They settled into folding chairs at the end of a long table and everyone sipped sweet tea. It quickly became apparent that both Reverends, along with Miss Naomi and her granddaughters, planned to participate in, or at least listen to, whatever conversation was to follow. The room was muggy and not well air-conditioned. Miss Naomi commented on the current heat wave and the weather was batted around. Everyone agreed that it was indeed hot. Lovely said nothing. She smiled and listened and seemed to ignore the meaningless prattling around her.
Conversation lagged and things grew even more awkward. Mercer was not going to start asking serious questions with an audience, but as a guest herself, she was not in position to ask anyone to leave.
Thomas finally took the hint and asked Reverend Samuel if he would show him the sanctuary, said he was fascinated by the architecture of small Southern churches. It was a lame effort — one glance at the building and you knew its builders had not bothered to fool with an architect — but it worked. Though it was an unusual request, both Reverends stood and left the room with Thomas.
Lovely asked Mercer, “How long do you want to talk today?”
Mercer looked at Miss Naomi and said, “Oh, we should wrap things up in about an hour.” It was almost a direct command to leave and return in an hour, but Miss Naomi didn’t take it that way. She and the girls hung around as Mercer fiddled with her recorder, then her pen and notebook.
“What’s that?” Lovely asked, nodding at the table.
“It’s a small recorder. I hope to use it if you don’t mind.”
“I’ve never been recorded.”
Mercer almost said it was a first for her too. She was a novelist, not a journalist. “It’s a good way to remember everything that’s said. But if you don’t want to use it, then no problem.”
“I still don’t know why you want to write this book.”
“I’m fascinated by your story, Lovely. The history of your people and their survival on the island. And now a new threat that will destroy it.”
The girls were suddenly bored and giggled at something. Lovely glared at them and they froze. She said to Miss Naomi, “We’ll be right here for an hour. If you make it to town, please see Henry at the nursing home.”
Miss Naomi gathered her purse and nodded at the girls.
When they were finally alone, Lovely said, “I already wrote that story.”
“Yes you have, and I enjoyed it, as I said. But there’s more to it now. I want to take the past, with all its complexities, and tie it to the present, with all its conflicts.”
“Sounds like a lot of work just to sell a few books.”
“Oh, it will sell, Lovely. I’m almost finished with a book proposal that I’ll send to my agent in New York. If she likes it, and I know she will, then she’ll try to sell the idea to a big publisher. Maybe we’ll get a book deal.”
“You mean a real book, like those in Bruce’s store?”
“Sure.”
“Like
“Exactly. That’s what I have in mind.”
Lovely smiled and asked, “How much money are we gonna make?”
Mercer was anticipating this. “It’s too early to talk about money. Let’s wait and see if we find a publisher, then we’ll negotiate the deal.”
“So I get some of the money?”
“That’s only fair, Lovely, but I have no idea how much at this point.”
Lovely stopped smiling and gazed at a window in the distance. The glow was back in her eyes and her thoughts had left the room. Mercer almost said something, but decided to wait. If these long pauses were normal, she needed to learn to adjust.
Finally, Lovely said, “Seems to me the best course is to wait and see if you get a deal up in New York. No sense doing a lot of talking now if it ain’t going nowhere. You agree?”
Mercer preferred to work now. In three weeks she would leave the island and return to Ole Miss for the fall semester. Since Lovely avoided the telephone, the interviews would be difficult. Now, though, they could talk and record for hours. Her impulse was to push a bit and start asking questions; she had pages of them.
Lovely, though, projected the aura of someone who reacted badly when pushed. All of her words and motions were deliberate. And she was right. Why waste time if there was no book deal?
“I suppose,” Mercer said, shrugging. “I’ll send the proposal to New York this afternoon. I have a copy for you.”
“That’d be nice.”
“Since we have a few minutes, could I ask a question?”
“Of course you can, dear.”
“How much of the story did you leave out of your book?”
Lovely flashed a wide smile. “Why do you ask that?”
“Because I got the feeling that some things were left out.”
“Such as?”
“Was Nalla pregnant when she landed on Dark Isle?”
Lovely thought about it for a long time, then said, “Yes she was. It was not at all unusual for young women to be raped on the slave ships. Six weeks at sea, and a lot of them were pregnant when they got to this country.”
“Who was the father?”
“The child was half white.”
“Monk?”
Her eyes narrowed and flashed hot. She said, “She sliced his throat, didn’t she?” The word “sliced” was uttered with a touch of satisfaction.
