The Last House on the Street(54)

Dear Ellie,

I was glad to hear from you. To answer your questions first, I’m a very happy girl. Garner is as wonderful a husband as I imagined he’d be, bringing me flowers every few days and pampering me constantly. I finally stopped throwing up all the time, and the doctor says I’ll be able to feel the baby move any day now. I’m already madly in love with him or her. We are working on the nursery and thinking about names. I like Lisa or Amy for a girl and I want to name the baby Garner Jr. if it’s a boy, but Garner won’t hear of it. Too confusing, he says. Anyway, we have plenty of time to figure all that out.

Now to you, dear Ellie. What the hell are you doing??? Your living conditions are horrendous. Sleeping with other people’s children? No lights? Using an outhouse? I will never understand why you’re doing this, for heaven’s sake! As soon as that voting rights bill gets signed or whatever needs to happen, all the Negroes can just go on their own to register, and if they don’t, well then it’s their loss. I miss you. And Reed misses you like crazy. He’s moping around like a sad puppy, though he won’t tell you that. He said he hasn’t heard from you and I think he’s too proud to be the first one to write. Do you have any idea how much that boy loves you? He says he admires you for your courage, but that doesn’t make him any less sad. He’s not going out with anyone, in case you were wondering. At least not yet. Garner and I are taking care of him for you but I’m secretly hoping you’ll see the light and come home. We promise not to say “I told you so.” Please, please come home!

Brenda and Garner

I thought about Reed while I swept up the broken glass on the school’s second story. He hadn’t been much on my mind over the last couple of weeks. I should write to him, but I didn’t really know what to say. I was surprised he said anything about my courage, since I knew he didn’t want me to be here. It was good for us to have this break, I thought. It would give us both some time to figure out what we really wanted. The one thing I was absolutely certain I didn’t want was Brenda’s life. I was nowhere near ready to be a mother. I’d loved those little Dawes kids—truly loved them and I already missed them. But it was one thing to cuddle some adorable little kids and then give them back to their mother. It was another thing to be tied to them all day and all night. Maybe someday, but not now. And Brenda had signed her letter “Brenda and Garner,” as though she was no longer an individual. As though they had become one person. I guessed there was something sweet about that, but honestly, I found it nauseating.



* * *



Greg returned to the school around one o’clock and began slipping papers from his desk into his briefcase. I was back on the first floor and I walked over to his desk and spoke quietly, not really wanting Jocelyn to hear me.

“I’m sorry, Greg,” I said. “I don’t know if the cross happened because—”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” He interrupted me. “You’re an asset, Ellie, and as long as we can keep you safe, I’m glad you’re here.” He pulled his mail from his cubbyhole and put it in his briefcase. “I’m still looking for a home for you,” he said. “A few possibilities, but for tonight, at least, you’ll stay here at the school.”

“That’s fine,” I said. Tonight I could have a real shower and real toilet tissue instead of the hay and dried corn cobs in the Daweses’ wretched outhouse. It would be bliss.

“As for me,” he said, closing the clasp on his briefcase, “I’m headed home for some family time and to tend my flock in the morning.” He smiled at me, then looked over at Jocelyn to include her in our conversation. “Y’all and the boys have a safe night, now.”

Once Greg had left, Jocelyn pulled a few sheets of paper from the typewriter and separated them from the carbon paper. “He’s so nice,” she said, nodding toward the door through which Greg had disappeared.

“He is,” I agreed, and I told her how I’d practically begged him to let me work with SCOPE.

“See what I mean about admiring you?” Jocelyn said. “You really fought to be here.”

I felt embarrassed, undeserving of her admiration, and I was glad when Paul and Chip showed up carrying several sheets of plywood.

“Look what we found,” Chip said. He and Paul rested the wood they were carrying against the wall, and Chip pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pants pocket. “Stole it from a telephone pole.” He unfolded the paper and held it out for Jocelyn and me to see.

In big black letters on a tan background, it read United Klans of America and below that, Come hear the truth from the Grand Dragon of North Carolina. Below that, OPEN TO THE WHITE PUBLIC ONLY! Then came the date and a Round Hill address.

“Round Hill’s where I live!” I pointed to the address. “I know where they’re talking about. It’s a big old cow pasture just outside the town. Nobody uses it anymore.” I hated that the Klan was meeting so close to my home. Was this the first time or had I been ignorant of all the other times a gang of racists had gathered practically in my backyard?

“It’s tonight.” Jocelyn pointed to the poster.

“And we’re the white public,” Chip said. “I think we should go. I want to see what they do at these rallies. What we’re up against.” He glanced at Paul, who gave a noncommittal shrug.