CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

I dreamed I was walking with Daddy. He held my hand and spoke to me. I couldn’t understand his words, but the sound of his voice made me feel good. A pickup truck was parked ahead of us. We got in, and a crowd formed. They rocked the truck and beat on it with their fists. A man picked up a rock and smashed the window. In the distance, over the crowd, I heard a bell.

When I woke up, the bell hung above me. The gray surface was tinged with orange. I checked my watch and saw that it was six o’clock. We had been sleeping for nearly two hours. I climbed to my feet and hurried to a window, where the orange light streamed in. To the west, the sun was dipping toward the hills. As I watched, it went behind a cloud, and bright rays spread across the sky. Suddenly I thought of Grant and wished he were there to see it.

I moved away from the window and shook Jarmaine’s shoulder. “Jarmaine, get up.”

She looked at me, confused, then saw the brick walls and remembered where she was. Together we moved to the east windows, looked out over Ripley Street, and realized that things had changed. People were flooding into the church from all directions, on foot and by car. There were hundreds of them, maybe more. The men wore coats and ties, the women hats and colorful dresses. The children, excited, skipped along behind, showing their Sunday best.

Across the street, the small group of white men had grown too. Now it was a big crowd, filling the park and spilling out into the streets. Some of the men gripped pipes and chains as they watched the worshipers. A few tried to block their path, but the worshipers pushed on through.

“I don’t like the looks of that,” said Jarmaine.

Sounds billowed up from below. There were happy voices, snatches of conversation, a bottle breaking. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked.

I noticed a station wagon inching up Ripley, through the crowd and toward the church. Other cars had parked, but this driver seemed determined to reach the front door, and I wondered why.

Slowly, agonizingly, the car drew closer. Finally, at a curb by the corner, it stopped and two Negroes got out. The driver was a teenager. The passenger, wearing a beautiful black suit and a hat that was tipped to hide his face, was a man with broad shoulders and a dignified way of carrying himself.

“Oh my God,” said Jarmaine.

“What?”

“That’s Dr. King,” she said.

“Martin Luther King?”

“They said he was flying in from Atlanta. He must have come from the airport.”

Jarmaine started to call out but caught herself, pressing her hand over her mouth as if to bottle up a dangerous secret. On the street below, the driver got a suitcase from the back of the car and pushed his way through the crowd, with Dr. King following behind, his face still hidden. Even so, there was something about him that made you sit up and take notice.

The worshipers were the first to recognize him. Some of them kept quiet, but others, thrilled, reached out to touch him. A child shouted his name. The men in the park heard it. You could see the word passing like a flame. It spread, and they surged toward him.

Next to me, Jarmaine shouted, “Watch out!”

Dr. King checked behind him. The driver yelled something to the worshipers. As if they had planned it, the people edged toward Dr. King, forming a barrier around him.

“There he is!” shouted the men. “Get him!”

Fists swung. A pipe caught the afternoon sun. People stumbled, but the group kept moving, and so did Dr. King. Rocks flew. Dr. King ducked. Someone held up a Bible.

Finally the group arrived at the front door, directly below us. Dr. King took off his hat and gazed up at the church. He saw us in the tower and smiled.

I waved. “Hello!”

“Be careful,” called Jarmaine.

Brown hands reached out. Gently but firmly, they pulled Dr. King through the door. The white men backed off, grumbling. The worshipers buzzed with excitement. Over it all, like the soundtrack of a movie, we heard organ music—“Babylon’s Falling,” “I’ll Fly Away,” and other hymns I didn’t recognize.

Gus was at her post, and I wanted to join her.