Page 57 of The Lost Hours
The only other event of these past four months that bears recording is that Freddie has made me an official member of the Savannah chapter of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People. It is his goal to register every black man to vote in accordance to the fifteenth amendment granting this right, despite the social and legal pressures that keep citizens from the polls each election. Since Freddie has already captured the notice of those who would prefer that he cease and desist in his efforts, we decided that I could do it instead. I have access to all of the colored homes in the poorest neighborhoods because of my father, and it would be an easy thing for me to do.
One of Freddie’s associates who’d been registering voters disappeared last month and two weeks later they found his body washed up under the Houlihan Bridge. I understand how dangerous the job is. I also understand how dangerous it would be for my own soul if I did not seek equal access to representation, education, and employment for all citizens. Lily calls me two-faced because I don’t embrace the entire Negro cause since I still live in my nice house with my colored servant. I tried to explain that I don’t embrace any cause; I just understand the desire to be something more than what we are by birth, and support the means necessary to elevate us all.
I selected a bell charm for Lola to exemplify my life these last four months, mostly to annoy Lily by suggesting she has a wedding to begin planning for. She needs to settle down soon, before it’s too late. And when I know she’s safe, and Josie is in NewYork pursuing her singing career, I can begin applying to medical school and see where that takes me.
I awoke with my face pressed against the pages of my grandmother’s scrapbook, Lola held tightly in my hands. I’d been dreaming of Mr. Harrington knocking on the door, but it wasn’t the front door to the house on Monterey Square that he banged fat fists onto but instead the door to the secret room. I waited and watched in the darkened attic, seeing the door open, but awakened before I could see who’d opened it. Blinking my eyes, I spread my palm and found the bell charm nestled between a miniature sixteenth note and a plump golden heart, representing the three women whose lives were recorded on the linked chains.
“Piper? Are you in there?”
I sat up, my head groggy and my eyesight blurred as I strained to see the clock on the kitchen wall, and then shot up out of my chair when I realized it was after ten o’clock in the morning.
“Piper?” I heard again.
I pivoted toward the front door of the cottage and saw Helen in the doorway, a bundle of papers held with both hands.
“Did you drive yourself?” I immediately felt foolish, knowing it was ridiculous but also realizing that I wouldn’t put it past Helen to be so industrious.
She laughed, then took a step forward over the threshold. “No, Emily did. Odella gave us some supplies and Emily’s getting them out of the cart. I’m sorry for walking in like this, but Emily peeked through the kitchen window and saw you there, sleeping. We thought it would be better to awaken you now before you developed a permanent crick in your neck.”
I rubbed my neck, feeling the stiffness from having slept in an awkward position. “Thanks,” I said. “Is anything wrong?”
“No. I just wanted to make sure you were still here. I figured you went to go see Tucker last night and I wanted to make sure that he wasn’t pigheaded enough to tell you to leave.”
“Not yet. He’s still thinking about it. He’s pretty angry, and I don’t blame him. But I think he understands why.”
She tilted her head to the side, reminding me of a flower as it bloomed, unable to hide its secret beauty any longer. “Yes, he would. But he doesn’t forgive easily. You’ll have to earn his trust back.”
“I know. I just hope he gives me a second chance. He said he couldn’t abide lying.”
Her sightless eyes drifted behind me, almost making me turn to see what she could. “Because of Susan. I don’t think he ever really figured out who she was. I always thought that Susan was trying to outrun her past by inventing new ones. And when she couldn’t run anymore, she used drugs to help her forget.”
I leaned against the table, unable to completely shake my grogginess .“Why would she want to reinvent her past?”
Helen shifted her eyes back to me and shrugged. “I don’t know. She never spoke about where she was from, or her family, other than they were from New Orleans.” She smiled. “That’s where Mardi gets his name—his full name is Mardi Gras Cotton Picker. But that’s about all we knew of her. She never visited any family; she always said they were all gone. We sent word when she died, but no one came to the funeral.”
“How sad,” I said, taking her elbow and leading her to a chair at the kitchen table.
She sat and looked at me expectantly. “I have a favor to ask, but first I have a little peace offering.”
For the first time I noticed what she held in her hands and I bit my lip when I saw what she was handing out to me.
I took the scrapbook pages, my hands not quite steady. “Are these Lillian’s?”
She nodded. “But not all of them—just the ones we’ve already read. Malily doesn’t know I took them—yet. Odella helped me sort through them. I promise to tell Malily later. But I wanted us to be on the same page, so to speak.”
I looked down at the old, weathered pages, recognizing the torn edges where they’d been ripped from the book. But the handwriting was different—softer, with more loops and slants whereas my grandmother’s writing had been compact, with small, bold strokes.
“I don’t want you to get in any trouble with Lillian.”
She turned her green eyes up to me. “Malily’s always been the one to tell me not to hesitate when it comes to something I want. Besides, I know that her silence isn’t about protecting her. It’s about protecting me. And I don’t need protecting; I haven’t for a long time now but nobody seems to realize it.”
I touched her hand. “Thank you,” I said, placing the pages on the table next to my grandmother’s, feeling an odd sense of satisfaction at seeing them together.
Emily appeared at the door. “Is it all right if I bring these things in and unload them in the kitchen?”
“Go right ahead. Do you need some help?”
“Nope. Got it. Don’t want you to strain yourself before we start today’s therapy session.”
