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  “You’re going to get a sunburn,” Molly chided.

  “Oh, girl, don’t be silly. Get over here and give your mama a hug and kiss.”

  Molly bent down and was engulfed in a full embrace and kiss that left a lipstick mark on her cheek.

  “It’s about time you got here, daughter. I’ve been enduring all the gossip without you. And where’s your guest? I’m excited to meet her.” Molly’s mother looked around her daughter toward Lisa.

  “Mama, this is Lisa Waldren. This is my mother, Bernadette.”

  “Get over here for your hug and kiss. Molly tells me about a lot of people, but you are more interesting than most.”

  “Oh really. What did she say about me?” Lisa bent low to receive a hug and kiss from the older woman. She nonchalantly wiped the lipstick from her cheek as Molly had done.

  “My Molly said that you’re one smart cookie, and if you’d let the Lord get ahold of you, you’d be one fine Christian. She really just wants your tithe and offering every month.” Bernadette winked at Lisa.

  “Mama, you revealed my secret. You promised not to tell anyone that I became a minister for the wealth it brings me.”

  Bernadette slapped her leg as she broke into a sweet chiming laugh so infectious that Lisa and Molly couldn’t resist joining in.

  “Come sit with me, girls. Give us a chance to talk without all that craziness inside the house.”

  Lisa and Molly carried deck chairs closer to Bernadette’s perch on the porch.

  “Mama, remember why we came out? We want to talk about that civil rights rally in Fort Worth, back in 1965.”

  “Yes, you said so. But let’s not talk about that nonsense. Let’s just enjoy a great day together. It’s been raining for the past few days, and now look at this sunshine. Do you two want to stay over? Your sister has more rooms than she knows what to do with now that Jarrod got married.”

  “We came out so Lisa could hear your story from that day. I told you that she and her father were at the rally too.”

  “Yes, you did and I remember. But there’s nothing new to tell, and you needed to visit me anyway.” Bernadette kneaded her hands in her lap.

  “I came out last Saturday,” Molly said.

  “I know it, but I got used to seeing you almost every day when I lived in my little apartment. I’m not sure this big grand house in the country is where I want to live.”

  “We can talk about that later, when our guest isn’t here.” A cool breeze rustled the trees, and Molly rose to adjust the blanket around her mother.

  A young woman called from the French doors, probably a cousin. “Food is ready. Get in here, Lisa and Molly. Guests go first.”

  “When did I become a guest?” Molly asked.

  “When you brought your friend out. Why don’t you ever bring a man? Uncle Louis asked if you were a lesbian.”

  “Yes, I’m a black, female, lesbian minister in the state of Texas.”

  The woman laughed. “I gotta tell Uncle Louis that one.”

  “If you’d have married that Wilcox fella like I told you …” Bernadette shook her finger at Molly.

  “I think we better get inside for food,” Molly said, helping her mother to her feet.

  Once inside, Molly’s brother-in-law whistled loudly, silencing the room, and asked Molly to say the blessing over the meal. Children ran in, laughing loudly, and were scolded as Molly bent her head and offered a short prayer. The noise erupted with her “Amen.”

  The table was laden with more dishes than Lisa could remember seeing at any event. As she went down the line with her plate, Molly’s relatives kept leaning over her shoulder, nudging her to try this dish or that until her plate couldn’t hold anything more. Behind Lisa and Molly were the elderly aunts and uncles.

  Evelyn directed them to the dining room where the older relatives soon congregated.

  “These are the ones to talk to, and it’s best over food. You’ll get the most out of them that way,” Evelyn said to Lisa as she set a dish of butter on the table.

  Lisa was seated between Molly and a woman who looked older than Bernadette. Everyone called her Auntie Peeps. The small talk centered on the food as the sound of laughter and stories drifted in from other rooms.

  “I brought Lisa out here to talk to Mama about that civil rights rally and shooting in Fort Worth in 1965,” Molly began, and the table quieted, except for Uncle Frank, who mumbled loudly about having too many salads on his plate. The woman at his side elbowed him in the ribs as Molly gave a short background about Lisa and her father, and how they’d found Molly.

  “You and your father were at that rally same time as that fella was gunned down?” an elderly aunt asked.

  Lisa hadn’t seen a smile on the woman’s face since their introduction, and her frown only deepened with her question.

  “Yes, they were,” Molly said.

  “Why are folks like you poking into this now?”

  “Aunt Lois, this is a friend of mine and she’s trying to help.” Molly had become a mediator, trying to cut the tension Lisa felt growing in the room. At least Molly now considered Lisa a friend, but that didn’t seem to help with her family.

  “What’s this they’re saying? I thought Uncle Louis said Molly and that white lady were lesbians,” an elderly man shouted to the woman beside him.

  “Uncle Frank, adjust your hearing aid, you’re yelling.” The woman beside him nudged him in the ribs.

  “Well, you don’t know about people nowadays, and she’s a right pretty lady, just much too thin,” Uncle Frank said loudly again with his fingers on his hearing aid.

  Molly buried her head into her hands as Lisa fought to keep from laughing. For a moment the tension softened, as though they’d all exhaled after holding their breaths.

  “Listen, I know nobody likes talking about these stories, especially with a guest.” Molly glanced at Lisa, who knew it was more about her skin color than her being a guest that might clam everyone up when talking about the 1960s. Beyond the dining room, Molly’s family chattered loudly, but the mention of the past returned those at the table to eating in rigid silence.

  “Lisa and her father are trying to save a man from execution,” Molly continued.

  “That guy never did it. We all know that,” the woman beside Lisa said as she took a bite of food.

  “Auntie Peeps, why do you say that?” Molly asked.

  “Everybody knew it. People tried to say so at the time, but the police wouldn’t listen. Then everybody shut up about it. They had to.”

  “Molly, you saw the shooting too,” Evelyn said from the doorway to the dining room. She leaned in with her arms folded at her waist.

  “I only recall some popping sounds and people screaming. Lisa’s father thought I may have seen something because of some photographs. It looked like I was facing the shooting, but I don’t remember it,” Molly said.

  “No, you remember,” Evelyn said. “At least, you remembered it then. I thought you knew that. You drew it. Over and over again.”

  Molly gave her sister a quizzical expression.

  “I saw you draw the pictures. They showed the shooting. Mom, tell her.”

  Bernadette sat silently in her chair across from them, staring at her hands clasped together.

  “Mama?” Molly asked.

  “Why are you digging all this up again?” Bernadette said with frustration. She covered her ears for a moment, shaking her head.

  “I told you, the man convicted of the crime is going to be executed soon. Lisa and her father are trying to get evidence that proves he didn’t do it.” Molly spoke gently to her mother.

  “I don’t have any evidence other than my own two eyes, and I didn’t see exactly what happened.”

  “All eyewitness accounts can help. This isn’t the same age as it was back then. You don’t have to be afraid,” Molly said.

  “You don’t know anything about how it was back then,” Bernadette said with a note of anger.

  Aunt Peeps and
Uncle Frank nodded agreement. Auntie Lois only glared at Lisa.

  “We raised you in California. You didn’t have many problems there.”

  “There are certainly racial issues in California, Mama,” Evelyn said, sitting at the end of the table.

  “It’s not the same,” Bernadette muttered, moving her fork through her plate of food.

  Auntie Peeps nudged Lisa. “You have to try those greens,” she said, pointing to Lisa’s dinner.

  “We had to deal with gangs and the tensions of multiracial schools.” Molly sighed and looked to Lisa. “We’ve had long debates about all of this.”

  “Yes, we have,” Bernadette said in a calmer voice. “I’m not taking away what you dealt with, daughter. There were those terrible riots. You had cruel words at school. But for the most part, there was something different in the South.”

  “We grew up with the law against us,” Uncle Frank said, still twenty decibels louder than necessary for the table.

  “Yes, that’s part of it. The laws weren’t made to protect us. Quite the opposite. When a cop pulled us over in our cars, us girls were afraid we’d be raped or our boyfriends or husbands beat, all because we’re black … but if you don’t pull the car over, you’re gonna get it worse. There was an underlying terror outside the walls of our own homes. Sometimes it weren’t safe even there. Fear was so normal that we didn’t know it was fear, until we lived in California for a while.”

  The table was silent for a moment.

  Aunt Lois slammed her fork down with her eyes on Lisa. “That is how it was. Yes, that was it.” She took her plate from the table and left the room.

  “I loved visiting you out in California,” Auntie Peeps said. She took a bite of food. “I loved visiting you out there. Disneyland and Hollywood and the beaches. How’d we get you back to Texas?”

  Bernadette sighed. “Oh, there’s no place like home. I want to die where I can eat fried okra and smell the wisteria and jasmine outside my window. I want my daughters, sisters, and family close. Home is the South. I couldn’t die in California.”

  “She talks as if she’s going to die soon. You’ve got many more years ahead, Mama,” Evelyn said.

  “And however many those are, I’ll be living ’em out in the South.” Bernadette picked up her fork and started eating again.

  Auntie Peeps cleared her throat and set her fork down. Most of her plate was already clean. “You young ones don’t know how history makes you. It’s not just what’s a-happenin’ now, it’s what happened to our family and everyone we heard about for a hundred years before. Such things make up your DNA. You just don’t say things have changed and it’s all right to be black now and have rights just like everyone else. The fear gets into your bones, and it don’t come out so easily.”

  “It’s true what she says,” Aunt Miranda said, coming in with a plate in her hand. “You want to know about the 1960s? We had these big-shot leaders coming out of the woodwork, making all kinds of promises and doling out hope like candy for kids. And then they all got killed, both white and black. Even the big and powerful Kennedys. That wasn’t imagination, that was real stuff.”

  Bernadette and Uncle Frank nodded as Aunt Miranda spoke. Lisa felt a sense of shame over the history they spoke of. She knew it wasn’t her family or anyone associated with her who had created such an environment, but her skin color brought a guilt she couldn’t escape.

  “I’ll tell you then,” Bernadette said suddenly. She studied Lisa from across the table.

  Molly glanced at Lisa as if to be sure she was okay.

  “We were all excited that day of the parade. Little nervous too. My brother Reggie was marching. Reggie’s gone now, from heart disease, but I was always close to Reg. Aunt Hattie and I were watching out for him when this white man and little girl come up by us. Your daddy and you.” Bernadette pointed at Lisa and winked.

  “I was surprised to see that, but we had them at times—certain white people wanted to be friendly with blacks, usually visitors from the North or people trying to prove that they were different. We always wished them to leave us alone, truth be told.

  “But I remember you. Cute little thing. And so nice to Molly, had her sit by you or something, I believe. Then your daddy started taking pictures. We didn’t want to be in those, so we turned a bit away. You girls were right at our back. Still safe. Then came the pop, pop of gunshots. I knew the sound from my brothers and Daddy shooting. Your daddy was protecting you and Molly, but he had a gun in his hands. He said he was FBI or police or something. It didn’t matter, I just wanted my girl. Back beyond us, I saw that Benjamin Gray already on the ground. It all turned crazy then.”

  “Did you think my father shot Gray?” Lisa asked as the woman paused for a long moment, seeming lost in the memory.

  “No, I did not. He was too close and taking those pictures. But it was terrifying anyway, white man with a gun so close to my baby girl. We raced away fast as we could go.”

  “So, Mama, you didn’t see anything?” Molly asked.

  “Just that, the man on the ground, and we ran for safety.”

  “Then how were you convinced that it wasn’t Leonard Dubois who killed Benjamin Gray?”

  Bernadette stared at Molly. “You convinced me. You had nightmares and drew those pictures of people being shot. But I don’t want to talk about that anymore.”

  Lisa could see Bernadette’s hands shaking and feared they’d pushed the woman too far into a past full of unpleasant memories.

  “I brought something for you. It’s in the car,” Lisa said to Bernadette, rising from the table.

  “For me?”

  Lisa hurried through the house and outside to retrieve the gift from the car. When she returned, she handed Bernadette the gift that Molly had helped her put together the night before.

  “I hope you’ll like it,” Lisa said.

  “What is this? I need my glasses.” Bernadette pulled her reading glasses up from the chain around her neck. She took the framed snapshot into her hands. “Oh my, my.”

  It was a copy of one of the photos from the rally.

  “I know that day turned out badly, but there’s something really sweet about this moment.” Lisa glanced at Molly.

  “Yes, it is like a picture of what the world should be,” Bernadette said as the others leaned over to view it.

  “You were a gorgeous woman, Mama,” Evelyn said.

  “I was gorgeous. Your daddy hated that hat, but I loved it and spent way too much on it. I felt I deserved it.”

  “Did someone say dessert?” Uncle Frank said loudly, pushing back from the table.

  Lisa was pushed toward the dessert line next, though she’d hardly made a dent in her meal. The atmosphere had shifted back to casual family time, though Lisa spotted Aunt Lois eating at another table and eyeing her with continued suspicion. Lisa wanted to ask Bernadette more questions, but she wasn’t sure the elderly woman was up for more prodding about the past. There never seemed another appropriate time to bring up the civil rights rally.

  As Molly and Lisa made the rounds saying good-bye to the family, they couldn’t find Bernadette.

  “Where’s Mama?” Molly asked her sister.

  “She may be taking a nap. Oh, there she is.” Evelyn pointed to her mother leaning in from the hallway.

  “I’d like to talk to Lisa for a moment.” Bernadette motioned for Lisa to follow her down a hallway and into a bedroom. The room was tidy and decorated with porcelain angels.

  “I have something for you as well,” Bernadette said. She picked up several papers that were sitting on the bed.

  Lisa took the thin pages carefully.

  “I have more, but they are very similar. I hope this helps to free that man. But keep my daughter safe, you promise?”

  Lisa looked up from the images that Molly had drawn as a child. “I will never do anything to endanger your daughter. I promise that.”

  Bernadette nodded. “Thank you. That’s better than empty promises. But
now listen to me. You can see how digging up the past brings a lot of bad feelings and memories. It can be dangerous too. There’s lots of people who want what’s buried to stay there, deep underground and dead. You be careful with all this.”

  Lisa thanked the older woman and then returned to Molly, who was waiting in the foyer of the house.

  “She let you bring the drawings?” Molly said.

  “Yes, some of them.”

  Aunt Miranda came from the kitchen with several plates of desserts covered in plastic wrap.

  “I have two more plates of food for you,” Aunt Miranda said.

  Molly smirked. “What did I tell you?”

  On the return drive to Dallas, Molly and Lisa discussed the drawings. During numerous trials, Lisa had worked with child psychologists and underage witnesses. From her experience, Lisa believed Molly’s drawings seemed to depict Benjamin Gray being shot by a white man. But that wasn’t all. The white shooter was also shot, by another white man. Two shooters and two people injured—they knew that one was a fatality. Who was the other man shot—Benjamin Gray’s killer?

  “What you saw had to be traumatic,” Lisa said.

  “I think I was too young to fully understand. But it became an important day for me, and my family. I think my career path was set at that moment. I became a minister, trying to rid evil from people’s lives. And it’s interesting that you became a federal prosecutor. You try to rid the world of bad guys. Perhaps you remember more from that day than you realize.”

  Lisa had never considered that her career path in law might have something to do with this childhood event she barely remembered.

  She wanted to share what they’d learned with her father, and with Drew. But she knew that while the stories were compelling, they still needed more to stay Leonard’s coming execution. They needed facts and concrete evidence.

  As the miles moved beneath them, the two women grew silent, lost in their thoughts.

  The stories from Molly’s family remained with Lisa. She couldn’t truly grasp the fear they’d spoken about. As they said, it was ingrained into their history. Yet the closeness, laughter, and bonds of a large family were also things she hadn’t experienced.