The Dry Grass of August(76)

Carly brought a wooden chair in from the hallway and put it next to the coffin. Safronia came into the living room in a starched uniform, carrying a silver service that she put down on the coffee table. “Here’s tea and coffee and cookies. Miz Dunn fixed them, and she said you’d pour.” She looked at Mama. “Need anything, just holler.” She backed out of the room, dusting her white-gloved hands.

“Why in the world—I mean, she’s got gloves on,” Meemaw said.

“She cut herself Friday,” said Aunt Rita. “When she found . . .” Her voice dwindled, then she cleared her throat and continued. “Her left hand is bandaged, so we thought gloves were best.”

“I’m amazed she could handle the tray,” said Mama.

“Oh, the cut wasn’t bad, but her whole hand is wrapped.”

Stell picked up the tall pot. “Who wants coffee?” Did she know which pot had coffee in it? She did, as I saw when she poured for Daddy. “Meemaw?”

“Yes, Estelle.”

“Excuse me.” I went into the bathroom off the kitchen and sat on the toilet, staring out the window, wondering how long we’d be here, how many sad people I had to see. After a few minutes I left the bathroom by the door into the den, where an oak rolltop desk took up half of one wall. The top was pushed up, with papers scattered everywhere. Aunt Rita couldn’t have seen it or she would have tidied things and closed the desk. A curled paper lay on top—a photocopy of the note Uncle Stamos had left for Aunt Rita.

I sat in the oak swivel chair and picked up the stiff paper, my hands shaking.



September 10, 1954

My dearest Rita,

I know you won’t understand. I’m not sure I do, either. I cannot face you, Carlisle, or Mother, when you find out what Bill and I did. Even as I write that, I want to defend myself, to say I didn’t know. I hope you believe me. When I found out, too late to prevent the Daniels boy’s death, I was so ashamed. I should have known. Isn’t that what lawyers always say? “He knew or should have known. ”Well, I should have.

The facts mean nothing now.





There was a smudge on the paper, as if he’d started to write something and changed his mind.



The only truth in all of this is my love for you, which has never wavered. I wish I could have it both ways, face my shame and stay with you. But the one overshadows the other, so I must say good-bye.

By the time you read this note, Cliff Sindell will have received my final documents, which include a letter to Chief Kytle telling him everything I know about what the company did that may have resulted in the boy’s death. Cliff will stand by you through all the paperwork and details.

Please ask Carly and Mother to forgive me, as I hope you will be able to do. I love you beyond death, my dearest, sweetest wife. Stamos





I stared out the window into the backyard, so neat and pretty. Uncle Stamos had loved his garden. A tear fell onto the paper.When I wiped it away, the writing smeared.

I wanted to talk to Leesum. What would he be doing on a Sunday afternoon, living in a preacher’s house? McDowell Street Baptist Church didn’t have a separate number listed for the rectory, so I called the church. A man answered, and from his voice I knew it was Reverend Perkins.

“Leesum there?” I tried to sound colored.

After a pause, the man said, “Hold the line.” Then Leesum said, “Hello?”

“Hey. It’s me, Jubie.”

“Hey! What you doin’ callin’ me?”

“Just wanted to talk to you.” I felt foolish.

“Glad you did.”

“Me, too.”

“I got sumpin to tell you. Reverend Perkins and them got together. Three of our elders gone go to Georgia to find out who killed Miz Luther.”

“Will you let me know what happens?”

“Of course.” There was a pause, then Leesum said, “Just hopes they gets there okay. They drivin’ straight through the night, cuz no hotels’ll have ’em. It ain’t easy right now, not where they be goin.”

I remembered about the curfew in Wickens, how hard it was to find a place where Mary could stay, the motel in Albany where we sneaked her in and out. I heard a noise behind me. Carly filled the doorway.

I said into the phone, “I’ve got to hang up.”

I put the receiver down, not wanting to let Leesum go. “A friend,” I said to Carly.

But he was reading the note on the desk. By the time he finished, he was crying, too. “Have you seen the laundry room?” he asked.

“No.”

“I want to see it.”

Aunt Rita found us in the door to the laundry room. I gasped when she touched my shoulder, and felt bad when I saw who it was. But she said, “I don’t mind y’all looking. I’m sure everybody wants to.”

“Oh, Mom.” I thought Carly might start crying again.

“He was thoughtful. Wrapped his head in a towel so there wouldn’t be—” She ran her hand over the doorjamb. “After I got him washed and ready for the undertaker, took care of the mess, I prepared to grieve.”

She took Carly’s hand. “At first I was afraid I would come on a spot I’d missed, when I was looking for the Ajax or something, but now I almost hope I do—a reminder of him, not that I need one, but you know . . .”