Doc thought a moment. “Bad people and angry spirits.”
Jay said, “White people?”
“Well, sometimes, yes,” Doc answered with a small nod. Mama shot him a look, but he didn’t notice and kept on talking. “But there are plenty of Negroes who believe what we do ain’t right either. That it ain’t godly. So we get a hard time from both sides.”
“Then why do it at all?” I wondered out loud.
This time, Doc did look to Mama. “Go on, then,” she said after a moment. “You started this; it’s not like I can keep you from finishing.”
Doc nodded. “It’s part of our history,” he said. “If someone doesn’t teach it, if someone doesn’t learn it, the magic will eventually disappear. You know those trickster stories of Br’er Rabbit and Br’er Bear your gran used to tell? They connect us to our roots in Africa. And working the roots, our ways to protect ourselves and to get rid of spirits, they do the same thing. Even what we did today, to say goodbye to your gran.” Doc rubbed his hand against his beard. “All of that is what makes us Gullah Geechee people who we are. If no one tells the stories anymore, if no one learns the magic anymore, our ways will disappear from the world. Then all we’ll have is what other people think of us.” He bent his head to look both me and Jay in the eyes. “And how important is what other people think of us?”
Me and Jay answered together: “Not as important as what we think of us.”
“You’re both going to have to remember that when we start learning root magic.”
“But you talking about mixing potions and powders and stuff, right?” Jay asked. “It ain’t real magic, is it?”
Doc leaned back in his chair, rocking it on two legs. “It’s real as you believe it is.”
Me and Jay shared a look. That sounded like the sort of thing grown-ups said in the storybooks we read when we were little. Folks called rootwork “magic,” but all I ever saw Gran and Doc do was sell medicines to people who came to our farm for help: powders wrapped in waxed paper for headaches; a yellow cream for mosquito bites and bee stings that smelled like fresh-cut grass; a clear, thin liquid to mix with warm water for tummy aches. The tummy medicine tasted like liquid candy canes without sugar, but it worked. I guess making people feel better was a kind of magic, but the way Doc was talking about it . . . I wasn’t so sure.
Maybe Doc knew what we were thinking, because he said, “We’re getting ahead of ourselves. As I was saying, your gran really wanted you to learn rootwork, and now that she’s gone, I’ll need more help to protect our land and all of you.” He straightened up again. “That is, if I can get my sister’s permission.”
With that, he looked at Mama. Mama, though, chewed at her lip and didn’t speak. She was thinking, considering her brother’s words.
“Janey,” Doc said to Mama, “you know things are happening around these kids. They need to be able to protect themselves.”
“I know no such thing. They’re ten years old!”
I piped up. “We’re almost eleven.”
“Yeah, day after tomorrow,” Jay said. He found a loose string on his shirt and pulled at it. Mama gave him the look and he wrapped his hands around his glass instead.
She sighed. “They shouldn’t even have to think about this business yet. They should be busy being kids! I don’t like it one little bit.”
Doc pushed his fingers through his coily hair. “I know that’s how you feel. But this is the world we live in. And these kids were born into it. That’s a fact we all had to deal with—you, me, even Danny when he was here.”
Jay nudged me in the ribs again. I managed to hide my grunt from his sharp elbow. I’d heard Daddy’s name as well as he did, but I wanted to make sure I didn’t miss a word of their conversation.
“I know that!” Mama said. She fanned herself now, and lifted her damp hair off her neck. Then, quieter, she said, “I know. Before Danny disappeared . . . oh, forget it. They’re my children and I want them safe.”
Doc nodded, then got up from the table and opened the window. A cool afternoon wind blew in, cutting through the oven-hot kitchen. “Then let me teach them.”
Even though the sun had moved from overhead, sweat still beaded on my forehead, then rolled down my face on the same path my tears did earlier. Even Jay, who usually fooled around, running and ripping, only shuffled his feet along the floor, waiting.
Finally when Mama did talk, she took a deep, shaky breath first. “Lynchings, beatings, and more than half the time, the police are right there when it happens. Or they’re the ones doing it. How are we supposed to live in this world and be safe?” Her eyes were wet and shiny. “Is root gonna protect Jez and Jay from what’s out there? Brick powder and goofer dust don’t stop the police. I’d rather deal with haints and hags.”
While we waited for Doc’s response, the sounds of summer drifted in through the window and the front door. Wind rustled the trees and the chickens clucked for their afternoon meal. Jay hated being quiet, so of course he found something to say.
“We’ll be careful, Mama.”
“I know you will.” She gave Jay a sideways look over her shoulder. “Well, as much as you can be.”
“You’re never careful,” I said, laughing. Jay stuck his tongue out at me. My brother ran headlong into everything, and I usually had to be the one to get him out again.
“Go change out of your good clothes, you two.”
I suspected Mama and Doc needed to talk among themselves anyway, so me and Jay ran back to our room. I grabbed my soft blue denim dress and headed for the bathroom. I ran water in the sink and washed my hands, face, and neck. I took off my white ankle socks and placed my feet on the side of the cold metal tub while I washed them too. Once I buttoned up my play dress, I left my good one in the laundry basket.
When I came out, Jay was coming out of our room. We headed back to the kitchen, where Mama was cleaning up the mess Collins had made
“I don’t want my kids in danger,” Mama was still saying. “With Collins sniffing around . . . I don’t want to lose anyone else. My heart can’t take it.”
“They’re living in this world, ain’t they? So they’re already in danger.” Doc put his hand gently over Mama’s. “I’m just trying to give them a fighting chance. Our mama taught me how to protect this family. Let me teach them. Rootwork is part of who we are.”
“Of course it is! But I want them to have better chances in life.” Mama glanced over at me and Jay. “Go to school, get good jobs, have a bright future.”
Doc nodded. “No reason they can’t do both.” He gave me and Jay a solid look as we sat across the table from him, where he’d refilled our glasses. “That is, if you think you can keep up with your schoolwork and learn to work root.”
“Yes!” me and Jay yelled at the same time. I bounced in my seat. The more I thought about it, the more excited I was. If Gran wanted me to learn how to be a healer and make medicines and potions, then now that she was gone, that’s exactly what I was going to do. I wanted to learn to be just like her and help our family and our community stay safe and healthy and happy. The thought of doing something Gran had wanted made the empty place inside me fill up a little.