CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

The bell swung, and the tower came alive.

I had heard the sound before, but this was different. Now, like the people at First Baptist Church, I needed it.

The sound was beautiful. It was strong. It was big and round, like a globe, like the earth. It shook the tower, and it shook me.

The men hesitated. They stared at the bell, their faces full of shock and wonder.

I rang the bell for all the people who had worked to bring it there and had cared for it faithfully. I rang it for Jarmaine and Lavender and Diane Nash. I rang it for Grant and Mr. McCall, for Mama and Daddy and all the other people who had been wrong and could change, if only they would try. I rang it for me.

I pulled the rope over and over again, filling the tower. The leader watched, then turned back toward the window. So did the others. When they did, they saw a row of flashing lights.

Jarmaine climbed to her feet. The two of us moved up beside the men and looked outside.

“Soldiers!” exclaimed Jarmaine.

Later we learned what had happened. Dr. King had called Washington and told Robert Kennedy that the marshals hadn’t helped. When Kennedy considered using federal troops, Governor Patterson decided to act first, sending in the Alabama National Guard. They were escorted by the Montgomery police, whose flashing lights had appeared as if summoned by the bell.

I turned to the men in the windows. “You don’t need your guns.”

They looked at each other, then lowered their weapons and put them away.

Jarmaine grinned and shouted, “Thank you, Dr. King!”

The bell was silent, but inside me it kept on ringing.

We climbed from the tower and raced down the stairs, just behind the men who had burst in on us a few minutes before. The men seemed excited, but now it was a good excitement, and there was no sign of guns.

When we passed the big front doors, I saw the guards standing there. I hurried up to one of them, who was wearing a suit and drenched in sweat.

“Can I go outside?” I asked.

He gave me a funny look.

“It’s okay,” I added quickly. “I have friends there.”

He said, “Nobody’s going outside yet. It’s too risky. The National Guard’s mopping up.”

Jarmaine took my hand and pulled me toward the sanctuary. I resisted for a moment, thinking of my parents, then realized it wouldn’t do them any good if I got hurt.

We went into the sanctuary and made our way to the front, where we reclaimed our seats behind Gus. She finished a hymn and leaned down to us, beaming.

“I heard the news. Isn’t it wonderful?”

There was a commotion at the back of the room. Dr. King, Reverend Abernathy, James Farmer, and Diane Nash were coming down the aisle, touching hands that were extended toward them. When they finally reached the front, Dr. King mounted the pulpit.

“Praise the Lord!” he shouted in a voice like a foghorn, and the crowd shouted back.

He told us that the governor had declared a state of martial law. The National Guard had been called out, and they were stationed outside the church.

The crowd roared.

Dr. King leaned in close to the microphone. “Brothers and sisters, I tell you that the law may not be able to make a man love me. But, by God, the law can keep him from lynching me.”

The crowd erupted again.

Dr. King spoke about freedom and hope and the state of Alabama. When he finished, Reverend Abernathy came forward, then James Farmer took his place. There must have been a dozen preachers, and all of them preached. Afterward Gus made music, and the people joined in. By the time the meeting ended, it was midnight.

That should have been the end of it, but there was more.

I wanted to see my parents and Grant. Jarmaine went with me and we tried to leave, only to find that the National Guard wouldn’t let us out.

“Sorry,” said a young soldier stationed at the front door. “Protective custody.”

Jarmaine demanded, “Protection from what? The mob’s heading home.”

The soldier shook his head. “I have orders.”

There were voices behind us. When I turned around, Dr. King stood there.

“I’m going outside,” he told the soldier.

“Sir—”

The young man moved to block the door, but Dr. King brushed him away and strode down the front steps. I tried to squeeze in behind, but the soldier grabbed my arm. As he did, I looked past him at the scene in front of the church.

At the bottom of the steps, Dr. King huddled with a tall, red-faced man who wore a helmet and a shoulder full of stripes. Beyond them, a ring of National Guardsmen with rifles held back the dwindling crowd. In the crowd were Grant and Mr. McCall. Daddy, Mama, and Lavender were next to them.

It was just a glimpse, but it was enough. They were there, waiting for us.