A Blind Goddess by James R. Benn Page A

do? Can you talk to Basher? Or should I quit?” I still didn’t know if Dad knew about Tree, but he pretty much knew everything sooner or later.
    “Billy, there’s more going on here than meets the eye. You can’t quit, and I can’t do anything with Basher. He’s beyond words.”
    “Sure I can quit,” I said, indignant. “I know you’ll be mad, but you don’t know what it’s like!”
    “I know exactly what it’s like,” Dad said. “It’s not about you. Basher is trying to get Mr. Jackson fired. That’s why he and his pals are riding you. They want to prove he’s an incompetent supervisor. As soon as you overreact, it will go to the chief. If you quit, it will be more evidence that a Negro can’t be expected to supervise a white. Either way, they’ll lay the blame on Mr. Jackson. I’m sorry, Billy.”
    “Oh,” was all I could say. “You mean Mr. Jackson could lose his job, unless I knuckle under and take it?”
    “That’s about it, Billy. I’m sorry, I had no idea it would come to this. I never would have gotten the job for you if I had any notion it would get you in the middle of things. Or that it would cost young Jackson his chance.”
    “You know about Tree?”
    “Mr. Jackson told me today. He said it would be best for everything to be out in the open. I knew he had a son, but didn’t give it much thought. That was my fault, and I told him so. Why didn’t you tell me that first day?”
    “I don’t know,” I said, squirming in the kitchen chair and finding the linoleum suddenly fascinating. “I felt bad about it, but I wanted the job. And I didn’t want you to feel bad either, after setting everything up.”
    “Sometimes things don’t work out as we planned, Billy. What really matters is what we do when faced with the consequences.” He finished off the whiskey in his glass and waited.
    “I guess I’m going to work tomorrow.”
    “Good boy.”
    I LOOKED AT my watch. It was late, time to get Kaz and Big Mike to the railroad station.
    “What happened?” Big Mike said. “Did you go back to work?”
    “Too involved to get into now,” I said. “More of the same at first, and then it got worse.”
    “But when did you meet Tree?” Kaz said. “You must tell us the rest.”
    “Later,” I said as I settled the bill with Jack Monk. Truth was, I wanted the story to end right there, with my father’s approval settling over me in the kitchen, the aroma of whiskey and his aftershave lingering as he left, the sound of his heavy shoes on the stairs as clear and true as the pub door closing behind me.

CHAPTER TWELVE
    T HE SMALL ROOM and lumpy bed at the Hog’s Head was more than made up for by Mrs. Monk’s breakfast. Warm bread, fresh preserves, and strong tea put things into perspective. I hadn’t slept well, but the bed was only partly to blame. I was worried about Diana and her quest to report the truth about the extermination camps far above her place in the chain of command. In my experience, truth and warfare made for a volatile combination, and there were plenty of politicians who only let the truth see the light of day if it reflected well on them.
    I’d wanted to talk to her about that, to help prepare her for what I knew would be a disappointment. But all I’d left her with was a few lines scribbled on paper.
    Memories of that summer in 1936 had run through my mind all night as well. Funny, it wasn’t all the crap I had to take from Basher and his buddies that stayed with me. It was Tree, and how for a short time we became best buddies, until the harsh world of grown men and their hatreds turned our way and ruined everything. Well, ruined Tree’s life. I was white, and all right, so it was a bump in the road for me. He had to get back, way back.
    I forced the thoughts and worries out of my mind as I buttoned my trench coat up tight and stepped out into the misty rain. The day was a refreshing change from yesterday’s chill. It was warm and damp, the kind of early