the fear out of him, and given him confidence enough to feast his eyes on her gay over-ripe little figure, from the bright buckles on her shiny black slippers to the short coarse straightened hair on her small head.
“Set down, honey. Talk to Uncle Bill an’ you’ Cun April whilst me an’ Breeze fixes supper.” Big Sue’s bare feet pattered back and forth from the hearth to the four-legged safe against the wall, mixing bread, and smoothing it on a hot griddle, slicing meat and dropping it on a hot spider, once in a while scolding Breeze for dawdling, or asking Joy a question about the town or the school. April smiled and joined pleasantly in the talk Joy led. A necklace of blue glass beads clinked against the smooth black skin of her neck, gold bracelets glittered on her slim wrists. Breeze was bewildered, rapt with the glamour of her. Her sparkling eyes strayed from one face to another until they met April’s, bold and staring. Joy’s flickered and fell and her laughter chilled. Like everybody else, she feared him, and his shining gaze, fixed on her alone, withered all the fun out of her and put something sober in its place.
Except for the fire’s crackling a hush filled the room. Big Sue suddenly straightened up from bending over the pots and, looking over her shoulder, said, “Git de plates out o’ de safe, Breeze. How come yunnuh is so quiet? Dis ain’ church!”
April laughed and shifted in his chair and his eyes turned from Joy to her mother. “De victuals smells so good, I’m gone got speechless!”
“Me too,” Joy chimed, but Uncle Bill got up to go. He had already stayed longer than he intended. He must go see if everything at the barnyard was in order.
April stood up to say good night, tall, straight-limbed, broad-shouldered, hawk-eyed.
“Stay an’ eat wid us, Cun April, you too, Uncle Bill! What’s you’ hurry?”
Uncle Bill had to go. He had left Jake to see about feeding the stock, and Jake was mighty forgetful and careless. Nobody could depend on him.
In spite of the fineness of her red satin dress, Joy took the plates from Breeze and piling two of them with the collards dripping with pot liquor, and chunks of fat meat and pieces of the newly baked corn-bread, she gave Big Sue and April each one.