Free This Bitter Earth by Bernice McFadden

silence and left Sugar gasping for air.
    The blackbird was perched outside her bedroom window and it watched Sara with great curiosity before turning its attention to Sugar.
    The blackbird cocked its head a bit before tapping its beak impatiently against the windowpane. It was an insistent tap, as if it were trying to remind Sugar of some forgotten task.
    It went on like that for some time and then the long wail of the winter wind sent the bird fluttering off to the safety of the bare limbs of a nearby oak tree.
    “I’m glad it don’t hurt no more, Sara,” Sugar said before stepping across the hall toward May’s room.

Chapter 7

    Most of Short Junction turned out for Sara’s funeral, hands heavy with casseroles, fresh baked bread, shortbread cookies, cherry and peach pies. They came in twos, dressed in black, brown and gray, faces just as flat as their wardrobe, shuffling instead of stepping.
    May sent Sara out in true Lacey fashion. Sara was laid out in a brilliant purple frock that ruffled around the neck and wrists and May had someone go all the way to Little Rock to buy Sara a shiny new pair of patent leather shoes.
    Sugar would always remember how long and bizarre the mourner’s reflections looked in the glossy black leather of Sara’s shoes.
    Sara was laid out in the parlor and she looked small and pale against the dark wainscot of the walls and heavy dark drapes. Her face was so heavily made up that she looked like one of the ceramic china dolls that graced the dressing table in her bedroom.
    “It’s too much, I think,” Ruby had ventured when May started dabbing more blush on Sara’s cheeks.
    “No, it’s not,” May snapped. “She always liked rouge. You know she did, Sister.” May’s tone was harsh, but Sugar didn’t miss the grief that rolled alongside her words. “Just because she dead don’t man she gotta look it.”
    Her statement was ludicrous and Ruby just shook her head and gave Sugar a sad look.
    Sugar would take a washcloth to Sara’s cheeks when May wasn’t looking. She would tone down the red, make things right, just as Sara had done for her.
    They buried her on their land, just as they had buried their mother and Sugar’s mother, Bertie Mae.
    The preacher came and said some words over her body and then stayed until the casseroles, tin cans of cookies and cake plates were empty.
    “Such a loss,” he said as he cupped May’s hands and then Ruby’s in his own. “She will be missed,” he breathed as he donned his hat and looked up at the sky. “Looks like we gonna be getting some more snow,” he commented as he pulled on his leather gloves.
    “Looks that way,” May agreed and closed the door.
    Sugar knew, even as she sat on the couch in the parlor and stared at the wallpaper that was graced with tiny horses and carriages, that death wasn’t done with the Lacey home. She knew she’d be there until the only voice that echoed through the halls was her own.
    “Let me help,” Sugar said when Ruby and May began removing the crystal glasses and bone china plates.
    “You ain’t in no condition, Sugar,” May responded without looking at her. She was staring at a half-eaten cookie that someone had carelessly placed on the coffee table. “Look at this,” she said in disgust as she snatched it up. “People just don’t have no respect.” May brushed the crumbs off into the palm of her hand and started to move out of the parlor.
    May moved in a large circle, cutting left, close to the wall, and then right and out the door. Ruby and Sugar blinked at each other. May had just walked through the parlor as if Sara’s coffin were still there.
    “Jesus,” Ruby sighed and sat down on the couch.

    Sugar never mentioned what Sara had shared with her during the hours before she died. She buried it alongside the other secrets she kept deep inside her.
    Every now and then Ruby would ask if Sara had said anything before she died.
    “She ain’t say nothing?” “I told you I woke up and