by Sara Rosett
I sat back. Wouldn’t a lynching be something you’d rather not put in your brochure? I read on and found several references to the spirit that was often seen wandering through the pecan groves at night. Now I get it. Nothing like a supernatural element to add cachet to your B and B.
“Do you have a local history section?” I asked the reference librarian, a young woman with a round face and thick dark hair caught back in a low ponytail.
“Our most popular section today.” She came out from behind the large counter and led the way through the stacks. “Anything in particular you’re looking for?”
“Information about the Nash lynching.”
“You, too?” She stopped and ran her hand across several shelves. “This is our local history section, but I’m afraid we don’t have anything on the Nash lynching.”
“Nothing?” I asked as I did a quick check to make sure Livvy still trailed along behind me. After story time, she’d picked out two new books. She’d already sat down with her back propped against the shelves and was “reading” the pages. Nathan, strapped in the stroller, had three board books and was content to run his hand over the soft fur that represented a lion’s mane. I switched my attention back to the librarian. Her name tag clipped to her jet-black sweater read DAWN.
“I’m afraid not. There’s nothing more than rumor and innuendo,” she said.
“I’ve done a search online and couldn’t find anything except a reference in a B and B Web site. Internet searches are great, but sometimes they have big holes in them.”
Dawn frowned. “That’s true. I’m sure the Peach Blossom considers it marketing, but there’s no evidence that the lynching ever happened.”
Did that mean there never had been evidence or there had been evidence at one time and it had been destroyed?
“What about racist groups in the area? KKK? Anything like that?” I asked, skimming over the titles.
“No. I’ve done quite a bit of research into the history of Dawkins County,” Dawn said. “I’ve traced my ancestors and helped other people with their family histories and I can assure you I’ve never come across anything like that. Here.” She moved to the end of the aisle to a computer terminal. “I’ll show you our search features and you can look up books as well as our online databases of periodicals and newspapers.”
She showed me how to access the search. There was nothing about white supremacist groups in North Dawkins. There were two articles about Nash’s disappearance. One described his last workday at the paper factory, but it was so short it barely had any information. The paper gave more coverage to the North Dawkins Women’s Society Bridge Fund-raiser that took place that same night. It was pretty obvious that Nash’s story wasn’t a high priority in North Dawkins since the picture of several smiling women holding cocktails filled most of the lower half of the page. One of the women looked familiar. I read the cutline and smiled. ELEANOR RAWLINS, LEFT, JOINS AVA MAY AND DORTHEA CONNER IN CELEBRATING ANOTHER SUCCESSFUL FUND-RAISER. That was Dorthea with the dark lipstick and pearls.
The second article reiterated the same scanty info on Nash and stated that investigators were looking into the possibility that Nash was accosted. Hmmm…“accosted” didn’t have the same connotations as “lynched,” but it did indicate that investigators had suspected foul play.
I added two books about the Civil Rights movement to our stack. On the way to the checkout, I stopped at the reference desk and asked Dawn, “Why did you say that area was your most popular section?”
“You’re the fifth person who’s asked for information about Nash today.”
The car was quiet as I drove home. Both the kids were still absorbed in their books, so I turned the kid music off. The silence was blissful.
Who else would be interested in Nash?
Lots of people. His name had been all over the news. But would that motivate someone to go to the library and do a search? After a second I had to smile at my speculations. It had driven me to do a search, after all.
I spent the next hour making grilled cheese sandwiches, changing diapers, doing dishes, and checking my e-mail. Still nothing from Nita. I didn’t want to be a bother and call her. I knew she was very busy, but I really wanted her transcription of the rest of the notes.
Once I had Nathan down for his nap and Livvy humming away in her room with her stack of new books, I settled down on the couch to glance through the books I’d picked up about the Civil Rights movement.
I was surprised to learn that lynchings declined from about 1920 on, except for several well-publicized incidents from the ’40s through the ’60s. One name, Emmett Till, caught my eye. I’d seen it in the newspaper a while back. Till was lynched in Mississippi in 1955. Outrage over his death helped spark the Civil Rights movement and his case was one of several from that era that had recently been reopened.
“Mom.” The exaggerated whisper came from down the hall. I stood up and looked down the hall. Livvy was leaning around her door frame. “How much longer until the party?”
“About an hour.”
Her face scrunched in uncertainty. “That’s about as long as Sesame Street,” I said.
Her face cleared. “Okay.”
“In fact,” I said, checking the time, “Sesame Street is coming on in a few minutes. You and Nathan can watch it, and then we’ll go to the party.” I didn’t have to check the TV schedule to know when the shows for the kids were on. I had the schedule memorized. I got Nathan up, changed his diaper, and then settled him in the living room.
“Can we watch Tiger Gals?”
“Nope.” Already the negotiation had begun. Livvy felt she was too old for Sesame Street and wanted to watch the latest half-hour commercial disguised as a kids’ show. “Today we’re going to watch something educational. Nathan needs to learn his letters and numbers. You can watch your show next time.” I didn’t want Nathan to miss out on the little kid shows that Livvy had enjoyed so much.
The news was on and a familiar face surprised me. Nita Lockworth was talking about Jodi, giving the interviewer details about when Jodi disappeared. Jodi’s picture flashed on the screen along with the eight-hundred number.
“Mom, Sesame Street, remember?”
I hid a smile because Livvy still enjoyed the show, even though she’d never admit she liked a “baby” show like that.
“Okay. Here you go.” I switched the channel and went to our other TV and turned it on the cable news channel where Nita was still being interviewed.
She sat in a chair beside Sherry Wayne. They were outdoors with a row of trees behind them. The interviewer turned to Sherry.
“What’s the status of the investigation concerning your cousin at this point? The incident with William Nash happened over fifty years ago. Have the investigators given you any indication that they’ll be able to find out what happened? Who did this to William?”
Sherry tossed her head and said, “It may have been fifty years, but everyone in North Dawkins knows what happened the night William didn’t come home. He was lynched. The sheriff needs to talk to Coleman May. He knows what happened.”
The interviewer leaned forward. “Who is Coleman May?”
“He was the mayor back then and he didn’t like the way things were shifting in 1955. I was just a girl then, but everyone in town knew the mayor didn’t like what was going on in Montgomery—”
Here the interviewer jumped in and said, “You mean the bus boycott?”
She nodded. “Yes. Coleman May wanted to squelch anything like that here in middle Georgia. William was a warning.”
“These are pretty serious charges.” The interviewer was clearly delighted that Sherry was accusing someone of murder on his show.
“Plenty of Civil Rights cases are being reopened. No reason this one can’t be reopened, too. Especially since it wasn’t investigated properly at the time.”
“Was there a federal investigation?”
“No. They were able to hush it up. But things have changed. The
re won’t be no hushing it up now.”
The interviewer turned toward the camera. “Two missing persons cases in this small southern town. A tragic outcome for one family and another still hoping for the best. We’ll keep you updated on both stories. Coming up, which dancer didn’t make the cut last night? Find out after the break.”
I clicked through a few more channels and saw a taped interview with Nita and Sherry. They’d made the news show rounds this morning. That explained why I hadn’t received anything else from Nita. She’d been busy getting as much publicity for Jodi as she could. And Sherry had accused Coleman May of being a murderer. I turned off the TV and went to get my shoes on. Coleman? He seemed sort of…fussy to be a murderer.
An Everything In Its Place Tip for an Organized Party
Cost-cutting Tips for Goodie Bags
Use paper lunch bags instead of store-bought theme bags. You can personalize the bags with stamps or leave them plain.
Avoid prepackaged “party favors.” Often these favors are expensive, considering the number of items in each package and the quality.
Here’s a few inexpensive goodie bag alternatives: large packs of gum, stickers, pencils, and sculpting clay can be purchased for a few dollars each and used to fill goodie bags. Add prepackaged raisins, popcorn, or fruit leathers for healthy alternatives to candy. Try to include things related to the party theme: for a movie party, include microwave popcorn; for a swimming party, include goggles or sunscreen. Another option is to skip the bag entirely and give each child one inexpensive gift, such as a puzzle or book.
Chapter Sixteen
“What does that sign say?” Livvy gripped the edge of the door and strained to see out the window.
“It says ‘North Pole.’”
Livvy was out of the car almost before I’d brought it to a full stop. By the time I’d transferred Nathan from his car seat to the stroller, grabbed the diaper bag, stowed the presents in the stroller, and locked the car, she’d followed the arrow on the sign and disappeared around the side of the house.
A cool breeze rattled through the bronze leaves and swept across my face. I was glad I’d dressed the kids in jeans and long sleeves since the humidity was down today and fall was in the air.
Livvy came motoring back into sight. “Snow! There’s snow! See!” She hopped, pointing through the gate. “It snowed.”
“But only in Jessica and Jasmine’s backyard. Interesting.” White blanketed the entire backyard. On one side, the white stuff was piled up and kids were attempting to make a snowman. A dusting of snow covered the huge igloo positioned in the middle of the backyard and a few flakes still clung to the giant bouncer that filled the other side of the yard.
Livvy didn’t hear me; she was letting a woman in a red shirt with furry white trim on the neckline and cuffs wrap a scarf around her neck as she said, “Welcome to our winter wonderland!”
I recognized Jessica and Jasmine’s mom from the car pool line at Mother’s Day Out, but we’d never met. I handed her the gift bags and introduced myself.
She put the bags on a picnic table crowded with other gifts and said, “Hi, I’m Juliet. We’re so glad Livvy could come.”
“I’m sure you can tell, she’s excited to be here.”
“Oh, the snow. I know. Isn’t it great? Just add water and instant snow. Totally biodegradable, too. I love the ‘wow’ look on the kids’ faces—and the parents’, too.” She adjusted her Santa hat. Incongruously, she was wearing Bermuda shorts and Clark sandals. “The girls want it to snow so badly and you know we hardly ever get any here. If we do, it’s a fluke and only enough to cover the ground, so I figured we’d give them snow for their birthday.”
“Where did you find the igloo? Did you make it somehow?”
“Heavens, no. Styrofoam blocks. It’s amazing what a party planning company can do. I used Party Hearty out of Atlanta. Wait until you see inside the igloo. Go on, take a look,” she urged. “Help yourself to the food. We’ll have cake later. And don’t forget to get the kids’ portraits drawn,” Juliet said as she pointed to a table set up on her back porch where Topaz sat, making rapid strokes on a sketch pad. A little girl posed stiffly on a bench. “I have a local artist doing portraits of the kids. So much more special than photos, don’t you think?”
I was actually speechless. All of this for a kids’ birthday party? Juliet shooed me in the direction of the igloo. “Go ahead, check out the inside.”
Cold air gushed down the short entry, which was tall enough that I didn’t have to stoop down. It was as cold as my freezer. We emerged from the corridor into a small round room with a fire blazing at the center. I did a double take. Surely, Juliet didn’t have a real fire in here with twenty kids running around? I looked closer and realized it was made of strips of orange and yellow cloth that fluttered as air pumped over them from below. Fog curled up the edges of the room, engulfing tables where food flanked two snowmen ice sculptures. Wow, indeed. What was this, a birthday party for two kids, or a fund-raising bash?
I found a plate and loaded it with snack foods, making sure to get some crackers and cheese for Nathan. Balancing my food and a drink I’d poured from a large punch bowl, I steered the stroller with one hand back into the sunlight.
Juliet was hurrying across the snow, but she stopped and asked, “Did you like it?”
Um, like it? I actually thought it was a bit much for a birthday party, but I tried to be diplomatic. “It wowed me all right.”
“Good! I always feel a little sorry for the girls since their birthdays are only a couple of days apart. I want to do something spectacular for them, so they’ll each feel special.” She bent over the stroller and spoke to Nathan in that singsong voice people use with kids. “I heard you have a birthday coming up soon,” she said, poking him in his tummy.
Nathan grinned and reflexively gripped his stomach.
She poked again. “You’re going to be one!”
Nathan giggled.
She stood up and said to me, “That’s a big birthday, their first. I remember Jessica’s first birthday. We had a petting zoo. The kids loved it. What are you going to do?”
“Umm…” Suddenly my idea of a party seemed rather banal. “Birthday cake and ice cream in the backyard.”
Her eyebrows crunched together. “Oh,” she said uncertainly. “Well, I’m sure that will be…nice. You might think about that petting zoo idea, though. It would be a birthday he’ll never forget. Now, I have to check the temperature in the igloo.” She patted my arm, then hurried off.
“A birthday he’ll never forget,” I muttered under my breath. “Like he’s going to even remember it in the first place. He’s going to be one.”
“What are you talking to yourself about?”
I turned to find Abby standing beside me, balancing Charlie on her hip and holding a plate of food in the other hand.
“Oh, nothing. Just grousing.” The boys spotted each other and we made our way over to a corner of the yard with a sign that read LITTLE ELVES PLAY AREA. We deposited Nathan and Charlie in the fenced-off area stocked with toddler toys and sat down on some chairs. The “snow” was pretty thin on the ground there and the boys examined it for a moment, then went for the toys.
“I’m having a mental block. What did you do for Charlie’s first birthday?” I’d never ask that question of Juliet. She clearly intended her parties to be events and would be hurt if people didn’t remember them, even years later. But with Abby I could honestly say I didn’t remember and she wouldn’t care. “Why can’t I remember? It was only a month ago.”
“Family party.”
“That’s right. Lucky you. You didn’t have to plan a birthday party that rivaled the Academy Awards After Party.”
“Not quite so lucky. I did have both my parents and Jeff’s parents staying at our house. Remember?”
Abby’s duplex in base housing gave new meaning to the word minuscule.
“So. Are you planning a big shindig like this for Nathan?”
“Honestly, no, but I’m starting to feel like the underachieving mom after the tea party birthday party and now this. Cake and ice cream in the backyard seem a little passé.”
“Stick to your guns. This is overkill.”
“I’m going to. What will these kids expect for their sixteenth birthday?”
“A Hummer?” Abby said, then saw Charlie, Nathan, and another boy all with a death grip on the same toy. “I’d better break that up before we get to the screaming stage,” Abby said, and entered the corral.
She sorted out the boys, then returned to the chairs. “So, what have you done today?”
“Story time at the library.”
“I miss story time. I’m already looking forward to next summer when we can go with you,” Abby said. “I love teaching, but sometimes feel like I’m missing so much time with Charlie.”
“Are you thinking about quitting?” I asked, surprised. Abby had never waffled about going back to work.
“No, not really. I just feel guilty sometimes that I’m not with him all the time.”
“Abby, I’m with my kids almost all of the time and I still feel guilty.”
Abby transferred her gaze from the boys to me. Charlie abandoned the truck and Nathan pounced on it. “When I’m doing laundry and dishes and all that routine stuff that I have to do, Livvy’s constantly asking me to play with her and Nathan wants my attention, too. So while I’m cleaning the bathroom, I’m feeling bad that I’m not playing hide-and-seek.”
“So you’re saying no matter what I do I’m going to feel guilty.” Abby laughed. “Great! Thanks, that makes me feel so much better.”
“Sorry, but it’s true.”
“Yeah. I think deep down, I already knew that,” Abby said. “So, what’s going on with the Find Jodi stuff?”
