"I'll tell him."

"You won't forget now, will you, Peacie? You'll tell him to come on over and see me right away."

"Ya.s.suh." Her head bobbing, her back bowed. "I sho' 'nuff will."

The sheriff turned to go, then turned back. "Now, you know I like LaRue, don't you? I got no ax with him."

"Ya.s.suh."

"It's just I don't want to see him in no trouble with anybody else."

"No suh. Me neither!"

He chuckled. "So you just-" He spied me and stopped talking, leaned around Peacie for a better look. My heart sank. I hadn't done what Peacie had asked. "Who's that?" he asked her.

Peacie spun around, murder in her eyes. But when she turned back to the sheriff, her voice was sweet and low. "Why, you know, that's just Diana, Miss Paige Dunn's daughter. I'm keeping her here with me while her mother in the hospital. Didn't want to leave her alone over her house."

"There wasn't anyone else who could take her?"

"Her mama want me to have her, ax me in the particular."

Sheriff Turner smiled and nodded at me, and I smiled back.

"This ain't no place for a white child," he told Peacie quietly.

"Ya.s.suh," she said.

"Ain't no place for a white child! 'Specially at night."

"I be taking her home tomorrow."

"Why didn't you just stay at her house with her?"

"I needed to come home and feed my chickens and pack some things."

So Peacie believed my mother would be hospitalized for some time.

The sheriff stood still for a moment, thinking, then again stretched his head around Peacie to call out, "Diana! Come on over here!"

I walked slowly to the door, held up my hand in a weak wave. "Hi," I said.

"I understand your mother's in the hospital," he said.

"Yes, sir." The top of his undershirt was a yellowish color that Peacie would never have tolerated.

"Well, I'm real sorry about that. But I don't think it's a good idea for you to be here, do you? I'll tell you what, how about if you come home with me, I got a daughter 'bout your age."

"No, thanks. I want to stay here."

"Well...How old are you?"

"Going on fourteen."

"Eighth grade?"

"Yes, sir."

"So you know my daughter! K.C. Turner!"

Of course I knew her. Everyone knew her. "No," I said.

"You don't know K.C. Turner?"

I shook my head. "Nope."

"Well, I'm surprised!" He looked at Peacie as though she, too, should share his incredulity. She pretended to, shaking her head and smiling. "She's a real popular girl!" he said.

"It's a big school," I said.

He smiled. "Oh, it is, huh?"

"Sometimes it is," I said. "Right now it is."

"Well, I'm not going to..." The sheriff turned to Peacie. "I want that girl back in her own neighborhood tomorrow morning. Otherwise, we'll both be in trouble. You know that, don't you."

"Ya.s.suh."

"I'll send someone take y'all back over there first thing."

"No suh, thank you very kindly, LaRue carry us."

"I don't want to see her back here," he said, and walked to his car, then slowly drove away.

Peacie closed the door, and I said, "I'm sorry. I was just trying to see."

"Don't make no never mind," she said, and I saw that she was too distracted to pay attention to my misdeed.

"Is LaRue in trouble?" I asked.

"He be home tomorrow," she said, by way of an answer. "And he ain't going back." She said that, but I wondered.

We walked together into the living room. Peacie sat in one of the chairs, staring into s.p.a.ce, her fingers pulling at her bottom lip. I sat on the sofa, watching her.

Finally, "How come you talked that way to the sheriff?" I asked.

She said nothing.

"Peacie?"

"Hush now!"

I sat quietly for a long while, thinking about how I was somewhere I wasn't supposed to be. Was it dangerous? Was it just wrong? It was a Negro house, but it was also just a house, much like my own. What trouble could come from my being here? Who could get hurt-me or Peacie? It was so odd, how it was one thing for Peacie and me to be together in my house, another thing entirely for us to be here.

I wondered about LaRue, wondered if he was in danger or would disappear as those three boys had. Then I began wondering about my mother. How long would she be gone? Something dark began to flower inside me; I had to talk against the feeling.

"Peacie?" I said. "Is this the worst you've ever seen my mom?"

She looked over at me. Then, regretfully, she said, "Yes."

I swallowed dryly. "So...is she going to die?"

Peacie waved her hand dismissively. "No! No, she ain't gon' die, foolish! She young and she a fighter. You know that same as me! She be better soon. She can't die, she got to finish raising you up. She knows ain't n.o.body n.o.body else stand up for that!" else stand up for that!"

A long pause, and then in a small voice, I said, "You would...wouldn't you?"

Peacie hesitated, then came over to embrace me, the only time she ever had. And what I felt in that embrace was the knowledge that she would never be able to raise me, not by herself. I realized for the first time how alone I would be if my mother did die. How I would turn around and turn around and no one would be there. And all along, I'd thought it was my mother who so much needed me.

Peacie let go of me and looked into my face. "You go to sleep now," she said. "I'll get you some sheets for this here swimming pool you done made yourself. You be all right then?"

"Ya.s.suh!"

She stared at me, her hand on her hip. "You think that's Negro talk? That's white-folk talk. You think about it. We do that for y'all."

"Sho' 'nuff?"

She smiled. "You your mother's daughter."

I felt singed by pride. When Peacie went off for the sheets, I sat on the sofa and drew my knees up to my chest, pushed my face against my knees, closed my eyes, and rocked back and forth.

Peacie came back and laid the sheets and a pillow at my feet. "Make up a bed for yourself," she said.

"I will."

"You need help?"

"No, thanks."

She turned out the living room light and spoke in the darkness. "She be much better tomorrow."

"I know."

"Lie down now, and go to sleep."

"I will." But I sat up for a long time, watching for something I couldn't name.

I awakened to the beautiful sound of LaRue's voice. "'Course I's scared," he said. "We all of us was! One time, they come after us when we trying to march, come after us with clubs. When that happen, we s'pose to crouch down, protect our business, and put our hands up over the back of our necks. And then here they come, yelling and cussing, hitting on us again and again even though we ain't doing nothing back, we ain't doing nothing at all 'cept just trying to protect ourselves. I be staring at the ground, this one little spot. I didn't get it too bad, but the guy next to me did. And he lost control his facilities. He felt some bad, but I said, 'That's all right, you just speaking for all of us.'"

There was the sound of a chair pushing back, then the rattle of dishes and water running. "I'm glad you ain't going back there," Peacie said.

"What you mean?"

The water stopped, and there was a long silence. Then Peacie said, "I mean you ain't going back there. And I'm glad. Trouble enough here, you ain't need to be looking for it elsewheres."

"Peacie," LaRue said, and she said quickly, "No."

"Peacie," he said again.

"No!"

"I come home to help you today," he said, "but tomorrow I be going back."

I sat up slowly on the sofa and unstuck my pajama top from my back, listening to hear how Peacie would respond.

"We gon' move," she said.

I stopped breathing.

"Up by my aunt in Ohio. This time I mean it, we gon' move up there."

LaRue spoke softly. "You know, when I was a boy, my mama told me evil spirits hung men from trees. She told me be careful, don't let the evil spirits get me. I believed her and I was careful. I kept my eyes ahead of me, and I invite the Lord inside me, help me mind my own self. After I growed up and realized wasn't no evil spirits doing the lynching and the Lord ain't living too close by, I still stayed careful. But I cain't do that no more. I cain't quit this, Peacie. I seen some things I ain't never forget, and I'm gon' back help Li'l Bit finish what he start."

"They killing people!" Peacie said. "Every day! Bodies washed up on the riverbank, folks killed sleeping in they own bed!"

"Lot of ways to die," LaRue said. "Some of 'em better than others. I been changed, Peacie, I come to see-"

"Stay here and see!"

"No. No, I cain't. I started something there, and I got to finish it there. I be dug in."

"LaRue, somebody find out what you doin' and you gon' lose your job!"

"Well. I did lose my job."

The phone rang and Peacie answered it. "Ya.s.suh, he here," she said, and then I heard LaRue telling the sheriff he'd be taking me home and then he'd stop on by, he'd be there within the hour. But after he hung up, he told Peacie, "I ain't going."

Silence.

I stood and cleared my throat, announcing the fact that I was awake. Then I came out into the kitchen. "Hey, Diana," LaRue said, smiling. "How you doin', baby?" It was so good to see him sitting there cross-legged in his neatly pressed trousers, his short-sleeved white shirt, his bright yellow suspenders. His hat lay on the table before him, and I wished suddenly that I could have it.

"Get dressed," Peacie told me. "We gon' take you home." She leaned past LaRue to clear the table of the rest of the dishes and did not look at him. When he reached out and gently grabbed her, she pulled away in a manner not gentle at all.

When I got home, Suralee was sitting with Shooter on my front-porch steps. Peacie went straight into the house; I sat wordlessly beside Suralee. I did not look at her. For a long while, neither of us spoke. Then Suralee said, "Sorry about what happened at my house."

"It doesn't matter," I said.