“Freedom.” I tasted the word, feeling the hope in it.
He grinned. “And under the circumstances, I believe your father will consent, which will make it go smoother. I’ll talk with his attorney and start drafting it first thing.”
“What about Mama?”
“I can ask her, too, if you like, but the courts only seek a father’s permission.”
“Mama was in the prison infirmary, sir.”
Mr. Morgan wrinkled his brows. “What for? I would need to advise the court if she is ill.”
“Doc and I just visited on March 29 after the warden told him the court ordered Mama to undergo sterilization. He thinks the doctors have also been experimenting on her because they’re curious about our color. And I saw the lawman who arrested Mama had broken her arm.”
Mr. Morgan’s eyes hardened. “What the devil—”
“Doc’s been helping her out.”
“Don’t worry, Honey. I’ll have Mr. Faust check in on her and tell him to have a talk with the judge and warden.”
“I spoke with Papa on the telephone Saturday. He said I couldn’t visit, and I believe he was trying to tell me there’s a polio outbreak at his prison. Said the men had the fevers.”
I could see something fretful darken Mr. Morgan’s eyes. “I’ll let his attorney know as soon as I get back to my office today.” He pushed aside the rest of his coffee and stood. “You let the lawyers worry about your parents, and you focus on your job. Save up those paycheck stubs to show the court.”
I followed him to the door. “Mr. Morgan, none of it seems fair.”
“What’s that, Honey?”
“The laws, sir. The man-made ones about love and marriage. I wanted to ask you when they’ll change the miscegenation laws so folk can love who they want to love. Why do they think it’s wrong for mine or any folk to love another person?” For me to love who I want. I swallowed the words, suddenly thinking about Francis, and any future I might have with a boy snuffed out, then lightly touched my lips. It was still there, fevered and fresh, the same as when he kissed me in the booth.
“Mr. Morgan, they ain’t hating, they’re loving. Don’t seem right the men makin’ the laws are ignorin’ God’s law. Do you think they’ll change it, Mr. Morgan?”
He stared at me thoughtfully and, after a long moment, said, “Though it rarely happens fast enough and not near as quick as it should, Honey, I expect like all ugly laws, change will come.”
***
At the outpost, Mr. Taft left a small tin of fresh baked oat cookies for Junia and two poetry books for me, Harmonium by Wallace Stevens and Kentuckian Effie Waller Smith’s Rosemary and Pansies along with the patrons’ reads. The minute I spied the collections, I opened them and chewed through the poems, savoring the poets’ words and verses, until I realized thirty minutes had passed.
After I’d stacked the old loans and packed up the new ones, I found an envelope with my name on it. Carefully, I opened it. When I saw it was my paycheck, the partial pay for the last weeks of March, I ran out into the yard laughing and twirling in circles, drunk on the joy of receiving my first pay. I waved the letter at Junia.
The ol’ girl snorted at my foolishness. I reached inside my sweater pocket and pulled out one of the treats Mr. Taft brought her. So far, the ones I’d baked had worked to keep Junia from running off. She greedily took it, pressing her nose into my palm for more.
“I’m going to make you a bucket of these with this paycheck.” I hooted and spun around. Junia wriggled her nose in the air, trying to snatch the paper away.
“It’s almost noon, Junia. We’ll go to town, and I’ll buy you an apple.” I rubbed her head, looked at the paycheck again. I’d seen some paychecks for Papa and knew about the deductions the government took out. But I still whistled when I saw the deduction line for federal. “$11.75.”