The Last Ballad(112)

Hampton could not help but glance toward the woman’s face. What he found shocked him enough that he could not stop himself from saying what he said next.

“Donna?”

Upon hearing that name in his mouth, the girl dropped the tray the last inch or so. It crashed to the table, the impact overturning the carafe of milk, spilling it onto the floor. The woman gasped at the clatter. She looked back and forth between Hampton’s face and the milk that ran over the table and dripped onto the rug.

It was her, Donna, the girl from the train. Hampton was certain that she was the girl who’d wandered into the dining car in the middle of the night. The girl he’d made the mistake of speaking to when something told him he shouldn’t. The girl who he’d feared had led to his lynching when Beal ordered him off the train in Salisbury just a few days ago.

Donna held his gaze. She appeared stunned.

“Donna?” Sophia said. She looked from Hampton to the girl.

Donna blushed a pale pink. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I think you may have the wrong person. My name is Claire.” She smiled, but Hampton saw her smile for the lie it was.

“Of course,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“Who’s Donna?” Sophia asked.

“I’m sorry,” Hampton said. He looked at Sophia, then at Ella. “Someone I used to know. I just thought, I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Claire now backed out of the room, nodded by way of goodbye, and then disappeared.

“Who’s Donna?” Sophia asked again.

Just then came the sound of Richard’s voice from the kitchen.

“This is unbelievable,” he said. “That’s the woman Claire met in D.C.?”

“Huh,” Ella said. “I knew I recognized that girl.” She reached out and turned over one of the coffee cups. She picked up the pot and filled her cup. She took a sip, swallowed loudly. Took another.

“What of it?” Kate said. “Who cares, Richard?”

Richard said something else, but she shushed him, cut him off from speaking.

A door banged open in the back of the house, and loud steps came up the hallway. Another door opened, closed. Richard appeared, a heavy blanket folded beneath his arm. He had changed out of his robe into a button-down shirt and trousers. His once messy hair was brushed back away from his forehead. He looked at Hampton.

“Let’s go,” he said.

“Where?” Hampton asked.

“To the car.” He tossed the folded blanket toward Hampton. It landed on his lap, barely clearing the tray on the table.

“What’s this for?” Hampton asked.

“To hide you,” Richard said.



For the second time in less than a week, Hampton found himself in a white man’s automobile in the middle of the night. This was the South about which he’d always been told, but he’d never been told about the kindness of mill owner’s wives, the protective power of hillbilly women like Ella May, the willingness of a girl like Donna, or Claire, to shove the truth deep down into a place where they both hoped it would stay.

And now he was leaving this place, headed to Charlotte with money offered him by the McAdams to purchase a ticket.

“It doesn’t matter where to,” Richard had said. “Just get the hell out of North Carolina.”

Hunkered down in the floorboard of Richard’s Super Six, Hampton was leaving with nothing but the clothes he had on. The suit he’d worn down from New York was tattered and grass-stained after his fight with Beal. He reached around and touched his back pocket to make certain that he carried his wallet. It was there, but he remembered that he’d left the photograph of his mother and father by the lamp on the table back in the boardinghouse.

He sat up, tossed the blanket off him, and leaned over the seat. It startled Richard, and the Essex swerved sharply. Richard yanked the steering wheel in one direction and then in the other as he regained control.

“Go back,” Hampton said.

“Jesus,” Richard said. “You almost ran us off the road.”

“Go back,” Hampton said again.

“Go back where?” Richard asked. He slowed, turned, and looked at Hampton for a moment. “To my house?”

“No,” Hampton said. “Back to Gastonia, to my room. There’s something I forgot.”

“Are you crazy?” Richard said. “You could be killed if we go back there. You’ll be lucky if we’re not stopped before we cross the river. We’ll both be lucky.”

“Go back,” Hampton said.

Richard turned in his seat again and gave Hampton another quick glance. “It’s too dangerous,” he said.

Hampton threw his leg over the seat and attempted to climb over. Richard kept one hand on the wheel and fought Hampton with the other. The car swerved again.

“Sit down!” Richard screamed.

“Turn around!” Hampton said. “Now!”

“Damn it,” Richard said. “What do you want? More money? I can give you more money.” He fished his wallet from his pocket and handed it to Hampton. Hampton threw it onto the front floorboard.

“Keep your damn money,” Hampton said. “If you drop me at the train station I won’t do anything except come back to Gastonia, and it’ll be morning by then. And if I’m stopped your name will be the first thing I say.”