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“So what are you going to get out of this? No white woman will ever want to walk down the aisle with you,” she added.
“Momma, that era is over, and the sooner you accept that the better.”
She retorted, “I’ve seen and experienced things you never will, John Robert Lee. So don’t preach to me about the end of eras. And why are you all of a sudden so interested in all this racial business?”
“You taught me to be kind and respectful to people. All people. You and Daddy take care of Black folks at his work, and their families, when they get sick or injured, or need food.”
“Oh, that was just helping someone in need. I told you that. But different races are not meant to associate outside of situations like that.”
“Then why encourage me to read all those books that said the exact opposite?”
He watched her strong, nimble fingers, which had nursed his childhood injuries and dried his little-boy tears, play erratically over the tabletop.
Jack continued calmly, “And when I became a member of the bar I took an oath to fight for what was right, not for what was easy.”
“So does an oath to a colored man mean more than your own family, Robert?”
“Black lawyers represent whites and whites represent Blacks every day.”
She said, “Not in Virginia. Certainly not in Freeman County. I neither have nor want any colored friends, and I’m certain they’re of the same mind.”
“Well, last year a Virginia case went all the way to the Supreme Court. And in a unanimous opinion the court said miscegenation laws violated the Equal Protection Clause of the Constitution, and a Black can marry a white and vice versa. Now Mr. and Mrs. Loving are happily married and living right here in the Old Dominion.”
“I don’t know how happy they are,” his mother retorted fiercely. “I bet both their families disowned them.”
Jack was surprised at his mother’s angry tone, which seemed overblown for the situation. As he stared at her quizzically, she looked away, her face full of heightened anxiety that Jack was not convinced was coming only from their debate. And it made him think of a long-ago memory.
When he was five years old, Jack had snuck into his parents’ bedroom while they were out, just to look around. He had found one of his father’s pistols in a sock drawer, but luckily it was unloaded. Then, underneath a compartment in his mother’s small jewelry case, he had discovered something else. It had been a picture of what looked to be his mother as a young woman and, well, Jack wasn’t sure what else the picture contained because his mother had come in at that moment and snatched it away from him. Then she had tanned his hide. For weeks after she had looked at him with fury. And for years Jack had half-convinced himself he had somehow dreamt the whole thing. Now, as he looked at his mother, he wasn’t so sure. And the tanning had certainly been real; he well remembered that.
He said, “So if a Black woman and a white man can be husband and wife, why can’t I, as a white man, represent a Black person?”
His mother looked back at him, her features now calmer, her tone less strident. “This has nothing to do with what a court says and everything to do with just the way things are. God put the Blacks in Africa and the whites elsewhere and if he had wanted them to mix, he would not have done that. I know you learned that in church when you were little.”
“Indeed I did, but I don’t find the Baptist church a reliable steward when it comes to parsing such issues. And, the races got mixed because whites brought them here to be slaves. You think that was God’s will?”
The calmness in her look vanished. “I do not need a history lesson from you, Robert. What I’m saying to you is: That is not the world we live in. And the sooner you accept that, the better.”
“Then maybe we need to change the world. In fact, people are.”
“Oh for God’s sake, I can see I’m getting nowhere fast with this.”
“I did see Christine Randolph. Well, now Christine Hanover,” he said.
Hilly’s expression immediately softened. “I thought Jefferson and Christine might get married. But then your brother joined the Army instead of going to college like you did. Where’d you see her?”
“She was coming to her parents’ house while I was there.”
“Did she know... what you’re doing?” Hilly asked anxiously.
“No. I just gave her my condolences. Her husband seems like a nice man.”
“So you’re still going to represent her parents’ killer?”
“Their alleged killer. Yes, I am.”
Mother and son engaged in a drawn-out staring contest, her resolute green eyes versus his determined blue ones.
Hilly finally looked away, stood, and declared, “Then I’m going to make sure Lucy is still breathing.” She glided from the room.
