Page 86 of The Reformatory

When she opened her eyes, the sky had dimmed through the sheer curtains and she heard a burr of voices from the living room—June and Miz Lottie, but also others witnessing trouble. Gloria sprang up and tottered to the doorway.

The living room was crowded. Except for June and Miz Lottie, all of them were peeking through the front window facing the road: Mr. and Mrs. Hatchett and Leroy Jenkins, the pastor’s brother. June took off running—full-out running—toward the kitchen the other way. Mr. Jenkins was heaving up and down with a wheeze at the window. He’d been running too.

“All of y’all get away from that window,” June barked, angry. “Get down low.”

“What’s going on?” Gloria said.

No one answered, which made the scene more troubling. Mrs. Hatchett took Miz Lottie by the arm to lead her to her couch. Miz Lottie looked tired, as if she’d been asleep too. “Gloria, go fetch Miz Lottie a glass of water. Go on.”

Gloria worried for Miz Lottie and wanted to demand to know what the fuss was, but the fear in the room was thick and urgent, so she turned to follow June to the kitchen.

“Truck down at the corner,” she heard Mr. Hatchett report. “Big red one.”

“Told you,” Mr. Jenkins said, still breathing hard. “There’s five, six riding in back.”

A strange truck in Lower Spruce might mean the Klan! In the kitchen, June was pulling down the blinds to block the jalousie windows in Miz Lottie’s rear kitchen door. He’d grabbed his shotgun from its hiding place behind the fridge, had it propped on his shoulder, finger on the trigger. Gloria’s heart clamored.

“They said there’s a truck,” Gloria told him, though he looked like he already knew.

“That light,” he said, pointing, and she flipped the kitchen switch off. The kitchen went dark, and the crickets chirped more loudly through the open windows, but there were no other sounds. The curtains glowed faintly with gray light. Gloria hazarded a peek from the window’s opposite corner: nothing was moving between Miz Lottie’s clothesline and the mango trees where her truck was parked. Even June’s work shirts hanging from the clothespins were petrified and still.

“What you doin’, Glo?” June said.

Gloria let the curtains fall shut. She’d forgotten about Miz Lottie’s water. “Sorry, I’m—” She reached into the fridge for Miz Lottie’s cold mason jar. Her fingers were shaking again.

“What I mean is, what you doin’?” Uncle June said. “You better decide. You gonna curl up an’ cry? You gonna go hide under the bed?”

“Is it the Klan?” she said, speaking her worst fear. “What will they do, Uncle June?”

“You done cryin’? Tell me yes or no.”

From the living room Miz Lottie’s phone jangled. Mrs. Hatchett answered, and she sucked in her breath from whatever she heard. Then she slammed down the phone. No doubt someone had called with a threat, or bad news. Miz Lottie asked who had called and Mrs. Hatchett said no one.

“I’m done crying,” Gloria said, although her eyes wanted to flood.

“All right, then, you carry Miz Lottie her water,” June said. “Real calm like. Don’t get her excited, hear?”

“Yessir.”

June spoke so quickly, she had to strain to hear him over her heart’s pounding. “Then you take her to her room. Make sure she’s clear of that window. Keep the lights off, or they’ll see you better’n you’ll see them. That old oak blocks her window pretty good, so you peek out from time to time. See what you see.”

Gloria nodded.

“Look for fires,” June said. “If you hear gunfire, try to see the muzzle flash.” Uncle June was telling her the things he would tell a soldier, she realized. “You know where Mama’s peashooter is?”

The laundry basket was in Miz Lottie’s room, on her bed. She’d carried it in herself when they returned from the courthouse. “Yessir.” Gloria’s slamming heart made the room seem dimmer. Papa had taught her how to shoot squirrels and rabbits with buckshot, but she wouldn’t trust her aim with a pistol. Shooting into the dark.

“Don’t even think about firing that gun at a white man unless you’re about to die first—not ’cuz you got scared an’ jumped.”

“Yessir.”

“But if you got to shoot, don’t shoot blind. Eyes open. And keep shooting. And all of us, we’ll get to the truck. I parked it out back. Tank’s full and I’ve got the key in my pocket. I been stayin’ ready for these SOBs. If you see me run for that truck, follow behind. No matter what, you get Miz Lottie to the truck. That’s your only job, even if you got to carry her.”

“Why don’t we just go now?”

“Too late now,” Uncle June said.

Outside, a vehicle’s tires growled across the road. A man yelled something Gloria couldn’t understand, but she knew the angry sound. The strange truck might be right in front of the house. “Remember what I said,” Uncle June said, hushed. “You squeeze that trigger by accident, they’ll burn down Lower Spruce. But they might anyway. So don’t fire it until we’re all done for. All you can do then is take a few of them too. God sorts out the rest.”