Southern Discomfort

'Bunch of amateurs,' Lu sighed. 'And mostly white. White do-gooders seem to have a harder time with the concept of white poverty. Weird, isn't it? If Kimmer and her kids were down on their luck because of a calamity—if they'd had a major illness or accident, if her house had burned down—that'd get their sympathy. But because she's made 'poor life choices'—? Kaneesha's father was white. Did you notice?'

Actually I hadn't. 'And the Norris children?'

She nodded. 'The father of Kimmer's first child was black. It's okay for a white man to sleep with a black woman—that's been going on here for two hundred years—but a white woman with a black man...'

Her voice took on the saccharine earnestness we'd heard from otherwise do-good ladies our whole growing-up lives, ''Now, honey, we don't want to look like we're rewarding miscegenation, do we?' Oh, well, at least they promised that Kimmer will be next. If we can get money for a next.'

For a moment, her normal optimism seemed to dim and her shoulders slumped tiredly. 'They always say money's not the problem, but darned if it wouldn't be fun to have enough just once in my life. I do believe I could take care of some of the worst blights. Save a few children anyhow.'

Her eyes narrowed speculatively. 'Which brings us to my next point.'

'Yes?'

'Walk me out to my car?' She smiled up at Annie Sue, who was perched atop a step ladder to install a ceiling box over our heads, and said, 'Looking good, kid.'

No breeze outside either and the hazy, late afternoon sun kept the humid air heavy, although I thought I heard far-off rumbles of thunder in the western sky. Hopeful images of a cooling rain flickered through my mind as I waited warily to hear what Lu wanted out of me this time. Money or more time?

'See, the thing is, we don't have trouble getting volunteers to come work,' she said earnestly, brushing back a lock of sweat damp hair. Her blue chambray sundress showed darker half-circles at the armholes. 'We could begin another house tomorrow if we could afford to buy the materials.'

I mentally reached for my checkbook. 'I can't give you very much right now, but—'

Lu shook her head impatiently. 'No, no. I don't want money from you. But you could—if you would—clear the way for Kimmer Norris's house.'

Every word she spoke set my suspicions quivering like a blue tick on point and I waited for the gunshot that would drop the bird.

'Graham Ogburn called me this afternoon,' she said, and everything went up like a covey of bobwhites. 'He saw that story about us in the paper yesterday. Your picture.'

'No, no, and no!' I said.

'Would you quit shaking your head and just listen? He'll give us all everything for another house just like this one. At his cost. Kimmer and her kids could be out of that broken-down trailer before Christmas.'

'Don't do this to me, Lu.'

'He's not asking you to drop the charges. He's not even asking for no bail. Just something he can reasonably raise. Heck, Deborah! Even murderers get a fair bail.'

'Layton Ogburn was just one step away from murdering someone with a car.'

'But he didn't, did he? And his father promises he'll keep him out from under a steering wheel till he comes up for trial. It's tearing his wife apart to see their only son sitting in a jail cell. Come on, Deborah. Show a little Christian compassion, okay?'

'Think of Laura Ogburn's ravaged face,' whispered the preacher.

'Sooner or later, Zack Young's gonna find a superior court judge who'll give him his writ of habeas corpus,' said the pragmatist. 'Might as well let Lu get something for WomenAid out of it while she can.'

'Okay,' I said at last. 'Tell Mr. Ogburn I'll enter an order for reduction of bond first thing in the morning.'

'How much?'

'I'll drop it to fifty thousand. And I'll let him post a surety bond.'

'Neat-o!' Lu beamed. Her slang's always been ten years out of date. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, as if she'd never had any doubt that she'd persuade me. 'Well, I'd better go lay it on the line to those Norris young'uns. Don't y'all work too hard, now.'

CHAPTER 9

SOIL BEARING CAPACITY

'The ability of the earth to support a load... varies considerably with different types of soil, and a soil of given bearing capacity will bear a heavier load on a wide foundation or footing than it will on a narrow one.'

Despite Lu Bingham's parting injunction, Annie Sue kept me busy fetching and carrying for another hour till she had a lot of the preliminaries done. Paige Byrd came by looking for her and she, too, wound up pulling stiff cables across the ceiling joists or threading them through the drilled holes.

Each time I saw Paige these days, she seemed another pound thinner and just a little more self-confident as she emerged further and further out of her shell. Annie Sue assured me that when the three girls were alone together, Paige could get almost as intense as Cindy at times. (Not by the littlest twitch of my lips did I let on how funny this sounded coming from someone who could make a broken fingernail sound like a major disaster.)

Paige's fingers were still chubby as she pulled and poked, and her lingering plumpness gave her skin a creamy transparency that did little to disguise her emotions.

When Annie Sue told her that Carver Bannerman was married, Paige flushed with partisan indignation, and work almost came to a full stop.