The Kitchen House by Kathleen Grissom Read Free Book Online Page B

said Papa, “this sure looks like these womans good and ready for the party, don’t it, Ben?”
    “Uh-huh, Papa,” Ben said, “they sure singin’ real good.”
    “Which one you gonna dance with, Ben?” Papa asked.
    “I pick my mama,” said Ben. “She cryin’ the best. We hears her down at the barns.”
    Mama laughed while drying her eyes. “You mens stop with that,” she said.
    “Well, I think I pick Dory,” Papa continued to tease. He went to her and placed his arm around her shoulders, then looked back at her face and said, “Her eyes so puffed up, everybody think I got me a new woman.”
    We all laughed, and even Dory smiled. Together, we all left for the party. It was dark outside and the evening cold. We hadn’t seen snow since the day we had buried baby Henry, but the ground was frozen, and our feet crunched on dried leaves. It hurt to walk in the heavy shoes, which chafed my ankles, but it wasn’t necessary to complain, as Fanny protested enough for both of us.
    Mama scolded her. “Those peoples down in the quarters wouldgive anything to have those shoes,” she said, and I was glad I had been silent.
    From the top of the hill we could see the orange of a blazing fire. As we drew closer, I recognized the strain of a fiddle and could hear people laughing and singing. Secure between Belle and Ben, I held tight to each of their hands, a link to their happiness, as we moved through the dark woods toward the joyful music.
    O UR SMALL PARTY WAS GREETED with shouts of recognition. Belle’s cakes were gratefully received, and the women quickly brought a bench and invited Mama, Belle, and Dory to sit with them. A large area around the fire had been swept clean, and already some were dancing. On the far side, men were playing lively music with homemade instruments: Two played gourd fiddles, two others played reed flutes, and another drummed on pots and lids with sticks and bones.
    I stayed close to Belle until Beattie and Fanny came for me. We approached a group of children, but they stood back, wary of us. Some were girls our age, but they didn’t speak. Our clothing was different, certainly more substantial than theirs, and they studied our feet as though they had never seen shoes.
    Soon the three of us found our way back to Mama, Belle, and Dory. Belle allowed us a sip of the peach brandy the women were drinking, a rare treat sent from the big house for this holiday celebration. Rough tables stood end to end, and off to the side, men eagerly shared two jugs of corn whiskey, another gift from the big house.
    Everyone became alert as the women gathered and agreed that the chickens, roasting on a spit over a bed of red coals, were cooked through. In short order, a man speared two large hams from boiling water and placed them on wooden slabs set on either side of a large black caldron of steaming black-eyed peas. The women brought simmering pots of late-season garden greens and turned crisp hot corn bread out onto the table. Others used sharp sticksto draw roasted sweet potatoes from the ashes. Finally, supper was announced.
    The women served the men first and then helped the children. They insisted that we from the big house eat with them, and I was surprised to see my family do so. They took small portions, but I saw the smiles from the women when Belle, Mama, and Dory told them how good the food tasted. When I set my bowl down, I had not finished a small piece of the ham.
    Belle leaned down to me. “Eat it all,” she said quietly, and I knew from her tone not to protest.
    After the women had eaten, the children were called back and given the little remaining food. On seeing their excitement, I realized this was a rare happening and was embarrassed to think that Belle had to tell me to finish the meat.
    When the fiddle started up with a lively tune, the other instruments soon joined in. With a whoop, a few young couples got up to dance. The older audience members began to clap, and soon the circle around