Take My Hand(66)

“I’m just asking. Don’t be so defensive. By the way, you need to look for another job. Or go work with your daddy in the office.”

“I’m looking for a job, Mama.”

“You apply to anything?”

“Well, no, not yet. I can’t just walk in a place and fill out an application.”

“Why not?”

“Because my name is all over the papers. Besides, they don’t just advertise in the paper for nursing jobs.”

“Actually, they do. Look, if you can’t get nothing over there at St. Jude, then see if the schools are hiring. Maybe you could be a school nurse since you seem to be taking this sudden interest in children.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She didn’t answer, and I didn’t push it. I supposed I could apply at a hospital. The moment I’d seen those girls lying in that bed without enough pain meds, I’d wondered if there was a place for me at the hospital, giving patients the extra care that the doctors didn’t bother to give.

Mama pulled into the driveway. “Looks like somebody was following us.”

The man parked his blue Ford under a tree in the shade, and it shuddered to a stop. I could just make out the outline of a hat.

“Got their nerve. On a Sunday.”

“You alright?” Mama asked as we walked into the house.

“I’m going to change. Then I’m going to meet up with Ty. Make sure you lock up when you go out to the shed.”

Ty had told me he would meet me outside Lou’s office that afternoon. He wanted to be with me when I told Lou how the nurses planned to help. I watched my rearview mirror the whole drive over. Daddy had warned me to drive slowly so that the police wouldn’t have a reason to harass me. By the time I arrived at Lou’s office, my nerves were frazzled.

“What’s wrong with you? You alright?” Ty was standing beside his daddy’s car. It was late August, and the humidity was suffocating. He wore a collared shirt, open at the neck, and the sun glinted off his sunglasses. I tried not to remember the warmth of his arms around me, the scent of him. I was glad for the sunglasses. They kept me from having to look in his eyes.

“Some man followed me and Mama home from church this morning,” I said.

He held on to my arm. “Come on.”

We walked up the stairs to Lou’s office. The door was unlocked. A 7-Eleven Slurpee cup sat on the edge of Lou’s desk.

“Somebody followed Civil home from church today. She’s all spooked.”

Lou arranged the chairs. “You alright?”

I nodded. “Journalists, right?”

“Who else would they be? I gave a few interviews yesterday. They’re going to write the story anyhow, so I may as well tell our side. But, Civil, you don’t have to talk to them. And you can always walk over to the car and tell them you have no comment so they’re wasting their time.”

I nodded. Lou didn’t understand that I was afraid they weren’t really journalists at all.

“So what’s happening with the case?”

“I’m sure y’all heard of Judge Frank Johnson.”

We all knew Judge Frank Johnson. He was the head of the federal court in the middle district of Alabama, the judge who had ended the Montgomery Bus Boycott. He was also the judge who had ruled on our side for voting rights after the Selma march. He was already something of a living legend in Alabama.

“Is he the judge on this case?” I asked.

“Unfortunately, no.” Lou let out a breath. “It’s another one. Judge Eric Blount.”

“I don’t know him.”

“Yeah, well, he ain’t no Frank Johnson. We’ve got an uphill battle. Last year, Blount made a ruling barring Negro jurors from a case he was presiding over.”

“On what basis?”

“Well, as you know, the jury has to spend a lot of time together during the course of a trial. He barred the Negro jurors on the basis that white jurors weren’t used to eating with Negroes and so they wouldn’t be comfortable having lunch together to discuss the case.”

“So he’s a bigot,” Ty said.

“A segregationist, at the least,” I added.

“That’s generous.”

“Let’s just say,” Lou said, “he’s not the friendliest judge to have on this case.”

“Bullshit, Lou. Just say it. He’s going to rule against the girls,” I said.

“We don’t know that. Besides, we may not have a choice, Civil. I don’t really have grounds to protest.”

“How about protesting that he’s a racist?”

I walked over to the window and pressed my forehead to the glass. I didn’t see the blue sedan. A couple wearing their Sunday clothes was walking by. The man stopped to wipe his brow with a handkerchief and looked up at me through the window. For all we knew, that couple was spying on Lou’s office, keeping up with his activities. Maybe they weren’t churchgoers at all. Now that the case was federal and Lou was suing the government, it was possible we had attracted the attention of the FBI.

Ty pushed Lou to continue. “So why did you bring up Johnson?”

“Wyatt v. Alderholt.”

“Which one is that?”

“It was a case decided last year by Judge Johnson that invalidated an old eugenics law from the 1930s.”