“How did you find me?”

His first response was to sit up straight, probably something he learned in grade school. When an adult asks a question part of the answer is represented by posture.

“I went to college in Rhode Island but couldn’t hack it so I got a job on a farm but that was hard and I got sick.”

“Sick with what?”

“. . . and my mother and her husband came out and brought me to his house,” he said, passing right over the question. “I was there when you called and Mom got so upset. She always told me never to mention my sister, but then her and Lambert were fighting about it. You know . . . arguing without raising their voices.”

“Lambert is your mother’s husband?”

He nodded and gulped down some air. “He’s the one that said your name. My mother told him that you were a Negro detective in LA. After I got better I hitched out here because, um, um, that little girl is my blood no matter what color she is.”

“You just climbed up on the freeway in Boston and put out a thumb?” I asked. “You didn’t even know where to find me but you bummed across country for thousands of miles?”

“What’s wrong with that?” Milo said, showing his first glimmer of backbone.

“Her name is Feather and she’s been with me—”

“Did you name her that?” he asked, cutting me off.

“No. Your sister did . . . before she died.” The last three words caused Milo to blink.

“She’s my blood, not yours,” he said, against tears.

“But I’m her legal guardian. I got the papers in a file cabinet at our home.”

This testament slowed the young man’s passion. His eyes softened and he said, “I want to see my niece.”

My breath became deadly shallow and I could feel my body tensing, seemingly of its own accord. The violence I was feeling must have shown on my face.

“Look, man,” the hippie said. “I just want to meet her. I want to know my family. I don’t care if she’s black. It’s my mother that’s racist, not me.”

I had my own opinions about that.

“I understand,” I said. “But you can see that this is a big thing, right? Feather is still just a child and I’m the only family she’s ever had—me and her brother, Jesus. I have to tell her that you’re here and then ask her what she wants to do.”

“But I’m her blood,” Milo countered.