“She’s gone down to the hotel to git the money,” says Judgment. “She said, bein’ as the play turned out like it did, she wanted the money out of her hands; so I told her to bring it up here for a settlement. Her and Susie had a fight over them love scenes, and she was through up here.”
“We don’t need her,” says Susie. “If she was actin’ for saw mills, she wouldn’t git a sliver in her finger. Is everythin’ all set?”
Susie laid down on the floor and Zibe fastened a belt around her. She’s all dressed in white, with a couple things that might be mistaken for wings. We all squats down around her. They’ve got a heavy wire ownin’ up from that belt. Somebody pulled the curtain, and the three-piece orchestry begins playin’ “Nearer My God to Thee,” kinda soft.
“Uncle Tom,” says Susie, her voice kinda cracked, “I’m goin’ to leave yuh. I’m goin’ to my place beyond the skies.”
Mrs. Noon begins to blubber.
“Don’t cry,” says Susie. “It’s better this way. Tell Howard that I forgive him for everythin’. Ah. I hear the angels callin’. Can’t you hear ’em, Uncle Tom?”
“She’s dyin’,” wails Mrs. Noon.
“Git yore feet braced, Burlap,” says Oscar Tubbs, up there, on that two-by-six.
“Angel voices,” says Susie. “They’re callin’ me home.”