I look at Ellie, almost accusingly. Why hadn’t she said anything?
She shrugs. “It was a very long time ago,” she says in a way that immediately closes the subject. Suddenly, she looks exhausted, the vibrant yoga teacher gone, and I know it’s truly time for me to go.
Chapter 24
ELLIE
1965
By the time I sat down to breakfast the morning after the cross burning, Mr. Dawes and his two sons were ready to leave for the field. He looked at me with tired eyes, red from the smoke.
“You can’t stay here no longer,” he said.
“I know,” I answered. “I’m so sorry.” I’d apologized over and over the night before for bringing danger to them and their home. I’d barely slept, holding GiGi and Sally tightly against me, thinking of how much worse it could have been. All the “what-if”s terrified me.
I had no way to let anyone know what had happened until Curry and Win came to pick me up to take me to the school for our Saturday meeting. I watched the two of them rush out of the beige SCOPE van, Curry stopping to examine the smoldering cross, while Win leaped up the steps to me.
“Is everyone all right?” He looked past me into the house as if he could see Mrs. Dawes and the children inside.
“Yes.” I nodded. “But I can’t stay here.”
He went inside to speak with Mrs. Dawes, while I carried my things to the van. I tossed them on the back seat, then got into the front seat to wait for Win and Curry. That’s when I thought to myself, You automatically got into the front seat, even though Win was in the front seat when he and Curry arrived. You automatically expect him to ride in the back. Yes, I did. The South had raised me. It was time for the South to let me go. I got out of the van and moved to the long middle seat.
Curry and Win returned to the van, Win getting into the front seat without batting an eye. “Greg has to find you a new place to stay,” he said to me over his shoulder.
“Did any of the other SCOPE workers have a problem last night?” I asked.
“I don’t think so,” Curry said, lighting a cigarette. “You’re the only girl stayin’ in the community, and the only Southerner. Might be the reason.”
“Or maybe just coincidence,” Win said.
I wondered which of them was right.
* * *
The cross burning at the Daweses’ had not been the only trouble the night before. That was obvious as soon as Curry pulled the van into the small parking lot at the school. Every window we could see either bore bullet holes or had been completely shot out.
“Oh no.” I gathered my things from the back seat, hoping Greg, Paul, Chip, and Jocelyn, all of whom spent their nights at the school, were okay.
“We’re fine,” Greg said when we walked into the building. “Nothing serious. We just have a few windows to repair.”
Jocelyn looked up at me from the desk where she was using the typewriter. “I just locked myself in the art room,” she said. “It’s like a bunker in there.” Jocelyn always looked a little pale, a little fragile, but this morning she was positively ghostly.
I took Greg aside and told him what had happened at the Daweses’ house in the middle of the night. He’d made light of the mayhem outside the school building, but I could tell he was truly upset by my news. We’d put an innocent family at risk.
The other SCOPE workers gradually filled the room, all of us automatically taking the same seats we’d been in at our first meeting the week before. One week! It was hard to believe we’d only been in Flint that long. It felt like at least a month.
Greg led us in a short prayer, then sat on the edge of the metal desk, folding his hands on his thigh.
“Last night, some folks with nothing better to do decided to shoot up the school,” he said. “I called the police department and they said they’d send someone right over, but no one ever arrived, so now we know we can’t count on the police for help. It’s my belief the mayhem is the result of just a few local fellows with too much beer in their bellies and time on their hands. They’d like us to leave Flint, but we’re not going to do that.”
I looked at Win. He wore that expression I hadn’t seen on his face in several days. Eyes straight forward. Jaw tight. Chin set.
“Of more concern to me is what happened at the home where Ellie’s been staying,” Greg continued. “A cross was burned in the front yard last night. It could easily have taken that house down and the family with it. That feels like Klan activity and we have to take it seriously.” Everyone turned to look at me as though I’d passed some sort of test, one no one else wanted to take. “Ellie, I’ll find another home for you,” Greg said, “but we’ll need to move you every couple of nights. The fewer people who know where you are, the better.”