I smiled and took a deep breath to remind myself that no matter what this man’s ancestors had done, he had been nothing but kind and helpful. “I use my vegetable garden for the same purpose . . . that and mowing.”

  He grinned. “Ah yes, the contemplative mow. One of my favorites.” He stepped out of the door and gestured inside. “Come in for a minute?”

  I smiled and stepped through the threshold only to see a huge stack of boxes waiting for me. “These are all your family papers,” I said.

  “We are clearly packrats,” he said. “You will find everything from soup to nuts in there. I’ve sorted most of it, so hopefully, that’ll help.” He lifted the lid off one box and showed me the tidy arrangement of expandable folders inside.

  “Wow. That’s hugely helpful.” I leaned closer. “And you labeled everything, too.”

  “Another tedious habit that keeps me busy.” He smiled. “Thanks for looking through these things with your expert eye, Paisley.”

  I looked up and met his gaze. He looked forlorn, and the creases around his eyes were deeper than the day before. “It’s my pleasure.” I smiled. “If it helps, I’ve only found that the truth of history sets us free, never imprisons us.”

  Demetrius nodded. “That’s my belief, too. I will deal with whatever you find that is hard and painful, and my family will come to terms, too. But to do that, we need to know.”

  I nodded. “I’ll keep you informed every step of the way.” I picked up one box. “Better get started.”

  He helped me load the rest of my hatch and then the backseat. When we slid the last box into the passenger seat next to me, I felt a little overwhelmed. But I reminded myself that I could do this, that I needed to only look at one thing at a time.

  I waved as I pulled out of his drive and headed back to Mika’s store. I hoped she didn’t mind me storing all of this there since I wanted it to be secure but also didn’t want to tote it home every night.

  Fortunately, Mika was way ahead of me and had cleaned out a corner of her storeroom just for these boxes. So while Sawyer continued his epic nap, we unloaded and got me all set up. Then, I woke up my son because I would need him to go to sleep sometime tonight if I wanted to maintain my sanity.

  Sawyer wakes very slowly, so for the next hour, he watched videos and then quietly made God’s Eyes with Mika when she wasn’t with a customer . . . and I delved in. As much as I was eager to get into Demetrius’s family papers, I knew I needed to start with the Benfers because they were more likely to have records relating to Elijah Morris and the property on which the church and manse were built. Plus, experience had taught me that having a framework of names and dates from legal records and records of the enslavers when I started looking at the African American families would help me be able to piece together those stories more easily.

  It was kind of ironic, really, but true to history that to be able to research enslaved people you had to first know the stories of those who held them in bondage.

  So I took the first box of papers from the Benfers and carefully lifted out a stack. Most of the pages were loose, but I also had pulled out a small journal. I started there. The book was full of thoughts on the weather and planting. I noted a few names of people who were probably enslaved, but by and large the book was mostly useful for someone interested in agricultural history, which was not me. I moved on.

  I had made it through most of the first box as Sawyer began to help Mika sort cotton-blend yarn into a rainbow pattern that she’d been wanting to try as a merchandising tactic. My list of first names was growing, but given how often names were repeated during this era, I knew I wouldn’t get far if I didn’t find more.

  Then, on a long sheet of thick paper, I found the break I needed – an inventory of all the people enslaved at BelAirre from 1851 forward. That list alone was wonderful for memorializing the people who had labored there, but for me, it was even more priceless because it listed people by families. Soon, I had three, even four generations in one case, of people, and in two instances, these people were listed with their surnames as well.

  I forced myself to finish the box before I moved online to look these families up, just for the sake of consistency and discipline, but soon I had moved all the papers into piles by type and slid the inventory in front of me as I opened my laptop.

  Sawyer climbed up in my lap and put his head on my shoulder. “I work, too, Mama,” He said. I slid a piece of notebook paper out of my journal and handed him a pen as I put him in the chair next to me. Soon, he was drawing away as I went on the hunt to find Elijah Morris.

  It didn’t take me long. In 1870, I found Elijah listed as living right next to BelAirre as expected with his mother, Anna, and his wife, Lavinia. His mother was listed as Anna on the inventory I’d found, and so I could identify her there. But it was Elijah’s marriage certificate that got my attention, and I immediately called Mika over to show her.

  There, he listed his parents, Anna Morris and Nicholas Benfer. “That’s Nick’s great-great-great-grandfather,” I said quietly.

  “Whoa,” Mika said.

  Saw perked up, “What?”

  “We just found out who someone’s grandfather was, Love Bug.”

  “Like Boppy is my grandfather?”

  “Exactly,” I said then turned back to the screen. “Clearly, I need to call Nick and Veronica.”

  “Yes, definitely, but first, move forward in time, see if you can put Elijah’s family tree together.” She pointed to the little leaves on the screen that told me there were hints to follow. “That way, you can give them a full picture at once.”

  “Good idea,” I said and began the process of clicking while Mika took Sawyer outside to help her weed the flower boxes at the front of the store. I hoped she had some flowers left when they were done. My son could be a very enthusiastic weeder.

  Within a few minutes, I had moved down another generation in Elijah’s family, and then another . . . and there I hissed with recognition. Elijah’s granddaughter, Elisa Mae married Demetrius Cleveland, the great-grandfather of my friend and the man who was alive when Earnestine Greene died. There was absolutely no way that was a coincidence.

  The Benfers, the Morrises, and the Clevelands were all related and not that distantly either.

  8

  Now, I had a quandary – the information I was finding was relevant to Santiago’s investigation, so did I tell him first? Tell Mary since it related to the church and the Monacan burial ground? Or tell the Benfers and Demetrius?

  I quickly decided that everyone involved would understand the need for the police to have this information and texted Santiago. “Elijah Morris was a Benfer, and his granddaughter married Demetrius’s great-grandfather.”

  “I’m going to need to see a chart,” Santiago said.

  “I’m at Mika’s. Come over when you can.”

  “On my way,” he said.

  I kept adding details to the family tree I was building as I waited for Santiago, but a few moments later, I heard Sawyer squeal and knew that my boyfriend had arrived. The two men in my life came in with Mika close behind, and I was surprised to see Santiago in civilian clothes. He looked great in his uniform, but there was something about him in jeans and a Heinz 57 T-shirt that was even better.

  “You’re casual,” I said.

  “I’ve worked my fair share of hours these past couple of days, so I was hoping we might all be able to take off for the rest of the day and go do something.” He winked at me and mouthed the word swimming.

  I appreciated the covert communication given that the minute Sawyer heard that term there would be no room to say No, but I wasn’t inclined to pass anyway. It was blazing hot, I was overwhelmed, and a good swim just might mean that Sawyer would go to bed early even after his epic nap.

  “Definitely.” I looked over at Mika, who was gathering up Sawyer’s craft supplies, and raised my eyebrows.

  “Mika, join us for a little time in the water?”

  Sawyer perked up at the word water, and said, “We’re going swimming?”

  “I’d love to, but the store.”

  I glanced at the clock on my computer. “Miks, it’s four-fifteen. Close up forty-five minutes early. Put a sign on the door and tell people you’re available by text if they need you.” I knew how important keeping solid hours was for my friend, but I also knew that given this heat, she probably wouldn’t have any more customers today.

  A smile spread slowly across her face. “Okay, but on one condition . . . we get ice cream after.” She grinned at Sawyer when he started to jump up and down.

  “Let’s go, let’s go,” my little boy said.

  “Okay, maybe you and Auntie Miks can get us packed up while I show Santiago something.”

  Mika nodded, and she and Sawyer began gathering his snack trash and various trucks that had traveled around the store. Santiago sat down next to me and said, “Show me.”

  I quickly manipulated the family tree on the screen so that Santiago could see the Benfer line and where the Morrises branched off and then where the Cleveland line came in.

  “Well, that is something. Have you told them yet?”

  I shook my head. “No, I thought you should know first since this might affect your case and things at the church, and I didn’t think they’d mind. Everyone seems really focused on telling the whole truth now.”

  Santiago sighed. “I think so, too, and I do hope we’re right . . . and I hope Levi Benfer doesn’t get wind of what you’ve put together here.”

  “I was actually wondering if he already had. I mean, all of this is public record. He may already know and not want anyone else to find out,” I said.

  “Well, then we need to let everyone know quickly so that we control the story.” He looked over at Sawyer and Mika, who were waiting patiently by the door. “But I expect it can wait until a bit later, don’t you?”

  I closed my laptop and stood up. “Definitely. Where are we going?”

  “Ah, it’s a surprise. But before you say we need to stop at your house, I already did, and I have your swimsuits and Sawyer’s in the car. I brought both of the ones from your drawer just in case Mika wanted to come.”

  I stared at him and said, “You went through my underwear drawer?” I wanted to be horrified – and was a little embarrassed – but thoughtfulness always won my heart.

  “Just quickly.” He kissed my cheeks. “I like the pink ones with the hearts, though,” he whispered.

  A flush of heat ran up my throat at the thought. “Well, I like those, too,” I said when I caught my breath. “Shall we go?”

  He laughed and took my hand. “Let’s do this,” he said loudly enough that Sawyer heard him and headed to the door with Mika grabbing his hand just before he dashed into traffic.

  When we arrived at the wide, deep stretch of the Fleur River, Santiago draped a sheet over a branch and stood guard while the three of us changed into our suits. Then, he stripped off his jeans and dove headfirst into the water. I barely had time to get Sawyer’s flotation belt on before he followed suit.

  Mika and I were a bit more timid on our entries, but soon the four of us were splashing around and skimming rocks across the surface of the water. Our play lasted about an hour, and then we collapsed on the sheet that Santiago spread on the sandy bank and feasted on the cheese and crackers, grapes and nuts that he had brought for dinner.

  Then, as Santiago and Sawyer took one last swim, Mika and I stretched out and stared at the sycamore leaves above us. “What do you think the Benfers and Demetrius are going to say?” she asked quietly.

  I rolled my head back and forth and let the hard sand rub the last of the tension from the base of my skull. “I don’t know, but I think they may actually be excited. They’re all so open to finding out the stories of their families . . . Nick’s brother, however.”

  “Yeah,” Mika said. “There’s always someone who thinks hiding the truth makes it less true.”

  I laughed. “Isn’t that right?”

  A couple moments later I heard the telltale cry of a little boy who was running on fumes and had fallen one too many times, and I stood to scoop him into a towel and get him into the car. It was time to go home.

  Between the three of us, we were able to keep Sawyer awake all the way back to town and then Santiago offered him a chance to ride in the police car to get to our house. There was no way he was going to doze off with the radio in hand to talk to Savannah, so I took my time gathering my things at Mika’s before heading home myself.

  When I arrived, Sawyer was already on the couch in his pajamas with chocolate milk and videos. The bedtime routine had started without me, and I felt – for the first time – a sense of real relief that I had someone to help me raise this little boy well. His dad was great with him, but single parenting was exhausting. Santiago’s presence was, especially in this moment, such a gift.

  With videos done and eye-rubs in full force, I carried my son upstairs with a smile for the man who had moved him directly into our bedtime routine. We read P Is for Pterodactyl, and he was asleep before we got to L in the alphabet. Swimming did it every time.

  Back downstairs, Santiago had made us tea and gone ahead and set up my laptop and notebook on the trunk in front of the couch. He knew me well, and so he also knew that I wouldn’t want to wait to continue this research process I’d begun, especially now that I could loop the Benfers and Demetrius in.

  I sat down next to him on the loveseat and snuggled for a minute before I began crafting my email to explain what I’d found, share the link to the tree on the genealogy website, and let them know that I was only beginning but wanted to be sure they were informed of this development.

  I also added that I had let the sheriff know about the family relations because it seemed relevant to the work at the church and Earnestine Greene’s murder and that he would be in touch if need be.

  My hands were shaking just a little as I let Santiago read the message and confirm that it was clear and accurate, and then I hit send and closed the laptop. I knew that if I kept researching or waiting for their responses, I wouldn’t sleep later. So while I was aching to keep digging, I needed to be wise.

  Plus, there was a very attractive man sitting beside me. I wasn’t about to waste that for another moment, and so I turned and planted a kiss firmly on his lips.

  * * *

  The next morning, I woke from a deep sleep and lovely dreams where I was wearing vintage clothes while driving a Model A car. Sawyer was still sound asleep beside me, and I snuck downstairs with Beauregard padding behind me. It was a rare morning when I got to sip my coffee alone, and I was going to try to take advantage of the time.

  Also, something else had bubbled up while I dreamed, and I really wanted to dig into the newspaper archives and see what I could find about Demetrius Cleveland the second, the man who had married into the Morris family and who had been the informant on Earnestine Greene’s death certificate.

  I fixed my coffee and slipped out onto the front porch, where the morning was unseasonably cool and dry for August. I tucked my laptop onto my legs and pulled up the online newspaper archive of which I was a member. Quickly, I searched for the names “Earnestine Greene” and “Demetrius Cleveland,” and I saw the local articles about Bethel Church that Mary had shown me as well as a couple other articles talking about church functions where both of them had been in attendance.

  I scanned the headlines for a few minutes and didn’t see anything new. So I switched tacks and searched each name individually. That search yielded mostly the same results for Earnestine, a fact I found sad since it seemed most of her life was tied to the church. I hoped she had liked being a pastor’s wife.

  But the search for Demetrius Cleveland pulled up a lot more. Apparently, he owned the local funeral home that served the black community. His name and Cleveland Funeral Home came up in dozens and dozens of listings. Most of them were obituaries listing Cleveland’s as the funeral home handling services, but a few also focused on the man himself.

  According to two records, he had been a very generous man who had given a lot of money to location organizations, including two schools for black children in the area. He had also helped found a local soup kitchen that provided meals for families who fell on hard times, and he served as the Worshipful Master of the local Masons here in Octonia.

  One article included a photo of him, and he looked stoic and staid in his dark suit with a simple bowtie and side parted hair. Nothing I read about him made me think anything other of him than that he was a good community member, a person his great-grandson and namesake could be proud of.

  But I did have one question that was brought up by his profession. So I went back to the genealogy site and searched his name to see if he came up on anyone else’s death certificates. I wondered if he might have been the informant on a number of deaths as a funeral director. But it was only Earnestine Greene’s record that showed his name, so clearly, he had indeed reported her death because he had some personal connection to it or to the victim.

  I sat back and sipped my coffee just as I heard Sawyer begin to stir upstairs. I had about five minutes before he’d be coming down, so I did what I’d been putting off and opened my email.

  * * *

  The two of us weren’t exactly the model of efficiency first thing in the morning, but we did manage to eat, dress, and make it to Mika’s shop by ten a.m. Sawyer was super excited because I had packed his backpack full of “work” supplies like white paper, markers, and stickers. His plan was to work next to me all day. I predicted that would last fifteen minutes.

  Mika had tidied my work station to her satisfaction, but she knew that the piles of documents I had made needed to remain intact. So they were now stacked neatly in a row against the side of the Cozy Corner. “I kept everything just as it was, simply moved it to keep myself from losing my mind.”

  I laughed. “I’m sure. And sorry for the mess. I’ll keep it tidier. I know it bugs you, and this is your place of business.”

 

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