The front door was unlocked and we stepped inside. Although the interior of the church was filled with dark wooden pews, much like the Baptist church I’d grown up in, that was the only similarity. The clear windows spread stark white light over the space, unlike the muted colors of the stained glass in Round Hill Baptist. And there was no choir loft, although there were risers in the front of the church behind the pulpit. The pulpit itself was spectacular, the only ostentatious thing in the building. Carved from a beautiful blond wood, it seemed to dwarf everything else in the building.
A man suddenly appeared from a doorway near the end of the risers. I saw the surprise on his face, most likely from finding two blonds in his church. His eyes widened behind dark-rimmed glasses and he stopped walking.
“You lost?” he asked. He was fairly young, no more than thirty or thirty-five, but his voice had the deeper tone of an older man.
Brenda and I hung back by the door. “I don’t think so … sir.” I licked my lips, which had gone very dry. “Are you the minister they quoted in that article about the students coming to register voters?” I asked. “SCOPE?”
“Yes, I’m Reverend Filburn.” He made no move toward us and we made no move toward him. The sea of dark pews stretched out between us. “Can I help you?” he asked.
“I read that article and I’d like to help,” I said.
The minister studied me for what seemed like a full minute, unsmiling. “Come forward and have a seat,” he said finally, motioning to the pews nearest him. Our footsteps made little sound on the old bare wood as we walked toward the front of the church. After we sat down in the second pew, he took a seat in the first, turning to face us.
“What are your names?” he asked.
“I’m Ellie,” I said. “Eleanor Hockley.”
Reverend Filburn turned his attention to Brenda. “And you are?”
“Brenda Kane, but I’m just here for…” She glanced at me, clearly at a loss for words, but Reverend Filburn helped her out.
“Moral support,” he suggested with a hint of a smile. I was relieved to finally see some lightness in his expression.
“Yeah.” She smiled back at him. “Moral support.”
He returned his attention to me. “Well, Miss Hockley,” he said, “I admire you for wanting to help, if that’s truly why you’re here, but SCOPE isn’t looking for Southern students. Just from the North. And some from out west.”
I’d expected him to say that, given the information in the newspaper article, but it made no sense to me. “But why not, if I’m willing to help?” I asked.
He knitted his eyebrows together. “Why do you want to do this?”
“Because I think everyone should have the right to vote.”
“Do you now?”
He didn’t trust me. It was disconcerting. “Yes,” I said. “Sincerely.”
“Are you working?” he asked.
“No, I’m in school,” I said. “Finishing up my sophomore year. I’m studying pharmacology at Carolina. At UNC.”
His brows finally unknit and he nodded. I thought I’d impressed him.
He turned to Brenda. “You a student too?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes.”
He studied her another moment before returning his attention to me. “Where do you live?” he asked.
“In Round Hill.” I motioned north of where we sat. “So, you see, I know the area well, and—”
“You may know Round Hill well, but I’d bet my church you don’t know the parts of Derby County where SCOPE’ll be working.”
“Well … what I mean is, I know it better than any Northerners would. And you wouldn’t have to put me up anywhere. I could just go home at the end of the day and—”
“No.” He cut me off again, this time sharply. “You’d be treated the same as all the other students. No runnin’ home when things got hard. You’d be put up in local homes like everyone else.”
That stopped me. I actually felt the muscles of my chest contract with the shock of his words, and next to me, I thought Brenda caught her breath. I remembered the dilapidated little houses we’d passed by on the drive to the church. “You mean … to sleep?”
“To sleep. To eat. To get to know the folks you’d be aimin’ to help.”
Living with strangers was not what I’d imagined and it was a moment before I nodded. “I understand.” I thought of backing out right then. I didn’t need to do this. Put myself through this. Yet I stayed seated. “I’d want to be treated like everyone else,” I said.