"Yes."
"I don't have much of a choice, do I?"
"No."
"Okay. That's the way it happened. I wanted to testify, but-my lawyer wouldn't allow it."
"I'll file first thing in the morning."
"It's too late, isn't it?"
"Well, it's certainly late, and this issue should've been raised a long time ago. But what's there to lose?"
"Will you call Keyes and tell him?"
"If I have time. I'm really not concerned with his feelings at the moment."
"Then neither am I. To hell with him. Who else can we attack?"
"The list is rather short."
Sam jumped to his feet and began pacing along the table in measured steps. The room was eighteen feet long. He walked around the table, behind Adam, and along each of the four walls, counting as he went. He stopped and leaned against a shelf of books.
Adam finished some notes and watched him carefully. "Lee wants to know if she can come visit," he said.
Sam stared at him, then slowly returned to his seat across the table. "She wants to?"
"I think so."
"I'll have to think about it."
"Well hurry."
"How's she doing?"
"Pretty fair, I guess. She sends her love and prayers, and she thinks about you a lot these days."
"Do people in Memphis know she's my daughter?"
"I don't think so. It hasn't been in the papers yet."
"I hope they keep it quiet."
"She and I went to Clanton last Saturday."
Sam looked at him sadly, then gazed at the ceiling. "What did you see?" he asked.
"Lots of things. She showed me my grandmother's grave, and the plot with the other Cayhalls."
"She didn't want to be buried with the Cayhalls, did Lee tell you that?"
"Yes. Lee asked me where you wanted to be buried."
"I haven't decided yet."
"Sure. Just let me know when you make the decision. We walked through the town, and she showed me the house we lived in. We went to the square and sat in the gazebo on the courthouse lawn. The town was very busy. People were packed around the square."
"We used to watch fireworks in the cemetery."
"Lee told me all about it. We ate lunch at The Tea Shoppe, and took a drive in the country.
She took me to her childhood home."
"It's still there?"
"Yeah, it's abandoned. The house is run-down and the weeds have taken over. We walked around the place. She told me lots of stories of her childhood. Talked a lot about Eddie."
"Does she have fond memories?"
"Not really."
Sam crossed his arms and looked at the table. A minute passed without a word. Finally, Sam asked, "Did she tell you about Eddie's little African friend, Quince Lincoln?"
Adam nodded slowly, and their eyes locked together. "Yes, she did."
"And about his father, Joe?"
"She told me the story."
"Do you believe her?"
"I do. Should I?"
"It's true. It's all true."
"I thought so."
"How did you feel when she told you the story? I mean, how did you react to it?"
"I hated your guts."
"And how do you feel now?"
"Different."
Sam slowly rose from his seat and walked to the end of the table where he stopped and stood with his back to Adam. "That was forty years ago," he mumbled, barely audible.