When we’d had our fill of muffins and coffee, Greg gave us our canvassing assignments. I’d be partnered with Win, and we’d canvass in a rural area on the outskirts of Flint. We’d go door to door, educating people about the voting rights bill and telling them about a “peaceful protest” we planned to hold Friday evening in front of the courthouse in Carlisle, the county seat.
I was disappointed that I wasn’t assigned to Turner’s Bend. I’d pictured myself working in that little community, where people seemed to know Daddy and his pharmacy, and where Louise Jenkins used to live—and maybe still did. I thought I might be able to make some connections to people through knowing her.
But I would go wherever I was needed. Do what I’d been taught to do this past week. As I climbed into the van with Win and Curry for the drive to my assigned family, I felt brave and excited. I felt as though I was a part of something righteous.
Chapter 17
KAYLA
2010
“This is so thoughtful of you.” Ellie holds the bag of za’atar in her hand. I stand on her front porch watching as she raises the bag to her nose to breathe in the scent. I think she’s genuinely happy to have the spice blend, but she doesn’t seem particularly happy to see me.
“Who is it?” A man’s voice comes from the dim living room behind her. Ellie says nothing. Hesitates a moment. Then offers me a small smile. “Please come in,” she says, stepping back to clear the doorway for me. “You can meet Buddy and Mama.”
“Thanks.” I walk into the living room. It’s a gloomy room, the sunlight outside not quite making it in, the walls an indeterminate color, the floor covered by a large braided rug. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust. A woman with fuzzy gray hair sits in a rocking chair close to the television. I see her in profile, but she doesn’t seem to notice me, her gaze riveted on the game show she’s watching. The room smells like lavender, and I guess the scent comes from an oval-shaped essential-oil diffuser sitting on the mantel. A man sits on the couch, attached by a tube to one of those boxy oxygen concentrators like my mother needed to use toward the end of her life. He wears a plaid shirt, denim overalls, and dark socks. No shoes. His belly looks bloated. Even lying there, hooked up to the machine, he’s familiar. Buddy Hockley. I’ve seen him here and there in Round Hill all my life.
“This is my brother, Buddy,” Ellie says, as Buddy struggles to get to his feet.
“Oh, don’t get up!” I raise a hand to stop him, but he’s determined. He grins at me. Holds out a hand, and I step forward to shake it. His hand feels spongy in mine.
“Reed’s little girl.” He smiles, as I step back. “I’ve seen you around town since you were a little thing. Had no idea Reed’s girl is the new neighbor.” He looks at Ellie with an expression I can’t read. Ellie’s own face remains flat, her lips a thin line. “Sure are a beauty,” Buddy adds.
I’m not a beauty, just your average twenty-eight-year-old grieving widow scared to death about her future, but he’s a sweet old guy and I can’t help but return his smile. “Thanks,” I say.
“Look more like your mama than Reed, though, don’t she, Ellie?” Buddy asked.
Ellie gives me a patient smile as if she’s only tolerating this conversation, waiting for me to leave. “I never knew your mother,” she says. “I left before Reed … before she and your father … got involved.”
“Well, Mr. Buddy’s right,” I say. “I do look like her.” I want to tell Buddy to sit down again. I’m worried about him. He’s starting to huff and puff a bit. Ellie picks up on it, too, and she walks over to the couch and gives him a tap on the shoulder to inspire him to sit again, which he does.
“And this is Mama,” she says, guiding me a few steps to the left so I can look down at the old woman. “Mama, this is Reed Miller’s daughter, Kayla. Do you remember Reed?”
The woman has her daughter’s clear blue eyes. She nods to me. “Hello,” she says. “Ellie, make her some of your tea,” and with that she returns her attention to the game show. I remember Ellie saying that she’s been in an assisted-living place for several years.
I look at Ellie. “I don’t need any tea, thanks,” I say with a quiet smile. I’m sure I’ve interrupted something. Ellie has her hands full and doesn’t want my company today. She’s not exactly throwing me out, but her body language seems to be moving me toward the door.