When the meeting broke up and most of the “freedom fighters” headed out into the community to canvass, I stayed at the school helping Jocelyn with paperwork. Greg left to visit some of the other ministers in the area, trying to find a new home for me. Chip and Paul took off for the hardware store to get wood to board up the windows.
After a week of spending every day with Win, it felt strange not to be with him. I knew Rosemary was canvassing with him in my place, and as I mimeographed song sheets, it took me a little while to recognize my discomfort as jealousy. I wasn’t interested in Win as anything other than my canvassing partner, I told myself, but we’d worked well together this week and it just felt wrong that Rosemary was with him now.
What does it matter? I scolded myself. Developing a relationship—especially an interracial relationship—was completely against the rules, even if I were interested in him that way.
I was almost done with the mimeograph machine when Jocelyn looked up at me from the desk where she was typing something.
“I just want to say that I admire you, Ellie,” she said, breaking into my thoughts.
“You do?” I asked, surprised.
“I do. I feel like such a coward.” She wrinkled her nose. “I came into this … into SCOPE, totally expecting to, you know, stay in the community and canvass, like you’re doing, but…” Her voice trailed off.
I sat down in the chair next to her desk. “But…？” I prompted.
“It was the bullet holes in the doors that first night. They scared the daylights out of me.”
“I know. They scared me, too.”
“Yes, but you went ahead with what you said you’d do. Work in the community.”
“Someone needs to do the office work, Jocelyn. It’s not like you’re doing nothing.”
“I know. I guess I’m just disappointed in myself. And anyway”—she laughed—“here I am, staying in the one place that’s getting shot up.”
“Must have been scary last night.”
“Not as scary as that burning cross,” she said.
“I was mostly afraid for the children in the house,” I said. “I felt like I would be responsible for any of them getting hurt.” I got to my feet. “Do you have some more work for me to do?”
She handed me a stack of mail. “You can put these in the cubbyholes,” she said.
I sorted through the pile of mail, most of it for Greg. Then I put the few letters into the appropriate cubbyholes for the SCOPE workers. The very last letter in the stack was for me from Brenda. I sat on one of the small wooden chairs to read it.
Dear Ellie,
I was glad to hear from you. To answer your questions first, I’m a very happy girl. Garner is as wonderful a husband as I imagined he’d be, bringing me flowers every few days and pampering me constantly. I finally stopped throwing up all the time, and the doctor says I’ll be able to feel the baby move any day now. I’m already madly in love with him or her. We are working on the nursery and thinking about names. I like Lisa or Amy for a girl and I want to name the baby Garner Jr. if it’s a boy, but Garner won’t hear of it. Too confusing, he says. Anyway, we have plenty of time to figure all that out.
Now to you, dear Ellie. What the hell are you doing??? Your living conditions are horrendous. Sleeping with other people’s children? No lights? Using an outhouse? I will never understand why you’re doing this, for heaven’s sake! As soon as that voting rights bill gets signed or whatever needs to happen, all the Negroes can just go on their own to register, and if they don’t, well then it’s their loss. I miss you. And Reed misses you like crazy. He’s moping around like a sad puppy, though he won’t tell you that. He said he hasn’t heard from you and I think he’s too proud to be the first one to write. Do you have any idea how much that boy loves you? He says he admires you for your courage, but that doesn’t make him any less sad. He’s not going out with anyone, in case you were wondering. At least not yet. Garner and I are taking care of him for you but I’m secretly hoping you’ll see the light and come home. We promise not to say “I told you so.” Please, please come home!
Brenda and Garner
I thought about Reed while I swept up the broken glass on the school’s second story. He hadn’t been much on my mind over the last couple of weeks. I should write to him, but I didn’t really know what to say. I was surprised he said anything about my courage, since I knew he didn’t want me to be here. It was good for us to have this break, I thought. It would give us both some time to figure out what we really wanted. The one thing I was absolutely certain I didn’t want was Brenda’s life. I was nowhere near ready to be a mother. I’d loved those little Dawes kids—truly loved them and I already missed them. But it was one thing to cuddle some adorable little kids and then give them back to their mother. It was another thing to be tied to them all day and all night. Maybe someday, but not now. And Brenda had signed her letter “Brenda and Garner,” as though she was no longer an individual. As though they had become one person. I guessed there was something sweet about that, but honestly, I found it nauseating.