Leigh Read Online Free

her way over the ruts, patches of grass, and tree roots with care and chose her words
     the same way. “Did you get arrested?”
    “Yes, twice.” He shrugged. “But it was just a misdemeanor charge, like a parking ticket. No big deal.”
    He must think the controversy over whether I can go to the march is lame.
Although she was impressed by his courage, Leigh didn’t think she should remark about it. His casual attitude had set up the
     way he expected her to react. “You’re lucky,” she said. “You’re older and male. You can get away with… going against your
     parents. I’m afraid I’m going to miss the march.”
    With one hand, Frank batted a floating swarm of gnatsaway from his face. “Maybe your grandparents can persuade your mother to let you go with them.”
    “Maybe,” she replied without conviction.
    They arrived at the stream, which was edged by weeping willows, maples, and brush. Frogs bellowed back and forth. The stream
     rippled in the twilight, reflecting the gold, pink, and red sinking sun behind them.
    Frank took one of the weeping-willow whips in his hand, running it through his palm. “My grandmother has never been back here
     since she left in 1917. I’ve heard about Ivy Manor all my life, but I never thought I’d be here.” He glanced over his shoulder
     at the distant lights from the house.
    “Really? I love it.” Leigh mimicked Frank and tugged at a willow whip, feeling the long slender leaves and smooth bark rasp
     across her palm. “Grandma Chloe and my other grandmother, who lives nearby, always have us—Dory and me—stay for most of the
     summer. And we visit often.”
    “You don’t know, do you?” Frank asked, releasing the willow branch, which snapped back into place. He turned to face her.
     The low light illuminated his face, making his large black eyes glimmer. She nearly took a step backward.
    “Know what?”
    “Know that Minnie was your grandmother’s maid?”
    “Well, I suppose that makes sense.” She tickled the underside of her chin with the end of the willow, wondering why he’d brought
     this up. “I mean, it was the World War I era, wasn’t it?”
    “And did you know that my great-great-grandmother was your grandmother’s
mammy?”
He said the final word with a disdainful twist, like a taunt.
    Leigh tried to follow the connection through what she knew of Ivy Manor and her grandmother. Was he trying tomake her uncomfortable? “You mean Aunt Jerusha’s mother?”
    “Yes.” He gave a sudden twitch and batted away a mosquito.
    She looked down at her open-toed sandals, at the white pearl Maybelline nail polish her mom hated. What was he trying to get
     from her? She challenged him with a grin. “When I was a little girl, Aunt Jerusha made the best sticky buns.”
    Allowing the moment to lighten, Frank laughed. “She did. She made them for us when she came up to New York to visit us. But
     it’s interesting you called her Aunt Jerusha. That form of address goes back to slavery, too, you know.”
    Finally, Leigh processed the other part of his original statement. She cocked her head toward him. “A mammy? You mean like
     in
Gone with the Wind?”
She’d seen this 1939 film classic in 1960 when it had re-released in theaters.
    “Well, I hate to give any credibility to a movie that portrayed Negroes as preferring slavery to freedom, but yes. Haven’t
     you ever realized that the Carlyle family, your mother’s family, owned slaves? In fact, owned my ancestors?”
    Leigh felt her mouth open but no words came. The willow whip slid from her fingers, bouncing away from her. Finally, she said,
     “But Grandmother’s not like that.”
I
’
m not like that.
    “Well, I’m not talking about your grandmother. I’m talking about your ancestors. Maryland wasn’t in the Confederacy, but it
     was a slave state.” Frank’s tone was merely conversational. He wasn’t giving her any hint of what he might think about this.
    “I know that.”
I just never