Page 17 of Lula Dean's Little Library of Banned Book
Elijah nodded. For the first time in weeks, he felt something like hope. “Then I absolutely loved it,” he informed her.
Bella laughed. “You just said it was boring!”
“Yeah, but nobody’s going to hell for anything in this dumb book. I don’t understand why the committee would even bother to ban it.”
That cracked Bella up. “You really think Lula Dean readRivals and Lovers?” she asked. “Or any of the other books on her list?”
“You’re telling me she didn’t?” The second the words came out of his mouth, Elijah realized how stupid they sounded. “Holy shit. She’s been lying to everyone, hasn’t she?”
“I bet Lula hasn’t read a book in thirty years. She just wants to scare people. She’s figured out that’s how to get their attention.”
“Damn. That’sdiabolical.” Elijah had spent fourteen years living in the same town as a supervillain, and he’d never even realized it.
“Yeah, well, don’t give her too much credit. She didn’t invent it. Using fear to control people is about as old as time.”
Elijah thought of his mother. “What if you showed them there’s nothing to be scared about?”
“You could do that,” Bella said. “But first you have to get them to read a book.”
Elijah knew who needed to readRivals and Loversnext.
Chapter 8
It’s Never Too Late: Finding Health, Wealth, and Happiness in Middle Age
Lula wished Beverly Underwood could have been there to see her interacting with that Wright boy. Just a few weeks earlier he’d have been with those degenerate friends of his, smoking dope and sneaking pornography into the public library. Now there he was, sitting in the park like a perfect gentleman, readingChicken Soup for the Soul. Lula had never read it herself, but the lady at the Goodwill in Macon swore up and down that the book had set her on the right path. Lula could see that her fifty-cent investment had changed that boy’s life for the better. If only she could have gotten to his older brother in time. She never would have guessed Isaac Wright would announce to the whole world he was gay. Lula knew the boys’ mama well—and their father was on the committee. For years, the Wrights had set a wonderful example for their people. It was a shame a selfish child could destroy a whole legacy.
Just the thought drove Lula crazy. It wasn’t like that boy didn’t know any better. He’d been raised in the church. Notherchurch, of course, but he knew what the rules were. God had made them perfectly clear. You do not kill. You do not covet. You honor your parents. And men who diddle other men go straight to hell. Somehow Isaac Wright had come to believe those rules didn’t apply to him. And nothing got Lula all fired up like people who thought they were above the law.
What on earth had given people the notion they were free to do what they want? Half the town was divorced, the other half sleeping around. The kids were giving themselves new names, lopping off their penises, and walking around with butt plugs. Just the other day, the young man carrying her groceries at the Piggly Wiggly was wearing mascara and eyeliner. Someone had to let him know that he looked ridiculous, so Lula did her duty. That boy had the nerve to tell her to mind her own business. Of course she took her business straight to the manager. But that spineless Russell Moore just hemmed and hawed and never did a thing. Whatever spells that witchy estranged wife of his was casting out in the woods must have turned Russell into a eunuch.
Back when Lula was a teenager, folks knew how things were supposed to work. God gave you a lot in life and you made the best of it. Was she happy that her once wealthy family was forced to endure reduced circumstances?No, sir.Would she have liked to marry a man like Trip Underwood?Absolutely. But neither of those things had been in God’s plan for her. Lula had walked the line for forty-three years, and now at long last, she was getting somewhere.
Once Winky had her wee in the park, Lula headed back to the frilly white Victorian she’d lived in alone since her husband had tragically passed ten years earlier. As she rounded the corner onto Peach Street, she ran into the postman returning two books to her little free library. One, she could see, wasOur Confederate Heroes. It had made Lula’s day to discover a copy at Goodwill. Her granddaddy once owned hundreds of books on the subject, but the collection had been lost along with the family home. There hadn’t been room enough for a library in the modest house in which Lula had been raised. According to Lambert family legend, her father had offered to sell the books to the evil lawyer woman who’d snatched up their house at auction, but she wasn’t interested.
“I don’t need any books about the so-called Lost Cause. Unlike y’all, I learn from the past,” Wilma Jean Cummings had told Lula’s daddy. “I have no desire to relive it.”
“If I was descended from dirt farmers, I suppose I’d feel the same way,” Lula’s daddy had famously responded. He donated the books to the local library. Lula had always meant to stop by and look for them on the shelves, but she didn’t get to the library all that often.
Lula chuckled over her daddy’s quip every time she walked by the old family house. Folks in town said Wilma Jean was demented, which gave Lula immense satisfaction. In her prayers, she thanked Jesus that the woman’s wicked ways were finally being punished.
“Afternoon, Mrs. Dean.”
The postman was staring right at her, just waiting for her to come closer. In the past, whenever Lula had tried to strike up a conversation, Delvin Crump would get all squirrelly and slip away. Lula supposed she couldn’t blame him. They came from two different worlds. A generation back, his whole family had likely worked for hers. It had been forty years since the mill had been stolen out from under her father, but the old divisions still remained, and most folks weren’t brave enough to bridge them. But once again, Lula’s little library had worked a miracle. Today, the postman seemed thrilled to talk to her.
“Pleasure to see you, Mr. Crump. You been doing some reading?”
“As a matter of fact, I’ve been making good use of your wonderful library. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if I added a book of my own.” He held up a copy ofThe Art of the Deal.
Lula beamed. She’d started a movement! “Of course I don’t mind! And may I say, you have excellent taste in literature.”
“As do you, Mrs. Dean. And thank you so much for what you’ve done for the community. We booklovers need to stick together!”
Thank you for what you’ve done for our community.Lula clutched those words close to her heart for the rest of the day. So much was happening and Lula’s only regret was that Beverly Underwood wasn’t there to see all of it. She wondered if she could get Delvin Crump to film a testimonial for hercampaign’s Instagram account. Finally, people in Troy were recognizing what she had to offer. Snooty Beverly Underwood’s reign would soon be over.
They’d been friendly once, back in high school. Notbestfriends, of course. Lula was a year younger. But good acquaintances who smiled when they passed each other in the hall. Both had been cheerleaders since their peewee football days, and by her senior year, Beverly was captain of the varsity squad.
Up until then, five spaces opened up on the squad every year. But Beverly had already gone and offered spots to two seniors—both Black girls—she thought had been unfairly denied a place on the team. That meant there were only three openings left on varsity that year. But Lula knew she was destined for one of them.
