Page 144 of The 9th Man

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Greensboro, North Carolina

5:00P.M.

LUKE MADE THE 250-MILE DRIVE IN THREE AND A HALF HOURS,finally pulling to a stop in front of a white stucco two-story house fronted by a vine-covered picket fence. On the front lawn a lone sprinkler hissed and sputtered. The front door opened, revealing a middle-aged Black woman with close-cropped hair who waved at him. He waved back and climbed out of the car.

“Miss Kathleen?”

“Victoria said you were a polite southern boy. I can see she was right. Come on up.”

He opened the fence gate, waited for a gap in the sprinkler’s stream, then dashed up the walk to the porch without getting wet.

“Come in, come in, we’re having sweet tea on the back patio. We’ve got something a little harder too, if that’s your preference.”

“Sweet tea sounds good.”

She led him through the living room and kitchen to a sliding glass door overlooking the patio. “Now, one thing you should know,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper. “I got the cancer six months ago—”

“I’m sorry.”

“Kind of you, but that’s not it. I’m in remission right now. See, when I was about to go through chemo and radiation, I had one of those head-shaving parties. My mama, Pearl, came to watch, or so I thought. Next thing I know, she’s under the clippers. But she went even further. Had them shave her bald. She says she’ll keep doing it until I’m cancer-free.”

“Sounds like a remarkable woman.”

“You got that right. Just don’t lie to her. She’ll know, and shut down on you in a heartbeat.”

“Understood.”

They stepped outside and Kathleen made the introductions. Pearl Yates sat in a cushioned outdoor rattan chair. Victoria had told him she was nearing eighty, but she looked a decade or more younger. Beneath her bald pate were a pair of sparkling, astute eyes crinkled by laugh lines. They sat for a while sipping tea and exchanging pleasantries until finally Pearl said, “I like this one, Kathleen. He’s okay. You go inside and get working on supper. Me and Luke are gonna talk.”

Kathleen smiled. “Sure thing, Mama.”

When they were alone he asked, “Did you ever make it to medical school?”

“I found out after high school that all that studyin’ just wasn’t for me. I never became a doctor, but I was one damn fine nurse. I worked fifty-four years before retirin’.”

“Good for you.”

“You’re wonderin’ about those three missin’ pictures?”

“Yes, ma’am, I am curious. I’m trying to right a wrong. A big wrong. If you don’t mind, let me turn the tables on you.”

“If you can, my boy,” Pearl said. “Give it a try.”

“I think you’re a private person, but that’s not all there is to it. I think after your Parkland photos you and your family got some attention. The kind of attention that gives you goose bumps.”

Her gaze grew more penetrating.

“I’m betting some men came sniffing around and you were smart enough to stay out of their way.”

Pearl blinked at him, let out a sigh. “Boy, that sounds a little spooky.”

“I’ve met those men,” he said. “Not the same ones that came looking for you, of course, but I know the type.”

“Even after sixty years, it’s a memory I don’t like reliving. See, back when I submitted that essay we were living in a town called Bethlehem about two hours east of Dallas. We had this little enclave, I guess you’d call it, just outside of town. All Black families that looked after one another. Black-owned businesses, private schools, all that. Back then some parts of Texas weren’t kind to folks like us, if you get my meanin’.”

“I do.”