“No, I didn’t.”
“And now he’s trying to stop it from becoming a historical site.”
“But why? That would be a good thing, right?”
“Usually it would, but he wants to keep it private property. Otherwise, the city will want to have tours up there, and then people will want to visit that mound behind the church. He has an attorney helping him, to make sure the state doesn’t try any shenanigans. A family friend, he said. A young brother named James something. He just passed the bar.”
“David James?”
“That’s him. Dr. Hargrace wants to make sure people won’t walk on that mound and erode it. Like what happened to Rock Eagle. People came through there stealing bits and pieces of the monument.”
“This is the first I’ve heard anything about this. Uncle Root didn’t tell me one thing.”
“Ailey, hasn’t your family lived on that land for over a century?”
“Yeah, I guess so. It’s been a long time.”
“You have all this history in your actual backyard and never were curious about it? That’s surprising.” Her bracelets clattered. “What do the kids say? Girlfriend, you’re slipping.”
When she pulled up to the old man’s house, she told me, don’t forget to shower and pray. Remember what happened last time.
*
In the days that followed, I began to talk about our family church, hoping Uncle Root would reveal what he and David had been working on, but he never took the hint.
One night at dinner, I told him that it hurt my feelings that he was keeping secrets from me. That Dr. Oludara had told me all about what he and David had been doing, to make sure the church didn’t become a historical site, unless the state agreed to Uncle Root’s terms.
“I wasn’t being intentionally secretive, Ailey. You’ve never seemed concerned with family history.”
“That’s not true! I love your stories. Didn’t I ask you to tell me your Du Bois story last night?”
“That is for entertainment. This issue with the church is a serious legal matter that involves Brother David. He owns the building.”
“But I thought Elder Beasley owned everything. He’s been the preacher for, like, forever.”
“He was appointed by our congregation, back in the sixties, but that building was in the name of David’s grandfather, and when J.W. died, he inherited it. This is why David didn’t leave the state for law school. He promised his grandfather and me that he would look after the church, because I own the land the church sits on. And that includes the mound.”
“But what about the cemetery? Miss Cordelia is old. Won’t her relatives try to sell the farm?”
“Oh, I’m not worried about that. Not at all. Cordelia and I have an understanding.”
I tried to salvage my anger. “You still could have told me. That’s not cool.”
“Sugarfoot, I’d be happy to share any information about our family. All you have to do is ask. You know I love talking to you. Now, I think I’d like a cup of real coffee for a change. What about you? Why don’t I put us on a pot?”
That Sunday, after church, I walked through the fellowship hall and out the back door of the church. I hadn’t been back there for a long time, ever since I’d been stung by the wasp. The outhouse had been torn down, once the inside toilet was installed in the fellowship hall. Now nothing obstructed the view of the mound and pink and blue wildflowers that had erupted on its surface. Behind me, I heard the old man ask, wasn’t it beautiful? He touched my shoulder, and I nodded. I laid my cheek on his hand.
On the walk back down the hill, he wanted to visit his pecan tree. He had a feeling it was lonely without him. When we walked through the tall weeds, the old gray cat came up to me, mewling.
He leaned against his tree. “I’m not young anymore, either, Ailey.”
“Here you go with that—”
“—stop, sugarfoot! Would you just stop?” His voice was transformed: he was nearly shouting.
“I’m sorry, Uncle Root. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”
“You have to listen sometimes! You can’t cut folks off or talk over them every time they say something you don’t want to hear.”
“Yes, sir.”
He sighed, and when he spoke again, he’d lowered his voice. “Ailey, an old person needs people to take care of them, no matter how independent they want to be. But I didn’t know that as a young man. I promised my mother I would leave, when I was a little boy. I didn’t even know what she meant when she told me, leave this place. Olivia wanted to come back south, so we could help my family, but I hated this place. I hated the white folks for being so brutal, and I hated the Negroes for being so afraid. And once I came home, I hated my brother, Tommy. I was furious all the time.”