Judy's Journey (19 page)

“Papa, can I keep Barney?” begged Joe Bob, holding the dog up in his arms. “The boys say I can have him again.”

“You shore can, son,” said Papa, “now I've got me a good job.”

They all stayed in Virginia for two months, May and June.

Strawberries were ripe first. The men worked in the packing sheds and everybody else went out in the field to pick. The grower had truckloads of pickers brought out every day from Norfolk, crowds of Negro families. He also sent a truck to the trailer camp to transport the workers there. The road back and forth to the fields was very rough, so the two families decided to save gas and tires by riding in the grower's truck. It was always so crowded with pickers, they had to ride standing.

They had great fun picking. They laughed and joked as they filled the baskets. They ran races to see who could pick the most in the shortest time. Loretta always won. Her fingers were nimble from years of experience. At eleven each morning the picking stopped, so the berries could be shipped before night. The rest of the day the children played.

Strawberries lasted three weeks, then beans came on, but beans were a different story. The crop of beans was heavy and the rows were long. The Darnell children were experienced pickers, and try as hard as she could, Judy always fell behind. Joe Bob got tired by noon and skipped off in the shade of a woods near by, to play with his dog.

But potatoes, which followed beans, were the worst of all. It meant crawling all day long in the dirt, as they had done back in South Carolina. After a week, Mrs. Drummond had to stop. She stayed at the tent and cooked the meals, keeping Cora Jane and Lonnie and Myrtle Darnell with her. Judy was the only Drummond left in the field.

She thought of Loretta's and Jenny's new shoes, and of the Darnells' house-trailer. Tom Darnell had four children and his wife, all experienced pickers, to help him. He himself was a big strong man, twice the size of Jim Drummond. It was easy to see why he got ahead so much better than Papa did. If only Joe Bob would help more, but all he wanted to do was play with his dog. And Mama had to stop picking so she would not get sick again. Papa had only Judy to help him.

Potatoes—potatoes—nothing but potatoes. Judy was sicker of potatoes than she had been of beans. The sun got hotter and hotter. Her ragged overalls stuck to her, and she was red with sunburn and prickly heat. Her straw hat made her head too hot, so she tossed it off. Her back ached badly—she must rest for a minute. She stretched out full length in the dirt.

Lying there, Judy remembered her Geography. School had faded away. She could hardly recall her teacher at Plumtree Creek or Miss Norris at Bean Town. Long ago in Alabama, Papa had bragged that his children were not going to pick, they were going to school to learn things. She had finished the Third Reader … or was it the Fourth .… She tried to remember.

She raised her head and saw that she was being left behind. The Darnells were always ahead in their rows. She roused herself and began to pick up potatoes again. There was no one else to help Papa.

Potatoes, sun and dirt. Potatoes, sun and dirt. But when the day ended, there would be a bath … plenty of water at the trailer camp … a tap of running water .… She didn't have to wash in the molasses bucket the way she did at Bean Town. They could have all the water they wanted without paying a nickel a bucketful, as people had to do in some places. She would sit in the washtub and Mama would pour several bucketfuls over her for a shower when she got back. How good it would feel!

She kept on putting the potatoes into the basket. She shoved the basket along—it was too heavy to lift.

Then she heard the field walker's whistle.

The end of the day had come at last. The baskets were loaded and the pickers hurried to the trucks. The driver of the truck for the trailer camp honked his horn. Judy was the last one to get on. There was no place to sit down, and there was no tail-board on the truck. She clung tightly to the side, as the truck started off down the rough, bumpy road.

About halfway back to the camp, loud screams rang out. Over the noise of the engine and the rattle of the truck the driver heard, and put on his brakes. The truck stopped so abruptly, most of the pickers were thrown off their feet.

“Oh, the poor child!” cried Mrs. Darnell.

There in the dusty road lay Judy, thrown from the truck. Her face was deathly white and her eyes were closed.

Mrs. Darnell reached her first. The other pickers jumped down and crowded round. Joe Bob looked on with a scared, drawn face. The woman examined the girl carefully and saw that no bones were broken. Judy opened her eyes.

“Help me lift her, you,” said Mrs. Darnell to the driver. “Get those big boys out of the front seat. I'll take her in there with me.”

The driver helped to lift Judy, and Mrs. Darnell climbed up. “If you'd a had a tail-board on your truck, this wouldn't a happened.”

“'Tain't my truck,” said the driver. “Belongs to the boss.”

“Poor kid,” said Mrs. Darnell. “The sun's been too much for her. She's half starved too—hasn't had proper food for a coon's age. The whole family work their heads off, but they're poor, dirt poor.”

The truck bounced on again.

Everybody called it sunstroke. Judy had to stay in bed for a week The driver reported the accident to the boss, and a tail-board was put on the truck. The boss came around and was relieved when he learned that the girl had not been seriously injured and need not go to the hospital.

One afternoon when Judy woke up from a brief nap, she had a surprise. A pair of black shiny shoes sat on the box beside her pallet bed. She looked at them listlessly.

“Papa shouldn't pay cash money for shoes,” she said. “We want to save up for a farm.”

“Papa didn't buy 'em,” said Mama. “They're a present from the Darnells.”

“Guess we don't need their ole presents,” said Judy. “We're makin' out by ourselves. We're makin' out fine. When can I go back to the field?”

“You can't go,” said Mama. “Potato crop's over. Job's over. We're movin' on.”

Judy did not pick up the shoes or touch them.

Shoes! New shoes!
She remembered the two Welfare ladies in Florida and how she had expected them to bring shoes. You had to have shoes before you could go to a birthday party. How did the Darnells know what size to get?
What if the shoes were not the right size?

“Don't believe she wanted 'em, after all,” Mama whispered to Mrs. Darnell outside the tent. “She ain't had shoes for years now, she don't hardly know what they're for, poor young un.”

“She don't like 'em?” exclaimed Loretta and Jenny, disappointed.

“Let her rest, she's not herself,” said Mama.

After a while Joe Bob peeped into the tent. He came back, his eyes shining.

“She's pattin' them shoes with her hand, the way I pat Barney,” he said. “She likes 'em all right.”

“
Y
OU ARE MY SUNSHINE
,

My only sunshine,

You make me happy

When skies are gray.

You'll never know, dear,

How much I love you,

Please don't take

My sunshine away
…”

“Oh, stop your singin', Judy,” said Joe Bob. “I'm tard o' your singin' and I'm tard o' ridin'. Won't we never git nowheres?”

“Purty soon, son,” said Papa. He hummed the tune of Judy's song contentedly.

It seemed weeks since the Drummonds had put the jalopy on the ferry across Chesapeake Bay to Cape Charles. There was nothing to be harvested in Maryland but potatoes, so Papa would not stop. Whenever he thought of potatoes, he remembered Judy's accident. He followed Route 13 on and on northward into Delaware. There a county agent told Papa of a grower who was hiring pickers for his apple and peach crops. He had a large orchard of thousands of trees and his early summer apples were ready for harvesting in July. Scores of pickers, black and white, native and foreign, women and children, were taken to the orchards each day.

Tony Torresina, the foreman, lived in a farmhouse a short distance from one of the orchards. A small building, formerly used for a chicken coop, had been simply furnished, and Tony told the Drummonds to move in.

“It's better than the tent,” said Mama.

“It's got a floor and four walls and a roof,” said Judy.

While they were unpacking, a large, fat, smiling woman bustled out of the farmhouse, with several black-haired children hanging to her skirts. Her words had a strange accent which the Drummonds had never heard before, but her tone and her actions were friendly. She helped Mama unpack and get things settled.

“You gotta de goat, eh?” chuckled Mrs. Torresina. “Goin' dry, eh? Well, we take good care of her. We like-a de goat and de goat's milk, it good for bambina.”

Mama asked about water.

Mrs. Torresina pointed to the house. “Your kids—they take turns bringin the water, yes? Angie show you where is the pump. Angie! Angel
-eena
! Angel
-eena
!”

A girl of Judy's age came running out of the farmhouse. She wore a red blouse and a bright blue skirt. She had striped socks on her legs and red sneakers on her feet. Her black hair curled loosely on her shoulders. Her black eyes sparkled as she smiled.

Judy stared. She had never seen a girl like her before.

“Show her where is the pump, Angie,” said Mrs. Torresina. “Go pump water for her.”

Judy picked up the water bucket and walked stiffly at the girl's side, now and then glancing at her out of the corner of her eye. Her mind was made up. She was not going to make any more new friends. Traveling like this, when you made friends, you always had to give them up and never see them again.

The Darnells were gone. She had loved Loretta and Jenny so much. They had given her the new shoes, the new shoes she had never worn. Their father had helped Papa get the best job he ever had, which had put a nice nest-egg into Mama's stocking at last. But the Darnells had decided to go west into the Shenandoah Valley. When they said goodbye, they promised to meet the Drummonds in Florida next winter, but Judy knew she would never see the girls again.

She turned to the Italian girl and asked suddenly, “Is this
up north
?”

The girl was puzzled. “Oh,
north
, yes, up there.” She pointed straight ahead.

“Are you a Yankee?” asked Judy.

“Yan-kee, what's that?” asked Angelina. “No, I'm a gypsy! Gypsy Angie they call me. You know what a gypsy is?”

Judy shook her head.

“I put earrings in my ears—see the holes?” She pointed to her ears and Judy stared. “I got a tambourine with bells on it, and I dance and play and sing. I wear sneakers so I can dance and climb ladders and pick apples .… You don't know what a tambourine is? Or a gypsy?”