“I knew it,” Lou declares, his face lighting up.“I knew he was a good man.”
Helen and I both look at him.“And how is this a good thing exactly?”Helen asks.
“Amy has Bancroft’s lawyer clearly siding with her plight,” Lou says, as if it’s obvious.
After a silent beat, Helen turns to him, blinking rapidly.“Ever hear of a little something called conflict of interest?”
“Oh please, Helen.”Lou waves a hand at her.“As far as anyone’s concerned, Amy could have come up with the idea all on her own.”
“Actually, I don’t know much about it, other than the obvious,” I admit, not wanting to disappoint Lou.“A collection of a bunch of signatures.”
“Not to worry, my dear.”He leans back, folding his hands over his stomach, a reminiscent look entering his eyes.“I know a thing or two about petitions.Ran a few rather successful ones back in my younger days.”
“You?”Helen raises an eyebrow.“Petitioning what?Better discount on prune juice?”
Lou chuckles, but then his smile gains a different weight.A quiet dignity.“Madison wasn’t always as open as it seems now.Back in the early sixties, finding decent housing if you were Black, well…” He shakes his head slowly.“There was plenty of discrimination, landlords refusing point-blank, hidden agreements… it wasn’t right.”
He pauses, readjusting his glasses.“So, a bunch of us students from the University of Wisconsin, along with folks from our local NAACP chapter and CORE, got organized.Started pushing the City Council hard for a real fair housing ordinance.One with teeth.”
Helen’s teasing grin vanishes.Her mouth hangs slightly open.
My own jaw feels slack.
“Must’ve been in sixty-four, maybe sixty-five, when we really ramped up the petition drives,” Lou recalls.“Gathering names right here on the Square sometimes, down State Street.We held marches too, sit-ins at rental offices.We faced a lot of pushback, folks telling us to slow down, that Madison didn’t have those problems.”
He gives a small, wry smile.“But you learn how to make your voice heard.You learn that enough names on paper can make people pay attention, especially when you believe in the cause.”He nods at me.
Lou?
Our gentle, unassuming Lou, involved in the Civil Rights movement?Organizing marches?Demanding equality back when the resistance was the most fierce?
The image is staggering, completely reframing the man sitting across from me.I stare at him with new eyes.
“Damn, Lou!”Helen reaches over and taps the back of her hand against his shoulder.“You’ve been holding out on us.”
“You get to live as long as I have, your stories become too many to share in one sitting,” he replies with a modest smile.
As Lou speaks, it clicks.
Matthew knew.
Maybe not the specifics about marches and ordinances, but he knew Lou was more than just a kind listening post.He must have sensed this depth, this quiet strength.
He knew exactly who to send me to.
My heart swells with gratitude for Matthew’s perception.He led me right here, to the exact person I needed.
“So you can help me then?”I ask, hope expanding in my chest.
“It would be an honor, my dear.”
His words melt the last of my doubt.A grateful smile pulls at my lips, my vision blurring.
“Ay Dios, Ames,” Helen interjects, bringing her clasped hands to her chest.“I had a feeling that sexy lawyer of yours had a heart.”
Before I can respond, Lou leans forward, catching Helen’s eye with a look that’s both amused and admonishing.“Now, now, Helen,” he says calmly.“Let’s stay focused.First things first.Amy needs our help with this petition.”He shifts his gaze briefly to me, offering a quick, conspiratorial wink.
“Right.Sure.”Helen straightens in her seat, all business now.“Let’s deal with the fire first.Well, notthatkind of fire—”
