Free Blue by Joyce Moyer Hostetter

Junior down the steps and to the truck. “Did you grow these?” she asked.
    “Yes, ma’am, I did,” said Junior. I decided I was gonna choke him when I got the chance. I stepped out from behind that tree.
    “Actually, I grew the potatoes and the sweet corn,” I said. “It ain’t enough for the patients, but maybe it will do for your kitchen help.” I was still debating how I was gonna tell her my momma worked in her kitchen.
    But then I didn’t have to after all. I heard my momma’s voice behind me. “Ann Fay?” I could hear how shocked and happy she was to see me. “How did you get here?”
    The next thing I knew, my momma was clinging to me, tight as a chigger.

11
Pete
    August 1944
    At first I just hung on to my momma and leaned into her softness. She smelled like cooked greens and bacon. I buried my face against her and said, “I brought you some corn on the cob and tomatoes.”
    “Oh, honey,” Momma breathed into my ear. “I can’t believe they let you in.”
    “I just had to see you and Bobby.”
    Something changed in Momma when I said that about Bobby. She let out a little cry that put me in mind of Pete whenever one of us stepped on his foot by accident. And I felt her arms go real tight around me like one of them clamps Daddy uses to glue two pieces of wood together.
    “Mrs. Honeycutt, is this your child?”
    I turned around and seen it was that cook, Mrs. Townsend. Before Momma could answer, I heard a squealing, “Momma! Momma!” And the next thing I knew, Ida and Ellie was throwing themselves at her legs. They almost knocked her over and me too.
    Momma was so startled she began to cry. I didn’t know whether to fuss at Ida and Ellie for not listening or be glad for my momma that they was there.
    But to tell the truth, I don’t think Momma had more than two seconds to be glad any of us was there. All of asudden people was coming from every which way, and my poor momma was standing there all red-faced with three young’uns hanging on to her.
    “What’s going on?” demanded a man in a uniform. He turned to Junior.
    Junior threw up his hands. “I just brung some vegetables to the cook,” he said. “I didn’t bring these girls in. Honest to God!”
    “We brought ourselves!” I said. “We wanted to see our momma and maybe wave to our brother. He’s inside.”
    “No visitors allowed,” said the guard. “You have to leave.”
    “Oh, please, sir,” I heard my momma say. “Just let them stay a few minutes.” She was hanging on to every one of us and dropping kisses on our heads like we was all she had in the world. Her fingers was digging into my arm.
    That’s when I got the same feeling I had at the train station that day. About our family and how it seemed like we was breaking apart. Her hugging me so desperate was giving me that bad feeling.
    The guard took ahold of my arm. “It’s not safe for any of you to be here,” he said. “You have to leave.”
    I didn’t argue with him. Suddenly I wanted to leave. I wanted to get away from Momma.
    But Ida and Ellie latched on to Momma like a tick on our dog, Pete.
    I grabbed both of them. “Stop making a scene. You don’t wanna get Momma in trouble, do you?”
    They wasn’t paying no attention to me. “Help me, Junior,” I called.
    Junior come and unwrapped Ida’s arms from Momma’s legs, and by the time I had Ellie loose, he had the truckdoor open and was shoving Ida inside. I carried Ellie kicking and screaming and pushed her in too. Then I climbed in and pulled the door shut quick before they could climb back out. We was all in a sweating, squirming heap when Junior climbed in the other side, cranked up the truck, and shoved it into gear.
    I got a last look at Momma just before we went around the corner of the building. She was standing there with her mouth open, wiping loose hairs away from her face and looking like she had got a visitation from an angel.
    Junior was driving fast—too fast for the hospital grounds—and