Page 58 of The Reformatory

“You’ll pay for a lawyer?” Gloria said. “If I find one for Robbie?”

“As much as I can. To a budgeted amount. But, yes.”

“What’s the budget?” Gloria said. Miss Anne snapped to look at her, startled. Gloria was too tired to use her daytime voice where Miss Anne was her boss. “I’ll need to tell the lawyer, won’t I, Miss Anne? If he’s deciding if he can take the case?”

“Two hundred fifty dollars,” Miss Anne said. “That’s all I can afford.”

Two hundred and fifty dollars! If Gloria had had that much money, she would not have quit school to take care of Robbie. Yet, as grand a figure as it was, Gloria doubted it would be enough to entice a lawyer, or to keep him interested. Papa had said court cases could cost thousands of dollars, which was one reason so many Negroes went to jail. No one in the courtroom was truly speaking up for them.

“Thank you,” Gloria said. “When can I get it?”

“As it’s needed. If you find a lawyer, just tell them to—”

Tears pricked Gloria’s eyes, and even the car’s crisp air-conditioned air felt hard to breathe. “I can’t do it like that,” she said. “I can’t wait on you to do things for me. Like today, at your house—I can’t stand by and wait.”

“I’m sorry, Gloria, but you know how my brother runs his mouth,” Miss Anne said. “I couldn’t call Chan and make all the arrangements and keep you apprised at the same time.” She sounded more hurt than annoyed. “It’s all very sensitive. If Fred said the wrong thing in the wrong place—”

“I understand you feel like that. And what if something happens that makes you think, ‘Maybe I’d better not hire that lawyer’?”

“I would never do that. You have my word.”

“Miss Anne, I know what I’m asking doesn’t sound right to you. But I need to make the decisions about Robbie’s money. Me. I need to have it—and it’s best in cash. I can’t work for you now, while Robbie’s in that place. I can’t spend my whole days not working for him. I need to have the money for Robbie to spend as I see fit. Please.”

Miss Anne’s blinker flickered golden light across the weeds growing at the railroad crossing, where the town landscaping crew stopped trimming on Lower Spruce. The brush grew so wild that whites and Negroes alike called the crossing “the Jungle.”

“Am I hearing you right? You’re asking me to give you more than two hundred dollars—in cash—and you don’t want me to consult with you?”

“Yes. That’s the best way. If you hear of a lawyer or have an idea, I’ll be grateful to hear it. But I don’t want to have to come begging you.”

“Does that sound like me?” Miss Anne said. “Really, Gloria, you make me sound like Ma Ma. Like I would lord the money over you. Your parents knew me better than that. They knew my father better than that. Name one time I haven’t done right by you.”

She was the one who said it: Name one time.

“Do you think my papa’s a good man?” Gloria said.

Miss Anne didn’t answer for a moment, driving at a crawl on the dimly lighted road. She veered to avoid the gaping pothole the town had never bothered to fix. “I’ve told you many times: Robert Stephens is a good, honorable man.”

“Yes, you’ve told me many times,” Gloria said. “But I never hear you say it in front of Fred. Or at your bridge game on Wednesdays, when Miss Nell brings her brother to try to woo you. I’ve never heard you say it to anyone but me.”

“Gloria—”

“I understand plenty from Miss Channing. Plenty.”

Gloria saw Miss Anne’s cheeks flame red. “I don’t know what you mean,” Miss Anne said. Her hands were tight on the steering wheel. She was worried Gloria was about to ask questions about Channing. That was the first time she knew: Miss Anne and Channing were sweet on each other, not just friends.

“About Papa,” Gloria clarified. “And how sorry you feel for him. But not saying it where other white folks can hear—keeping those thoughts secret—doesn’t help him. It would take somebody brave to help Papa. And it’ll take somebody brave to help Robbie. You’re not brave, Miss Anne. That’s why I have to be the one, not you. I may not be brave most times, but I can be brave for Robbie.”

Miss Anne drew in a ragged breath. “I am brave, Gloria. You don’t know how brave.” She sounded ready to tell how much courage it took to love Channing instead of a man.

“That’s enough for you, but it’s not brave like I need it,” Gloria said. “Not enough for this. She’s not brave enough either.”

For the first time, Gloria realized exactly why she’d asked for the money: her plans for Robbie might involve a courtroom, or they might not. Miss Anne’s money might go to a lawyer, or it might pay bribes to Reformatory guards. Or buy train tickets to Chicago. Miss Anne wouldn’t agree with all of Gloria’s ideas.

“It’s dangerous to carry cash,” Miss Anne said. “If you lost a check, I could write you another one. When cash is gone, it’s gone. That’s the last of Daddy’s insurance money. Nearly the last of my cash savings. I put all my money in the cabins.”

“A check doesn’t do me a bit of good,” Gloria said. “I need it in cash, Miss Anne. And it can’t be in big bills people will look at funny. Make it fives, please. I’d be grateful if you’d pick it up from the bank tomorrow.”

Miss Anne half laughed, although she wasn’t smiling. “They’ll look at me funny,” Miss Anne said. “I’d sound like a bank robber. I haven’t taken out that much cash at once since Daddy died. For his funeral.” But she nodded.