Flowers in the Snow (15 page)

“Did he say anything back?” Frankie asked, clearly hoping he had, and this would be the happy ending of a perfectly scripted movie.

“No,” Betty admitted, dropping her head down. “But one of the last things he did with the little strength he had was hand me his pocket watch. I know he was telling me to give it new meaning, to hand it down to a whole different generation of people.”

“Wow,” Michael breathed as he leaned back in his chair and stretched his back. “That is a truly amazing story, Betty. I’ve always respected the woman you are, but I’ll admit I’m going to have a hard time teasing you about anything now. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ll still find a way, but it’ll be harder.”

“I’m sure you will,” Betty giggled, waving Michael off. “There’s more to the story, like I said, but we don’t have to finish it up tonight if everyone is tired.”

“I still can’t believe you did all that,” Frankie cut in. “Weren’t you so scared? Even jumping in front of those men to save Winnie, weren’t you afraid?”

“All the time,” Betty admitted.

“And you haven’t told us how you reconnected with Winnie,” Bobby added. “When did you and Alma start writing each other? I’m surprised you’ve never talked about her before; we never had the chance to meet her.”

“You sure you want to hear all this? It’s getting late.” Betty had seen yawns beginning to become contagious a few minutes ago, and she didn’t want anyone feeling trapped here.

“We want to hear it, all of it. What was in her last letter to you?” Piper asked, remembering the envelope Betty seemed reluctant to open.

“I haven’t brought myself to reading it yet,” Betty admitted, pulling the envelope off the table next to her rocking chair. “In the last letter she sent me she told me there would only be one more, and when I got it I’d know she’d passed on. Reading it would signify the end of everything we’ve ever had.”

“Read it now,” Clay suggested as he rubbed Betty’s back supportively. “We’re all here with you. We all know who she was now. Let us share it with you.”

As Betty thought it over the pitch black driveway was burst open by the bright beams of headlights.

“Who could that be?” Bobby asked, getting to his feet quickly. Michael followed suit and strained his eyes to try to identify the car.

“It’s a cab,” Michael said, looking over his shoulder at Betty as if she might know something the rest of them didn’t. But she shot back a puzzled look that seemed to put everyone on edge. History had told them, as the consummate puppetmaster of all things, if Betty didn’t know what was going on, they should all be worried.

“I think I should have read that letter,” Betty laughed as she stood, having to brace herself against the railing of the porch. Every eye bounced from her to the person stepping out of the cab then back just in time to see her giant smile.

“Ma, who is that?” Jules asked, walking beside Betty as she stepped down the stairs.

“Betty?” the man asked as the cab driver pulled his bag from the trunk, and he slung it over his shoulder. His hair was salt and pepper and the wrinkles at the side of his eyes had grown deeper, but he was still the way she remembered him.

“What are doing here?” Betty asked, racing down the stairs with a skip in her step she hadn’t felt in decades.

“You didn’t read the letter, did you?” he asked, tossing his head back with a laugh. “I’ve been traveling for the last twenty-seven hours to get here, and I should have known you would have held that letter and not read it.”

Betty flashed the envelope she had in her hand and they chuckled at the irony. “I was just sitting out here with all my family telling them our story. Well, most of it. I suppose with you being here I’ll have to keep them up late tonight and finish what I started.”

“Ma, I don’t want to be rude, but who is this?” Jules asked, looking confused and a bit concerned.

“Can’t you see it dear? Look at him in the light,” Betty insisted as she dragged him up the stairs under the light of the porch for everyone to see.

Bobby was the first notice it. Maybe it was his keen police officer’s eye. “He looks just like Stan. He looks like your dad, Jules, but with dark hair.”

“Oh my gosh,” Jules said in astonishment as she tilted her head to see him from different angles. “Who?” she asked her mother as the tears began to form in her eyes.

“This is your uncle,” Betty announced as she slipped her arm into his. “This is Simpson.”

“But, how?” Frankie asked, jumping to her feet. “He was killed, wasn’t he? You said they killed him that night. Did he come back from the dead?”

“Well, for four hundred thirty-one days I thought they had killed him. Then I got a second letter from Winnie, and everything changed.” Betty squeezed his arm, unable to believe he was back in Edenville, a place he swore he would never return to. “I never expected to see you back here.”

“I don’t understand,” Jules said, covering her mouth in astonishment. “What are you doing here?”

“I better read this,” Betty said, flashing the envelope again.

“Out loud,” Michael insisted, clearly trying to piece it all together.

Dear Betty,

As I told you this will be my last letter. I won’t draw out my goodbye. There is nothing to say here that hasn’t already been said. It’s written on both our hearts. So the only thing I’ll ask of you is the biggest favor of all. I give back to you the one thing you gave to me all those years ago.

Please carry him through this time the way your love has always carried me. The only reason I can close my eyes and leave this earth is because I know he will not be alone. The stories of the family you have built remind me so much of my mother, and I know she would be so proud of you. Add my dearest Simpson to your treasured family.

Love always,

Alma

“What the hell is going on?” Frankie asked, tossing her hands up in the air in complete frustration.

“Language,” multiple adults on the porch shouted at once, and Frankie shrank back. But her exasperation was certainly being felt by most of them.

“What do you need Simpson, a drink? Are you hungry? I can fix you a plate. You must have had quite the journey to get back here.” Betty led him to a chair that he gladly took.

“I might not make it off this porch if you don’t tell them the rest of your story. I think I can wait for something to eat. They don’t look like they can wait to hear what happened to me.” Simpson looked around the porch with that crooked smile Betty remembered so fondly.

“Popcorn,” Piper said, pushing a bowl into his lap. “Now talk.” She laughed, gesturing for them to get on with the story.

“Where did you leave off?” Simpson asked as he tossed a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “I guess I was dead already, judging by the way everyone is looking at me. I can assure you, I’m not a ghost.”

“I hadn’t gotten to the part where Winnie wrote me a second letter yet. It was just after Stan and I got engaged. It was the happiest I had been in a long time, but I was sad not to be able to share it with the people I loved the most. The day the letter came that all changed. Betty reached into her shoebox of old things and grabbed a faded greeting card covered on every available surface with writing.

Dear Betty,

I’ve been waiting so long for this day. We’ve all debated it over and over again. When would the moment be right? When could we share with you the joy we’ve kept secret for so long. That day is today. We heard last week that Stan and Simpson’s father had died. It was one of many factors in our decision. The Klan itself is mostly depleted, and the civil rights movement is forging ahead with great victories. The fear that lived in us, that kept us from communicating, has become smaller than our desperate need to hear from you.

The first thing I must ask is for is your forgiveness. When the joy of the news I have to tell you subsides, there will undoubtedly be anger for keeping you in the dark. Under the very troubling circumstance by which this all transpired Nate and I felt it necessary to tell no one the truth of the matter. Second, I ask that you please vow to keep this a secret. There are all manners of challenges that would come if you revealed this to anyone.

I don’t even know where to begin. On that horrible night after the dance, you witnessed so many things. You saw the culmination of hate, the bravery of a hero, and the test of even your own will. But what you didn’t see is the murder of Simpson. That’s because he was not killed. As the fighting ensued he was beaten badly, slashed, and stabbed, but he survived. After I ran home and told Nate what had happened, he charged up to the school. The police had not yet arrived, but the Klan had dispersed, as you would expect cowards to do. Nate found Simpson at the edge of a fire, about to be consumed by it. He lifted his very broken body up and carried him back to our house. We did everything we could to patch him up and then hid him. The following day we got word about who died, and Simpson’s name was on the list. We heard how cold and cruel his mother had been, and we knew if he survived this it wouldn’t be long before they tried again to kill him.

In that moment Nate and I decided if he were to have any chance at a real life it would need to be far from Edenville. When he was well enough to travel, we packed up our truck in the dead of the night and escaped. Simpson is alive. He is alive and well.

We’ve opened a special mailbox that doesn’t have our address in case anyone in town still has the desire to hurt us and intercepts one of these letters. Please write back. We are so desperate to hear from you. I pray you’re happy. I pray you forgive our omission of the truth, and I pray to see you again someday soon.

Your family,

Winnie, Nate, Alma, and Simpson.

There was not a composed person or dry eye on the porch as Betty closed the card and placed it back in the box. “I sobbed for hours after I got that. I cried nearly as much when I found out he was alive as I had when I thought he was dead,” Betty explained.

“Did you tell Stan?” Piper asked, completely intrigued. “He was his brother and your fiancé. Did you do what Winnie asked and keep the secret, or did you tell him?”

“I told him,” Betty replied incredulously. “I knew darn well if Winnie had known the circumstances, she’d have insisted I tell him. Plus the poor guy walked in on my wailing away like a loony bird, so I had to tell him I had a good reason for it.”

“What happened next?” Bobby asked, shooting her a look like she was getting off track, and he wanted just the facts of it all.

“We cried together. We laughed. We got mad they didn’t tell us. And we forgave them. That night we each wrote a letter and sent them to their post office box in Arizona. So started the communication that would span forty more years.

“You never went to see them?” Frankie asked with a twisted up face. “Arizona isn’t that far.”

“We saw them once more. Winnie had made sure she’d never step on Edenville soil again. She’d written off the entire state and most of the surrounding ones. Money was very tight all around, so getting there was harder than you think.”

“I thought you’d never left Edenville,” Piper said. “When I first met you and you went out to Illinois with us you said that.”

“This trip never existed. My mother thought I was at a girls’ campout for the weekend. We didn’t buy any knick-knacks to commemorate it. It was a secret, so I’ve lived like it never happened. For a long time it was as if none of this ever happened.”

“That’s certainly the impression you get here in Edenville,” Bobby groaned. “In all the years I’ve lived here, I’ve never seen any type of memorial or even the discussion of what happened.”

“Dark times, Bobby,” Betty said gently. “People were not all bad then, even if it sounded that way from my story. There were plenty of folks who weren’t the least bit prejudiced, probably a lot of stories just like mine. The problem was there were a few terrible voices that came together very loudly. It scared people. When integration was going on people came in from other states to knock on doors and rile up people who otherwise weren’t worked up at all. I don’t blame the whole town, though you might feel different, Simpson; I won’t speak for you.”

“I’ll be honest, I haven’t given it much thought over the years. I’ve made it a point not to. When I do, it takes me somewhere I don’t want to be.” Simpson busied himself with a couple more handfuls of popcorn and waited for the subject to change.

“You married Alma?” Jules asked, still looking like she was staring at a ghost. “So she was my aunt? I’d have liked to see you guys. I would have gone wherever to meet her.”

“I’m sure she’d have loved you,” Simpson said apologetically. “We weren’t in Arizona long before Winnie passed away, and I joined the service. I explained the situation to my commanding officer, and he was empathetic. Being in an interracial marriage was incredibly difficult. We knew we’d do better the farther away we could get. We took Nate with us and traveled around the world.”

“Did you start a family?” Piper cut in. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“We have two sons. Both in the military now too, and I couldn’t be prouder of them. After I retired Alma and I stayed near my last post on an island off Japan. It was quiet, and we lived very many peaceful years there,” Simpson explained. “Nate lived to be eighty, and we were happy to have him around.”

“How did you and Alma start dating? I can’t imagine what a whirlwind that must have been,” Jules asked, finally sounding optimistic again.

Simpson opened his mouth to speak, slipped his hat off his head, and held it to his chest. When he couldn’t seem to muster the words, Betty cut in.

“That’s Simpson’s story to tell if he ever feels like he wants to. He’s been on a long journey back here, and I’m sure he’s exhausted. We should let him get settled. I’ll need to do some stuff up in Jules’s old room to make it comfortable for you. Unless you like pink and frills?”

“I told Alma a million times I didn’t want to put you out, but she made me swear I’d come out here to you. It was her dying wish, but you should know I’m not sure I’ll be staying all that long. Being back here . . .” he trailed off as he drew in a deep breath.

“Well you’re staying at least the night; the rest we can talk about tomorrow. I’m just so happy to have you here. Seeing you again, wrapping my arms around you, gives me so much joy,” Betty squeezed his shoulder with one hand and wiped her tears away with the other.

“You remind me so much of Winnie,” he smiled and patted her hand that rested on his shoulder. “Alma is right; she’d be mighty proud of you.”

“I don’t want this to be over,” Jules admitted as she wiped a tear from her own eye. “My family just grew tonight. You’re my daddy’s brother. You look so much like him, and I don’t want to go home. I have a million questions for you about him. Please don’t be too much in a rush to leave. I’d be sorry to see you go.”

“Me being back here, letting people know I’m alive after all these years, will surely bring lots of turmoil. I’d hate to bring all that to kind folks. You seem like such normal people,” Simpson explained, as he looked them all over. “I’d hate to put you through any drama because of me.”

A low laugh broke out between all of them as Piper spoke. “With the exception of Frankie here, you’d be the only one on this porch so far not to come with trouble. And her only excuse is the fact that she’s not been on the planet long enough to have stirred any up yet. We might look sweet and innocent, but we’ve all had our share of trouble.”

“I promise I won’t be running out of here too quick. I gave my word to Alma, but don’t go out of your way for me. I’ve lived in the farthest corners of the world in all sorts of conditions; I can be happy anywhere.”

“I hope that includes Edenville,” Jules said, looking at him again and seeming amazed by how much he resembled her father.