An Excerpt from the novel, Leaving Henry.

When I woke up on Thanksgiving morning, the delicate smell of sweet potato pie greeted me, with rich nutmeg and cinnamon spices that made my mouth water. It was Momma’s tradition to make sweet potato pie on Thanksgiving. She added ingredients that nobody knew about, calling it her secret recipe. She passed that secret recipe to me shortly before her death, and I still have it to this very day.

My sisters were already up, so I lay there for a while listening to the hustle and bustle in the next room. Momma had decided to invite company to dinner, and much to my surprise, she invited Susie Pie and her mother. She even asked Wildcat Fruit to join us. As I lay there anticipating the day, I heard banging on the front door. When Pappy answered, I heard Wildcat’s gravelly voice.

“Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!” he shouted. The noise level seemed to rise whenever he visited. “I brought you a barrel of wood. It’s outside on the porch. It sure smells good in here, Betty Mae. What time is dinner?”

“Three o’clock, and don’t be late.”

“I won’t!” His hearty laughter made the cabin walls vibrate.

“How’s everything in Alabama?” Momma asked.

“My nephew has a good lawyer, and we hope he’ll be found innocent.”

“When is the trial?” Pappy asked.

“Sometime in the summer. I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks for the wood, man. We certainly need it.”

“No problem. Well, I’ll be back at three. Have a nice morning.” He left, and the whole cabin seemed quieter.

I hurried out of bed, washed, dressed, and tidied my braids, then joined the family in the kitchen. Everyone was busy doing tasks and talking to each other. I silently slipped onto a bench at the table and tapped my tin mug with a fork.

“Good morning, everybody!” I yelled over the noisy chatter.

Momma put a basket of hot biscuits on the table. “Good morning, sleepyhead. Are you ready for breakfast?”

I grabbed a biscuit. “Yes, mam.”

She brought me two sausages, jelly, and a boiled egg. “This should hold you until dinner.”

Everyone ran past me and grabbed their coats and hats from the closet.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Outside,” Clarence replied. They threw on their coats and hats and left out the front door. I hurried up and ate, put my dishes in the sink, slipped on my coat and hat, and ran outside with Old Dick.

Red and orange leaves quilted the yard like a blanket. Copper-brown leaves swirled and danced in the air. Fistful by fistful, we crunched the leaves into a big, hilly pile, and circled the mound.

I straddled my legs. “I’ll go first!”

“No, I want to go first!” Clarence shouted. He charged forward, and his body flew through the air. He landed on the leaves with his arms and legs flailing, laughing his head off. I ran and sailed into the pile of leaves after him, squealing my heart out.

“Here I come!” Lucian shouted in his baby voice as he hoisted his body and landed on the pile of leaves.

“Stop showing off!” Escelle cackled as she kicked the leaves everywhere. Old Dick rolled in the leaves, barking.

“Look, who’s showing off now!” I giggled.

We played in the leaves until Momma came outside around two o’clock and held the door open. She looked pretty in her orange dress and apron, and her hair was swept up in a bun.

“Time to come in and freshen up, chillum!” she shouted. “Our company will be here soon.”

The boys raced past Momma into the house, with my sisters and I racing behind. Unique aromas came from the kitchen, and a plate with sliced ham was on the edge of the kitchen counter. Old Dick ran to the counter, sniffing.

“Get away from there!” Momma shoved Old Dick away. “Chillum, wash your faces and those grubby hands!”

We ran into the bedroom, took turns washing our hands and faces, and returned to the kitchen. The whole place looked festive with Momma’s fancy white tablecloth on the table and a pumpkin centerpiece with pine branches. Colorful leafy wreaths with acorns hung on the windows and doors, and a minty evergreen scent lingered in the air. Momma stirred a pot of green beans on the stove while Grandmother Ella set the table. Grandmother Clem slept in the rocking chair by the fire, dressed in her royal blue dress. On the floor next to her was a small jar of slimy brown liquid. Grandmother Clem was never without her snuff.

“What’s wrong with Grandmother Clem?” I asked.

“She’s just tired,” Momma explained.

“Too much of that homebrew.” Pappy strolled in with a large iron pot and put it on the stove. “Two chickens ready for the trimmings,” he grinned, eyeing me.

Momma placed the chickens on a huge tin platter and spooned baked cornbread dressing around them. The chickens’ roasted smell and the memory of Pappy killing them made me queasy. Just then, Susie Pie and her mother arrived, and I ran to greet my friend. We hugged each other tight, giggling.

“I’m glad you came!”

“Me, too!”

“Are you hungry?”

“Sure am! I can’t wait to eat!”

I led Susie Pie to the pallet in the living room, and we both flopped on it. She wore a red dress and shiny black shoes with a strap over the instep.

“I like your shoes. They’re so shiny.”

Susie Pie reached down and tugged on her shoe strap. “My Momma bought them last week because I grew out of the ones I had. I’m only supposed to wear them for special occasions.”

“Nice.” I blushed, folding my legs under me. I didn’t want her to see my worn, holey, too-tight shoes. Susie Pie’s mother stood quietly by the door holding her black handbag close to her chest. There seemed to be loss and sadness in her sienna eyes. When Missus Pebbles finally pulled off her coat, she looked stunning in her dark navy full-skirt dress and black heels. She pulled off her wool hat and gloves and raked her fingers through her short, curly brown hair.

“Let me take your coat,” Momma offered.

“Thank you, Betty Mae,” she replied softly. She stuffed her gloves in her handbag, looked around, and made herself comfortable on the couch. “It sure smells delicious in here.”

“Just wait until you taste Mae’s cooking,” Pappy boasted.

“I’m looking forward to it,” she demurely smiled.

Wildcat arrived next, roaring, “Happy Thanksgiving!” as he came through the front door. The back door rattled, and Pappy rushed to open it. Grandfather came in looking nice in his freshly starched white shirt, black suspenders, and matching slacks and boots. He repeatedly snapped his suspenders, which got on Grandmother Ella’s nerves.

Everyone sat in the living room chatting and laughing. Wildcat and Missus Pebbles engaged in a lively conversation and seemed enamored with each other. Missus Pebbles patted Wildcat’s knee, batting her short lashes. My eyes widened in horror, and I elbowed Susie Pie.

“Eeww! I think your momma likes Wildcat Fruit!”

“Uh, uh.” Susie Pie frowned, shaking her head. “No, she doesn’t.”

“Yes, she does. Look at her.”

Susie Pie looked up, then slapped one hand over her mouth. “I don’t believe it!”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“Tell her he’s mean as the devil.”

“I hope you can convince her,” I sighed.

“Don’t worry. I will!”

Momma arranged the rest of the food on the table, poured sweet, iced tea into the tin cups, set the empty pitcher on the counter, and announced dinner was ready.

The adults gathered around the table and quickly took their seats. Momma sat at the opposite end of the table from Pappy. Lucian sat beside Momma in his highchair, Grandmother Ella and Grandmother Clem sat together on one side of the table, while Grandfather and Wildcat sat across from them. Missus Pebbles smoothed her dress and sat next to Wildcat. The kids gathered around the coffee table, Escelle first, then Irene, Clarence, Susie Pie and me. I unfolded my napkin and carefully arranged it on my lap, and Susie Pie did the same.

Pappy called for everyone’s attention, cleared his throat, and said grace as the noise settled. Then, we all began filling our plates. I got my share of collard greens, ham, cranberry sauce, fried corn, and a fresh hot roll, avoiding the chicken and dressing altogether.

“Aren’t you going to eat some chicken, Red-Headed Gray-Eyed Cat?” Pappy asked, arching an eyebrow.

Raw anger boiled inside me, and I slapped my hand on the coffee table. “I’m not going to eat those chickens after you killed—”

“Watch yourself, Red-Headed Gray-Eyed Cat.” Pappy’s midnight eyes blazed. “Don’t let these good folks see you get your fanny whupped.”

I glanced at the table and saw everyone gazing at their plates. Except Momma, who glared at Pappy. I tried not to burst into tears, but they came anyway. Susie Pie patted my hand as I wiped my cheek with my other hand.

“Earl, you will do no such thing to that girl. You hear me?” Grandmother Ella curled her lips. “Leave her alone.”

Grandfather also backed me. “If she doesn’t like chicken, let her be.”

“I’m confused. What happened?” Missus Pebbles dared to ask with wide eyes.

“Little Ella saw her father killing the chickens yesterday,” Momma sighed, clearing her throat. “I’m afraid it traumatized her.”

“Oh, dear!” Missus Pebbles put her fork down. “No child that young should’ve watched that.”

“She came out there on her own.” Pappy reared back with a hint of guilt in his eyes. “I certainly didn’t make her.”

 Grandmother Clem banged her fork on her tin cup. “Can we eat and enjoy the holiday, please?”

“I’m with Clem.” Grandmother Ella nodded as she rearranged her napkin on her lap.

“Fine, it’s not like I was trying to ruin anyone’s holiday, Mama!” Pappy grabbed a chicken wing from his plate and bit into it. Everyone started eating, and soon, lively chatter followed as if nothing had happened.

Susie Pie leaned over and whispered in my ear. “I’m with you. I’m not going to eat that chicken either,” she grinned.

“Thank you.” I smiled, appreciative of her support.

We ate until our bellies were stuffed and danced to Ma Rainey’s music for the rest of the afternoon. Old Dick chewed on chicken bones, and Whiskers lapped up milk. The grown-ups played cards, drank homemade brew, and took turns telling each other tall tales. It turned out to be a lovely Thanksgiving holiday.