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The Land(126)

By:Mildred D. Taylor


“Nathan, you put that harmonica down now and come on too. Got yo’ favorite.”

“In a minute,” said Nathan, and went on playing by the stoop.

I took my seat opposite Caroline. She handed me the cup and bowl, and I took a sip of the tea, then set the cup on the ground. I spooned up the cobbler. As always, it was perfect to my taste, and I told her so.

“I’m glad,” she said. “It was Mitchell’s favorite.”

“I know.”

“Course now, sweet-potato cobbler wasn’t too far behind.”

I laughed. “Know that too.”

She breathed deep of the night air. “This feels good,” she said. “Sitting here talkin’ easy on an evening, like we do.”

I nodded, knowing exactly what she meant.

“Always figured this here’d be how Mitchell and me would spend our evenings.” Suddenly she laughed. “Course, Mitchell wasn’t never one for talkin’ low and readin’ and such, like you do. Still, he had hisself a way . . . yeah, he had hisself a way.”

“I know you’re missing him.”

“Know you is too.”

She was silent, her eyes lowered; then she looked at me and I saw her eyes against the fire glow. “Ya know, Paul-Edward, I’m so sorry I ain’t married Mitchell right away when he asked me. My papa, my mama too, they wanted me t’ wait t’ marry, but I regret I ain’t followed my own mind and gone on and married Mitchell when he wanted. We wasted so much time.”

I had never seen one tear well up in Caroline’s eyes, not even when Mitchell died. Whatever crying she’d done, she had done to herself or with her family. But now I saw the sparkle of tears, and I took my time before I said anything further to her. I finished off my cobbler, then set the bowl down. I looked at Caroline and spoke quietly. “You want to know what I think?”

“What’s that?”

“Your folks were right. Mitchell, he needed that year. He always got every woman he wanted. He needed to wait on you.”

Caroline frowned. “You think he was glad he done that?”

“I know he was. Things come easy in this life aren’t very much appreciated, and Mitchell certainly appreciated you. He cherished you. You’re worth waiting for.”

The tears fell without sobs or sound of any kind, and Caroline did not wipe them away. Nathan joined us, and Caroline handed him his bowl of cobbler. Then she said to me, “You know, Mitchell done thought the world of you, Paul-Edward. He said he done figured you his family.”

“Figured him the same,” I said.

“Y’all was good friends.”

“No,” I said. “Not just friends. Brothers.”

Caroline nodded to that, and we smiled at each other across the fire.





Later, Nathan played and Caroline sang, then we rose and tended to the brush. I lit the fire myself. As the fire burned, we threw on more branches. Nathan brought more water. We kept the fire in check with long poles whenever branches fell too close to the edge of the circle. There was a bit of wind rising, but we didn’t worry about it. The fire was well within the circle. On most nights it took us a couple of hours to burn all the branches we’d cut during the day. This night seemed no different. As the branches became ash and the fire lowered, Nathan ran off to the outhouse. “Boy, we need more water!” Caroline called after him.

“Gotta go!” he cried.

“Boy—”

“I’ll get it,” I said, and took up the buckets.

Caroline shook her head, as if at the ways of men, then she laughed good-naturedly. “Well, go on,” she said.

Once again I headed for the creek. As I filled the buckets, I heard Caroline scream. I looked back up toward the brush and saw the flames rising, just as Nathan came running from the outhouse. Then I saw Caroline.

She sprang from the other side of the circle, running toward the creek. Her skirts were on fire. I leaped from the bank and raced toward her. I reached her before she was midway to the water. I pulled her to the ground and rolled her fast over the dirt, smothering out the flames. Then I tore off the long skirt she wore and the cotton petticoat beneath, so that her legs were bare. I picked her up and carried her quick to the creek, with Nathan hurrying behind. I immersed Caroline in the water, and she moaned with pain.

“Nathan,” I said in a steady voice, “go get Ma Jones.”

“But Caroline—” mumbled Nathan.

“Now!”

Nathan ran off. For several minutes I kept Caroline in the water, then took her back to the cabin, and carefully laid her on the bed. She continued to moan, and when I called her name, she could only look at me. The pain in her eyes frightened me more than I could have imagined. I couldn’t lose her. “I think the baby’s all right,” I said softly, trying to comfort her. “We got the fire out before it got above your knees. Your baby wasn’t touched.”