“I still don’t understand why you care. Why this case?”
“I can’t give you a good answer that will satisfy you. I know you love that family. I can see it on your face. I can’t promise anything other than giving everything I got.”
A bead of sweat formed on his upper lip. The room was warm. We were all sitting too close in the small room, and I needed some air.
“The Williamses ain’t looking for a white Jesus.”
“Believe you me, I don’t aim to be one.”
I paused. “Will you include the Ralseys on the case?”
“I plan to include them every step of the way if they’d like. I value their opinion. I value yours, too, or else I wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”
Mrs. Ralsey shuffled some papers. “I have another meeting right now. Civil, do you want to come to my house this Sunday? We can talk about it some more over dinner if you’d like.”
“I don’t need to talk about it,” I said, still angry but desperately wanting to believe in Lou Feldman. He held those girls’ futures in his hands.
Lou wrote two numbers down on a piece of paper. “This is my office number and my home number. You can call anytime, day or night.”
I took the paper, and they both followed me out.
“My wife wants to meet you someday soon. She’s a lawyer in Selma. She said she’s proud of what you’ve done.”
I shook my head. Proud? What on earth kind of nonsensical woman was he married to? “Mr. Feldman, just win this case. That’s all I want.”
“Call me Lou.”
Good Lord. He was still wet behind the ears and he would be the one taking the girls’ case to court. The judge was going to throw the case out before Lou found that other sock. I was sure of it.
* * *
? ? ?
I HAD NOT spoken to Mace since that day at the hospital, and honestly I was afraid. I didn’t want to talk to him at the apartment, where Mrs. Williams could hear, so I went out to the factory and waited for him to sign off for the day. When he saw me sitting in my car, he walked up to the window.
“What you doing here? The girls alright?”
“They fine. I just came by to talk to you.”
“Ain’t no need.” He began to walk away.
“Mace.” I got out of the car and followed him. “You know I would have stopped it if I had known. You know that, right?”
Some of the other men were walking toward the bus stop. They hushed their chatter as if they were listening. Mace glanced at them uneasily. He took my elbow and turned in the opposite direction.
“Come on.” We turned down a dirt path that led to the railroad tracks. I didn’t know the area that well, but I knew if we kept walking we’d reach the river. Trash—cans and bottles and a pair of torn pants—littered the grass. Someone had left a bucket. Mace picked it up and carried it. When we reached the railroad tracks, he placed the bucket upside down on the ground and motioned. “Sit.”
I sat. I was wearing a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. I’d changed out of my uniform after work. It wasn’t how he usually saw me dressed, and I felt exposed. But he wasn’t looking at me. He picked up a rock and rolled it between his fingers. In this area of railroad crossover, the track split into branch lines. In one of the lanes, six abandoned cars sat rusting near an old beanery that looked as if it hadn’t been functional in years. Nothing moved, but I knew the line was active. We were close enough to feel the wind should a train come roaring by. But for now, all was quiet.
“Mace, talk to me. It’s driving me crazy that you won’t talk to me.”
“You don’t understand nothing. You just a little girl.”
His words stung. It sounded exactly like what I’d said to Lou. “Tell me how to make this right.”
“Make it right?”
“We’re filing a lawsuit to try to stop this from happening again. They got this young white lawyer.”
“Yeah, I heard about him coming around asking questions.”
“We’re taking the clinic to court.” I had not spoken to him about any of this, and I wanted to know how he felt. He had worked all day pushing pickles across the floor, as he called it. I didn’t know what that meant exactly. I had never been inside a factory of any kind. The sour stench of vinegar rose from his clothes.
“You want to lose your job?” he asked.
“That clinic needs to be shut down.” I stood up, and the bucket pitched over on its side. “I have done nothing but love your girls since the day I met them.”
He shook his head. “You a little rich girl who think you can come over here and play around in folk lives.”
“Who died and made you God and jury?”
“They done took away my girls’ womanhood!”
“Having children doesn’t make you a woman.”
“You think you know, but you don’t know.” His voice was tight and strained, and I could see his eyes reddening.
I didn’t know what to do. I stood there with my arms at my sides. He wiped at his dry face with the tail of his shirt.
“Mace.” I stepped closer and he pulled me to him.
“You remind me of her. She was just like you. Stubborn as a mule in mud.”
I started to shake my head, but he hushed me. “You got a way with the girls. And with Mama. She did, too. I think Mama grieved her passing more than anybody. But when you come around, it seem like Mama find new life again.” His breath blew warm on my face.
“Your mama hates me now.”
“I hated you, too. When I walked in that room and seen my two babies crying like they hadn’t even cried when they mama died, I thought I might kill somebody. And you were going to be first. But when I saw you, I knew. You was just as tore up inside as I was.”
The sun beat down on us, and I started to sweat. We were standing too close. He propped a foot up on the edge of the rail, and I leaned into his thigh. In the distance, I could hear the faint chug of a train whistle. I wanted to step back. He slid his arm around my waist, and something went soft inside me. For a moment I thought he would kiss me, and I closed my eyes. This rush of heat between us would make it all better. If he would just show me some tenderness, after all that had happened, both of us might survive this.
Suddenly, he let go and stepped back. He picked up a handful of rocks and threw them at a railroad car. They clanged loudly against the metal. “Let’s go,” he said and started walking back toward the path.
I stared at the overturned bucket. A line of ants gave chase up its side.
TWENTY-FIVE
The morning the paper announced Lou’s lawsuit, I found Mama lying on the floor of her studio. Sometimes she did that when she worked late, but with her recent desire to start going to church again, I worried something was amiss. She had bundled a drop cloth as a pillow, but she was still wearing her shoes.
“Mama?”
She lifted her head. Her once-dark hair was now fine and silver. I helped her sit up, and she leaned back into the sofa.
In pictures Mama is lovely, the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen. She has these features that always seem to catch the light, and when you look at a picture of her, you can’t stop staring. In every picture she appears caught off guard when the shutter snaps. It’s always the same expression: eyebrows up, a casual look at something just away from the camera. She never relaxes into a photograph, never tries to see the person on the other side of the lens. I would say Mama is guarded in photographs, as if she has just held up a shield the moment the camera is lifted.