“I…” His smile was too dreamy. It was the dimples. They drove Leigh Ann absolutely crazy, leaving her almost speechless. “I’d like that--very much.”
“Now, let’s get back to you, and why you’re here.” Harland crossed his arms and leaned forward.
“Well—I was hoping that you—you’d be interested in having my help this summer—that is on a strictly volunteer basis. As I mentioned to you at dinner a few weeks ago—at the Governor’s Mansion—I want to be a Civil Rights attorney. I don’t think I could receive better training anywhere else, than working right here—with you.”
“Miss Kroth—I’m flattered. But would your father approve? Did he send you here? Leigh Ann said nothing, but she could feel her face turning red. “I didn’t think so. Being involved in the Civil Rights movement isn’t a very safe thing for a beautiful young lady like you.”
Leigh Ann dropped her eyes to the perfectly manicured fingers laced in her lap. Harland sounded just like Daddy. But at least he didn’t say go get married and have babies. Why was Harland making things so difficult? Leigh Ann wondered. Now she had no choice but to tell him why she was really here. Perhaps then he’d be more receptive to the idea of her working alongside him.
Leigh Ann again met his devastatingly beautiful, deep brown eyes. “Mr. Hall—it’s not that I’m just interested in learning from you.” She stood up and turned away for a moment, unsure of how to go on without sounding like an idiot. Then, she pivoted to face him. “You see, Mr. Hall, ever since I met you—I’ve felt a—sort of--connection between us. And I feel--almost compelled to be with you--fighting for a common cause. But it’s not just the cause that draws me to you—it’s you--yourself. Mr. Hall, my interest goes--beyond Civil Rights where you’re concerned.”
By the way Harland sprang to his feet, he didn’t look the least bit interested in her, professionally or personally.
“Miss Kroth—Miss Kroth…” Harland leaned across his desk pointing his finger in her face. He tried to speak, but was at an obvious loss for words.
“Mr. Hall, I—” Leigh Ann began.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave my office, Miss Kroth!”
“But, Mr. Hall—”
“Have you lost your mind, Miss Kroth?”
“No,” Leigh Ann said meekly.
“This is the land of Emmett Till—the land of I look at a white woman, I hang from a tree!” His tone, as well as the smirk on his face, reeked of sarcasm. “How dare you come in here to jeopardize, not only me, but yourself! Your father trusts me, and I don’t think he’d be at all pleased to know that you came here—to practically—proposition me!”
Crushed and embarrassed, Leigh Ann crumpled to her chair. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I—I didn’t mean to offend you. But, Mr. Hall, please tell me something. Did you feel—anything--anything at all--between us?” Harland didn’t respond. “You did—didn’t you?”
Harland hesitated. “I did—but not in a—in a--”
Leigh Ann stood frustrated. “You can say it! Not in a sexual way!”
“Uh—yes.” Harland looked rather stunned by her choice of words.
What a prude, Leigh Ann thought. She wasn’t an old fashioned girl. She was a modern woman with views shaped by Betty Friedan’s The Feminine Mystique and Helen Gurley Brown’s Sex and the Single Girl.
“Now, Miss Kroth,” he handed her the book he’d given her, “if you don’t mind.” Harland quickly walked her to the door, and then marched her to the reception area. “Miss Kroth, it was nice to see you again,” he said politely, in front of Miss Perfect Smile Angela. “Regards to your parents.”
And don’t let the door hit you on the way out, Leigh Ann thought, as she said her goodbyes and left Harland’s office. She was more than just humiliated by the whole exchange, she was devastated. So devastated, she couldn’t go back to work. Instead she just wanted to go home and die!
****
Harland wiped sweat from his brow with a white handkerchief.
“You certainly are popular today.” Angela smiled as Harland turned to go back to his office.
“And how,” he called over his shoulder as he shut the door. Harland walked to the closed door of a small conference room near the rear of his office. He opened it and leaned inside. “You can come out now, she’s gone.”
“That was close,” Jo Beth said, as she walked from the room.
Chapter 28
Surrounded by the oak paneled walls, Ash sat at his mahogany desk. His office was located midway down the marble corridor on the first floor, the executive level of the State House. In the momentary silence, the steady ticking of the wall clock filled the room. Ash was dumbfounded.
Because of an anonymous tip, the FBI had searched Gavin’s car. And because of what they’d found, his room was also searched. Now a black suited agent, clean shaven wearing a little too much Aqua Velva, sat in front of Ash’s desk. He’d spread out an array of damaging evidence implicating Gavin in a plot to murder Harland Hall.
“This can’t be!” Ash said. “You couldn’t have gotten this stuff from my boy’s car!” Several exterior photos of Harland’s office and apartment taken from different angles, bomb building formulas and threatening notes assembled from newspaper and magazine print stared at Ash from the top of his desk. “Have you dusted for prints?” Ash sounded desperate.
“We have, Governor, but there aren’t any. If your son ever handled these, he wore gloves.” The agent’s scalp glistened beneath his crew cut. “When we questioned him, he denied knowing anything about this; claims he’s never seen any of it.”
“I can tell you right now, my son didn’t have anything to do with any of this! It’s that Libby Willis—she’s responsible!”
“But, Governor, our men haven’t been able to pin anything on her. All she’s done is shop, go to the movies, the library and the public pool. She hasn’t done anything suspicious or out of the ordinary.”
“How do you know somebody else didn’t plant this stuff?”
“We don’t, Governor.”
“What about that anonymous tip you got about it being in Gavin’s car to begin with?”
“We have traced the call, sir. It was a payphone.”
“Damn it! Now look here, I can assure you my boy’s not a common criminal!”
“Sir, because of what we found in his car, there’s an investigation now into what we think is a valid assassination plot on Harland Hall. But because Gavin’s your son, Governor, we’re not going to do anything at this point regarding his involvement in it. And we’re keeping this whole incident quiet and away from the press. We suspect the evidence found in his car was planted. Everything else in the Mustang had prints all over it. But these items were wiped clean. No prints of any kind whatsoever. It stinks of a plant. But not these things over here.”
The agent pointed to a second cluster of evidence discovered in Gavin’s room that included a stack of racist propaganda and a small bag marijuana. “All this stuff’s covered with his prints and your son’s already admitted that it’s his.”
Ash sighed. Still shocked and embarrassed, he closed his eyes for a moment and put a hand on his forehead. “It’s bad enough he’s smoking reefer—but I can’t believe he’s reading that garbage, too.”
Ash sifted through issues of The Thunderbolt and The White Knights of Righteousness Newsletter, and then picked up a copy of The White Supremacist Times. After flipping through an article entitled “Gone are the Days of Lynching as Entertainment,” Ash felt sickened by the graphic photos of what was referred to as “the good old days.” He closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. “I—I don’t know what to say.” Ash put down the periodical. “Now--just because he’s been reading this junk—it couldn’t cause him to—”
“Governor, he’s under your supervision,” the agent said. “We trust that you’ll talk to him so he can help us get to the bottom of this.” He began gathering up the evidence. “Maybe he’ll open up and tell you more than h
e was willing to tell us.”
While the agent spoke, Ash heard a loud police siren outside. He felt a chill as he envisioned Gavin being led away in handcuffs.
“Maybe he knows people that, he doesn’t realize, want to use him as a fall guy,” the agent continued. “But whoever we’re dealing with can’t be too bright. Who’d want to intentionally tip off the FBI to an assassination plot?” He paused for a moment as he sealed the items in large brown envelopes. “Now unfortunately, sir, if we do find more damaging evidence that points the finger at your son, we will have to take some form of action.”
“I understand,” Ash said.
After the agent left, Ash buried his head in his hands. Gavin couldn’t hate Harland enough to want to kill him—could he? Had he driven Gavin over the edge? Ash wondered, as he’d gone on and on about Harland’s accomplishments and academic achievement. Had Ash been the father Gavin needed him to be? He hadn’t been a presence in Harland’s life. But had he been a presence enough in Gavin’s? Was all this his fault? Ash couldn’t have his sons at odds with each other. He had to tell the truth. It was getting too dangerous not to.
****
Harland motioned JoBeth to the one comfortable place to sit in his office, a slim black leather couch along the wall. From a used furniture store, it had cost all of $15.00. But it was in decent shape, and great for a quick nap.
Harland sat down next to her. “So—I suppose you heard everything.” JoBeth nodded. Although she wore a faint smile, the melancholy look in her eyes, told Harland she was embarrassed for her sister. “How did you know she was coming?”
“She mentioned it last night. I just didn’t know what time she’d show up. Harland, if Leigh Ann knew you’d asked my dad if I could work on that Negro infant mortality study—she’d be crushed. I had to hide. I couldn’t let her see me here--she’d hate me. Even though Leigh Ann wants to be an activist, Daddy doesn’t want her involved in Civil Rights at all. With her mouth, he’s afraid she’ll be harmed or killed.”
“But he’s okay with you helping me?”
JoBeth smiled. “I hardly have an activist nature. And since the research won’t be conducted here, Daddy’s fine with that. But wouldn’t you know—Leigh Ann had to stop by, right in the middle of our meeting.” She sighed. “Murphy’s Law, I guess.”
“Has your sister always been so…”
JoBeth laughed. “She’s always been outspoken. Leigh Ann’s convinced she can bring racial harmony to the world. She was in love with a musician who had lots of colored friends who were also musicians. Lance—her boyfriend—said that music was color blind, and that’s how the world should be. He died from a—a drug overdose--but Leigh Ann’s determined to carry out that vision. I just didn’t know she had—feelings—for you.”
“Yeah, and now she’s a woman scorned. I think I should tell your father what happened.”
“Harland, no, Leigh Ann would die if Daddy found out!”
“JoBeth—I’ve had experiences with all kinds of women. And it’s the feisty ones, like your sister, who get a guy in trouble. I don’t want her accusing me of anything inappropriate.”
“Harland, Leigh Ann wouldn’t do that. But, I’ll talk to her and make sure she won’t, if that’ll make you feel better.”
“I’d appreciate that. It’s best to be safe.”
“I’ll figure out something to say, without letting on that I overheard everything.”
“Thanks.” Harland looked at JoBeth a little longer than necessary, although she didn’t seem to mind, because her eyes never left his. But finally, Harland’s gaze dropped to the floor. “JoBeth—I feel like a heel.” His eyes wandered from the green speckled tile, to her long shapely legs. He tried not to linger there too long before making his way to her face.
JoBeth smiled. “Why should you feel that way?” She looked so sweet and innocent in her pale pink scoop neck dress and short matching jacket.
“Because—I just made up that infant mortality study. I made it up the first moment I saw you. Studying the mortality rate of Negro infants compared to Caucasian babies seemed like a valid type of civil rights project. But the truth is—I just wanted an opportunity to work with you—and maybe—get to know you better.”
Harland stood from the couch and walked a few paces away. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he stood silently, reflecting on his past. He wasn’t proud of it. If a woman had been attractive and willing—he’d certainly been more than able. And up North, that had been especially true with white women—because of what happened to his real mother.
Harland had felt a sense of justice on his mother’s behalf, each time he bedded a white girl. But he’d come to realize that promiscuity wasn’t a way to get even for what had happened to her. Now he could only hope that any women he’d hurt along the way could forgive him.
“There was a time in my life when I would’ve jumped at the opportunity Leigh Ann was offering.” Harland turned quickly to JoBeth. “But I’m not like that anymore. I’ve been— so focused on the Civil Rights Cause—I haven’t dated for a while. And that’s been intentional. I need to stay focused on what I’m fighting for.” He let out a deep breath and looked down. “Part of the reason I’m so passionate about Civil Rights is because of what happened to my mother. Not my adoptive mother, but my real mother. She was raped by a white man. So whenever I think about that--it just makes me want to fight harder.”
His gaze met JoBeth’s. “But when I first saw you—I just felt something between us.” He laughed. “What’s funny is that--Leigh Ann reminds me of one of my little sisters. Now, she’s pretty and all, but you--I can’t explain what it is.” Embarrassed, he said, “And I can’t explain why I’m telling you all this.” He smiled. “You’re putting on a good front, but--I’ve probably scared you—and I’m sorry.”
JoBeth held out her hand and he took it. “You haven’t frightened me.” She gently tugged him toward her and smiled. “Sit with me again.” Once he sat down, JoBeth said, “I felt something, too.”
Harland hesitated, looking at her. “I didn’t think someone—like you—would ever—give me a second thought.” Without saying a word, they held each other’s gaze. “But—I think we both realize that—we can’t possibly pursue anything.”
“I know.”
“It just wouldn’t be right. Everything I said to Leigh Ann is true. And besides, I need to focus on the cause—not you. But believe me,” Harland said, “I’d rather focus on you.” JoBeth smiled. “Unfortunately, I have enough enemies as it is, and a white girl by my side would guarantee immediate assassination. And JoBeth—I could never put you in any danger. As much as I want us…”
“I know. I want that too, but--”
“But this isn’t the time.” Harland looked away from her.
“It’s not.” JoBeth held his hand in both of hers. “Harland, my uncle fell in love with a Japanese girl before World War II. Since he wasn’t Japanese, her parents ended their relationship. But they never forgot each other. Then, when she was interned at one of those camps, my uncle relocated out there to be with her. And after the war, they married. That’s when the time was right for them. And they’ve been married ever since.”
“Wow,” Harland said softly, his eyes locking into hers.
“I know. The time isn’t right for us now—but maybe one day—it will be.”
Harland looked deeply at JoBeth. He wanted so badly to kiss her, but he wouldn’t dare. “We can—we can only hope.” Harland found himself getting more uncomfortable by the second. His self imposed celibacy was now pushing things to the limit. She had to leave. “JoBeth, you’d better go. I’ll get Angela to drive you back to the Coroner’s Office.”
“But what about the study?”
“I developed it under false pretenses. I’ll tell your father I’ve decided against it, for now. Time and resources can be better spent elsewhere. But, I’ll let him know how much I appreciated his willingness to let you assist me.”
Harland stood,
then extended his hand to help JoBeth to her feet. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders, then said, “Thank you for not being—for listening to me.”
“Harland--you’re welcome.” She tilted her head back and closed her eyes.
While gazing at her flawless ivory skin, Harland recognized the spicy fragrance she wore. It was called Tabu, although not spelled t-a-b-o-o. Her lips looked like rose petals. Shimmering blond hair framed her face like a halo. Man, Harland thought, she was too gorgeous and just asking to be kissed. He wanted more than anything to oblige—but then he’d want to rip her clothes off, toss her across his desk and make love to her.
She certainly wasn’t asking for that, so instead he just gave her a brotherly peck on the forehead. When she opened her eyes and smiled, Harland didn’t miss her questioning gaze.
“JoBeth—if I really kiss you—I’m afraid of what’ll happen. Now,” he placed one hand softly on the small of her back steering her toward the door, “it’s time for Angela to take you back to work.”
Chapter 29
Leigh Ann lay in bed holding a cold compress firmly against her forehead. Her hair hung limply past her shoulders. Because of crying, dark circles of mascara outlined her eyes. Leigh Ann’s face, a once perfect canvas of cosmetics, was now smudged and ruined. Tears and perspiration had partially washed it away, leaving behind a distorted abstract.
Reclining in culottes with The Negro and Urban Change pressed closely to her side, Leigh Ann had read fifty pages but couldn’t read any more. Her head pounded and she felt nauseated. Symptoms of unrequited love; and the consequence of making a fool of one’s self in the presence of said unrequited love object.
“May I come in?” JoBeth knocked lightly on the door.”
“Sure,” Leigh Ann called.
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