Page 38 of Lula Dean's Little Library of Banned Book
All That She Carried
Betsy Wright was all cried out. So she didn’t shed a tear as she stood in front of Lula Dean’s house, where the yard bristled with campaign signs.
make troy great again. vote lula dean.
lula loves libraries!
fear god, praise jesus, vote lula!
Lula was running for mayor against Beverly Underwood. That’s what you got in Troy—a choice between a rich blond white lady and a rich white lady with orange hair. Some would say it was progress to have two women in the race. Betsy wasn’t fooled. Those ladies belonged to the same group who’d always run the place. Maybe they were slapping lipstick on their pigs now, but that was the only thing that had changed. And right there was the proof, on a banner fixed to the street-facing side of Lula’s white picket fence.
rally in support of troy’s confederate heroes!
jackson square, 6 p.m.
tonight!
Betsy read it twice over, her heart breaking for her husband, James. She’d warned him time and again not to place so much faith in Lula Dean.Betsy knew Lula better than most people in town—and she knew Lula loved novels that wouldn’t make it past any censors. Lula leading a crusade against dirty books was like Colonel Sanders waging a war against chicken. But James had believed in his heart that Lula’s cause was righteous. Even though she’d predicted he’d end up disappointed, Betsy hated to see herself proven right.
Confronted by the hateful sign, she almost turned around and walked away. But she’d brought something that belonged to Lula, and she was determined to return it. Betsy opened her pocketbook and pulled out the book her son Elijah had given her.Rivals and Lovershad no place in a little library where young children might find it, so Betsy slid it into Lula’s mailbox and raised the red flag. Before she left, she closed her eyes and prayed that would be the very last contact her family would ever have with Lula Dean.
As she passed through the town square, the courthouse clock told Betsy there was time left on her lunch hour. The florist shop where she’d worked for thirty years was less than three blocks away. She had a few minutes to sit and think. She’d started at Fairview Florist right out of school, cleaning the floors and plucking faded petals off all the roses. When the owner retired, she’d bought the place from him. She was the boss now, but she’d never forgotten how hard her father, who’d worked at the mill from the age of sixteen, had fought for the right to eat lunch in peace. So Betsy took a sixty-minute break every day in his honor. She rarely ate much of anything, but not even the Queen of England could persuade Betsy Wright to fill an order between the hours of one and two.
Instead, she often came to Jackson Square to sit, and she always chose the same bench near the fountain in the center of the park. When her boys were little, she’d brought them here to run wild and get the silliness out of their systems before she took them home to their father. She did sobecauseof that statue that loomed over the square, not despite it. Shewanted Augustus Wainwright to see her sons enjoying their birthright—the beautiful park that had been bought and built with the blood, sweat, and tears of their people. Few things delighted her as much as imagining that bastard rolling around in his grave.
A flock of starlings took flight, and Betsy saw Isaac and Elijah chasing after them. In her mind, the boys were still little. In her heart, they would never grow up. Isaac was seventeen years old and well over six feet, but just a week back, she’d caught herself reaching out for him as they crossed a street. Elijah was big enough now to pick Betsy up and toss her into the air. But he still needed a kiss from his mama before he went to sleep every night.
In the old days, it was Elijah who’d worried Betsy, not his brother. The boy had been born without filters or restraints. Whatever he was feeling spilled right out of his mouth. Every impulse that hit him got indulged. He sang when he felt like it. He petted every dog and chased every squirrel. Once, at the Piggly Wiggly, he’d run up to Mr. Pig and jumped right into his arms. Russell Moore was a good man, so Elijah had gotten a hug and an apple in return. Betsy made sure her son knew that others around town might not be so kind, but Elijah couldn’t conceive of an enemy. He’d never met anyone who wasn’t a friend. And though everyone liked to pretend times were different, that zest for life could still get a Black child killed.
Betsy had thanked the Lord every day that Elijah had Isaac to keep him safe. As an infant, Isaac rarely cried, but he was naturally cautious. When he took everything in with those big beautiful eyes, you could almost see the gears in his mind whirling as he studied the situation and calculated the risks. As a boy, he’d never stopped his brother from reveling in life, but he was always there, waiting to step in if necessary. When Elijah danced too close to a campfire, Isaac yanked him back. If a pit bull decided it didn’t want to be nuzzled, Isaac would distract it while Elijah escaped. And on the many occasions when his motormouth brother got himself sent to the principal, Isaac would show up to act as his counsel.
Isaac reminded Betsy so much of her father, who’d died long before her boys were born. When she was a girl, her father made sure she knew the history of their town—and the unacknowledged role their family had played in it. Betsy was proud to learn that her father had been one of the workers who’d fought for fair treatment at the mill—and surprised when he admitted how scared he’d been. Over time, though, she realized what he’d described wasbravery. Her father had known just how high the stakes were at the time. Other families had been run out of town—or worse—for protesting. But her father wouldn’t let those in power use his fear to control him.
Elijah may have been fearless, but his brother was the brave one. Betsy had seen it when Isaac told them all he was gay. He’d announced it at dinner, with no preamble or explanation. Looking back, she was sorry she’d burst into tears. But Isaac didn’t know the world the way she did. For once, her brilliant, brave boy had miscalculated the risks. He hadn’t anticipated his father’s reaction. He hadn’t consulted the pastor or the Bible. And he certainly hadn’t considered how hard life could be for a young man in the South who was Blackandhomosexual. But the truth was, Betsy didn’t fault Isaac. She cried—and kept crying—becauseshewas to blame. A mother’s most important role is to prepare her children for the day when she’s no longer there to protect them. When Isaac insisted he was the same person he’d always been, she knew he was right. She’d been too blinded by pride to set her boy on the right path from the very beginning. She was the one who’d let him go astray.
For three weeks, she’d watched in despair as the revelation ripped her family apart. James needed something to blame, and Lula Dean stepped in with a scapegoat. Betsy knew that a book hadn’t turned their son gay any more than the romance novels she’d once loved had made her a harlot. Betsy wasn’t convinced the Concerned Parents Committee even cared about books. She pointed out that some of the members—like that Walsh boy—seemed downright sketchy. Even James’s faith wavered after Nathan Dugan was exposed as a Nazi. But Lula swore she hadn’t really knownDugan at all. The committee was open to the public. She had no control over who showed up at the meetings.
Betsy knew why James was so willing to believe her. He’d always been one of the most conservative members of their community. Family and faith were the bedrock of his existence. Finding out he’d raised a gay son had shaken both. Joining the CPC had given him a sense of control. James couldn’t stand feeling helpless—and Betsy loved him too much to tell him there was nothing he could do. The die had been cast. Their son was not going to change.
Betsy saw her husband flail while her eldest son pulled away, and she felt helpless to prevent the disaster she saw hurtling toward them. Then Elijah came to her with a book—the same book James believed had ruined their eldest son. The boy was convinced thatRivals and Loverswould change her mind about his brother’s fate.
“You really read this?” Holding the three-hundred-page book in her hand, Betsy couldn’t help but be skeptical. Elijah had many fine qualities, but he’d never had the attention span for reading. It had taken him two months just to finishOld Yeller.
“Yes, ma’am,” Elijah confirmed. “But don’t worry! I still like girls. Well,onegirl. Anyways, it didn’t make me gay.”
Betsy merely nodded at that. It was not the time to speak her mind on the subject of Bella Cummings.
“You read the whole thing?”
“Yes, ma’am. This afternoon,” Elijah told her. “It’s really boring. All they do is drink wine and have babies. I think you should read it, too.”
“You’re asking me to read a boring book about gay men drinking wine?”
“Not for me, Mom. For Isaac. Please?”
It wasn’t what Elijah said. It was the way he said it. It sounded like he was pleading for the person he loved most in the world. Bringing their family back together was all that mattered to her youngest son. And in a moment of perfect clarity, Betsy realized it was the only thing that mattered to her, too.
“I know you’re worried about Isaac’s soul, but we’re going to lose him while we’re here on earth,” Elijah told her. “And I really don’t think hell could be any worse.”
