Breeze peeped up in time to see the grin that lit her face as she turned on her heel, saying she must go, and let Uncle Bill finish his wishing. But he’d wish a long time before he got a wife as good as Aunt Katy.
Uncle Bill sat up straight in his chair. “Now you talkin’ what Gawd loves, Zeda; de truth. Katy was one in a t’ousand. I miss em so bad, I can’ stan’ it no longer by myself. If Miss Big Sue would marry me, I’d treat em white. I sho’ would.”
Zeda took her pipe out of her apron pocket and leaned for a coal to light it. After one or two stout pulls she let the smoke trail slowly out between her smiling lips. “I hear-say Big Sue an’ Leah all two is a seekin’ de second blessin’ since de new Bury League preacher was here last Sunday was a week gone. Is dat so, Big Sue?”
“I know I ain’ seekin’ em. I don’ know nothin’ ’bout Leah, an’ I don’ want to know nothin’ ’bout em.” She snapped the words out fiercely; but Zeda set her arms akimbo and puffed at the pipe between her teeth, her eyes flashing bright in the firelight that flared past her to the framed pictures of faces looking down from the walls.
Big Sue sat grum, silent, until Uncle Bill heaved a great sigh and said he was mighty sorry for Leah. She’d been sick three days. Salivated. Her mouth was raw. Her teeth were loose, ready to drop out. Leah was in a bad way.
Big Sue’s fat body straightened up. She was full of interest. How did Leah get salivated?
Uncle Bill shook his head. He didn’t know what had done it. Leah hadn’t been well since this moon came in. He couldn’t say if seeking a second blessing had made her sick or if some medicine she’d bought from the store had done it. He caught her wallowing on the ground and praying and crying off in the woods by herself one day last week. Now she was salivated. Zeda looked at Uncle Bill’s sorrowful face and her own became serious.
“Dat’s what Leah gits fo’ prankin’ wid white folks’ medicine. I told em so too.”
“I bet Leah’s conjured,” Big Sue put in cheerfully.
“Who in Gawd’s world would bother to conjure Leah?” Zeda asked. “Any ’oman dat wants April bad enough kin git em. April’s weak as water over anyt’ing wid a dress on.”