They call her Dana Read Online Free PDF Page B

vision.
    "You're right," I said. "It don't make sense. Don't make no sense at all."
    "It will," Mama Lou said quietly. "When the time comes, when it happens, it will make perfect sense. You'll be where you belong, chile, an' you'll be—" She hesitated, frowning.

    intent as she peered into the future. "You will be someone— someone they all know."
    "Those people making the racket?"
    She nodded. "You will be someone of note."
    Someone of note? Beats me what she's talking about, I said to myself. It was thrilling to think of me in a silk gown, wearing sparklers, but what could the circle of lights mean? And all those people watching me and making a big commotion? My knees were beginning to hurt from kneeling there in front of the chair, but I still wanted to know about Ma. Mama Lou had been evasive when I asked her about Ma before. I asked her again now, and the old Negro looked at me with black-brown eyes that were full of concern. The comers of her mouth worked, and she hesitated again before speaking. Her voice was crisp.
    "You takes her the medicine, chile. Mama Lou's medicine is the best. It'll ease her."
    "But—"
    Mama Lou shook her head impatiently and stood up, reaching down for my hand. I stood up, too, a wave of dirty honey-blond hair spilling across my cheek. I brushed it back, frustrated, apprehensive. She knew something, I was sure of it, but she didn't intend to tell me. Why? Was it. . . was it something bad?
    "Mama Lou—" My voice trembled.
    "Don't ask Mama Lou no more questions. Sometimes it ain't—it ain't a blessin' to have the sight. I has things to do, herbs to gather, petals to dry. I cain't spend no more time jawin' with you."
    "Thank—thank you. Mama Lou. Next time I'll try to bring some sugar, too."
    Mama Lou didn't reply. She avoided my eyes. I had the strange feeling that I would never see her again, that the old woman knew it full well. She led me out onto the porch, Ebenezer following behind us with a series of ugly hisses. The sky was darker than before, clouds covering the sun completely. Everything was flat pewter-gray and dull green and muddy brown. A frog leaped into the lake. The water lilies trembled, grew still. Mama Lou took my hand again and gripped it tightly, her own bony yet curiously smooth. Those black-brown eyes peered at me intently, but I sensed that they were seeing much more than a dirty-faced giri in a ragged pink dress. She didn't say anything

    for a long while, and when she finally spoke, her voice was tired, raspy.
    "You's strong, chile, like I said. You's gonna see it through."
    "Am—am I going to need strength?"
    "They—they's gonna be hard times, little Dana, and you's going to suffer, but—you will know great joy as well. One day you will know great joy, a great love. The dream will come true."
    There were many more questions I longed to ask her, but I knew it would be futile. Mama Lou had said all that she intended to say. She looked at me now with sad, dark eyes, and I felt sad, too, a tremulous sadness that seemed to well up inside me. It was all I could do to keep the tears from brimming over my lashes. This ancient Negro woman with her fuzzy gray head and withered black cheeks was the only friend I had ever had, and I knew somehow that I would never see her again. Mama Lou seemed to follow my thoughts. She nodded, as though to confirm the truth in them. She let go of my hand and moved back. Ebenezer curled his fat body around her ankles, hissing at me.
    "Good-bye, Mama Lou," I said quietiy.
    "Take care, chile."
    Reluctantly I left her, questions unanswered, new questions taking shape in my mind. I crossed the clearing beside the lake, and reaching the edge of the trees with their festoons of ghostly gray moss, I turned and looked back at the shanty. Mama Lou was still standing on the porch, absolutely immobile, looking like some petrified pagan statue with the furry marmalade cat curled about her ankles. The sky was still gray, the lake flat and motionless,