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stinky white fella that live behind the feed store, the one lost his mind from drinking the shoe polish. But the list be pretty full tonight.
    And look a there who else I done put on this list. Bertrina Bessemer a all people! Everbody know Bertrina and me don’t take to each other ever since she call me a nigga fool for marrying Clyde umpteen years ago.
    “Minny,” I say last Sunday, “why Bertrina ask me to pray for her?”
    We walking home from the one o’clock service. Minny say, “Rumor is you got some kind a power prayer, gets better results than just the regular variety.”
    “Say what?”
    “Eudora Green, when she broke her hip, went on your list, up walking in a week. Isaiah fell off the cotton truck, on your prayer list that night, back to work the next day.”
    Hearing this made me think about how I didn’t even get the chance to pray for Treelore. Maybe that’s why God took him so fast. He didn’t want a have to argue with me.
    “Snuff Washington,” Minny say, “Lolly Jackson—heck, Lolly go on your list and two days later she pop up from her wheelchair like she touched Jesus. Everbody in Hinds County know about that one.”
    “But that ain’t me,” I say. “That’s just prayer.”
    “But Bertrina—” Minny get to laughing, say, “You know Cocoa, the one Clyde run off with?”
    “Phhh. You know I never forget her.”
    “Week after Clyde left you, I heard that Cocoa wake up to her cootchie spoilt like a rotten oyster. Didn’t get better for three months. Bertrina, she good friends with Cocoa. She know your prayer works.”
    My mouth drop open. Why she never tell me this before? “You saying people think I got the black magic?”
    “I knew it make you worry if I told you. They just think you got a better connection than most. We all on a party line to God, but you, you setting right in his ear.”
    My teapot start fussing on the stove, bringing me back to real life. Law, I reckon I just go ahead and put Miss Skeeter on the list, but how come, I don’t know. Which reminds me a what I don’t want a think about, that Miss Leefolt’s building me a bathroom cause she think I’m diseased. And Miss Skeeter asking don’t I want to change things, like changing Jackson, Mississippi, gone be like changing a lightbulb.
     
     
     
    I’m STRINGING BEANS in Miss Leefolt’s kitchen and the phone rings. I’m hoping it’s Minny to say she found something. I done called everbody I ever waited on and they all told me the same thing: “We ain’t hiring.” But what they really mean is: “We ain’t hiring Minny .”
    Even though Minny already had her last day a work three days ago, Miss Walter call Minny in secret last night, ask her to come in today cause the house feel too empty, what with most the furniture already taken away by Miss Hilly. I still don’t know what happen with Minny and Miss Hilly. I reckon I don’t really want to know.
    “Leefolt residence.”
    “Um, hi. This is . . .” The lady stop, clear her throat. “Hello. May I . . . may I please speak to Elizabeth Leer-folt?”
    “Miss Leefolt ain’t home right now. May I take a message?”
    “Oh,” she say, like she got all excited over nothing.
    “May I ask who calling?”
    “This is . . . Celia Foote. My husband gave me this number here and I don’t know Elizabeth, but . . . well, he said she knows all about the Children’s Benefit and the Ladies League.” I know this name, but I can’t quite place it. This woman talk like she from so deep in the country she got corn growing in her shoes. Her voice is sweet though, high-pitch. Still, she don’t sound like the ladies round here do.
    “I give her your message,” I say. “What’s your number?”
    “I’m kind of new here and, well, that’s not true, I’ve been here a pretty good stretch, gosh, over a year now. I just don’t really know anybody. I don’t . . . get out too much.”
    She clear her throat again and I’m wondering why she telling me all this. I’m