We gave him no answer. I just looked at Mr. Beasley, then back to Guy, and Morris said, “Come on. We’ve got to get him to the hospital.”
By this time Mrs. Batie and the Steptoes had joined us. They helped up Mr. Beasley as Morris brought his car as close to Guy as he could, then we lifted Guy onto the back seat. Guy was too tall to lie totally prone, so I got in and we lifted his upper body so that I could hold him in a sitting position to my chest with his legs outstretched on the seat. Morris started the car, and the Steptoes, Mrs. Batie, and Mr. Beasley all stepped back, silently watching as Morris turned the car around and we headed back toward Strawberry. They would have to walk the last half mile to Great Faith.
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
At the hospital, Morris and I explained that we had found Guy in the middle of the road. We gave them Guy’s name and how to contact his family. The white doctors listened, asked a few questions, and took Guy away. We had come through the white entrance and they had allowed us to do so since Guy was white, but now, with Guy gone, we were relegated to the colored waiting room. Right after that I found a pay phone, called the law firm, and spoke directly to Guy’s father. I told him that Guy had been beaten and was now in the hospital. I told him Guy was unconscious, but I didn’t go into detail. I didn’t know who could be listening in on the call. Mr. Hallis said he would be taking the earliest flight he could get. I also called home to let Mama and Papa know Morris and I had taken Guy to the hospital. I told them no more than that and they asked no questions. They understood questions would have to wait until I was home. After that, Morris and I waited. We waited for several hours but no one came to tell us anything. Finally we asked at the desk about Guy. The nurse looked at her chart, then back at us. “He’s not on here,” she said.
“He’s white,” said Morris.
The nurse looked skeptical. “White? You work for him?”
“We brought him in,” Morris replied. “We’d like to know how he’s doing.”
The nurse was wary. “Well, I wouldn’t know. He’s in the white wing of the hospital.”
“Can’t you find out?” I asked.
“Now, why would I do that?” questioned the nurse. “You’re not family.”
“Never can tell,” I said. The nurse gave me an irritated look. “Well, can you tell us anything?”
“What did I just say?” demanded the nurse.
I felt like going around that desk and yanking her. “Lady, I didn’t ask you about what you just said! I asked you if you can tell us anything about how Guy Hallis is doing!”
Morris interceded. “Ma’am, can you at least check for us to see about his condition? We’ve been waiting some time now to find out how he is.”
The nurse turned her back on us without answering Morris. I started toward her, but Morris, his hand grasping my arm, led me away. “Come on, Cassie, that’s not going to help anything for you to go off on her. There’s nothing we can do but wait.”
So, that’s what we did. We waited.
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
Morris and I waited all night long. We asked several more times about Guy but still got no answers. The night passed and the morning came. The shift changed and the new nurse on duty was a bit more cordial. She made some inquiries about Guy, but learned nothing concerning his condition. She said she had left word for Mr. Hallis when he arrived that we were waiting. It was not until early afternoon that we received word about Guy. It came directly from Mr. Hallis. “They told me you were here,” he said as he entered the waiting room.
I rushed over to him. “How is he? They wouldn’t tell us anything.”
“Still unconscious, Cassie. He’s got broken ribs, some internal injuries—”
“Did they operate?”
Mr. Hallis shook his head. He glanced at Morris and gave a nod in greeting, but did not speak to him. “And they’re not going to.” He hesitated. “There could be some brain injury. . . .”
I was silent.
“After you called, I called down here and talked to these doctors directly and then called my own physician. I’ve decided to take Guy back to Boston.”
“What?”
“I’ve hired a medical plane. They’re moving Guy to an ambulance now to take him to the airport.”
“Well, wait—can’t I see him?”
“Afraid not. There’s not time. I have to go. I’m riding in the ambulance with him.”
“But I need to see him—”
“No, Cassie . . . this is not the right time. I’ll be filing a report and talking with the local police about what happened. I’ll see to his car too. Now, I’ve got to go. I’ll keep in touch.” He gently touched my arm. “I’ll call you, Cassie. I believe the office has a number for you down here. We’ll get back to you.” Mr. Hallis then turned and left the waiting room.
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
Before going home, Morris and I went to Great Faith. We passed Guy’s car, still in the ditch. At Great Faith we let the other registration workers know about Guy, then Morris took me home. We both needed sleep, but I stayed up for a while telling Mama, Papa, and Big Ma all that had happened.
“And that’s all you know about Mr. Hallis’s condition?” asked Mama.
“His father has your number. He or someone will call to let us know how Guy is doing when they know. If they don’t call before night, I’ll call them. Right now, I’m going to get some sleep.”
“And no one got registered?” Mama said as I turned toward Big Ma’s room.
I looked back at her. “No, ma’am. Not one person.”
Mama, Papa, and Big Ma looked at each other and were silent. That was what was expected. I went to bed, but as exhausted as I was, I couldn’t sleep. I kept seeing Guy bloodied on our Mississippi road, Guy who had hardly known pain in his privileged life, Guy who had come down here so optimistic and innocent, unaware of how brutal these people could be, Guy who put his life on the line because of his feelings for me. When evening came and there was no word yet from Boston, I called the Hallis house. Neither Mr. Hallis nor Mrs. Hallis was available, but the word on Guy was that he was now conscious. Little else was known. I thought about returning to Boston.
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
“You’re very worried about this young man, aren’t you?” Papa asked when I stepped onto the front porch. Papa was sitting alone on the steps, looking out across the land to the forest. I sat down beside him.