Leigh Read Online Free Page A

thought of my family as slaveholders. “
Are you sure?” For something to do with her hands, she tightened her ponytail by pulling on its ends.
    “Both
my
grandmother’s family name and
your
grandmother’s family name was Carlyle. That tells the story.” He took a few steps and leaned a shoulder against a venerable wide
     oak. “Slaves usually took the name of their masters at the time of emancipation. It also means that we’re probably related
     by blood, too.”
    Leigh couldn’t believe that this young Negro man was standing here telling her these things as if it were common knowledge.
     Did everyone else know these things about her family history? Was she the only ignorant one?
What else don’t I know?
    “Have I shocked you?” he teased, grinning.
    “I think you wanted to shock me.” The words came out without forethought. “I’ve never had a conversation like this before.”
    He chuckled. “You’re not a kid. Though I think you have a mother who overprotects you. The next time you’re alone with your
     grandmother, ask her. I’m sure she’ll tell you the truth.”
    His affirmation that she wasn’t a kid and could be trusted to hear such things heartened her. But was he telling her the truth?
     “Why didn’t Aunt Jerusha ever say anything to me?”
    “Probably for the reason you gave earlier—you’re a young white girl and must be protected from the harsh realities of life
     and history.” Turning, he rested his head against the trunk, facing her fully.
    The same irritation that she’d felt on the way there that day flushed hot in her stomach. “I don’t want to be protected.”
    “Ah, you may say that—” He lifted one eyebrow in the lowering light. “—but I’ve been unprotected, and it’s not fun.”
    When had he been unprotected? She thought over hiswords and he gave her time, just watching her. “You mean when you were sitting-in?” she asked finally, hesitantly.
    “I do indeed. You see, I hadn’t realized how much I’d always been hedged in by money, my professional-level family, and living
     up north where discrimination is more subtle. But two minutes sitting at an all-white lunch counter in South Carolina stripped
     all that away from me.” His voice firmed, hardened. “People bumped me, struck me from behind, cursed me, aimed catsup down
     my collar. And then I was dragged, and I do mean
dragged,
off to jail. If that doesn’t humble you, nothing in this world will.”
    Leigh felt as well as heard the passion seeping into and through his words. Before they’d just been talking about history.
     Now this young man was revealing himself to her. It was almost as if he were warning her. But of what? “But you went back?”
    “Yes, I went back the next day and the next.” His voice had a fierce edge now. “It both humbled me and gave me a hint of what
     my ancestors had endured for centuries—what I’d been shielded from—and
that
made me angry.
That
made me determined. I’m going to live life on my terms or not at all.”
    Leigh felt his last words burn through her, searing her deep inside. “That’s what I want,” she murmured.
    He chuckled gruffly. “Well, don’t we all?”
    Why was he telling her all this? Was there a secret or hidden message, or was he just telling her things he wouldn’t reveal
     to someone in his everyday life? She’d experienced that before, often when riding the bus in Washington, when strangers, often
     tourists, had for some unknown reason told her their life stories. Was this a case of that? “I want the same thing. I want
     to live life on my own terms.”
    “You come by it honest.” He moved to stand in front ofher. “Your grandmother ran away with my grandmother to the big bad city. If you think you’re overprotected, just think how
     your grandmother lived.”
    She sensed his nearness in two ways. Physically, she tingled with awareness of him. In her heart, she thought he might be
     wondering why’d he talked so much, why