Read Online Folly by Maureen Brady - Free Book Online

up. Can’t stick my tongue out either. I’ve tried it in the mirror. That’s one of the things this here stroke will do to you.” Daisy’s voice was feeble in timbre but strong in pitch.
    Martha had leaned forward in her chair and was listening fully to Daisy. “That’s all right, Ma. We’ll be takin’ your spirit.”
    â€œWhat’s gonna happen tomorrow?” Folly asked.
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œWhat are we gonna do? What are we gonna say? They’re all gonna ask us questions?”
    â€œWho all?”
    â€œFartblossom . . . the women on the line.”
    â€œOne at a time. Okay?”
    Martha was right there with Folly, and Folly breathed relief. They fired questions, fired answers back. Daisy followed their voices as she had followed the ball landing first in Skeeter’s glove, then in Mary Lou’s. They worked together this way—clear, direct, smooth but excited. They edged toward the front of their seats as they went along. “What about the union?” Folly asked.
    â€œI don’t know,” Martha said. “We’ve got the guy’s number. They’d help us, but then they might scare some of the girls off too.”
    â€œWould they give us money?”
    â€œMaybe.” Martha went to silence trying to picture the union. She’d met a guy hanging around the gate one night, an organizer, and that’s whose phone she had. She’d known a few people who had belonged to unions, but she wasn’t sure what they had done for them.
    â€œMa, what do you think about us bringin’ in the union?”
    â€œThey’ll all be men, you can count on that. They might do something for you, but they won’t care much about Cora’s baby. That’s all I’d know for sure.”
    â€œThe way I see it, we gotta put it to a vote before we call in anyone. See what the other women want,” Folly said.
    â€œRight. Tomorrow we take a vote on how many want the union man to come talk. That’s all—not do anything but just let us ask him questions.”
    â€œGood. And we set up who’s to come when to be on the line, and who’s to look after the children of the picketers and who all’s gonna be on the walk-out committee to decide when we’ll go back . . . .”
    â€œYes, what we’ll be satisfied with, and who’s finding out about Cora and collecting the money for bail.” Martha was orchestrating with her hands when Folly grabbed them both for a brief second.
    â€œWe did it,” she said. “We goddamn walked out on the old fart.” She laughed out loud, a laugh that came from deep inside her and rolled out across the back yard.
    Martha had her hands back to herself, but she could still feel Folly’s touch as if a memory imprint had been planted on them. She felt childish, as if she were playing a mystery game with a shadow, holding herself enraptured with the various possibilities. She wanted another beer but was reluctant to touch the cold can with that same hand that Folly had squeezed in the middle of a gesture.
    As if she were a mind reader, Folly got up and brought out the last two beers. She handed one firmly to Martha so that there was no choice but to open the palm and take it. Martha took too large a gulp which made tears come to her eyes.

7.
    Martha pushed her cart to the back of the store, wandered up and down the meat counter, and saw that no one was tending it. She saw the sign: RING BELL FOR SERVICE, but she wasn’t the type to ring. She went on around the store, picking up the rest of her groceries, then returned to the meat counter. Still, no one there. She seriously considered the buzzer. Daisy needed her liver. As if she had heard Martha’s thoughts, Lenore’s head appeared in the oval window of the door to the back room, and her eyes caught Martha’s. She pushed through the door with a tray of packaged chicken and set it