Free Home by Toni Morrison

marrying a Lotus widower named Salem Money solved that problem for a whileanyway. Looking for someone to help her fix the house, Lenore spoke to the pastor at God’s Congregation church. He gave her one or two names, but hinted that Salem Money would have the time and the skill. It was true, and since Salem was one of the few unmarried men around, it seemed natural that they would join forces. They drove all the way to Mount Haven, Lenore at the wheel, for a marriage license that the clerk refused to issue because they did not have birth certificates. Or so she said. The arbitrariness of that denial, however, did not stop them. They took vows at God’s Congregation.
    Just as Lenore began to feel safe and comfortable so far from Alabama, a passel of Salem’s relatives—ragged and run out of their home—arrived: his son Luther, the wife, Ida, another son, Frank, a grandson, also Frank, and a howling newborn baby girl.
    It was impossible. All she and Salem had done to fix up the house was for nothing. She had to plan ahead to use the outhouse; there was no privacy at all. Waking up early for a leisurely breakfast, as was her habit, she had to step over the sleeping or nursing or snoring bodies scattered through her house. She adjusted and had her breakfast when the men left and Ida took the baby to the fields with her. But it was the infant’s night crying that infuriated her most. When Ida asked Lenore if she would care for the baby because she could no longer see to her in the field, Lenore thought she would lose her mind. She couldhardly refuse, but agreed mainly because the four-year-old brother was clearly the real mother to the infant.
    Those three years were a trial even though the homeless family was grateful, doing whatever she wished and never complaining. They were allowed to keep all of their wages because when they had saved enough they could rent their own place and leave hers. Tight quarters, inconvenience, extra chores, an increasingly indifferent husband—her haven was destroyed. The cloud of her displeasure at being so put-upon found a place to float: around the heads of the boy and girl. It was they who paid, although Lenore believed she was merely a strict step-grandmother, not a cruel one.
    The girl was hopeless and had to be corrected every minute. The circumstances of her birth did not bode well. There was probably a medical word for her awkwardness, for a memory so short even a switching could not help her remember to close the chicken coop at night, or not to spill food on her clothes every single day. “You got two dresses. Two! You expect me to wash one of them up after every meal?” Only the hatred in the eyes of her brother kept Lenore from slapping her. He was always protecting her, soothing her as though she were his pet kitten.
    Finally the family moved into their own house. Peace and order reigned. Years passed, children grew and left, parents sickened and died, crops failed, storms knocked down homes and churches, but Lotus held on. Lenorealso, until she began to feel dizzy too often. That’s when she persuaded Jackie’s mother to let the girl do certain chores for her. Her only hesitation was Jackie’s dog, the girl’s constant minder. A black and brown Doberman, it never left Jackie’s side. Even when the girl was asleep or inside any house in the neighborhood, the Doberman lay its head between its paws right outside the door. Never mind, thought Lenore, as long as the dog remained in the yard or on her porch. She needed someone to do the chores that required sustained standing. Also from Jackie she could glean bits of news about what was going on in the village.
    She learned that the city boy Cee had run off with had stolen Lenore’s car and left her in less than a month. That she was too ashamed to come back home. Figures, thought Lenore. Everything she ever surmised about that girl was true. Even getting married legitimately was beyond her. Lenore had had to insist on some