'Mary-Beth. Mary-Beth…'

Mama says I spend too much time up there in my own head. Mama says it’ll git me in trouble one day. Mama says a lot.

'Mary-Beth!'

Mama tol’ me to chop beans, so I chopped beans. I like to sing to myself when I do my chores. I sing the old songs, the ones they taught us back east in the pretty little church school under the trees. If my head is all filled up with songs, there ain’t no room for it to fill with memories of Pa and the trip out west, and… them.

'Yes, Mama?'

'Where’s your brother at?'

'He went to check the wire.'

'On his own?'

'Dog went with.'

Mama didn’t seem so happy ‘bout that. But since Pa rode ‘lone into town last spring, what else can Billy-Boy do? Work gotta git done, wire gotta git checked. And anyhow, Dog got good eyes and good ears on him and Billy-Boy, he done growed real fast since Pa rode out and didn’t ride back agin.

'Y’all ain’t finished with them greens yet?'

'Not yet, Mama. I’m doing it.'

'Y’all busy up there in your own head again is what you are, Mary-Beth.’

'Yes, Mama.'

When Mama shakes her head like that, I know she’s thinking ‘bout Pa and how much harder it’s been since he went away. I don’t like it when Mama gits busy up there in her own head. I don’t know if she even remembers the songs from back east. If she does, I ain’t never heard her sing them, not since Pa.

'Here, Mama. Taste.'

Sometimes when Mama tells me to do something, I just do it without even considering. Mama was so busy up in there in her own head she just took that bean right off me and bit it with a snap.

'They real sweet this year, Mama. Real sweet.'

'Y’all real sweet, Mary-Beth. Sometimes anyhow.'

These days, Mama’s smile seems as rare as her songs, but that fresh, sweet bean sure done helped find it.

'There’s plenty more coming up behind, but I think I got enough for today, right Ma?'

Mama looked at the pile of cut greens. Mama likes to be in charge. Mama likes to know all the answers. If Mama’s busy taking charge and knowing all the answers, maybe she ain’t thinking so hard on Pa and Billy-Boy out there checking on the wire all on his lonesome.

'I think that’s plenty, child. Gee-Gar won’t eat but a few, if she eats at all. But Billy-Boy always eats more’n his fair share.'

'And the Preacher?'

'If he makes it afore sunset, he’ll sit and eat with us. But only enough to be polite.'

'How long do you think he’ll stay, Ma? Preacher, I mean?'

Mama looked down the passage towards the room where Gee-Gar was busy sleeping.

'Not long now, child. Not long.'

'Okay, Mama.'