“Because of me?”
“Why else?”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Maybe so, but it’s the truth.”
“I saw Reed,” I said. “He didn’t say anything about—”
“Reed adores you. Garner told him to forget you, but you can’t do anything wrong in Reed’s eyes, you know that. But I’m sorry, I just don’t want to see you.”
I started to speak again, to argue with her, but I realized she’d hung up. I stared at the phone in my hand, shocked. I thought I might lose Brenda … or at least a little part of Brenda … when she had her baby. When her priorities changed and we could no longer relate like two Carolina co-eds. But I never thought I would lose her over this.
Chapter 40
Loneliness felt like a disease with no cure. I remembered the feeling from my childhood. From the days before Brenda moved to Round Hill and we became inseparable. Now I’d lost her to Garner. To her need, one I’d never picked up on before, to protect some make-believe reputation the two of them didn’t even have yet. The social status they were trying to earn.
I knew that what Buddy’d told me about the pharmacy was true. There were fewer customers coming through the front door than there used to be. Maybe because it was summer, I hoped. Surely it wasn’t because I’d tried to help some people get the vote they deserved. And although my mother didn’t say a word about her bridge club, she stayed home on Thursday afternoons now when for as long as I could remember, she’d meet up with her friends on Thursdays for girl talk and fun. Once I caught her crying, but she brushed aside my questions. Her anger at me was like a prickly ball rolling around the house, keeping me at arm’s length. She would need time to get over it. We would both need time.
Buddy kept an eagle eye on me. He was the only person I thought I could talk to and even he didn’t want to hear what I’d been doing in Flint … and he most definitely didn’t want to hear a word about Win. He didn’t want to know where I’d been staying. How I’d spent my days. I finally badgered him one too many times about why I’d become a pariah and he laid it all out for me: Yes, Mama’s friends shut her out because of you. Yes, it prob’ly was Garner you saw at the Klan rally; he’s a closet bigot. You never knew that about him ’cause you didn’t want to see it. Yes, everybody’s lookin’ at you sideways, wonderin’ if you slept with a spook. Happy now?
I missed doing something that felt important. I missed my friends in Flint, the like-minded people I’d quickly grown to care about. I missed some of the families I’d met while I was canvassing, the ones who’d invited me in and made me feel at home. I missed goofy Curry and delicate Jocelyn, who’d chosen office work over being in the field. And I missed Win so much that I’d cry into my pillow at night and wake up with puffy eyes that my family ignored in the morning.
I was tempted to call Reed, the only person in town who might be willing to give me the time of day despite his anger, but it would be wrong for me to give him any hope about us just because I was lonely. I asked myself if I truly still loved him and didn’t know the answer. It wouldn’t be fair for me to see him until I did.
Then one day, I came home from the pharmacy to find my mother, her back to me, going through the mail. I could see that she was studying one envelope, and when I said, “Hi, Mama,” she quickly folded it and slipped it into her apron pocket before giving me one of the flat looks that were her new way of greeting me. Just that morning, she’d told me “I can’t even look at you,” words that cut me deeper than I could have imagined.
I was able to extract the envelope from her pocket after we’d finished the dishes that evening and she’d taken off her apron. It was addressed to me and had no return address, but I knew the handwriting. I’d seen it nearly every day on the canvassing sheet on our clipboard. I carried the envelope onto the screened porch and sat in one of the rockers. My fingers shook as I tore it open.
I miss you, Ellie. Is there any chance I can see you? I can use Paul’s car. I’ll understand if you say no.
No signature. None needed.
And I would not say no.
Chapter 41
KAYLA
2010
“What animal sound is that, Mommy?” Rainie asks. She’s cuddling with me on the big hammock on our deck, both of us slathered with mosquito repellent. The night is about as black as a night can get and the sound is haunting in the darkness. I feel a tremor run through Rainie’s little body. But I can differentiate the sounds of the forest, now, having searched the internet for them, sharing them with Rainie. The different owls. The deer. The foxes with their multiple calls. None of them spell danger—at least not for us humans.