Jilo (Witching Savannah #4)(76)

“Yes,” he said, his eyes welling up again, from relief, she hoped, or maybe even happiness.

“You scuff up or stretch my shoes, and everything I just said about you being safe is off. I will kill you myself.” His face froze. “Just so we’re clear.” She closed the chifferobe’s doors and headed back into the hall. She gave Robinson a slight bounce, then looked back over her shoulder. “Now get out here and help me finish making dinner while Binah does her schoolwork.”



The three of them sat on the wide front porch, beneath the artificial haint-blue sky. Beyond the porch’s overhang, night was fast approaching, replacing the blue with brilliant roses and oranges. Before today, Jilo would never have dreamed of nursing in front of Willy, who was sitting on the porch with his back to the front wall, but tonight they all felt like family. So while she rocked on the swing next to Binah, Jilo undid the buttons of her blouse and shifted her fussing baby to her exposed breast.

As Robinson nursed, Willy and Binah chattered on. Mostly about how bad they needed to buy themselves a television, so they could watch I Love Lucy along with the rest of the country.

Jilo used the ball of her foot to rock the swing back and forth. She looked down at Willy. “You already spend half your life listening to that damned radio.” Jilo was both annoyed and pleased that he’d forgotten how tenuous his living situation had been only hours ago. “Besides, if we don’t find a way to start getting some money in around here,” she said, giving voice to her own more pressing worry, “we may not have anywhere to put a television set.”

Binah locked eyes with her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean we have to pay taxes on this place. We don’t pay taxes, they’ll come and take the house away from us.”

“Who are ‘they’?” A vertical line formed between Binah’s brow, and her eyes narrowed. “This was Nana’s house. Now it’s ours. Nobody has the right to try and steal it from us.”

“The law. That’s who ‘they’ are. The law. And ‘they’ say we’re stealing from them if we don’t pay taxes. They take from us, and then they tell us we’re the thieves. That’s how it works, my sister,” Jilo said, regretting that she had brought the subject up. A tumultuous day had led into a pleasant—happy, even—evening. She should have held her tongue. It was just that she had begun to feel mighty alone when it came to dealing with the problems that life kept bringing.

“What about that fat woman? The one who smelled?” Willy asked.

Jilo pursed her lips, her nose wrinkling as she remembered the woman’s sharp onion scent. “She didn’t believe that I have any of the ‘root’ in me.” Jilo said, shifting Robinson to her other breast. He fussed a little as she did, but he settled down as soon as he realized dinner wasn’t over.

“But nobody does,” Binah said, her eyes bright with humor. “There’s no such thing as magic.”

“Yeah, well, you know that, and I know that, but if we’re lucky, the rest of the world isn’t going to figure that bit out.” She pushed the swing back again, then let go. “She said she could see I didn’t have the Hoodoo because of the way I look. The way I talk.” Jilo felt the woman’s words grate at her once again. “She said I was just ‘another uppity Negro.’ ”

“She didn’t believe in you . . .” Willy said in a hushed voice. Jilo twisted to get a better view of him. “She couldn’t believe in you, ’cause you didn’t match what she was expecting to see.” He stared forward into the deepening twilight. “Sometimes you just gotta show folk what they want to see.”

“Tell her,” Binah said. “Tell Jilo about Audrey.”

Jilo had believed she knew every person in these two children’s worlds, so the unfamiliar name surprised her. She was intrigued, but Willy fell silent.

“Go on, I’m listening,” Jilo said. “Tell me about this Audrey.” Willy shook his head, drawing his knees up into his chest.

“Go on, Willy,” Binah coaxed him.

Jilo glanced at her sister before returning her attention to the boy. “Go on. Tell me. Who the hell is this Audrey friend of yours?”

“She isn’t a friend,” Willy said, then his mouth clamped shut.

“Go on, Willy,” Jilo said, softening her voice. “I want to hear about her. I do.”

Willy raised his eyes to meet hers. “You saw her. You saw her today.” He pushed himself up. “I know you think this is me,” he tugged on the tail of his shirt. “This boy you looking at, but he ain’t me. Not really. Willy isn’t the real me. He’s just someone I pretend to be. He’s a shell I wear. Audrey,” he said the name with reverence, “that’s who I really am. On the inside at least. To get by in this world, I make believe I’m Willy. But when I’m alone. When I’m really me . . .”

Jilo tugged her nipple from Robinson’s lips, surprised to find he was already sleeping. She handed the baby to her sister and buttoned her blouse, not quite sure how to react to the boy’s admission. Should she get on her knees and take Willy into her arms? Or should she pretend she’d never heard any of it?

Willy looked up at her. “You need to make yourself a shell. One you can wear when you dealing with people looking for Hoodoo. You need to give them what they’re looking for. When you dealing with them, you can’t just be Jilo. You gotta be Mother Jilo.”