Free Brown Girl In the Ring by Nalo Hopkinson Page A

(Josée had to explain to young Clem what they were); spooning in maple syrup (Ti-Jeanne stopped one little boy after the tenth tablespoonful had plopped into the mixture); laying out bowls and spoons for everyone. She stirred the fresh milk right into the cornmeal, trusting the boiling mixture to scald the milk free of bacteria. Her eyes met Tony’s over the steaming pot. His upper lip was beaded with sweat from the heat of the kitchen. It was strange to see him so at ease caring for the children. She’d never seen him at work, never experienced him as the type of person who could tend to another’s needs. She touched his hand.
    “You have to stir it slow,” she said. “Slow enough so it won’t splash over, but fast enough so the heat don’t burn it. Keep it simmering.”
    “You know I could do that,” he said with a grin. In a few minutes it was ready. They served it up at the long picnic table that served as a kitchen table. The children slurped down their porridge, chattering excitedly to each other.
    Mami came out of the examining room. She was holding a bloody scrap of bleached cotton to her finger. “The child resting,” she said to Josée. “She’s going to wake up in two, three hours.”
    Ti-Jeanne asked her, “What happen to your hand, Mami?”
    Gros-Jeanne shook her head. “The scissors slip and cut me.”
    Tony hurried to her side. “Here. Let me wrap that up for you.”
    Mami stared at him a moment, then held out her hand. He carefully took the scrap of cotton off the cut. “This dressing is soaked through. I’ll get another one.” He went into the examining room.
    “Hmph,” Mami muttered. “Just trying to get on my good side.”
    • • • •
    In the examining room, Tony glanced back at the door. No one had followed him. The little girl was fast asleep, curled up under a blanket. He’d taken off his jacket to help Mistress Hunter. It was still hanging behind the door. Quickly he fumbled in the jacket pocket, took out the blood test box that the hospital had given him. He thumbed the wad of bloody cotton into the depression in the box, pressed the button for the display. AB positive. Dismay and excitement washed over him in equal proportions. Ti-Jeanne’s grandmother had the right blood type, the right body dimensions. If her crazy scheme to save his ass didn’t work, he might be forced to an extreme solution to his problem.
    • • • •
    Tony came back out with an alcohol swab and a fresh bandage. He cleaned and dressed the cut. “There. Should be healed in no time.”
    Mami turned and walked into the kitchen without answering him. Ti-Jeanne could see the distress plainly on his face. She gave him an exasperated shrug. Mami was being hard, as usual. Tony was only trying to help. Ti-Jeanne followed Mami into the kitchen. Mami set the children to washing up their dishes, then gave Tony a machète and pointed in the direction of the wild part of the farm. “Go and cut a pair of crutches for Susie.”
    When she turned her back, Tony gestured for Ti-Jeanne to follow him. Baby was in his crib, having finally cried himself to sleep. Ti-Jeanne caught herself thinking that he couldn’t see them and alert Mami with his squalling. It was odd to think of the helpless child doing something so deliberate, but that’s how it felt. She pushed the thought away. Feeling guilt and excitement in equal parts, she went quietly with Tony.
    They walked along the Upper Road, saying nothing at first. The wind swept fall maple leaves across their path in splashes of purple, deep red, and yellow-orange. Ti-Jeanne caught Tony looking at her out of the corner of his eye. She glanced shyly away and pointed out the downhill trail to the Lower Road. “Down so,” she said. “It have a stand of young trees there. Probably some of them could cut into good crutches.” They went that way, but when they got there, Tony just stood on the pathway, looking at her. His glance warmed her, despite the cold