“Name?”
“Honey Lovett.”
“Hold, please. Let me check if he’s still in.”
Doc slipped out to give me privacy, and I heard Millie talking to him, her voice warm and lifting.
Mr. Morgan answered. “Honey, you just caught me leaving the office for the night. Everything okay with you?”
“Yes, sir, but I’m needing to know if the court is going to let me stay at my home and keep my job? I read—”
“I’m working on it, Honey.”
“I need to know something soon, sir.”
“Courts are always slow, Honey. You just stay out of trouble and keep doing a good job at your work. I’ll see you in a few days.”
“Wait, Mr. Morgan. I read about the passing of a man named Byrne McDaniel in an old newspaper, and it noted his important emancipation case… Mr. Morgan, are you still there?”
“Go on, you’ve got my full attention.”
“I’m not much different than Byrne, and I want that. My freedom. Emancipation.”
There was a long pause as I waited for him to tell me different, that I was a female and couldn’t have what I wanted, to tell me he’d decide what was in my best interest.
But instead he said, “I know the 1909 Kentucky case. Rounds Bros. vs. McDaniel. You keep collecting your pay stubs. Now let me do some research and I’ll get back to you soon. Good night.”
“Mr. Morgan—” I heard the click as I was getting ready to tell him about the visit with Mama.
Outside, Junia was eager to be out of the barn, and she sniffed my hair, face, and clothing. Did she sense that I’d been close to Mama? It couldn’t be. I’d washed my hands at the park facilities before leaving. The mule raised her muzzle, tasting the air, whinnying and hawing softly. “She’s not here, Junia. Let’s get home.” Again, she pressed her nose to my cheek, and I remembered Mama’s hand slipping through the bars, cradling.
I lit the lantern and we rode hard toward our holler, comfortable now under the shadowy cover of climbing ivy and dew-treed darkness, the pounding hooves and ancient breaths of the forests bringing new purpose.
***
On Monday I stopped at the stone school, and Principal Walker bustled out to greet me. “Miss Lovett, what a blessing it is,” she said from the steps, “to have the Pack Horse project revived through the library’s generous outreach program. I’ve heard about the wonderful work your mother did years ago when the program was initiated.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” I reached inside the pannier and walked over to the door and handed her four books.
From inside, I heard a bell clang and Miss Walker turned to the building. “That’s the second bell. Maybe next week I can let the students meet you.”
“That’d be real nice, Miss Walker. See you next Monday.”
I watched her go inside. The sound of children’s excited giggles seeped out, and I wondered for a minute what it would’ve been like going to a real school like that. I’d asked Mama many times to send me to the stone one, but each time the question was dismissed, while Papa would comment I was safer at home. What he meant was I’m different, unlike others, and being different wasn’t safe for me. But I couldn’t help imagining what it would’ve been like in a classroom filled with classmates learning like they did every day, having their fellowship.
I paused to peek inside the window. A girl who looked my age chatted and laughed with two others, their excitement and untroubled lives etched onto their happy faces. I wondered what it was like being one of them. The girls glanced over and spied me. Embarrassed, I ducked low, scurrying back to Junia.