Jinx giggled and said, “I’ll put the eggs in the icebox.”
Before she left the room, Miss Addie said, “Brang these chi’ren some dem teacakes you made the other day.”
“No, thank you,” I said quickly. “We ate before we left.” Besides being a giggler, Jinx was also a nose picker. And from what I had heard, she couldn’t cook worth a lick anyway.
“They taste funny, Mama,” Jinx said, giggling. “I didn’t have no eggs, remember?” For some reason, she found that extremely funny and broke into a giggling fit as she headed to the back of the house.
“How’s yo’ papa ’n’em?” Miss Addie asked me, although she stared straight at Hallelujah.
“Everybody’s fine,” I answered. She was still staring hard at Hallelujah.
Hallelujah fidgeted.
Miss Addie pointed a bony black finger at him and narrowed her silvery eyes. “You ain’t the boy, is you?”
“Me?” Hallelujah asked, pointing his thumb at his chest. He chuckled. “No, ma’am. Rosa and I are friends. I would never run her off the road. I gave her a ride here.”
Miss Addie moaned as if she were in pain. “Um-umph, not that,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s somp’n else. But I cain’t quite git a holt of it.”
Hallelujah glanced at me and grimaced. We had both heard stories of Miss Addie’s so-called visions, which even Reverend Jenkins said were no more than her recounting stories from her hundred-year-old past.
Jinx reappeared in the doorway. With her head tilted to one side and her hand over her heart, she was serious for once and not giggling. “Mama, what you talking ’bout?” she asked.
Miss Addie kept her eyes fixed on Hallelujah. “Dat boy,” she said, pointing. “Somp’n ’bout dat boy.”
Jinx shook her head and said, “Mama, don’t start that crazy hoodoo talk with these chi’rens here.”
“Dis ain’t no hoodoo!” Miss Addie snapped. “Dis da truth. Somp’n ’bout to happen. Somp’n ’bout to shake up Miss’sippi jest like dat flood of twenty-seven shaked us up. It came heah to wash ’way da sins o’ dis place.”
Jinx stormed into the room. “Stop it, Mama,” she said. “Stop scaring these chi’ren. Every day, you sit round here ack’n like some kinda witch cooking up spells. You too old and too close to death for this kinda stuff. You go’n end up going straight to hell.”
But Miss Addie didn’t stop. She wrapped her thin arms around her frail body and rocked vigorously in her chair. “Yes, Lawdy, baby, somp’n ’bout to happen. Somp’n ’bout to happen. Somp’n ’bout to shake dis place.”
Jinx giggled nervously and said, “Don’t y’all pay Mama no mind. Ain’t nothin’ ’bout to happen, ’cause she don’t see nothin’ ’cept the angel Gabra, who ’bout to come take her home soon.”
Miss Addie stopped rocking and stared at Jinx. “Ain’t no anja ’bout ta come git me. My time ain’t close as you thank it is. But dis place,” she said, motioning around the room. “Dis place. Her time done come. Somp’n ’bout to happen. Lawdy, somp’n ’bout to happen.”
Even though there wasn’t a whiff of cool air in that tiny room, chills covered my arms. I was ready to leave.
“Well, we have to go now,” I told Miss Addie. I nudged Hallelujah.
Rather than hearing me, it seemed that Miss Addie had fallen into a trance. She pointed toward the ceiling and said, “Look! Do you see it?”
Hallelujah and I looked up at the same time. I don’t know what he saw, but all I saw was sunlight streaming in through the cracks in the ceiling.
“Yes, Lawdy, baby,” Miss Addie said as she threw her head back. “The time is com’n dat all mens should repent!” She dropped her head to her chest, then began to sway and moan. The sunlight that was streaming in through the cracks in the ceiling suddenly disappeared. The sky had clouded. The room grew darker, as if a giant hand had covered the whole house and was blocking out any sunshine that had previously managed to seep in.
Miss Addie’s moaning grew louder as the room grew darker. It seemed as if she would moan forever. When she finally stopped, the room was as quiet as a graveyard.
“Jinx!” she yelled.
We all jumped.
Jinx stepped forward. “I’m right here, Mama,” she said quietly, like a child chastised and found guilty.
Miss Addie grinned, as if nothing unusual had happened, and said, “Git these chi’ren some dem teacakes ’fo they leave.”
Chapter Fifteen
SATURDAY, AUGUST 27