Every Woman Needs a Wife by Naleighna Kai Page B

waggled a long finger at her. “Me and you ain’t gonna get along so well.”
    Mama Diane turned from the stove and winked at her.
    Tanya sighed and said, “Brummistew.”
    “Now that’s better.” He peered into the next pot on the stove, steam billowing out on the sides. “Y’all got any turnips mixed in with those collards?”
    His eyebrows arched into half moons as he looked at Tanya.
    “Mrs. Pitchford said that Mr. Pitchford didn’t put them out this year.”
    “Didn’t put them out?” he said, his voice filled with wonder. “Girl, you sounding mighty Black ’round here.”
    “Mama Diane’s teaching me a whole lot. She said that turnips are a delicacy and since everyone doesn’t plant them, it’s hard to get her hands on them if they’re not grown right here in Social Circle.”
    He lifted the glass cover of the cake dish to inspect the contents. “Who made the Red Velvet cake?”
    “I did,” Tanya said proudly. “And topped it with pecans.”
    “Hmmmmm,” he murmured, giving it a once-over before replacing the lid. Mama Diane gave her a thumbs-up. Evidently Grandpa James approved.
    Michelle had warned Tanya that Grandpa James would be a tough customer. Looking at his wrinkled skin the color of roasted pecans, the way his eyes missed nothing, and the little ways he joked and chided the rest of the women, she could believe it. No one got off easy. But Grandma Belle had his number, patting him lovingly on the rump every time he strolled past. Tanya didn’t miss his satisfied grin, or the fact that he went past Grandma Belle on purpose, on out-of-the way trips to other parts of the kitchen—often more than once.
    Most of Michelle’s family had arrived late last night. The women, with their own seasonings in tow, brought the items to make their specialties. Tanya soon learned that Christmas and all other family gatherings alwaystook place at the Pitchford home. Children stretched out upstairs on cotton pallets next to older aunts and uncles, resting up for all the fun that would happen the next day. This Christmas, with a small, decorated tree in the living room, and presents stacked up on all sides, was a warm contrast from the formal parties complete with tuxes, ball gowns, and stuffy attitudes at the Jaunal mansion, where Tanya had spent the first twelve years of her life.
    Tanya had never stayed up all night, but managed to keep her eyes open as the symphony of so many women—with skin ranging from midnight black to as ivory as her own—orchestrated a spectacular Christmas dinner. She and Michelle were put to work peeling and dicing potatoes and celery for iced potato salad, stirring the pots of black-eyed peas and butter beans, or cleaning the greens in a porcelain sink—an endless job. Grandma Belle, along with Aunt Lily and Ruby Pearl, directed cooking traffic from an old wooden chair pulled up to the oak table in the center of the kitchen. The women took turns singing old hymns or even breaking into one or two secular songs and the time moved swiftly.
    A peace had settled into Tanya’s soul. She knew that she was now home.
    Though they didn’t appear to be as busy as the women, the men weren’t exactly loafing. After they slaughtered a pig, they were up all night cooking it over a wide pit right off the front lawn. Once they got the pig over the fire, they tossed a few horseshoes while downing cans of Old Milwaukee and Country Club, and passing around bottles of Boone’s Farm and Canadian Mist.
    Uncle Jeff gave Michelle and Tanya a lucky swig of both along with some homemade plum wine, but made them promise not to tell Mama Diane. Of course they wouldn’t tell. It was the first time Tanya had a taste of anything so strong. The girls brought the pig skin back into the house and passed the tray to Aunt Martha, who would season it and fry it up to crisp little kernels that would go into the crackling corn bread. Later, some would mix it with buttermilk and make a meal out of