“Mommy!” she calls. “Come swing with me.”
“Yeah, c’mon, Mommy!” my father calls. He’s a handsome old guy, his smile so warm and love-filled. I want him to be innocent of doing anything wrong.
I sling my purse over my shoulder, then settle onto the second swing and begin pumping my legs.
We swing for a while, Rainie entertaining us with everything she did at school today, but I’m not really listening. Daddy can tell.
“What’s up, kiddo?” he asks when I swing back in his direction.
“Tell you later,” I say over my shoulder.
When Rainie grows tired of the swing, the three of us go inside, where I settle her in front of the TV. The living room is full of packed boxes and the walls are bare. My father is ready for the movers. I can’t help but feel sad.
Daddy nods toward the kitchen and I follow.
“I had a long talk with Ellie last night,” I say, sitting down at the kitchen table. “She told me about the night Win Madison was killed by the Klan.”
He opens the refrigerator and pulls out a Diet Coke for me and a beer for himself. I’ve never seen him drink in the middle of the afternoon, and I think he must know what’s coming.
“Does she still think I had something to do with it?” he asks.
“You can’t blame her, Daddy. Can you explain how the Klan had your truck?”
He opens the beer. Takes a sip. “You sound like you doubt me too,” he says.
“No. No, I know you wouldn’t have been part of something like that.”
“You’re right. I wasn’t.” He glances toward the living room, where I’m sure Rainie is completely absorbed in the cartoon she’s watching. “It was the thing to do in some circles, back then. Be a part of the Klan. To be honest, I sometimes felt”—he swirls his beer in the bottle—“left out, because I chose not to be involved.” He looks at me, his blue eyes clear as seawater. “I didn’t want anything to do with it. But most of the guys I knew were in it. Garner Cleveland. His father, Randy Cleveland, was a wealthy bigwig in town and a bigwig in the local Klan. My own father was in it.”
“Really? Grandpa?
“Really. He got on my case for not joining. Said if I wanted to amount to anything in Round Hill, I had to belong. That I shouldn’t hold myself above everyone else.”
“Well, you showed him, Mr. Mayor.” I smiled, but he didn’t seem to hear me.
“Ellie’s father was in it … I don’t know if she knows that. I think Brenda even got caught up in it through Garner. There was a so-called auxiliary for the women. I don’t know what they did. Baked cookies for the men. I don’t know.”
“Was Grandma part of it?” I’m repelled by the thought and relieved when Daddy shakes his head.
“What about Buddy?” I ask. “He had access to your truck, right? It was at his car shop and you told Ellie and Buddy that you’d put the keys through a slot in his shop door.”
“That’s right, I did. And while it’s true that Buddy could have gotten my keys, he was no Klansman. Buddy wasn’t a saint but he was basically a decent guy. I suppose he still is, but he’s hardly spoken to me in forty-five years, so I wouldn’t rightly know. I guess he still thinks I had something to do with it.”
“Or else he did it and is worried you know it.”
Daddy took a swig of beer and shook his head. “I can’t picture it,” he said.
“He would have thought he was protecting his sister. He beat Win up at a protest held by her SCOPE group.”
Daddy shrugged. “I could see him throwing a punch. Can’t see him killing a man, especially not like that.” He grimaced. “I honestly don’t know anyone who could do a thing like that. I think it had to be an outsider. I’ve thought a lot about it, believe me. The only other person I can think of who’d have the key to get into the car shop would have been Garner’s father, Randy Cleveland, who owned the building. But he was supposedly out of town that night.”
I sigh. I want answers and I’m sure my father’s telling the truth when he says he doesn’t have any.
“I think this is something we’re never going to know,” he says, looking across the counter at me. “I wish Ellie could let it go after all this time, for her own sake. Coming home to Round Hill must be torture for her.”
I sit back on the stool with a sigh. “I know,” I say. “But I don’t know how you can ever let go of something like that.”