Read Online Guardian by Julius Lester - Free Book Online

had gone with them to get Ansel. She could have gotten a ride with one of her neighbors, all of whom had gone as if it was carnival time.
    Where is Ansel? Why hasn’t Bert taken him away from there, brought him home? she wonders.
    Maureen waits, never moving from the porch. It is almost eleven when a car drives slowly down the road past her house. Then another and another. Lights go on in her neighbors’ houses.
    The storm that she has watched move slowly in the direction of Davis breaks, and the rain comes down like vengeance.
    She goes inside, sits in the living room, and waits.
    It is almost midnight when she hears Bert’s car.
    Ansel comes in first. She does not have to ask. He refuses to look at her.
    His eyes move desperately around the room as if searching for a place to hide. She goes to him, folds him into her arms, and his sobs sound like rasping crows.
    When Bert comes in, he doesn’t want to look at her, either.
    â€œHow could you, Bert?” she asks softly. “How could you?”
    â€œHow could I what?”
    â€œCouldn’t you at least have brought Ansel home? He didn’t need to be there.”
    â€œYes, he did. He’s going to be running the store one of these days. He had to be there. Folks wouldhave talked if he hadn’t been.”
    â€œLet ’em talk!” Ansel turns around and screams at his father. “Who cares what they say?”
    â€œYou better start learning to care what other people think of you,” Bert responds. “A businessman has to get along with his customers, and sometimes that means doing things you aren’t proud of.”
    â€œLike not telling the truth?” Ansel glares at his father.
    Maureen looks from one to the other. “What happened? What’s going on?”
    â€œIt was Zeph!” Ansel shouts. “Zeph killed Mary Susan. We were there. We saw him. We knew Willie’s papa didn’t do it.”
    Bert sighs. He looks at Maureen, a plea on his face. “What was I supposed to do? We would be on the way out of town right now if I had said it was Zeph. Do you think people would have believed me? They know I helped Big Willie get the job at the church. Damn Esther Davis! They know I’ve had Little Willie working at the store. All they would’ve said was that I’m a nigger lover, and they might have hung me, too. Reverend Dennis told me to my facethat it was my fault his daughter was dead, that I should have known better than talk him into hiring Willie.”
    â€œOh, dear God,” Maureen says, tears coming into her eyes. “You mean to tell me you knew that poor man was innocent and you didn’t do anything?”
    â€œWhat do you think I could have done, Maureen? So what if he was innocent? So what if I know that Zeph is a mean, nasty son of a bitch? Do you think anybody in this town is going to do anything to anybody with the name Davis? Do you think any white man in this town would choose a nigger over a white man even if they knew the white man was guilty? What did you want me to do, Maureen?”
    â€œMaybe it’s not a matter of what I want you to do, but a matter of who you are, of who we are.”
    â€œNo, it’s a matter of living in peace with our neighbors and keeping a roof over our heads and food on the table.”
    â€œAnd you think that’s more important than your son having a father he can look up to, a father he admires? You think that’s more important than your son knowing his father is a liar and a coward?
    â€œGo on, Bert. Do it. You’ve been wanting to do that since the day we got married and you blew cigarette smoke in my face rather than kiss me.”
    Bert lets his arm drop to his side.
    There is a long and tense silence. It is as if each of them is holding his breath, that the next word, the next movement will decide the history of the world.
    It is Maureen who speaks, and when she does her voice is quiet. “You