Page 14 of The Reformatory

Gloria blinked. The tears she was hiding appeared like a slap across his face. “Did Robert tell you how Lyle McCormack grabbed my arm on the road? Said improper things to me? That Robert was just defending me from Lyle McCormack’s advances?”

Loehmann’s mouth went dry. “No, miss, he didn’t. I’m terribly sorry.”

The girl waited for everything he wished he could give her. He wasn’t from Gracetown, so she expected something different from him. The old woman’s eyes had nearly popped out of her head when he called her ma’am. He’d tried to shake the habit, but politeness was a lesson as old as brushing his teeth. He couldn’t understand calling silver-haired Negro men and women gal or auntie or boy or uncle. He had yet to learn the language in Florida.

“Is there a way I can reach you?” Gloria said in a tight voice. “Do you have a card?”

Loehmann made a show of patting his pockets, as if he didn’t have at least a dozen cards tucked into his billfold if he looked for them. “Out of cards, but I’m with state children’s services. L-O-E-H-M-A-N-N. Just look me up if you need me.”

An image came to Loehmann unbidden: the bedraggled white mother who’d stopped him in the hallway with a story that her son had been beaten like a mule by Superintendent Haddock himself. And her insistence that she knew another mother afraid to step forward whose son had never made it home after he tried to run away, and they were sure he’d been killed.

With a flare of conscience, Loehmann almost reached to give Gloria Stephens his card after all, since his home telephone number was printed there, but he thought of his sons and couldn’t. He’d been in Florida less than a year. He couldn’t afford idealistic mistakes when he was still learning the customs where some towns-people scorned “nigger lovers” worse than Negroes. Mikey and Josh were still crying themselves to sleep at night after the umpteenth playground skirmish. Next year, God willing, he would send them to private school. Maybe he could risk crossing Haddock then.

And Gloria saw it all in his face. He would not help her further.

“Well, this cannot happen to my brother, Mr. Loehmann,” she said. “I’m getting Robert out of here. No matter what it takes.”

“Then he’s in the best of hands,” he said cheerfully. But his eyes winced.

Far-off machinery whirred in the sad and silent afternoon. Gloria hugged Robert, resting her chin on top of his springy hair, damp from perspiration. How tall would he be when he finally came home again? He shuddered against her with a sob, and she stroked his back.

“You hear me, Robert?” she whispered. “I’ll get you out as soon as I can.” Robert nodded against her. His hot tears seeped through her dress.

“At least I got to see you, right, little peanut?”

He nodded again. Not seeing Gloria today would have been unimaginable. The sight of Gloria and Miz Lottie waiting by the gate had proven that God was watching over him after all, just like Mama had said.

“You be extra good, do your lessons, and stay away from troublemakers,” Gloria said.

“I’ll send you a sweet potato pie!” Miz Lottie called, and Robert smiled. She never let him forget the time, at six, he’d swiped half of a pie all to himself from her table. “Come here, boy. Give me some sugar.”

Robert ran to the truck’s driver’s-side window and stood on the sideboard to reach her.

Her kiss was hurried against his cheek. She nestled his good ear to whisper. “Don’t let nobody in here, white or colored, know how smart you is. Hear? And don’t never talk about yo’ daddy.”

“Yes’m,” Robert said.

“Invisible, Robert,” Mr. Loehmann said from the road. “Stay clear of the superintendent.” Mr. Loehmann’s voice broke the spell of comfort. Robert remembered the things Loehmann had said in the car that he had not repeated to Gloria and Miz Lottie. And that was best, or Gloria would be crying too.

Robert wiped his tears. He had to get used to having no one to hug or go crying to. With Mama and Papa gone, he was mostly used to it already.

“Maybe there’s a piano here,” Robert said.

“Oh, that there is!” Loehmann said. “There’s a Negro marching band too. They march in the Christmas parade. I’ll tell the staff you like music.”

They all pretended to smile. Gloria grabbed Robert for a last squeeze packed with sadness, but again Robert pulled away.

“I’m not a baby,” he said. “I’m not scared.”

She cupped his cheek. “Bullshit,” she whispered, and they both smirked. Robert had never heard Gloria cuss like a man. He almost laughed, then realized that was why she’d done it.

Robert ran back toward his open car door. He still had a ride in the car before they reached the buildings, a long path ahead. Until he was inside the place, the worst hadn’t started.

“See you on Sunday, Robert!” Gloria called after him.

“Like I said, I think visiting hours are twelve to two, but check on that,” Loehmann said. “You need to get your name on the list before you come, or they’ll turn you away. You can call to schedule your visit anytime between nine and five—regular business hours. It’s best to call early in the week, though. Slots fill up fast.”

“Thanks for your help, sir.” Gloria barely kept the sarcasm from her voice. Two slamming car doors and the car’s whisper on the road ended the visit. From the woods, all of them noticed the rough, low sound of barking.