Caroline pulled one last egg from under a protesting red hen and put it in her basket. Then she fixed her eyes on me again. “But my mama wasn’t ’lowed to keep her name for long. Come a week after her birth, that white woman married to the white man who had hisself papers to my mama said no baby on her place could be callin’ herself Rachel. Said no baby born, ’ceptin’ hers, was t’ have that name, ’cause that was what she was namin’ her baby born a few days after my mama, and she wasn’t gonna ’low no colored child carryin’ the same name as her child.
“Well, my grandmama still gone on callin’ my mama Rachel, ’ceptin’ when the white folks were around. But then some years later that white woman heard my grandmama Rose calling my mama Rachel, and she got mad. She tried to stop my grandmama from callin’ my mama by her name. My grandmama told her ain’t nobody got a right t’ take my mama’s name away. Well, that ole white woman figured she had the right, so she had my grandmama took to the yard and she whipped my grandmama ’cause she wouldn’t give up my mama’s name. She whipped her, but it ain’t done no good, ’til she gone and threatened my mama. Then my grandmama Rose gone and done what them white folks ’spected said in their hearin’. Whiles they was around, she called my mama ‘Daughter’ or ‘Sister,’ nothing else. But to my grandmama, my mama’s name remained the same: Rachel, and that’s what she called her when they was by theyselves. That was her name. Name she was born. Name now.” Caroline gave me a pointed look. “So, Mister Paul Logan, that’s what she be thinking on when she see you. That’s a fact,” she said with a nod, ending her story. “Just hope you don’t hold how she be actin’ ’gainst her.”
“No . . . no, I don’t. Fact, I can somewhat understand how she feels. A given name’s important. My mama didn’t have to suffer about my name, but she had a name for me too—my daddy’s name. She couldn’t give it to me officially though, because my daddy said it wasn’t fitting that I be called by his name.”
“Why not?”
“Because my daddy had three other sons and none of them had his name.” I hesitated, then added, “They didn’t have his name and they were white.”
Caroline nodded in understanding. “Well, what was the name?”
“My daddy’s name is Edward. My mama used to call me that sometimes, along with my given name of Paul, when it was just her and me and my sister, Cassie, around. Even my daddy sometimes called me by it when it was just the two of us.”
“And how’d you feel ’bout that?”
“What do you mean?”
“How’d you feel ’bout not having your name spoken open?”
“Well, I suppose I felt like it was a secret. But the fact was, I wasn’t a secret. Everybody knew I was my daddy’s son. I just think my daddy didn’t want to hurt my brothers by speaking my name so open, not to mention the fact it wouldn’t’ve looked right to his white friends. But I’ve got to admit, whenever he called me by his name, I always felt a pride in it.”
Caroline’s dark eyes studied me without another word. Then she put her basket down, turned, and looked around as if she were searching for something. After a moment she went to a corner and brought back a small burlap sack. She stuffed it with straw, then placed half a dozen eggs inside. She held out the sack to me. “You take these. They’re for you.”
“What?”
“You said you liked eggs, ain’t ya?”
“Well . . . yes . . .”
“You got yo’self a layin’ hen?”
“No . . . but I can’t just take your eggs.”
“Yes, you can.”
“Well, what do I owe you for them?”
She smiled a bright smile at me. “Jus’ a good rockin’ chair for my mama. Now, take ’em.”
There she was giving orders again. I took the sack and thanked her for the eggs. “Are you always this generous?” I asked.
“Whatcha mean?” she said, picking up her egg basket again. “You seen we got plenty. Nothin’ generous ’bout that.”
I thought on how she’d given the harelipped boy one of her mama’s sweet-potato pies. “I happened to be at Luke Sawyer’s store the day you and your sister brought pies to sell, and you took a little boy’s part who, as you said, was sorely in need of something ‘to make him feel good.’ From the smile on that boy’s face, I think that pie you gave him was just what he needed.”