by Eden Connor
Growling at him.
Tears stung his eyes too, but he reprimanded Daisy, raising his voice above Cynda's violent sobbing. "Get back to your pup." He went back to spanking her, gauging her outrage by the tension he felt in her spine with the hand he used to hold her down and the way her ribs dug into his thighs with every rapid breath. Her sobs became shrieks. Daisy's growling grew louder, and the setter took another step closer. Rafe had been wrong. Didn't I suspect all along the old man was full of shit? Dan recorded another black mark against his soul, halting his blows to rub her abused curves, in the idiotic hope of comforting her.
And then he felt it happen.
Cynda relaxed, her rigid muscles went limp. She spoke, but not to him, her voice choked by her tears. "It's okay, Daisy girl. I needed this."
Immediately, Dan helped her turn. He cradled her to his chest, placing kisses on her wet cheeks.
"Thank you," she whispered when he wiped away her last tear.
There was no trace of facetiousness in her eyes.
He made them comfortable in the center of the bed, and she curled into him, putting her head on his shoulder and her arm around his waist, offering her lips for him to kiss. He took them eagerly, but made a point to keep his kisses tender and undemanding. In truth, he felt wrung out and wanted nothing more than to stroke her and cuddle her. In a matter of minutes, she was sleeping like a lamb, with Daisy standing guard. The setter dared to put her paws on the bed and stretched her neck to lick Cynda's bare foot, but when she raised her head, it seemed to Dan she gave him a look out of her blank eyes that made him wonder whose dog she was now.
Long after a mewling cry from her pup called Daisy away, Dan counted the pleats in the canopy overhead, and his only comfort was the peaceful sound of Cynda's breathing.
Chapter Fifteen
Not many cars passed the three trucks backed onto the sidewalk on the northwest end of Magnolia Street. A train rushed by about a block or so up the street and Cynda wished it were closer. Maybe it would've stirred up a breeze. The heat and humidity made walking in a straight line feel like pushing a revolving door; the drag seemed to sap her energy.
She hadn't put much thought into what a building about to be demolished might look like. Most of the lobby's fixtures had been ripped out, along with the banisters on the steps leading to the upper floors. Chunks of brick were scattered across the mosaic floor she'd come to see. Lila, a tall blonde with her hair plaited into a French braid and friendly blue eyes, used the side of her tennis shoe to rake aside the debris. Beneath their feet, bright cobalt tiles framed medallions of gold and russet picturing mythological animals.
"The floor was a WPA project, back in the late thirties," Lila explained. "Can't figure out how a private hotel got this kind of work done and paid for by the government. The building might've been government offices at the time, but I can't find any record of that online." Sighing, she pushed at the wet tendrils sticking to her neck. "With everything going on, I didn't have time to research it properly." She kicked at a small piece of brick, then pointed with her flashlight to the elaborate plaster ceiling. The gold paint was streaked with grime and the floral swags strung between fat cherubs were chipped and cracked. "It's such a shame someone couldn't have restored this place."
Cynda murmured her agreement, moving her light along the floor, trying to see the next fantastic creature. Lila stepped farther into the dim lobby. The men had gone straight up the stairs as soon as the security guard had gotten each of their signatures on a release and unlocked the door for them.
She didn't find Lila intimidating, but she didn't feel a need to speak. She was still musing on the reason when Lila set her foot on the wide staircase. "Wonder which floor they started on?"
Cynda didn't care. She wasn't about to go up those steps. There were sure to be bats up there and she'd had her fill of rabid critters.
"Coming up?" Lila asked.
"Nope. I'll be right here thinkin' about how it would feel to ride a half-mermaid, half-unicorn across the ocean when you get back."
She preferred the time alone. Not because she didn't like Colton's girlfriend, but because she had stuff to think about. Lila's bright shirt disappeared in the gloom. Cynda shook her head, recalling the way Colton had ordered her to stay in the lobby with Cynda.
She gingerly rubbed her butt. Daniel had stunned her by getting up to turn her over his lap. He'd made her cry harder, but those cries had been more like a heavy storm that couldn't sustain its fury and her sobbing had soon burned out.
In the wake of that, rather than feeling angry, a sense of peace seemed to fill her. He wrapped her in his huge arms and she'd drifted to sleep listening to the steady whisper of his heartbeat. The feeling was still present when he'd awakened her this morning, asking whether she still wanted to see the hotel or would prefer to sleep in.
She wanted to be wherever Daniel was. Just not enough to defy him by climbing those stairs. She used her flashlight and the camera on his cell phone to take pictures of her favorite medallions. Grams had taught her to appliqué, and she thought she might turn the designs into quilt someday. She forwarded each image to her cell number, regretting that Grams couldn't see well enough to help her with the project.
Lost in her thoughts, Cynda had no idea how much time had passed when she heard quarreling. Two beams of light presaged Colton coming down the stairs, his hand firmly around Lila's arm.
"Cynda, Dan says you have a perfect driving record." He strode across the lobby, half-dragging Lila. Releasing her arm, he pressed Daniel's keys into Cynda's hand. "Now, what I want is for you two ladies to go pick up lunch. We don't need a supervisor, Lila. We need to be fed." He pressed a firm kiss to Lila's downturned lips. "Under no circumstance is she to drive, Cynda. By the time you get back from, oh, say Wade's, we'll be ready to drop the last two tubs in the back of Daniel's truck and get the hell outta here."
"I like their fried chicken," Cynda said, referring to the restaurant Colton mentioned.
"I think it's greasy," Lila said mulishly, her eyes narrowed on Colton's disappearing back. "If I have to eat that, I think I'll puke. It's too hot for fried chicken," Lila declared. They crossed the lobby and stepped outside. Cynda blinked in the bright sun. "How about the Southside Café? You know where that is?"
Every black person in town knew about Miss Abby's restaurant, where for four dollars, you got five vegetables and a meat, cornbread and dessert. There wasn't a menu. You ate whatever she was fixing that day. Cynda sighed. Why do some white people try so hard to show they aren't prejudiced? "Of course."
She was taken aback when Lila stepped behind the faded red Formica counter, grabbing the older black woman in a tight embrace. "Lila Walker, how you been doin'?" Abby demanded, giving the white woman a long hug before pushing Lila firmly out of her domain, but not smacking her with a spoon the way she would've anyone else Cynda knew.
"Cynda Avery, how's Miss Coralinne?" Abby asked about Grams, pointing to the counter where a row of chrome-plated stools awaited.
"Still fair to middlin', Miss Abby. She needs that surgery on her eyes, you know." Cynda replied, taking a seat. Unabashed, Lila ducked around the counter again, fixing two glasses of tea. Abby shook her head, but smiled at the blonde. They sipped the tea and chatted while the best cook in town made them six plates heaped with fried chicken livers and turnip greens, mashed potatoes that weren't made from powdered flakes, fried okra and fresh sliced tomatoes and cantaloupe, putting each plate in a little cardboard box. Lila jumped up again to make an equal number of teas in foam cups and fastened lids on them. The adept way she navigated the space behind the counter implied a familiarity Cynda couldn't have equaled.
"How do you know her?" Cynda asked, leaning forward to whisper.
"Lila, Cynda here wants to know how we got acquainted," Abby said loudly, to Cynda's chagrin.
Lila grinned over her shoulder. "An old college boyfriend brought me here the first time. I ditched him, but I sure kept Miss Abigail. Th
anks to her, I didn't starve trying to eat the cafeteria food down at the women's college."
Abby laughed loudly as she sat the containers on the counter. "She only tellin' half the tale. If it weren't for me, Pete woulda kicked her butt out that first year they was married. Lila started hangin' out here, jus' to learn how to boil water without scorchin' it." Abby's brown eyes filled. "Been 'bout a year now, hasn't it, Lila?"
Lila's eyes suddenly brimmed, too. "Be a year tomorrow." She shook open a plastic bag violently before placing it on the counter and began setting the drinks into it.
Pulling a twenty and a ten out of the back pocket of her jean shorts, she stuffed them into the old pickle jar Abby used instead of a cash register. Grabbing the teas and one bag holding the plates, she bolted out the front door.
"My poor chile done forgot her bread n' desserts." Abby shook her head and doled banana pudding into six containers. She tucked a piece of aluminum foil filled with cornbread into the top of another bag, then set all the bags into a cut-down cardboard box. Cynda somehow managed to get out the door, weighted down like a pack mule.
Respecting Lila's silent tears, she made her way down North Church, and turned left onto Magnolia Street just past Daniel Morgan Square. She still felt a bit uncomfortable driving Daniel's huge truck, but was proud he trusted her with his keys.
"Stop!" Lila cried when she was only three blocks from the old hotel. Cynda jammed on the brakes.
"Wait!" Where are you going?" she cried when Lila opened to door to the truck.
"I'm going right there." Lila pointed to the circle of people on the grass in front of the courthouse.
Cynda stared in disbelief at the handful of Ku Klux Klan members dressed in full white regalia. South Carolina boasted three covens, more than any state. Two were right here in the county. These fools marched about once every few years. Cynda looked across the street. As expected, a handful of older folks, not all black, stood in silent protest. The hate group had dwindled dramatically since its heyday decades before, but the sight of their white hoods and robes didn't make Cynda happy.
Lila's confrontation with one of the men in white sheets made her less happy. It seemed to Cynda that giving them any attention was sending the wrong message. They didn't terrorize folks anymore, just preached their white separatist mantra and walked around on the courthouse lawn every now and then like cone-headed ducks. Lila seemed to be yelling at one while pointing to another of the marchers. Cynda realized that one she pointed to was either very short or very young.
A loud honk reminded her she was blocking traffic. Circling the block, she found a parking space on the north side of the courthouse and took a quarter for the meter from Daniel's change-filled ashtray. Undecided, she watched Lila. The debate seemed more heated now. Cynda opened her door. Thinking they were irrelevant was one thing. Walking into the middle of all those sheets to drag Lila away was another. She tried to figure out what Daniel would want her to do. She could drive to the hotel and get Colton to deal with this. Leaving Lila standing here while she fetched the men didn't seem to be the answer, but she hoped fiercely Colton spanked Lila's ass for her thoughtlessness. Unhappily, she slid out of the truck, careful to lock the door. Tucking his keys into her pocket and gathering her courage, she strode across the grass toward Lila, eyeing the police car that braked to a stop right in the road. Lila might take the police presence as a comfort, but Cynda feared the men in blue more than the ones wearing white.
On the other side of the street, people, both black and white, had begun to clap and whistle. This could go bad in a hurry.
"I know those shoes," Lila was saying. "I just spent about an hour staring at them, John Carpenter. You called Dan for me. Hasn't anyone told you they sell higher thread count sheets? This hundred and sixty thread count balls up when you put it in the dryer."
As if that were the point, Cynda thought angrily, grabbing for Lila's arm.
"You be careful, woman." The voice sounded menacing coming from behind the draped mask that was the visual representation for racial hatred. Cynda shivered. "And you get your nigger friend here outta my way."
To Cynda's horror, Lila shook off her hand.
"Or what?" she demanded. "You'll burn a cross on my lawn? You come to my house, John Carpenter, and you'll find out what a good shot I am. My god, I thought your… your organization had died out. Twenty-two years ago I stood across the street with my husband watching you fools march around. I thought then you'd already been left behind by time. I guess as long as there's ignorance, there's gonna be hate. But there's no excuse for draggin' a child into this. Let your hate die with you."
"Your husband done died, so you might want to watch that smart mouth you got, with no man to look out for you."
When she felt the rough hand around her arm, Cynda hoped for a single moment it was Daniel's. The old hotel was only a few blocks down the street. She turned and looked into a pair of mirrored sunglasses.
"I need to see your ID," the burly male cop demanded. The wide brim of his hat shaded light hair and his frown scared Cynda far more than the irrelevant old man under that sheet. Her mouth dried from fear. Was she under arrest?
"It's in that truck." Cynda pointed, her heart pounding.
"That's your truck?" the cop said in disbelief, looking in the direction she pointed.
"N-no, it belongs to a friend."
"Uh huh. I think I know this truck. And I don't think he'd let your black ass drive it, either."
"You can't say that to her," Lila spat, whirling to glare at the policeman.
"She's black, isn't she? You're under arrest, both of you," the cop stated, speaking into the square microphone fastened to his shoulder. "Civil disturbance. Pick up two."
* * * *
Dan looked impatiently at his watch, wondering where Lila and Cynda were. Colton should never have sent them for lunch. They were ready to drop the last two tubs into the back of his truck and get out of the dirty old place. From his vantage point on the third floor, he looked up and down Magnolia Street. No sign of his truck. Heaving a sigh, he wiped sweat from his brow with his forearm and grabbed the chain. He could hook this next-to-last tub to the winch, and hopefully, by the time he was done, Cynda would be back with his truck.
The sound of sirens made him lean far out, holding the chain. Squinting in the bright sunlight after being in the dim hotel interior, he thought he saw his truck, but figured it only looked like his, since it was parked along the side of the courthouse. Two county police cars flanked the black Chevrolet, lights flashing. As he stared, he saw men wearing white sheets, lining up beside the truck that looked an awful lot like his. There were lots of black Chevy trucks around town.
But how many tall blondes with their hair up in a braid, wearing bright pink T-shirts and cut-off jeans could there be? He watched Lila arguing with the sheriff's deputy and saw the flash as the cop reached behind him to pull his handcuffs out of the pouch on his service belt. "Colton!" he yelled. "Lila's getting' arrested right down the street."
"What the hell?" Colton raced him to the stairs.
"This time, I really am gonna spank her ass," Colton said as they pounded down the old staircase.
"If you don't, I will," Daniel promised grimly, leaping down the last few steps. His boots skidded across the debris in the lobby.
They hit the sidewalk, still running. It took less than a minute for him and his brother to reach the northeast corner of the courthouse. Dan elbowed people in the small crowd aside. He was able to make out the top of Lila's bright head. Sweat trickled down his neck, but he couldn't see Cynda anywhere. He tried looking for her little white sandals, but all he saw were polished boots. Another police car braked to a stop, siren wailing and blue lights flashing. He glanced across the street. People were shaking fists in the air and yelling at the police and the Klansmen.
Surely the two women hadn't walked into some demonstration against the Klan? All they had to do was to drive right on by. Traffic was still moving, a
lthough now a cop stood in the street, motioning angrily at the rubberneckers to drive past. The row of blue uniforms around Lila parted, giving him a glimpse of white beads on dark braids. Thankfully, he caught sight of Reese Davies. Halting beside his friend, Dan demanded, "What's going on, Reese? Why's Lila being arrested?"
"Hey, Daniel," Reese said coolly. "Did you give this black chick permission to drive your truck, or was it stolen?" He pointed.
Tears streaked Cynda's cheeks. Her eyes were wide and he could tell from her wince the cuffs restraining her wrists were too tight.
"Yes, I gave her permission to drive it, Reese. Let her go." He turned his head, watching the police car drive off. Lila sat in the back. She made a kissy-face to Colton, who stood frozen on the sidewalk, staring after the police car as it picked up speed.
"Why's my girlfriend in the back of that car?" Colton demanded.
"She's under arrest for civil disobedience." Reese was all business. "This one's going too." He pushed Cynda forward by grasping the chain between her cuffs. "Dan, you can bail them out Monday morning after they see the magistrate. He doesn't come in on Sundays. But they're both going to jail. I'm not in the mood for a riot."
"What the hell does that mean?" Dan demanded, trying to edge past Reese so he could at least… kiss her. Touch her. Give her money for snacks. Something.
Reese blocked his movement and pushed Cynda toward a second police car, putting his hand on the back of her head to shove her into the back. The sight of another man with his hands on Cynda for the second day in a row seemed to set something to smoldering in his chest. Her sobs were audible over the cacophony of boos coming from the crowd gathered across the street. Behind him, the Klansmen were yelling.
Before Dan could think of anything to say to her, Reese slammed the door. The car began to move. Dan pressed his hand against the glass as it passed by, seeing the fear in her eyes. He didn't have any confidence Lila could look after her. Angrily, he turned on Reese. "What, precisely, did they do to warrant being arrested?"
