Take My Hand(96)

“Somebody vandalized my car. Might have been random, but you can never be too careful.” He locked the door behind me. I followed him up the stairs.

“When?”

“Right after the trial ended. I didn’t tell you because we were all too busy looking for Erica.”

The papers were gone. The desks were clear. Four file boxes lined the wall. He opened a bag of Lay’s chips and held it out to me.

“No, thanks. Don’t tell me you still eating junk for lunch.”

He stuffed his mouth. “Pamela went to go get me something. But these chips keep me going.”

“You got a new case? I thought you’d be home with the baby.”

“Oh, I’m kissing that baby every chance I get. Besides, my wife is pushing me to take this one. Two women applied to be Alabama State Troopers. Both were denied.”

“And you’ve accepted the case?”

“You think I should?”

“I think you’re crazy.”

He laughed. I missed hearing his strange laugh. Right before my eyes Lou had acquired a way of knowing in the world, what the folks used to call an old spirit. At Thanksgiving, Aunt Ros had said, That Lou Feldman been here before. She was right. It was hard not to feel the light of his presence. I wanted nothing more than to roll up my sleeves, take the notepad from him, and begin making some notes about this state trooper case. It wasn’t so much that I wanted to be a lawyer, more that I was energized by Lou’s moral compass.

“What about you, Civil?” He spoke softly. I didn’t like his tone. Everyone had such high expectations of me. I wished they would leave me alone.

“I don’t know what I want.” I could go work for my daddy, but I was unsure.

“You’ll figure it out.”

“Can I see that pad?”

“No, you may not.”

“Are the women who want to be state troopers Black?”

“None of your business.”

“You ain’t right, Louis Feldman.”

I had not sat down. My purse hung from my shoulder. I knew it was time to leave, but I also knew that walking out that door would have a finality that it had not had before. I didn’t want to do it. If he had tried to push me out the door, I would have resisted. But he didn’t. He just sat there munching on his chips.

“I’ll be seeing you,” I said at last.

“You take care, now, Civil Townsend.”

I walked out of his office wondering if I was the only one of us who’d been feeling this emptiness since the trial ended. I was so lost in my thoughts that I did not see Mrs. Seager pass right in front of me. By the time I recognized her big red hair, she was halfway down the block. I lingered at my car, the wind biting my neck, as I watched her and listened to the click of heels on the pavement. I wanted to call out to her, to see if she would turn around and speak or if she still held a grudge against me. I needed to talk to her, to tell her I understood how a person could get so caught up in doing good that they forgot that the people they served had lives of their own.





FIFTY-ONE





I went to work for Daddy at the start of 1974. It was the week after the holiday and Daddy’s waiting room was full. And as I walked through the room, a room filled with people I’d known since childhood, I began to think of the connectedness of us all. Mother Cooper from church. Mr. Jones from the post office. Dena from the hardware store. They were all waiting to see my father, a man they trusted with their pain. It had not been what I wanted, but it made sense. He needed help in the office, and it gave me something to do. Besides, I enjoyed the work. I got along fine with his new junior doctor, and, contrary to my expectation that the patients would treat me differently because I was his daughter, it seemed as if they trusted me more. Sometimes, while I was taking someone’s blood pressure, they would just start talking to me. I would listen, write it down on the chart, and discuss with Daddy afterward. He would nod and say, “He told you that?” Even he was impressed with how readily they opened up to me. There was joy in this caretaking. A simplicity coupled with a stretching of my mental powers.

“Daddy, I put Mr. Jones in Room 1.”

“He’s going to need blood drawn today,” Daddy said. “Can you set up the cart?”

Daddy had an uncanny ability to remember details about his patients. He got there early and read the charts of everyone coming in that day. Patients wanted to know that you remembered them. They responded better when you asked, “Are you still experiencing those chest pains?” I had worked for him only a few weeks, but I had already learned a lot.

Later that afternoon, I helped straighten the office and chatted with Glenda while she turned off the lights. My mama had dropped off a new painting earlier that day and we had nowhere to put it. It was not one of her best, but it was a soft blue color and not too complicated. Perfect for an office.

“It’s too blue. People be staring into it thinking they about to fall into the sky.”

“Glenda, now I’m going to tell Mama you said that.”

“Tell her. I don’t care.”

We giggled.

“I’ll go lock up.” I unhooked the key from above her desk just as Ty walked through the front door.

“Hey.”

“Child, what brings you here? You sick?” Glenda peered at him through the window over her desk.