Authors: Brenda Bevan Remmes
In Quaker fashion, Anna took time between each question for extended amounts of reflection
. Such discussions were not to be rushed.
“What did the sheriff say?”
Anna asked.
“He became very agitated.”
Grandpa began to rub his forehead. “He asked if we intended to accuse men in the community of killing an innocent man? My father said if that be the truth then we would not argue it.”
Grandpa now wrestled with his words knowing that herein lay another junction where he could have cleared the name of Isaac Perry
. “Our challenge made the sheriff extremely angry. He began to yell at me.
How quickly did I leave the barn? Was I in the barn when Corbett Kendall walked in? Did I see Isaac approach Sarah? Was I there when she pushed him? Did I know why she pushed him? Did I actually see the fight between Corbett and Isaac? Could I swear that Isaac did not hit Corbett? Why had I waited to come forward?”
“After I answered each one of his questions as truthfully as I could, the sheriff told us our accusations had no foundation
. He warned us that if I were to testify that I had an affair with Corbett’s wife, he was sure that Sarah would deny it. He claimed that Sarah had signed a written statement that Isaac had threatened her; and there was proof that Isaac had struck Corbett. They had all the evidence they needed. He advised us to cease any further accusations for fear of escalating the tension already dividing the town.”
Grandpa stopped and took a deep breath
. “I was stunned.
Sarah had said Isaac threatened her?
I couldn’t believe that Isaac would raise a hand to hurt Sarah, or that she would accuse him of such an act. And then I had to question myself about whether she would deny the affair. The fact that she left town with Corbett was my answer.”
Anna sat in reflection
. No one else spoke.
“The elders, Nathan? Thee and thy father never went to the elders?”
“I did not.” Grandpa shook his head. “My father told me he would speak with them, but I don’t believe he ever did, for I am sure they would have called me to present myself, and I would have been denied my membership. Undoubtedly, my father wrestled with this untold truth the rest of his life. He compromised himself to protect me and to shield my mother from the heartbreak if I were disowned. That, too, haunts me.”
Grandpa took a long deep breath
. “I can never forgive myself for what I did to the Perry family. If I had been forthcoming, I am sure the Quaker meeting would have responded to the way the Perrys were shunned by the white community.”
“We should have respon
ded to their need, regardless,” Anna said. “We also stand at fault.” More silence. “What did thee do after that?”
“I worked on the farm planting through the spring, and in the summer my father told me he had arranged for me to go to Guilford College in the fall
. I was so grateful to him; so relieved to leave. I honestly didn’t want to ever return.”
”But God wanted thee back here,” Anna said.
“I guess He did.”
“He gave thee
Euphrasia to help thee weather thy storm,” Anna added as she acknowledged Grandma with her eyes.
“He did, didn’t He?”
Grandpa looked across at Euphrasia with warmth. “She has been my blessing.”
“Now,”
Anna said changing her tone from one of inquiry to one of enactment. “What must thee do now?”
“My time has come to present myself to the elders,” Grandpa said.
“Yes,” Anna said. “We’ll go to the elders, but thee must seek guidance from the Lord for redemption. We will stand in the light together and a way will open.”
“I have tried to ease the pain and suffering, Anna,” Grandpa said, “but to no avail.”
“No, Nathan, thee hast tried to ease
thy
pain and suffering. Thy goal must be to ease the pain of others. That is not to say that thee has not been a generous and giving man, but thus far thy generosity has been an effort to rid thyself of guilt. First thee must own the past and truthfully acknowledge those who have suffered because of your failure to act. Only then shall thee be redeemed.”
Euphrasia
took his hand in hers. “All of these years we’ve stood in the light together. The Lord will not fail us now.”
Never before in the history of their meeting had an elder been eldered. Never before had the elders had to address the consequences of a member failing to
speak truth to power
.
Grandpa
Hoole sat with Euphrasia to his right and Chase and Liz to his left on one of the long pine benches in the meeting house. Four elders sat facing him on what was appropriately called
the facing bench.
Elevated slightly above the others, the bench was where the elders sat together in front of the body of silent worshipers each
First Day
as referenced by Quakers. For twenty-five years Grandpa had joined the elders on the facing bench. He had declined the meeting’s bidding to become an elder for several years, professing his unworthiness, but after repeated encouragement from the members and his family, he had humbly accepted.
This evening, the elders would understand for the first time the reason for his reluctance
.
Anna arrived early and greeted each member of the
Hoole family with a hug. She had already met with the three other elders and discussed her conversation with Nathan so that individuals would have time to
hold him in the light
prior to their meeting. This was to be a meeting of counsel, not condemnation. Their task was to seek a peaceful path that would bring resolution and ideally, forgiveness.
Leland Slade sat to the right of Anna
. Leland was a bachelor whose greatest love was the soil that permanently discolored his hands and nails. He spoke rarely, but with clearness if he chose to put his thoughts to words. He never sidestepped the hard decisions, or softened the truth.
Kate Pearson,
the most recently appointed of the elders, brought with her the rare insight as the grandmother of three biracial children and the mother of an openly gay son. As a birthright Quaker who had lived her life in Cedar Branch, she had been challenged to broaden her acceptance of alternative life-styles in a way that few of those in Cedar Branch had yet embraced.
Duncan Howell sat a
s the remaining elder. A slight man in statue with piercing blue eyes and thinning gray hair, he had spent his life as a math professor at Guilford College. He and his wife had retired to his home in Cedar Branch ten years earlier and had become a tremendous asset within the meeting. The meeting could always depend on Duncan for a deliberate, thoughtful approach to whatever task was at hand.
Once assembled, with no small talk as a distraction, the members present folded their hands, closed their eyes and began with silent prayer. There were no spoken words for at least fifteen minutes. Anna broke the silence.
“We are here this evening to seek clearness on how to respond to an injustice that happened in our community fifty-six years ago. Isaac Perry was falsely accused of an injustice and hanged.”
Silence
“The man was hanged. You can’t change that,” Leland said.
Silence
“The injustice entails the fact that a member of our meeting may have been able to reverse that injustice had he come forward. A family has suffered irreparable damage,” Anna said.
Silence
“The family must be told the truth,” Kate said.
Silence
“There are ramifications that must be considered,” Duncan spoke. “The victims are a black family. There is racial hostility that surrounded the event, and the black community never believed in the guilt of Isaac Perry. From the beginning the incident increased racial tensions. I agree, the truth must be told, but we also need to do that in a way that creates a path to peace and not to violence of any kind.”
Silence
“Euphrasia and I have talked at length, and I regret that I was not able to trust in her sooner to discuss my transgressions. I am a weak man. As always, she gives me strength.” Grandpa said. “We are willing to meet with the Perry family and discuss compensation.”
Silence
“While that is generous of thee, Nathan, I believe we must look beyond financial compensation,” Anna said. “Money does not replace all that the family has suffered. Consider the pariahs that the Perry family became during those regretful years.”
“Let us consider the need for the entire community to know the truth,” Kate added. “Certainly it would be important to the Perrys that Isaac’s innocence be proclaimed for all to hear. Let us lay a foundation to insure this will never happen again.”
Silence
“I remain concerned about how this discourse is to begin,” Duncan said. “Who will start? To whom will it be told? We must take into consideration the fact that there may be outrage, cries for vindication, threats and increased fractionalization as the white community retreats to claim ignorance, and the black community advances to assign guilt.”
Silence
“I believe that I should be the one who stands alone and accepts responsibility,” Grandpa said. “It is I who am at fault. No other.”
“We all stood silent,” Kate said. “A lynching gang took justice into their own hands and was condoned by those in power. We, as a meeting, should have stood in the way of this atrocity. We failed to speak truth to power. If we had, perhaps you, Nathan, and your father, would have had the courage to step forward.”
Silence
“May I make a suggestion?” Liz said. She was tentative, as she was there by Grandpa’s request and rarely had taken part in the meetings for business, much less any discussions among the elders.
“Of course,” Anna encouraged her.
“I want to say how helpful Reverend Broadnax was as he assisted Maggie through the delicate process of planning her father’s funeral. He is highly respected within the black community and he has worked with Grandpa Hoole and others within our meeting on the implementation of a number of community projects. Perhaps we should solicit his help in deciding how best to move forward.”
Heads nodded. Silence returned.
“Can we reach consensus to discuss this issue with him?” Anna finally asked.
Heads nodded again.
Silence
. No one spoke.
“If
we have consensus, we shall proceed. Duncan, would you and Nathan arrange to meet with Reverend Broadnax and report back to the elders?”
“Before we break, may I raise one last concern?” Anna turned towards Grandpa. “Nathan, does thee plan to tell Maggie Kendall the truth? Perhaps she deserves to know before the others?”
“I do,” said Grandpa. “As soon as she is well enough to hear it, I do.”
“There’s a problem, Liz.” Billie was on the phone a few days later.
“What?”
“Maggie’s got a fever. Dr. Rao says it’s from an infection. He’s started her on an antibiotic.”
“How could that be?” Liz asked, as if she’d never been to nursing school
. Hospital infections were one of the nightmares of the business. Buildings full of sick people with compromised immune systems and thousands of airborne germs. Gowns, gloves, endless lectures on sanitary precautions and still, 100,000 patients died in hospitals every year from infections they acquired while there. Liz quoted those statistics again and again to her own staff before each and every blood drive.
“Do you think we had anything to do with it?” Billie asked.
“No, I don’t,” Liz said. “You can’t think like that. What else did Dr. Rao say?”
“I don’t understand it all
. He wanted to know when you would be back.”
“I’ll be there in the morning
. Are you coming home?”
“No, her fever is still up
. She’s a bit delirious sometimes. Keeps saying she wants to go home. I’m staying.”
“I’ll be there in the morning
. Hang in there,” Liz said and started to mentally figure out what needed to be done for her to take a leave of absence from work and arrange for babysitters. She longed for the old days when her biggest problem was getting the kids out the door and arriving at work on time. What had once felt like morning chaos had come to embody a cherished memory of a predictable routine that promised nothing more unusual than a struggle with Evan over his dirty blue T-shirt.