I called the courthouse shortly after breakfast.
I had my notebook open beside the telephone, with the questions written in my own handwriting.
When Rosella answered, I introduced myself again, although I knew she would recognize my voice.
She did.
"Good morning, Elnora."
I felt relieved hearing her speak so normally.
I told her I had been reviewing my notes and wanted to make sure I understood what I was supposed to do next.
"That's perfectly reasonable," she said.
I asked whether the record required me to take any immediate action.
She explained that I should understand the entry before making assumptions about my position.
I appreciated her answer.
I had spent too many days imagining outcomes that might never happen.
I needed to know what was actually there.
Rosella suggested that we review the information together once more.
I agreed.
We arranged a time for me to come to the courthouse.
After I hung up, I wrote the appointment in my notebook.
Then I placed the notebook beside my purse.
I wanted everything ready before I left.
I had reached a point where the uncertainty bothered me less than the thought of giving up without understanding.
That surprised me.
Only a short time earlier, I had nearly stayed home because I was afraid the Lockridge family might make trouble for me.
Now I was preparing to return to the courthouse because I wanted the truth.
I was still frightened.
I simply no longer believed that fear should make the decision.
The morning of my appointment, I dressed carefully.
I checked that I had my identification.
I took Rosella's notes and the list of questions.
I also brought a small bottle of water because I knew I sometimes forgot to drink when I was nervous.
Then I locked the house and drove away.
The Buick rattled as it always did.
I listened to the familiar sound and kept my eyes on the road.
When I arrived, I found a place to park and sat for a moment before getting out.
I thought about Henrietta.
I wondered whether she had sat somewhere quietly before making her arrangements.
Had she worried about how her sons might react?
Had she wondered whether I would understand?
Had she expected me to be afraid?
I couldn't answer any of those questions.
But I knew she had taken care to identify me correctly.
That was enough to keep me moving.
Rosella met me at the courthouse and led me to the table.
The deed book was waiting.
Its heavy cover lay flat against the wood.
I had seen it several times by then, but the sight still made me nervous.
A book could seem ordinary until somebody showed you that your name was written inside it.
Rosella opened the volume to the marked page.
I leaned forward.
She walked me through the entry again, taking care to distinguish what the record stated from what either of us might suppose.
I followed along with my finger.
The words were formal, but I could recognize my name.
Elnora Ruthanne Whitsett.
I had lived with that name for seventy-two years.
I had never expected to see it in a place like this.
I asked Rosella whether Henrietta had made the arrangement herself.
She explained that the record reflected an arrangement made before Henrietta died.
I asked whether the timing mattered.
Rosella explained the information she could verify and encouraged me to focus on the actual entry rather than on what I feared it might mean.
I listened carefully.
I did not want to rush her.
I did not want to hear only the parts that gave me hope.
If the record had limitations, I wanted to know about them.
If something remained uncertain, I wanted that uncertainty made clear.
Rosella seemed to understand.
She answered what she could and pointed out what needed careful interpretation.
For once, I did not feel embarrassed about asking the same question twice.
I had worked for decades without pretending that I knew things I didn't.
There was no reason to start pretending now.
At one point, I sat back and rubbed my hands together.
I had been holding them tightly without realizing it.
Rosella noticed.
"Take your time."
I nodded.
That was what I intended to do.
I had not come there to win an argument.
I had come because Henrietta had wanted me contacted.
I wanted to honor that request by understanding the matter properly.
We continued reviewing the entry.
I asked about the details that identified the property and the person named in the record.
Rosella showed me how those details fit together.
I could not claim to understand every legal term.
But I was learning to follow the information without allowing my imagination to run ahead.
That was progress.
I thought about Carlton's check.
For days, I had treated it as though it were the final statement about my relationship with the Lockridge family.
Now I understood that it was only a check ending my employment.
Whatever Henrietta had arranged was a separate matter.
The two events had happened close together, but they were not the same.
Carlton could dismiss me from my job.
That did not automatically explain what Henrietta had done with her property before she died.
I looked at Rosella.
"I want to make sure I understand everything before I speak to anyone else."
She nodded.
"That is a sensible approach."
I felt a little more settled.
I had spent much of my life being careful not to offend people who had more money or influence than I did.
That habit had sometimes kept me from asking questions I needed answered.
I was beginning to see that respect did not require silence.
I could speak politely and still insist on understanding.
I could acknowledge my limitations without pretending that I had no rights of my own.
When we finished, I gathered my notes and returned them to my purse.
I thanked Rosella for her patience.
She reminded me that I could ask for clarification if I needed it.
Then I stood beside the table and looked at the deed book one last time.
My name remained where Henrietta had arranged for it to be recorded.
I did not yet know what that would mean for my future.
But I no longer felt that I was trespassing simply by trying to understand it.
I had come because Henrietta had asked that I be contacted.
I was taking the matter seriously.
That was all I could do for now.
Outside, the day was bright.
I walked to the Buick and unlocked the door.
For the first time since the funeral, I drove away from the courthouse feeling that I had made a decision based on something other than fear.
I would keep learning.
I would keep asking.
And I would not let the manner in which Carlton had dismissed me convince me that I had no reason to look more closely at the record.
Click here to continue reading: PART 22: The Name Beneath Rosella’s Finger Was Mine, and I Finally Stopped Treating Henrietta’s Decision as Something I Had No Right to Understand
For Twenty-Six Years, I Thought I Knew My Place in That Family, Until Mrs. Lockridge Asked Me a Question I Couldn’t Understand
Part 21 of 24
