Leroy’s face crumpled with anger. “They hanged me for talking to a white woman,” he said.
Guilt stabbed me deep in my gut.
I said, “Leroy, I knew you would die—not how, but I knew you’d die. The messenger was Otis Turning and I didn’t believe him.”
“You’ve never liked those sort of folks,” Leroy said. “Of course you wouldn’t listen.”
“But if I did, you’d still be alive. I’m just as much to blame as Otis. I should have told you.”
I trembled. My soul ached over the wonders of that day and the errors and the choices that brought it. Leroy had no reason to forgive me.
“Hush, old man,” he said. He glared at me. I could see the anger underneath his skin, coursing though his blood. It was the tightness in his jaw and that tremble in his temple. “What’s done is done and you’ll have to live w
