“Because that hurt you, didn’t it?” He put his hand on the back of my neck. I wanted to relax into his touch, but I couldn’t. He was thinking of Constance, not me. There was grief in that touch, I realized.
“You tried, Civil. I know you tried . . .”
I gently removed his hand from my neck. “You won’t get any money out of this lawsuit. You going through all this and you won’t see a dime. At least not now.”
“Do the girls got to tell they story to the judge?”
“No. Lou has a sworn statement from them. That’s all he needs.”
“Well, they all I care about. I just want them to go to school and be regular kids.”
I nodded. “I saw a picture of your wife once. In your room. I know I shouldn’t have been in there.” I had been leaving the girls’ bedroom and noticed Mace’s bedroom door standing open. I was surprised by how tidy Mrs. Williams kept the place, especially given the disarray of their shack out on the farm. Mace’s bedroom, on the other hand, was proof that some of that mess was due to him. Stuff everywhere. Clothes. A pile of shoes. Dirty underwear in the corner. I kicked a rolled-up sock as I stepped inside. He had only a bed and a bureau. No dresser. No mirror. Even in the apartment, he was still a man of simple grooming habits. Tie up a do-rag at night. Quick brush in the morning. Shave. Brush his teeth.
I’d begun to straighten, making the bed and picking up items strewn about, when I noticed something on top of the bureau. A small picture in a silver frame. The frame was peeling and black beneath the outer silver coating. I picked it up. It had to be the girls’ mother, Constance. I had never seen her before. Dimples. A wide face with eyes ringed by dark sockets. A gentle face, one my mama would have called homely, but which I called naturally pretty. I could see why the family was in disarray when I found them. The woman practically looked like an angel.
He kicked, and the wheel spun noisily.
“I’m sorry. It’s just I wanted to say . . . she was pretty.”
“You didn’t have a right.”
“I said I was sorry.”
“You can’t just walk all through somebody life. You can’t do that.” He hit the ground with his toe and we came to a stop.
“You want me to leave?”
“I want you to stay.” He touched my hair again. I had sweated out whatever hairstyle I had left, but the man made me feel like I had on a face full of makeup. He was just so . . . admiring.
“I see you looking at my girls and I know you fight for them like a wildcat if somebody mess with them. You nice to my mama. And she change since you come around. She keep the house straight. She even iron her clothes. We ain’t never even had no iron out on that farm!”
We quieted. He began to make a whistling sound through his teeth.
“What tune is that?”
“They say my daddy used to sing while he worked,” he said. “Say the birds would stop to listen.”
“You remember him?”
“Not really, naw.”
“You got that tune from somewhere.”
“For sure.”
“You don’t remember nothing about him?”
He placed a finger to his lips. “Shh. There you go walking all up in it again. Stop asking so many questions. I ain’t your case.”
“That’s what you believe I think of you?”
“I don’t know what you think of me. Woman, you mess me all up inside.”
I stood up. “I got to go.”
In his easy way, Mace leaned back on his elbows. It was too much to even look at him. His shirt was open at the neck, and my eyes were drawn to his smooth collarbones.
“It’s a lot pent-up in you, ain’t it,” he said so softly that I almost didn’t hear him.
I didn’t look back as I crossed the yard. I was glad the lamp was out, because I knew he was watching.
* * *
? ? ?
ALICIA CALLED AND left an urgent message with Glenda because our phone was off the hook. I was to meet the nurses early on Friday morning before the clinic opened. When I arrived, they were congregated on the porch. I parked my car right in front, and, as I walked up to them, I could hear them murmuring. I stopped in the middle of the path.
“Please tell me this ain’t more bad news,” I said.
Alicia turned to me. The others looked right at me, and I could tell something was off. Some of them wore uniforms, others didn’t. Gina and Lori sat on the porch steps. The rest stood.
“Come closer, Civil,” Val said.
My feet were bricks. I couldn’t take hearing that another child had been sterilized. Surely Mrs. Parr had not allowed it. Mrs. Seager was gone. Everything was supposed to be better now.
Alicia extended her hand. I took a breath and approached the porch. Alicia looked at the others before she began speaking. “Civil, the nurses have found out a few things since we last talked.”
“Okay. That was quick.” It had only been about two weeks. I placed a hand on the rail to steady myself. “So what is it? Anything Lou can use?”
“Civil.” Val’s voice was a whisper. “Civil.”
“What is it?”
“There were eleven.”
“Eleven what?”
“Eleven girls in the past three years.”
“What do you mean? Eleven girls sterilized? In Alabama?”
“No,” Alicia’s voice rose. “Eleven at this clinic!”
A few women started to cry. I heard one of them gasp for breath, but I could not tell who it was. “What are you saying? Why didn’t y’all tell me this before?”
“I’m sorry. I was only there for the Williams girls. I promise to God,” Val said.
“I ain’t never been present at nothing like that,” said another.
“That number can’t be right.” Tears stung my eyes.
“I was there.” Gina stepped forward. “I was there for two of them.”
“Oh dear God.” I could barely stand.
Alicia moved toward me. “Come, sit down,” she said. I sank onto the steps.
I could hear the sobs of the nurses and tried to block it out of my ears. I needed to stay strong. I couldn’t collapse under the weight of this news. “This is just clear proof that we need more information. If this happened at our little clinic, imagine the rest of the state. Are there girls being sterilized in other parts of Alabama? If so, how many? Where exactly is it happening? Who is authorizing all this?”
Alicia pulled my head to her chest and I relented, but I was still talking. “Do y’all hear me? We got work to do. We don’t have time for no grief. We’ve got to save them. We’ve got to save them all.”
THIRTY-SIX
Montgomery
2016
At the end of our lunch, Lou tells me he once saw an obituary in the Montgomery Advertiser some years earlier for Linda Seager. He can’t remember the year. I stop at the public library and easily find her name while searching the digital archives.
Mrs. Linda Seager, 85, died peacefully at home surrounded by family. She leaves four daughters, two sons-in-law, eleven grandchildren, and four great-grandchildren.
Surrounded by family. I wonder if her children and grandchildren know anything about her past, if they know about her role in the Williams scandal. I do another online search and find her daughters. One works as a physical therapist at the University of Alabama in Tuscaloosa. The other lives in town. She’s a nurse. Eugenia Wooten. When I get back to my car, I call the hospital and they put me through to the nurse’s station on the oncology floor. I’m sorry, Mrs. Wooten is on her lunch break. I hang up and sit there for a few minutes, shaking. I know the hospital is only a few minutes’ drive from the library, but I don’t immediately turn on the ignition. I try to think of what I will say to her. It was never in my plan to visit Mrs. Seager or any of her relatives. But when Lou brought her up, I knew I had to see one of them.