Flowers in the Snow (6 page)

Betty had a notebook tucked under her arm as she charged out of the woods, down the hill, and into Alma’s side door. She was out of breath as she stumbled through, but, like always, her adrenaline kept her from slowing down.

“I’ll never get used to you just barging through that door,” Alma groaned as she carried an armful of laundry to the table to start folding it. Betty knew she was expected to help so she grabbed a towel and got to work.

“I brought a notebook today so I can write stuff down. That helps me remember,” Betty said with a prideful smile.

“Mama will make a rule about that. She won’t want you walking around with book full of the stuff she’s told you. It won’t matter today though. I don’t know where she is.”

“What do you mean you don’t know where she is?” Betty asked, feeling frustrated she might not get what she came for.

“She was at school today, teaching like she always does. I saw her in the hallway twice on my way to recess. But then when I walked home from school, she wasn’t here. She must’ve had to stay after school for something,” Alma said with a casual shrug.

“Aren’t you worried? Something might’ve happened to her. We should go out looking.” Betty dropped the towel she was folding to the table and moved toward the little window at the front of the shack. She pushed aside the thick Army blanket they’d hung up as curtains and peered outside.

“You really are dense. My mama would whoop me seven ways to Sunday if I went out looking for her. She’d tell me she’s a big girl and can handle herself. She wants me right here after school. Just look at what happened last time I disobeyed. I nearly got my block knocked off by some hillbilly with a baseball bat, and I got stuck with you.”

“What happened? Why are you being so mean to me now? You’re the one who invited me in here that first day. You insisted your mama let me in.” Betty felt her cheeks pink as she was reminded Alma wasn’t quite as welcoming as Winnie had become. “Why don’t you like me? I’m nice to you. I don’t treat you like other white folks treat you. I help you with your chores while I’m here. I saved you, you should like me.” Betty had grown accustomed to not being liked. Her whole life she’d felt different from everyone around her. The best shot she had was wearing people down. Being around until they warmed up to her. But so far with Alma it hadn’t worked.

“It was easier before when I was just supposed to not trust any white person
ever
. That was the rule my mama gave me. Keep to myself. Be respectful. Apologize for being in the way. Now you’ve got me wondering which ones are the bad apples and which ones might be all right. I liked it better when I didn’t have to think about it.” Alma folded the clothes on the table quickly, looking like she’d rather be anywhere else. But Betty knew the tiny shack left nowhere to hide.

“Sorry for making you use your brain,” Betty shot back jokingly. “You should know, though, I’m not going anywhere. My plan is to keep coming here and keep trying to understand the world best I can. You don’t have to like me. You’d have lots of company standing in that line with you, ’cause most people don’t like me.” Betty kept her chin raised high as she folded the last towel. “I can even help you with your school work if you’d like.”

“I don’t need any help. I’m real good at fractions and history. I get perfect grades,” Alma shot back, lifting a brow and flashing her attitude.

“But you’re a year behind me. You can’t already be doing fractions. We just barely started them. My daddy told me your schools are way behind ours. He said your brains aren’t as big as ours.” Betty never meant to sound harsh, but she could tell by the reaction on Alma’s face she’d crossed a line.

“When are you going to realize your daddy is a moron?” Alma huffed, and Betty realized how profound that statement was. She wasn’t surprised by Alma’s opinion of her father but the fact she was willing to say it to her spoke volumes about how she saw Betty as a friend, not someone to fear.

“Everything he’s told you so far is malarkey. I’m tired of talking about this stuff. How would you like it if I told you stuff about you that wasn’t true? If I walked into your house and plopped myself down and just started saying how dumb you are, how dirty you are? Can’t we ever talk about anything different?” Alma pursed her lips and folded her arms across her chest.

Betty gave it some thought. She had been coming here for two weeks and for the most part the only thing they ever talked about was what Betty was interested in. And it did usually turn out to be something that was probably pretty insulting. She had no clue what Alma liked. “What do you want to talk about? Is there anything you like to do?”

“I make bracelets,” Alma said proudly, unfolding her arms and turning her wrist out so Betty could see one. Tied tightly and looped around three times was a colorful woven bracelet. “My daddy brings extra thread and string home from the mill, and I turn it into these. I taught myself how to make all different kinds.”

“Wow.” Betty smiled, leaning in close to see the intricate pattern the different colored threads had created. “Can you teach me how to make one?”

“I can try. It might be hard since our brains are different sizes,” Alma teased. “I’ll go get my basket of thread.” Alma jogged off around the corner and quickly reappeared with a tiny basket and a big smile. Guilt nagged at Betty’s stomach at the realization she’d been so painfully rude and selfish since meeting Alma. The world had suddenly gotten so serious around her she forgot what having a little fun felt like.

Within a few minutes the walls between the girls crumbled under the weight of their laughter. Two bracelets and four cookies later they’d made more than something nice to wear on their wrists. They’d built a bridge between them with thread and knots.

“I’m sorry if the stuff I’ve been asking sounds rude. I didn’t mean any of it that way. I’m starting to think everything everyone says about colored folks is pretty much a lie. I just don’t understand why. When did all this start?” Betty slipped a bracelet on Alma’s wrist and tied it tightly for her.

“I dunno know. A long time ago, I guess. Maybe that’s the question you should be asking Mama. She knows all about history and stuff. Her grandma was a slave.”

“Where is she anyway? It’s almost time for me to get gone before your daddy comes home. Has she ever been this late before?”

“She has to stay after school sometimes. That’s probably it.” Alma didn’t look up from her bracelet as she spoke, and Betty could tell she was fighting worry.

Betty opened her mouth to offer something comforting but stopped when she heard a board on the front porch creak. “Go in the back room,” Alma ordered, jumping to her feet to see out the window.

“Don’t bother,” Winnie’s voice called as she pushed open the door. “I heard you two laughing from down the street. And when you tell someone to hide you gotta tell them quiet like. You two were as loud as the choir on Easter Sunday.

“Sorry, Mama,” Alma offered as she dove into her mother’s arms. “Where have you been? You’re so late.”

“Was a long day, that’s all. Now tell me what you two girls are doing making all that ruckus. The way you’ve been acting lately I figured I’d come home and you two would be throwing punches at each other, not laughing and playing.”

“We made up,” Betty said, throwing a smile at Alma. “I was being kind of a pain asking all those questions but never really getting to know you. I’m sorry for that.”

“Making bracelets helped,” Alma added, showing her mom the matching bracelets they were both wearing.

Winnie looked down at their wrists pressed together, showing off what they’d done like it was a badge of honor. “Look at you two. Look at this right here.” She held both their wrists as her eyes began to well with tears. “How come two little girls can figure this out but the whole country can’t get it right?”

“Mama, why are you crying? What happened?” Alma’s face filled with worry at the sight of her mother’s show of emotion.

Winnie moved over toward the table and gestured for them both to sit down. “I’ve told you a lot over the last couple of weeks. You understand now the difference between what the government is insisting on versus what’s actually happening in places like Edenville. But certain things, like segregation of the schools, can’t go on anymore. They’re cracking down. They’re forcing it. I’ve told you about how it’s been in other places. I was hoping they’d keep it at bay a while longer here though.”

“Wouldn’t you want Alma going to our schools? We have all new books and they just built a whole new music room.” Betty cocked her head to the side looking thoroughly confused.

“It’s not safe,” Winnie sighed, dropping her head down. “She wouldn’t be safe there. But it’s nothing to fret over because I worked it out. She doesn’t have to go.”

“I don’t? Thank you, Mama. I don’t wanna go through all that. I’ve seen what they do to us. How did you work it out?”

“I promised to teach there instead,” Winnie announced, turning her chin up as though it was an unavoidable truth.

“No,” Alma cried, her face crumpling. “You can’t, Mama. You can’t go into that school and try to teach. You know how bad it will be.”

“There’s nothing we can do about it. It is what it is. I’ll start there next quarter, and as long as I do, you won’t have to go there. We’re nearly out of here anyway. You know that.”

Betty’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of them leaving. “What do you mean you’re nearly out of here? Where are you going?”

“You think we live in squalor for nothing? Every dime we don’t spend on fancy things and a decent house has been saved so we can move from this hateful place. Since the day Alma was born we’ve been just biding our time until we can get somewhere safer. My husband’s mama just passed on a few months ago, and she was the last of our kin. We’ve got nearly enough to leave,” Winnie explained, noticeably unable to meet Betty’s sad eyes.

“You can’t just leave. For weeks you’ve been telling me all about these people trying to make things better. They’re fighting against this and being brave. How can you want to run away? Don’t you want to be a fighter?” Betty furrowed her brows as she tried to make a case for her new friends to stay in Edenville.

Winnie’s face hardened in a way that made Betty’s stomach flip over with anxiety. She did her share of making grown-ups angry, but so far Winnie had been immensely patient with her.

“I am not a fighter because I am a mother first. Do you know what kind of hellfire would rain down over this family if we went and sat at a lunch counter and waited to be served? I won’t do that to my child. It’s not fair,” Winnie shot back angrily. “My job is not to fix the world, it’s to keep her safe while it’s broken. You are damn lucky you aren’t my child right now.”

Betty’s head drooped and tears filled the corners of her eyes as she realized how badly she’d hurt Winnie.

“She means if you were hers she’d be whooping you right now,” Alma interjected but quieted quickly when her mother shot her a look.

“I’m sorry,” Betty whispered. “I don’t think you’re a coward. I just don’t want you to leave. I don’t want to be here either.”

With a huff Winnie stood and opened her arms to Betty who dove into them with force as the tears flowed freely down her face.

Before any of them could speak again footsteps crossed the front porch. Alma sprang forward, but Betty was frozen in fear as the door opened.

“Nate you scared us half to death,” Winnie sighed as the man dropped his heavy bag and moved toward them. Betty could easily deduce this was Alma’s dad. They shared so many features, and she’d heard Winnie use the name Nate when speaking about him before. But that knowledge didn’t alleviate her fear. How would they explain away her presence here?

“What are you doing home early, Daddy?” Alma asked as she threw her arms around his waist. Betty watched as his face lit up while holding his daughter. She couldn’t remember a time when her father had looked half as pleased to see her.

Betty shrank back, trying to make herself as small as possible, and thought maybe it was working because no one had addressed her yet. Surely she’d be in big trouble for being here, so she readied herself as Nate began to speak. “I got word about the school integrating, and the boss let me take off to come see if you were all right. Everyone was talking about how you were on the short list of teachers. They can’t really force you to work there, can they?” Nate asked, running a hand over his wife’s cheek, heavy worry on his brow.

“It’s me or Alma. That’s what they told me,” Winnie choked out, looking ready to cry.

“I should get on home,” Betty said just above a whisper as she made a move for the door.

“Aren’t you gonna say hi to my daddy?” Alma asked, giving Betty a cross look as though she were being terribly rude. 

“I-I didn’t think he’d want me here,” she stammered in a tiny voice as she stared down at her shoes.

“I don’t,” he said flatly, “but they do, and they always get what they want when it comes to me. I’m a sucker for a few tears.” Nate gave a shrug and a half smile.

“You already knew I’ve been coming here?” Betty asked with wide eyes. She had assumed the moment he found out he’d put an end to it.

“I don’t keep secrets from my husband,” Winnie said, planting a kiss on his cheek. “I just bother him until he lets me do things my way, like any good marriage.”

“But you should get on home,” Nate said, his dark eyes soft but tired. Betty was in awe of his height. He towered over her and would have stood a few inches over her father even. His shoulders were wide under his dirty cotton jumpsuit, and she could tell his battered hands had already worked a lifetime. “It’s getting wild out there all of a sudden. Word’s spreading that at the start of next term there’ll be black teachers at Edenville East. People are gathering in the center of Main Street protesting. I doubt it’ll end there. That kind of stuff takes on a life of its own at some point.”

“I bet my daddy’s there,” Betty said absent-mindedly, as though she were giving a weather update. “He doesn’t think we should be mixing in school or church or anywhere. He’s Klan.”

“You ain’t telling me anything I don’t already know. That’s why I don’t think it’s a good idea to have you coming round here. But when Winnie has her mind set to something there ain’t no changing it.” Nate and Winnie exchanged a knowing look that Betty couldn’t read.

“You got that right,” Alma snickered.

“Thank you, sir, for letting me come here. I don’t have nothing else to look forward to all day.” Betty reached for the door handle but froze when Nate grabbed her wrist suddenly.

“You hear that?” he asked in a hushed voice. Betty strained her ears but the only thing she could hear was the nervous thumping of her heart.  “There’s a crowd coming,” he said with a crackling, nervous voice.

Winnie peered out the window, working hard to keep from being seen. “It’s a whole mess of people coming down the hill like a swarm of angry bees. You gotta hide, girl.”

“No,” Nate grunted, dragging Betty toward the side door. “You’ve got time. You can get up those rocks, but you’ve gotta go now.”

“But what are they doing here? What’ll they do to you?” Betty’s heart was thudding fiercely when Nate swung open the side door.

“It won’t be nothing compared to what they’ll be doing if they catch you here. Go on,” he said in a hushed voice as he shoved her forward again.

The smell of wet moss overtook Betty’s nose as she shimmied herself up the rocks and tucked herself away where she couldn’t be seen. It would have been wise of her to run straight home, but something kept her frozen. She couldn’t see over the rock she was tucked behind, but she closed her eyes and strained to hear any noise she could. Her labored breathing settled, and she folded her hands together, praying hard for all sorts of things that were bolting through her head. She prayed she wouldn’t get caught. She prayed the crowd coursing through the dirt streets that separated the shacks would not hurt anyone.

There were moments she wanted to cover her ears to block out the shouting of obscenities and hatred but she forced herself to listen. This was what Winnie had told her was going on in the world. This is what was happening here, and hearing it herself solidified it for her.

Betty watched the sun fall below the tree line and heard the thundering crowd fall away. She wanted so desperately to go back and make sure Alma and Winnie were safe, but she knew she’d already be in trouble back home for being out past sunset. She stood, peered down quickly at the shack and then ran off into the woods. Whipping branches slapped across her face and thorny thickets latched to her socks as she raced back home.

Her house came into view and her stomach turned with unease. Nothing about coming home ever felt good anymore. The only thing she craved now was the warm fire burning at Winnie’s house and a giant heaping of her special mashed potatoes. She’d trade any of her belongings for one tight hug from the woman who made everything feel a little less scary.