by Deborah Heal
He turned away and headed toward the door. A man two tables over from them called out, “Can’t you see he’s just trying to make a living?”
Abby felt her eyes go wide and her face grow hot. “What’s he talking about?”
“Guess the word is already out that you went and disturbed Miss Granger,” Patty Ann said. “We’re kind of protective of her.”
“I noticed,” John said.
“But what does that have to do with him?” Ryan asked.
“Everyone seems to think we’re writing a book,” Abby said.
“The woman at the police station is convinced we’re journalism students in town to investigate—”
“Can we talk about that later?” Patty Ann asked, glancing around the room.
“Sure,” Abby said. Maybe she was right. It felt like the whole room was focused on their table. Shireen refilled everyone’s drinks. They chatted about the weather and anything else but what was most on their minds.
The door opened and Brother Greenfield came into the Red Onion. Beside him a stooped elderly man shuffled in, leaning heavily on a cane.
“Come sit by us,” Patty Ann called.
Abby cringed. He surely wouldn’t be happy to sit by them. Were they about to get another public scolding, this time for profaning a church? She glanced at the people eating nearby, hoping they weren’t the type to carry their pitchforks to lunch.
But thankfully Brother Greenfield was not one to hold a grudge. A smile lit up his face and he gave them a little salute. His elderly friend politely removed his straw hat, and together they started slowly toward their booth. They were the only African Americans in the restaurant, and Abby had a new sense of how it must feel to be so conspicuous as a minority.
“I heard y’all were still in town,” Brother Greenfield said when they finally reached their table. “I was hoping I’d run into you.”
Shireen wiped the table next to their booth, and he and his friend sat down. The old man held his cane out for them to see. “Alex gave it to me. It’s my birthday, you know.”
“It’s quite stylish, sir,” John said, grinning.
“It is, isn’t it? But I’m grateful for its usefulness too. I’m not as spry as I used to be, you know. Or as tall, for that matter. Why I used to be taller than Alex here, although not as tall as Cousin Clyde. Huge men, the Greenfields are.”
Shireen stood waiting politely with her pad and pen. “What can I get you gentlemen?”
Brother Greenfield smiled and patted the old man on the arm. “My Uncle Henry had a hankerin’ for Coca-Cola to celebrate his 89th birthday. Miss, we’ll have two of your largest.”
“Congratulations, sir,” John said.
“Clyde promised to guard the cemetery whilst I’m gone,” Henry said.
“He means the one down by Half Moon,” Brother Greenfield explained. “Sherman Coal Company has no qualms about blasting cemeteries off the face of the earth. Of course the Eternal Judge knows where everyone’s buried and come Judgment Day he’ll raise them up. Won’t he, Uncle Henry?”
“That he will, Alex. But no sense making it any harder for the Lord than it has to be.”
Brother Greenfield’s expression turned serious. “I hear y’all had a spot of trouble this morning. Glad to see that everyone’s here and accounted for. How’s Miss Granger, Patty Ann?”
“She’s all right. Now. I took them back and introduced her. We had a little tea party. She’s restin’ now.”
“You’re lucky. Miss Granger doesn’t much care for company.” He smiled sadly. “Or at least for ‘colored’ company. I got the chance to talk to her about Jesus one time, but she was too scared to listen much. Satan’s got her locked up tight. Convinced her she’s got to pay for her sins herself. Hers and her whole family’s. Makes me so sad I can’t help her more—other than praying, that is.” Then he smiled at Patty Ann. “But God’s using you to work on her, honey. He’ll break through those chains binding her one of these days.”
Henry propped his cane against the table, closed his eyes, and began humming. Brother Greenfield patted his frail back. “Don’t go to sleep there, Uncle Henry. These folks want to know about Ned Greenfield.”
The old man’s eyes popped open and he looked surprised to find himself there. “Ned Greenfield, hey? Well, he got took away. Kidnapped. Sent down the river. The whole family got carried away.” He chuckled and looked at everyone with twinkling eyes. “Well, except for one Greenfield. Wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
Abby shot a look at John and Kate. It had to be the same Greenfields they had seen even if the story was a little off.
Brother Greenfield chuckled. “It’s funny, Kate, that we’d both have a Ned Greenfield in the family.”
Kate smiled. “What are the odds?”
“Grandpa always talked about it,” Henry said. “He’d scare the living daylights out of all us children, warnin’ us about the bad men that would carry us away to Kentucky if we weren’t good. Said it happened to his Grandpa Nelson. Said Grandpa Nelson was always sad wonderin’ where they had taken his family, ’specially his brother Ned. He always wondered what happened to Ned.”
Shireen came then and set the drinks down in front of them. Brother Greenfield helped Henry get his straw unwrapped. “There you go. What do you think?”
Henry took a long swig of his Coke and then smacked his lips and grinned. “Ah, that’s good. Don’t care who you are.”
“Let me out, John,” Abby said. “I need to use the restroom.”
“Say please.”
Abby sighed in mock disapproval. “Please let me out.”
He stood and Abby scooted out of the booth. She stared at him, and he got the message and followed her down the hall to the restrooms.
“What’s up?” he said.
“I think we should tell Brother Greenfield,” she whispered. “Ask him for permission to time-surf in the church. There’s got to be some connection between the Ned Greenfield we saw and Kate’s Ned Greenfield, the one born at Hickory Hill. If we lock onto him maybe we’ll find out what it is.
“I’d love to have the chance to explain we weren’t getting it on in Brother Greenfield’s Sunday School room, but that means another person in on this deal. And if we tell anyone, it ought to be Patty Ann. If she could get us back inside the Granger mansion, I know we’d find something.”
“I don’t know. Miss Granger is really fragile. I wouldn’t count on her cooperating. Besides, he’s related to Ned Greenfield. He deserves to know what happened to him.”
“Okay. I guess if you can’t trust the Allstate man, who can you trust? We can ask. But if he says no…well, my trespassing days are over, just so you know.”
“Agreed.”
When they got back to the table, Uncle Henry was looking anxious. “We’d better hurry, Alex. It’s gettin’ late.”
“We’ve got plenty of time, Uncle Henry. Go on and finish your Coca-Cola.”
“What’s your hurry, Mr. Greenfield?” John asked.
“Wouldn’t do to be late,” Henry answered and went back to sipping his Coke.
Brother Greenfield looked at his watch. “It’s not even two o’clock, Uncle Henry. Quit your fretting. He smiled apologetically to the others. “He doesn’t like to be in town late.” He took out his wallet.
Shireen stopped by the table carrying a tray. “Put your wallet away, sir. Clara said to tell y’all it’s on the house, seein’ as how it’s the old gentleman’s birthday and all.”
“Why, that’s very kind of you, ma’am. Isn’t that kind, Uncle Henry?”
“It’s my birthday,” he said with a grin. “I’m eighty-nine years young.”
John took his wallet out, and Shireen nodded at him and said, “You young folks too.”
John looked perplexed. “Thanks. But why?”
Shireen set her tray down on the edge of their table. “Clara says to tell you….Well, she wants to know if you could leave out that stuff about the Red Onion in your book. You kno
w, about the Red Onion bein’ a speakeasy—well, actually more like a whorehouse.”
Abby looked around the restaurant. “You mean this is a…”
She laughed. “Oh, no, miss. Not this Red Onion. I mean the original one down in the holler by Half Moon.”
John heaved a sigh and looked Heavenward for patience. “Please tell Carol—”
“Clara.”
“Clara. Tell Clara we’re not reporters—or even journalism students—and we’re not writing a book.” His voice rose on the last, and he aimed it at the whole restaurant. Several diners near them looked up and then studiously went back to eating.
“We’re doing family research. That’s all,” Kate said.
“Oh, that’s a relief. I’ll tell her.” Shireen looked apologetic. “In that case, here’s your ticket. You can pay at the counter.” She picked up her tray and walked away.
Brother Greenfield sent a look at each of them in turn. “But there’s more to it, isn’t there?”
“Yeah, there kind of is,” John said. “We wanted to talk to you about it. Only you’ve got to promise not to tell anyone.”
“I’m not a priest, but the rules of confidentiality work the same. Go on, son.”
John looked at Abby and she glanced over at Kate and Ryan. “You see,” Abby began. “We have this computer program that…” She lowered her voice to just barely above a whisper. “It sounds crazy, I know, but with the program we are able to go back in time—”
“Just virtually,” Kate added.
“It seems to work in conjunction with old buildings,” John said. “Like Liberty Baptist Church, for example.”
“Oh, I get it,” Patty Ann said. “That’s why you’ve been so fired up to see the Granger mansion.”
“Abby and I were trying it out in the church Sunday night.”
“And we saw Ned Greenfield,” Abby said. “Back in 1849.”
“Ned Greenfield.” Henry slurped his straw. “Grandpa always wondered what happened to him.”
Brother Greenfield closed his eyes and sighed. Abby steeled herself for a sermon on lying. But when he opened them, his eyes were shining. “Hallelujah. Praise the Lord. I’ve always wanted a WABAC machine like Mr. Peabody’s so I could go back and see what it was like in the olden days.”
Patty Ann playfully poked his arm. “Speaking of olden days, that cartoon’s from the sixties. I’ve seen it on Cartoon Network.”
Brother Greenfield chuckled and then turned eagerly to John. “How does it work?”
“You mean you believe us?” John said. “Just like that?”
Brother Greenfield laughed. “‘Blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed.’ Our God is omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent. Hallelujah! If he wants to give us a gift like that, he can.”
“We’re not sure how it works,” John said. “And it only works part of the time. It has controls where you can zoom in, change the perspective, lock onto characters, and go back and forth through time.”
“Best of all,” Kate said, “is when you go virtual. It’s like being inside their heads.”
“It’s hard to explain,” Abby said. “Would it be all right to go to the church? We could show you.”
“Sure.” Brother Greenfield retrieved the cane and helped his uncle to stand. “Come on, Uncle Henry, you’re about to get the best birthday present ever.”
When they stepped out onto the sidewalk, Henry looked up at the sky in surprise. “Why, sundown’s a long way off!” he said. “Can we go back in and get another Coca-Cola?”
Everyone laughed, except Brother Greenfield, who wore a funny expression. Abby wondered if they had offended him by laughing.
“I’m sorry,” she said, putting a hand to his sleeve. “We didn’t mean—”
He smiled kindly at her. “No, no, Abby. You didn’t do anything wrong. I was just embarrassed that he brought it up like that. He still worries.”
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“You know, the Sundown Law,” he said and looked at each of them. “Well, I suppose you’re too young to know about that. You see, there used to be a sign at the edge of town that said…it said…”
“Nigger, don’t let the sun set on you in Equality,” Uncle Henry said. “Sometimes I forget that sign’s gone.” He turned to his nephew and grinned. “Did I hear somethin’ about another birthday present?”
“I’ll meet y’all at the church,” Brother Greenfield said.
Abby blinked back tears as she watched them walk off down the sidewalk.
Chapter 18
Abby paused the action on the monitor. Hearing Ned’s recitation of his little sister’s distinguishing scars a second time was no less traumatic than the first. She still wanted to cry. Or hit someone. Wordlessly, John handed her his handkerchief and she wiped her eyes. She wondered if he had an endless supply of them.
Even if it were only a movie it would be distressing to watch. But knowing it was the lives of real people unfolding made it nearly intolerable. Knowing it happened to a relative had to be ten times worse. When Abby had her face under control, she turned to look at Brother Greenfield.
His eyes were liquid with tears, and he was mopping his face with his own handkerchief. “So that’s what you two were watching last night. Sorry I jumped to conclusions about what you were up to.” He put his handkerchief in his pocket and shook his head in wonder. “Lord have mercy. Those poor, poor boys are my grandpa and uncle with who knows how many greats in front.”
Patty Ann’s eyes were huge. “Wow. Wow. Wow.”
“I wish that were only a made-up story,” Kate said.
“Times were really hard for blacks around here back then,” Brother Greenfield said. “Even for free blacks. Kidnapping was a common occurrence. You heard what Uncle Henry said.”
“Okay.” Abby turned back to the monitor. “I’m going to lock onto Ned and see if he goes to Hickory Hill.”
Ryan made a production of looking at his watch. “What’s the point? Obviously, this is the wrong Ned Greenfield and…”
“Because, Ryan, it’s not all about me now.” Kate turned to smile at Brother Greenfield. “I’m sorry. Of course you’d like to find out more about your Ned Greenfield.”
“It would be wonderful if we could. Although it’s going to kill me not to be able to tell the family how I found out.”
An acorn landed on his head, and Ned looked up into the oak tree he and Nelson hid behind. A jay screeched and flew off. Ned’s stomach was as nervous as if that jay was hunting acorns in it. They’d pay dearly if anyone discovered they had left the farm. The November wind whipped through his shirt, and he put his hands under his arms to warm them. The sun was sinking fast.
“Don’t worry,” Joseph said. “He’ll come. He always goes into town of a Saturday night.”
Ned took a deep breath and looked over at his brother. Nelson looked back at him, his face a mask of fierce determination. “We get ‘em back.”
Joseph looked as certain. “I’ll make him tell us.”
There was a noise, and a sorrel mare pulling a black buggy came tripping down the lane from the Granger mansion. There was no mistaking the barrel-chested man holding the reins.
“Joseph….” Ned pulled his arm. “You don’t know that man.”
“Don’t worry about me. Just don’t let him see you.” Joseph hoisted his squirrel gun and stepped out of the trees onto the road.
The mare reared furiously. John Granger let out a loud stream of foul curses and sawed on the reins. “You crazy fool! Are you trying to get us both killed?”
Joseph grabbed the mare’s halter and rested his gun on his shoulder. “Where are the Greenfields, Mr. Granger?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, young man.”
“Just tell us where. St. Louis? Paducah?”
“Us? Who else is with you?”
“No one. It’s just me. Now tell me what I want to know.”
Ned held his breath and
told himself all they had to do was keep quiet. Even that man couldn’t see through solid oak. Nelson’s eyes were wild, and Ned put a steadying hand on his shoulder.
“Get out of my way, or I’ll run you down, you fool.”
Granger brought his carriage whip down on the mare’s back, and she shrieked in fear and rose up again. Joseph fell back and the gun went off. Nelson moaned and pulled away from the tree. Ned grabbed at his shirt but missed. Nelson stumbled from behind the tree, and Ned made another grab for him.
Granger whipped the reins, and the mare took off, Joseph scrabbling to get out of the path of her hooves. Granger looked back over his shoulder and drilled a look of pure hatred at them. He shouted something they couldn’t make out. It didn’t matter what. The meaning was clear.
“He’ll kill us, sure,” Nelson said.
“That done it,” Ned said. “We got to run.”
“Where will you go?” Joseph asked.
“Better you don’t know nothin’ ‘bout that.” Ned grabbed his brother’s arm. “Hurry. We got to go afore he come back with his gun.”
Nelson grabbed his arm and stared at him wild-eyed. “Mama’s necklace.”
No matter how foolish the idea, Ned found he couldn’t deny his little brother that one thing. “I’ll get it,” he said. “Say your goodbyes to Joseph.” He released Nelson and took off running into the trees, past the salt works, and out to Master Granger’s farm.
At their cabin he stood in the doorway just looking. The wind whistled through the cracks, and the roof leaked when it rained, but Mama had always done her best to make it a home. He gasped and doubled over with the pain of their loss. Somehow he still expected her and Pap and the girls to be there even though his head told him they were long gone.
It was past quitting time, almost time for supper. By now his Mama would have ended her long day up at the kitchen and be making corn mush and frying up salt pork for their supper. His Pap would come in from picking greens in the little patch he worked by lantern light after his own long day smithing for Master Granger. He’d be telling them stories of where they’d go and what they’d do when his indenture was up. Only a little more time, he’d say. Only a little more time.
