Counted corpse, p.7
Counted Corpse, page 7
Veronica had offered to pay for all archaeological work and any work of remembrance, as they’d put it, that the Monacan Nation might want done. The nation would have full control, but they wouldn’t have to pay for a thing.
Both Santiago and I were stunned and so overjoyed at this development, and he said, “Chief Stephenson was very glad, too. They don’t have a lot of money, but they were going to figure out how to make this happen.”
“I know Saul was going to donate all his work,” I said, “but archaeologists can’t work for free any more than I can.”
“Right, and Veronica realized that and assured the Chief that she and her husband were only going to be the silent benefactors without any expectations.” He glanced over at me. “They do want to be anonymous though.”
“Absolutely,” I said. “I won’t say anything to anyone, and I certainly won’t write about that.”
Santiago smiled. “Thanks. Now, what’s your next step?”
“Well, I need to make a call to a friend who studies historical clothing and see if I can put a date on this photo.” I held the image in my lap and ran my finger over the curling flowers on the silver frame. With a spur of inspiration and confidence in Veronica’s trust, I flipped the frame over, bent back the thin nails that were holding a small board in place, and stared at the words written on the back of the image.
“Nicholas and Eli, Age 8”
I sucked in a quick breath, and Santiago looked over at me. “You okay?”
I nodded as he pulled into the parking space in front of Mika’s car. “I am. Just look.” I showed him the back of the photo, and he smiled.
“Well, look at that,” he said. “You were right.”
“I was . . . and it looks like I may need to start on the Benfer’s research sooner rather than later.” I had to dig a lot into their family story, and if I was going to do that, I might as well keep track of everything, not just a few things. “I’ll call her later.”
“Sounds good. I’m talking to Demetrius this afternoon, too. I don’t know what, if anything, I’ll be able to tell you about Earnestine’s death, but I wanted you to know I’m looking into it.” He stepped out and came around to open my car door while I put the picture frame back together. Then, he gave me a quick kiss and headed back to his office up the street.
I went right into Mika’s shop, texted Lucille to be sure everything was going fine with them, and when assured that I had at least another two hours, I dove in. I went through every public record I could online to see what I could find about Elijah Morris and Nicholas Benfer I. Soon, I had basic life stories – birthdays, marriages, children, employment – for both of them.
Nicholas had been a “farmer,” as the nomenclature of slavery-designated plantation owners, and in the first years after Emancipation, Elijah was listed as a blacksmith, a fact that meant he had probably worked in that role on BelAirre in the years he was enslaved. Both men stayed in their professions throughout their lives, which wasn’t really surprising. Neither was the fact that they lived near to, maybe even next to, each other throughout their lives. On the census, they are always listed within two to three houses of one another, and I took this to indicate that they might have, indeed, remained at least friendly. Or if not friendly, then at least connected through proximity and maybe employment.
But nothing in the online public record explained why Nicholas had willed that six acres to Elijah. That was the rich information, the information that was too personal to warrant a place in public history. That was what I would need to find in the Benfer’s records, if they had them.
I took Veronica Benfer’s card out of my back pocket and dialed her number. She answered on the second ring, her voice light and fun. “Veronica, it’s Paisley. Any chance you might be available for coffee tomorrow morning?”
“Oh, I’d love that. You found something already?” I could hear the excitement in her voice.
“I did . . . but I’m also wondering if we could start work on the research you wanted right away. I’m thinking it might be useful to us all.” I was nervous, afraid that I was pushing too hard with this woman I just met.
“That would be amazing,” she said. “I talked with Nick after you left, and he’s excited, too. Mind if I see if he’s free to join us in the morning?”
“Perfect.” I asked if she knew the coffee shop downtown, and she assured me that she did.
I did a little dance of excitement and then turned to ask Mika if she minded having Sawyer with her in the morning. In a few weeks Sawyer was going to start morning preschool, and my schedule would open up a lot more. But until then I needed help, and of course Mika was happy to give it. She had a range of activities for Sawyer at the store, and I expected I’d have a collection of God’s Eyes made from scraps of yarn and popsicle sticks to decorate a window with. I loved that idea.
When Sawyer got home that night, we spent a couple of hours watching videos of thunder storms and tornadoes, his latest YouTube obsession, and playing with his bubble machine. Beauregard loved the bubbles for approximately three minutes, and then he found them profoundly annoying. His annoyance was Sawyer’s delight because it made Beau leap and bat at the bubbles as they drifted across the yard.
When it was time to wind down for bed, both Sawyer and Beau were exhausted and I was content from a good evening with my son. We did a bath and climbed into bed to read, and before I finished Can I Give You A Squish?, Sawyer was sound asleep with his head on my leg.
I intended to do more research on the Benfer family before calling it quits for the night. But the fatigue hit while I made my tea, so I opted to catch up on Doctor Who while I worked on the tires for Sawyer’s cross-stitch bulldozer. A few dozen stitches and an episode in, I called it quits myself and went up to bed.
* * *
Fortunately, my brain didn’t quit, and when I woke up, I had a clear agenda for my conversation with the Benfers and even more excitement about the project, both for them and to see how what we’d already learned about their family tied into the situation at Bethel Church.
As Sawyer watched his morning Blippi videos, I called Mary to let her know my plans for the morning and to let her know what I’d found out about the history of her church. She was super excited to learn about Elijah Morris and offered to meet up with me at Mika’s store later to talk about what she knew and how it might help.
“I think you’ll be excited, Pais,” she said just before she hung up, and I did a little wiggle because it seemed like, maybe, we were going to make some headway. Sawyer sat down with his videos and actually began to eat his grapes and cheese slices, so I took the moment to let Santiago know my plans via text.
He called almost immediately. “That’s great news,” he said. “I’m supervising demolition over at the house today. Well, Saul is supervising. I’m there to ‘keep the peace.’” I could hear the smile in his voice.
“You don’t think there will be trouble do you?” My excitement had suddenly turned into fear. “No one will make trouble, right?”
“I doubt it, but Chief Stephenson asked me to be on hand. So Savannah and I will hang out, play cards, and hope that I get enough time to kick her tail in gin rummy again.” He was trying to ease my fear, and I appreciated the effort.
“Okay, good. If I get a minute, I’ll stop by if that’s okay.” I didn’t want to intrude, but given how involved I was in all of this, I really did want to be involved in every part of it.
“Please do. I expect it won’t be much to see.” He laughed then. “But of course, you know that. This is your job.”
I laughed, too. “It’s actually pretty fun to watch demo.”
“Demo?” Sawyer said from across the table. “Is there big equipment working?”
I smiled at my son.
“When do you start?”
“I’m on my way there now.”
“You may have visitors in a couple of minutes. A certain small boy is wanting to see the equipment work.” I smiled as Sawyer jumped up with half a slice of cheese in his mouth and ran into the living room. He came back with his hard hat and hammer. “I’m ready.”
“See you in a few,” Santiago said.
Most of the time, my son is a typical young child who dawdles and stalls when it’s time to transition to something new. Today, though, he was out the door and into his seat before I even had a chance to pour him a cup of water for the road. Big equipment for the win.
On the ride over, Saw told me stories about how he and his imaginary sister drove bulldozers and crashed them into buildings while their baby jumped off the roof. His stories tended toward violence and danger quite often, and I was glad for the parenting books that had told me this was common at his age.
I tried to keep my attention on his tales as I drove, but my mind kept leaping ahead to the Benfer research. I couldn’t help but wonder what other treasures were tucked away in their house. That photo alone was priceless given how rare photos of enslaved people are, but I had high hopes that maybe they also had boxes of papers in an attic or storage room somewhere.
All my attention came back to the present moment, though, when we got the church. A small gathering of people was sitting with Chief Stephenson in camp chairs under the black walnut trees at the edge of the parking lot, and I could see Demetrius Cleveland and Mary talking near them. Santiago’s cruiser was parked right at the entrance to the lot, and when we drove in, he stepped out with Deputy Savannah Winslow beside him.
Sawyer barreled into his legs and hugged him. But his attention was soon diverted as the flatbeds with Saul’s equipment pulled up on the street and began to unload. Sawyer put his hardhat on and ran to his Uncle Saul, who scooped him up, took him into the cab of the bulldozer, and let him help unload it.
“Looks like I may have lost him,” Santiago said with a smile.
“Nah, he’ll come back when he gets tired . . . or when Saul kicks him out,” I said as I hugged the sheriff and the deputy, too.
“I was going to suggest he could stay with us, if you wanted,” Savannah said. “We can keep an eye on him, and that way, he can be around the big equipment.”
“That is if you don’t think Mika will mind,” Santiago added.
I shook my head. “I don’t think she’ll mind at all, but just let me check.” I texted Mika.
She replied immediately. “Actually, that’s better. I have some big news. Stop by?”
I glanced at the time on my phone and saw I had about an hour before meeting the Benfers across the street from Mika’s. “She’s fine with it, if you’re sure you don’t mind.”
We all looked over to where Sawyer was steering the bulldozer into place in front of the house, a look of sheer delight animating his face. “How could we mind watching true joy in action?” Santiago said.
I kissed him on the cheek and headed over to greet Mary, Demetrius, and Chief Stephenson. Everyone seemed to be a mix of excited and sad, and given that this was exactly how I felt every time I looked at this land now, I understood.
“Are you ready?” I asked the chief and the rest of the members of the tribal council with her. “I know this will be hard.”
A man about my age with hair that touched the collar of his blue button-up shirt said, “It will, but it will also be good, renewing.” He smiled at me, and I held onto his word – “renewing.”
“Good. My son is the enthusiastic bulldozer operator, but don’t worry, his Uncle Saul won’t let him be disrespectful,” I said with a sudden flash of worry that my son’s delight might be interpreted as frivolity on my part or his. “I’ve explained to him what’s happening here today, and I think he understands.”
Chief Stephenson stood. “Play is a form of joy, and joy is never disrespectful,” she said. “Can I meet your son?”
“I’d love to introduce you.” We walked over to where Sawyer sat on the disabled bulldozer moving levers and making sounds while Saul instructed his crew on their process for the day. “Sawyer, I want you to meet someone. Can you come down?”
“How about I come up? Would that be okay?” Chief Stephenson said.
Sawyer looked at me, and I nodded. “Okay,” he said quietly.
“I’m Beth,” she said. “You are here to help me honor my ancestors. Your mom told you about that, right?”
Sawyer nodded. “Your grandparents are buried here like my grandma is buried in a graveyard in town.” He had been listening.
“That’s right, and as the chief of our people, it’s part of my job to be sure these people are taken care of.” She slid into the seat next to him as he made room for her to join him.
“You’re a real Indian chief?” he said with awe, and I wanted to correct him, remind him that we said Native American,, but I didn’t have the chance.
“That’s right. I’m Chief Stephenson, chief of the Monacan Indian Nation. Thank you for coming to help us today,” she said.
“You’re welcome,” Sawyer replied. “Let me show you how this works.”
Chief Stephenson looked over at me and winked, and I smiled back as I felt Santiago come up and take my hand.
“We’ve got him, Paisley,” he said. “Have fun researching.” He kissed me lightly and turned to Sawyer. “Can I learn, too?”
“Sure,” Sawyer said as he glanced at me, and I waved goodbye and explained that he was staying here for the morning. “Yay,” he said and then went back to teaching our friends how the bulldozer worked.
I waved to Saul and then spoke briefly to Mary and Demetrius before heading further into town to see Mika. I was very curious about what the big news was, but I hoped it wouldn’t take too long. I didn’t want to be late for my first paying research clients.
As soon as I walked in the door, Mika said, “I know how we can make money for our websites,” she said.
I took a deep breath, put my hands on her shoulders, and said, “Okay, how?” My mind was already a little full with all the things, but her excitement was almost as contagious as Sawyer’s.
“A pop-up shop at the Charlottesville Farmers’ Market for a few weekends.” She smiled at me with a smug satisfaction that lit up her eyes.
“A pop-up shop, like the ones on all those reality shows? Are we that cool?” I asked.
“We are not that cool, but we can pretend to be.” She went on to explain what we could sell – yarn, obviously, but also Dad’s picture frames, small but intriguing pieces of architectural salvage, and the knitted items that she had made for display around the shop. “It won’t cost us anything more than the rent for the space, and I think we could make a few hundred dollars each weekend.”
I nodded and found myself feeling hopeful about the idea, even though it was going to be more work for two people who already had more than enough to do. “It does sound doable,” I said. “And maybe we could put out sign-up sheets for our newsletters and make some brochures to advertise our businesses.”
“Exactly,” Mika said with a little hop. “So you’ll do it?”
I sighed. “I’ll do it.”
“Great,” she said, “because I booked us a spot for Saturday.” She batted her eyelashes and kissed my cheek. “Now off with you to do your other, other job.”
I rolled my eyes and grinned. “You owe me wine, you know?”
“Oh yes, definitely,” she said and waved as I headed across the street to my meeting.
I had a lot going on these days, but all of it was so exciting. As a friend had once told me, I have the capacity to do a lot of things, but once that capacity is reached, I burn out quickly. So as I smiled at the Benfers in the coffee window, I reminded myself to give myself the timeline I needed to manage all I had going on. I didn’t think they’d pressure me, but I could put a lot of pressure on myself if I wasn’t mindful.
When I sat down with my vanilla latte and chocolate croissant, Nick Benfer picked up his own chocolate chip scone so we could toast. “Good taste,” he said as we “clinked” pastries. Veronica smiled and sipped her drink.
“Thanks for meeting with me so soon. It turns out that if you want to hire me, I’d love to get started as soon as possible. Some of the research I’ve been doing on Bethel Church has tied into your family, and so I’m eager to see if we can find out more.”
“I’ve told Nick what you shared yesterday, and we plan on going by the church to meet Chief Stephenson after we talk. Do you mind if we share that we are working with you?” Veronica asked.
“Not at all, but I will warn you, when I left there this morning, my son was teaching her how to use a bulldozer. She may be occupied,” I said with a laugh.
“Noted,” Nick said. “We won’t interrupt.” He grinned and then said, “So we want to hire you. I want to be clear. Your price. Your timeline. But Veronica is so enamored with your work and your care about the people you research that we are eager to get started, too.”
I blushed. “Wow, well then, okay. Thank you.” I smiled at Veronica. “Let’s talk about what you want to find out.”
In unison, they said, “Everything” and then looked at each other.
My eyes went wide. “Everything? Okay. Well, that’s something. Everything about what? Your family? The people your ancestors enslaved? The property?’
“Yes,” Nick said. “But mostly we want to find out about the people we enslaved.” He glanced at his wife. “We want to have them to the farm and ask them in what ways we could honor their ancestors.”
I swallowed to keep the tears from spilling. This was exactly the kind of response I had hoped for, the kind of work I hoped to be a part of. “That sounds amazing. Well, one place to start is for you to meet the members of Bethel Church. I expect you know some of them, and I think it’s very likely, given what I’ve already found, that they have ties to your land.”
I explained what I’d learned about the photo, which I returned to them as I spoke, and about Elijah Morris and the land for the church. They got so excited, and soon, we were talking about the boxes of papers in their attic (Hallelujah!) and what else I might look into. By the time we’d talked for ninety minutes, I had a clear plan of research, beginning in their attic, and a fee and timeline that not only would help me set up my office at Saul’s lot but could jumpstart my website, too.
