To introduce Lovely to the miracle of DNA testing, Diane had, weeks earlier, told her the stories of two men who were wrongfully convicted and languished in prison for many years. They had little hope of being freed until their lawyers convinced a court to allow DNA testing of some hidden evidence. The tests proved the men were innocent, and the guilty man was identified. Lovely had been captivated by the story, so Diane told her another one. And another. Then she told her the story of Thomas Jefferson and Sally Hemings, one of his slaves, and the six children they produced — before, during, and after his presidency. For decades, white historians denied that President Jefferson had kept Ms. Hemings as his concubine, in spite of ample anecdotal evidence. DNA testing resolved the issue in 1998 when one of his descendants was genetically linked to one of hers.
Diane had explained that it might become necessary to use DNA testing in their effort to win the title dispute.
Steven was saying, “Our plan is to take a team onto the island and find the cemetery.”
Lovely seemed to know what was coming and was already shaking her head. She closed her eyes and said, “Can’t do that.”
No one said a word. No one knew what to say.
“Can’t do that,” she repeated and opened her eyes. “Nalla hexed the island when she got there. She painted the beach with the blood of Monk, the white man who raped her on the ship. The white man who made her pregnant and gave her a boy who was half-and-half. In Africa, in her home village, Nalla was a high priestess of African spirits and medicine, the village doctor. She was the same on Dark Isle, same as her daughter and granddaughter and all my grandmothers, all seven of them, all the way down to me. Nalla’s curse is still in the sand on the beach of Dark Isle. No white man has ever set foot on the beach and lived to talk about it.”
Bruce and Steven glanced at each other. They, of course, had heard the legend of the curse, but were too sophisticated to believe it. Now, though, hearing it described by Lovely, it seemed more plausible.
She said, “A lot of men have gone to the island, white men, and none have survived. The spirits are there and they tell me the stories. I hear Nalla’s voice and the voices of my grandmothers. I know the curse is there, in the sand. It is not wise to tempt the spirits.”
There was a long silence as the white folks in the room absorbed this. Miss Naomi sat next to Lovely, patting her arm and looking as bewildered as the others. Diane, never shy, finally broke the ice with “Does the curse apply to white women?”
A long pause as Lovely hummed and stared at the floor. “I don’t know. I’ll ask the spirits.”
Bruce had never gone near Dark Isle and was not tempted now. He glanced at Steven again, and it was obvious he was having the same thoughts.
Diane asked, “As a priestess, do you have the power to lift the curse?”
“I don’t know. It’s never been done. I’ll ask the spirits.” She looked at Miss Naomi and said, “I’d like to go home now.”
Two days passed with no word from Lovely. Diane called Miss Naomi twice but no one answered. She had a long chat with Marlo Wagner and explained the situation. At first Marlo made light of the old African curse, but grew more serious when she realized that Diane and the others were frightened by it. The legend of Dark Isle included many stories of white trespassers who had died mysteriously. Marlo also recalled something from a book she’d read about African mysticism: the curse went away with the death of the witch doctor, or mystic, or priestess. Or whatever they were called.
Diane assured her that Lovely was believable. Hearing and watching her had convinced them all. “We could almost feel a spirit in the room,” she explained.
There was a sudden search for black archaeologists. Marlo knew two who had helped the African Burial Project and she promised to call them immediately.
Diane called Dr. Gilfoy at FSU and described the current wrinkle in their plans. He, too, scoffed at the idea of a curse, especially one put in place 260 years ago. He was not intimidated in the least and was still looking forward to the dig on the island.
Over coffee, Bruce told Steven that he had a new legal strategy.
“And since when did you start giving legal advice?” Steven asked.
“Oh, I advise on many subjects. Here’s the idea: Withdraw your lawsuit, give Tidal Breeze the green light, and let them invade the island. That’ll piss off Lovely and her spirits and they’ll take out a few surveyors and architects. Once Tidal Breeze starts losing people, then they’ll tuck tail and run. The island will be saved.”
“I’ve actually thought about that. But what if it’s all a crock? Do you really believe there’s an old African curse on the island?”
“No. But I ain’t going over there. You?”
“I’m a lawyer, not an archaeologist. I’ll stay behind. Diane, though, can’t wait to jump in the middle of it.”
“What if Lovely says no?”
