Page 58 of Lula Dean's Little Library of Banned Book
James Wright stepped out the front door. He didn’t seem at all surprised to see Beverly. It was almost as if he’d been waiting for her.
“Hello, Mr. Wright.” Beverly held out a hand and the man shook it. “My name is Beverly Underwood. I met your sons tonight at the rally by the statue. I thought I should stop by and say hello since it turns out—”
“We’re related.” Mr. Wright completed the sentence. He didn’t sound happy about the fact—and he certainly wasn’t surprised.
“Yes,” Beverly replied. “How long have you known?”
“Forever,” Mr. Wright told her. “The knowledge was passed downthrough every generation of my family. I was hoping my sons never had to find out. But it seems everyone’s secrets are being exposed these days.”
“I’m thinking in this case it might turn out for the best,” Beverly said. “This town has been hiding too much for too long. Secrets are a disease that eats away at your soul. My grandmother always said the best disinfectant is sunlight.”
“She might have learned that from my grandmother—who did your grandmother’s laundry.”
Beverly’s eyes lit up. “Felicity Wright was your grandmother?” she asked. “I remember her well. She was a lovely woman. So funny and sweet. And she made the best cornbread I think I’ve ever eaten.”
“That, she did,” James agreed but he wasn’t amused. “But you get my point, don’t you, Mrs. Underwood?”
No amount of charm was going to smooth things over. There was no way to make that past less painful. “I think I do,” Beverly said. “There were two sides of the family. One that prospered and another that suffered. Nothing about that is fair or right.”
“And that’s why I’m not sure it’s possible to bridge the chasm between us.”
“To be honest, Mr. Wright, I don’t blame you for saying so. I’m still overwhelmed and I don’t have all the answers. But I know in my heart that having the statue of Augustus Wainwright pulled down is something we need to do.”
That appeared to give James Wright pause. “I have walked by that statue every day of my life, knowing exactly what that man did to my family. As much as I would like to have it removed, I also know how hard it is to convince folks around here that the feelings of someone like me should matter.”
“Our two families alone can’t convince the town that the statue should come down. But Isaac thinks there may be many more descendants of Augustus Wainwright around here than people realize. There’s power in numbers.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Well, I was thinking we might throw a big old family reunion.”
Chapter 24
The Hemingses of Monticello
Lula slept in the next morning. At ten, she was still in her housecoat, taking her coffee, when an email arrived from James Wright. She almost deleted it right away. It didn’t matter how sorry James was. After what his two boys had done, the Wright family was no longer welcome on the Concerned Parents Committee. But Lula was a Christian woman, she reminded herself. At the very least, she should acknowledge James’s apology.
When she opened the email, she found no words of contrition—only a link. Assuming it led to an e-card, she clicked, only to find herself faced with a video clip from the morning news.
Mitch Sweeney was bending down to speak into a microphone set up in front of the Troy courthouse. He appeared to be reading from an index card that he held in one hand.International Movie Star Apologizes to Hometownscreamed the chyron.
“Don’t you dare do it, you mouth-breathing moron,” Lula warned the digital Mitch as she hit play.
“I want to offer my heartfelt apologies to the Wright family, to Ms. Bella Cummings, who was injured last night at the rally, and to the entire town of Troy. I take full responsibility for my terrible actions, and I hope it’s clear to all that violence was not and will never be the answer.”
Mitch Sweeney glanced back at a fierce old woman standing directly behind him. Had Lula been chewing her toast at that moment, she would have certainly gagged at the sight of Wilma Jean Cummings lookingdisturbingly undemented. That’s who’d gotten to Mitch. Lord only knew what she’d threatened him with.
“I have consulted with Ms. Cummings’s lawyer, and Bella has graciously declined to press charges. In return, I will be sponsoring the upcoming Wainwright family reunion, which will take place right here in Jackson Square next Saturday at noon. Everyone in the state of Georgia is welcome to attend. I will be there, signing autographs and serving pie. Hope to see y’all there.”
“Mitch! Mitch!” a reporter called out as he stepped back from the mic. “Does this mean you’re no longer opposing the statue’s removal?”
Mitch returned to the mic. “Yes, ma’am, that is precisely what it means.”
“What made you change your mind?”
Suddenly, the showman seemed to be gone. The man standing at the mic was just an overgrown country boy in overpriced jeans. For a moment, it wasn’t clear if he was going to answer. “I see y’all looking at my head wound and thinking my brains must have spilled out on the stage yesterday.” He pointed to the long line of stitches on his forehead and the crowd tittered. “Well, I promise, the few brain cells I ever had are still in there. I spent about an hour last night getting stitched up like Frankenstein by a fellow from Queens—that’s in New York City, in case you’re wondering. But don’t go holding that against him. None of us get to decide where we’re born. Anyways, Dr. Chokshi told me that this town has a really hard time getting doctors to move here because people take one look at our Confederate statue and figure they aren’t welcome. I know there are folks who think that’s a bonus, but it made me feel terrible. As far as I’m concerned, it goes against everything the South is supposed to stand for. We’re supposed to be the nice people, aren’t we? How can we use phrases likeSouthern hospitalityif we don’t really mean them? If we do, maybe we shouldn’t have statues that make people feel scared or unwanted. So all that’s just a long way of saying if the people of Troy decide Augustus should go, I will personally pay for his removal. Thank you.”
“Traitor!” It was total baloney. Mitch Sweeney was saving his butt and saying what they all wanted to hear. Pretending he cared about hospitality—please. The only thing that man cared about was his career.
