Free Miss Julia Meets Her Match by Ann B. Ross

upstairs for the past several months while her house was being remodeled and updated. “Where’re you going and why?”
    “I don’t know where, but the why is ’cause that no-good gran’ of mine, you know Janine, she sendin’ her baby for me to take care of. She say she got a job in New York City, an’ can’t take no chile with her. So who the first person she think of to help her out? Me, that’s who, an’ here I am livin’ in yo’ house an’ I can’t take no chile, either.”
    “Well, just tell her that having a great-grandchild is inconvenient now. She’ll understand when you tell her your house isn’t ready yet.”
    “No’m, she won’t. I done tole her two dozen times I can’t do it, an’ she keep callin’ an’ keep callin’. Now, she already put that baby on the Greyhound bus, an’ it comin’ in tonight. I ’spect it already more’n half way here. That Janine done hook up with another triflin’ man, you want my opinion.”
    “Well, my word, Lillian,” I said. “I guess there’s nothing to do but meet the bus. We’ll work something out when the baby gets here. Surely somebody’s with her on the bus. Maybe that person can be persuaded to help out.”
    “It not ’zactly a baby. I jus’ say that. I think Latisha be ’bout five now. And, no’m, Janine put her on that bus by herself, an’ the driver say he look after her.” Lillian looked up at the ceiling and cried, “Lord Jesus, what I gonna do with another’n to raise, an’ me here in Miss Julia’s house?”
    “Now, Lillian, there’s only one thing to do at this late date. Bring the child here for the time being, then we’ll see what can be done.”
    “Oh, Jesus,” Lillian went on, tears shining in her eyes. “I don’t know what I done to have a gran’ like Janine, who don’t have the sense God give a billy goat.”
    I patted her arm, trying to reassure her, but wondering how the rest of us would manage with a five-year-old in the house. It would be a temporary measure for us, but Lillian would have Janine and now, Latisha, as her cross to bear from now on. And it looked as if I was going to have Wesley Lloyd Springer, who I thought had been lifted from me some years ago, as my own never-ending burden.
    N
    Little Lloyd and I glanced at each other as we heard Hazel Marie’s car pull into the driveway a little after nine that night. She had taken Lillian to the Greyhound station to meet the bus, while we waited to meet our new house guest.
    As the car doors slammed, I began to hear the chatter of indistinguishable words going on and on. Hazel Marie came into the kitchen, her eyes dancing with amusement.
    She put down the Samsonite suitcase she’d brought in and held the door open for Lillian. “Wait’ll you meet Latisha,” she said, barely holding back a wide grin. “She got off the bus talking, and she hasn’t stopped since.”
    We could hear her rattling on before we got our first look at Lillian’s great-grandchild. As we waited, in walked a tiny, brown-skinned girl with large eyes and a head full of plaits and barrettes. A rag doll of similar visage was clasped in one arm, while Lillian held the child’s other hand. As Latisha stood in the kitchen, taking everything in with a serious expression on her face, she kept on talking, not at all abashed at being in a strange place. I don’t think I’ve ever heard such a penetrating, piercing little voice in my life.
    Lillian said, “Hush, chile, jus’ hush for one minute. This here’s Miss Julia, who kindly let you come to visit. Now, you behave yo’self in her house, an’ show some manners, if you got any.”
    The child looked me over with those serious eyes and said, “How you do, ma’am. You got a real nice house somewhere down here in North Car’lina, ’cept I don’t know where that is, but it’s where I’m at now.”
    “We’re happy to have you, Latisha,” I said, but she’d turned her attention to Little Lloyd who was standing almost behind