Flowers in the Snow (10 page)

“I guess they’re gonna let her in today,” a kid behind Betty whispered as she settled into her desk at the front of the classroom. It had been twenty-one days of pure hell for Winnie and the four other black teachers who’d been hired to work at Edenville East Middle School. They’d been locked out, chased out, and kicked out of the school every time they tried to go to work. Betty had watched it all from behind the brim of the hat she wore every day now. Pulling it low over her eyes, she managed to pretend she wasn’t real most days. The hat was against the dress code, but they’d made an exception considering how awful she looked without it. There were a lot of short styles that people were wearing but her hair was too lopsided and jagged to make any of them work.

“I knew once the National Guard got here there would be no keeping them out,” a boy from the back of the class called. “But it don’t matter; they can’t protect them while they’re in here, and they can’t make us listen to them.”

A couple weeks ago Betty would have stood up in the middle of the class and made a case against that ignorance, but now she just sat silently. She’d convinced her father she was sorry and convinced herself this fight was not hers. Winnie was a grown-up. She could handle herself. Betty had tried to rise above it all, but it didn’t matter. They’d won.

Or had they? As Winnie walked across the threshold of the classroom, escorted by a soldier from the National Guard, Betty had a fleeting feeling of victory. But it was short-lived.

The soldiers left the room, and Winnie stood there as though she didn’t know what to do with herself, something Betty had never seen from her before. Tipping her hat back slightly, she showed her eyes, and Winnie’s glance fell on her. Like electricity they connected, something monumental and undefined happened between them. All Betty could hope was that no one else had seen it.

“I’m Mrs. Winifred Lincoln, I’ll be trying to teach you for the rest of the year.” She placed her bag down on the desk and eyed the rest of the room.

“Trying?” a little snotty girl who still had her pigtails attached to her head asked.

“Well, whether or not you learn anything will be up to you. It’s fine by me if you want to act as though you already know everything. If you leave this room at the end of the year without a stitch more knowledge than when you entered it, you can deal with that. What I won’t accept is rudeness toward me or anyone else in this room. You don’t need to like me. You don’t need to pretend you think I should be here. But at the end of the day I am an adult, an educated teacher who was hired to be here and teach. I deserve a basic level of respect, and you will give that to me.” Winnie propped her hands on her hips and eyed them all in a way that finally reminded Betty of the Winnie she knew.

“Or what?” one of the boys asked with a rude snicker. He lounged back in his chair as though he wouldn’t entertain the idea of respect for a second.

“Or the exact same thing that would happen to you if I were white. I will stand you up in the corner of this room. I will send you to the principal whether he wants to punish you or not. You will have more work assigned to you than you know what to do with, and if you don’t do it, you will fail. Like I said, I couldn’t care less one way or the other. But I want to be fair to you and tell you up front how it will work. Any questions?”

The room sat silent, glances passing between all the kids. Two boys, whom Betty knew to be cousins, stood up, grabbed their books, and stormed out of the room. Expletives slipped from their lips as they slammed the door behind them.

“Well that was easier than I thought.” Winnie shrugged. “Anyone else want to go? Now’s your chance.”

Kids shifted in their chairs but didn’t make a move to stand. There was grumbling among them but nothing that could be understood.

The rest of the day went on normally. Far more so than Betty would have expected. Though every minute that ticked by didn’t find her any more comfortable. The dread and worry that something was about to happen had stayed with her every day since Nicky had cut off her hair.

“Beatrice,” Winnie called, shaking her from her trance. “You’ll be the first to clean the erasers after school today. Then I’ll put a schedule for the rest of the class. Everyone will have a week when they are responsible for it.”

Betty wasn’t sure if she should say, “Yes, ma’am” or if that would make her seem too kind to someone she was supposed to hate. Instead she just nodded her head and fought the pink that was spreading across her cheeks.

Hours later, the class dismissed. A moaning and complaining huddle of kids dispersed, and soon just Betty and Winnie were sitting in the otherwise empty classroom.

“Betty,” Winnie began empathetically, but she was cut off by the wave of her hand.

“You should call me Beatrice. That’s my name. That’s who I am, and I don’t get to change it.” She moved toward the front of the classroom and gathered up the erasers.

“I’m so sorry for what happened to you and so grateful for what you did for Alma. She cries every day now. She misses you and Simpson something fierce. I don’t know how to help her.” Vulnerable wouldn’t have been a term Betty used to describe Winnie up until now, but she just looked too damn tired to hold it back.

“She’ll get over it. My hair will grow back. We should have listened to you all along. We don’t belong mingling like that. It was foolish.”

“You weren’t just mingling. You’re friends. I was wrong to act like you weren’t. I can see how broken her heart is, so I know how much she loves you.” Winnie reached a hand out to touch Betty’s shoulder, but Betty pulled away quickly.

“I’ll clap the erasers and bring them back in. I do hope Alma feels better, and I hope you get treated better here. I certainly won’t give you any trouble.”

“I wouldn’t think you would.” Winnie sighed, looking like her heart was breaking. “You can come by you know. Alma would want to see you.”

“You said I couldn’t once school started,” Betty shot back, sounding angry when she meant to sound hopeful.

“I know what I said. I don’t think I was wrong to say it, but I’m as bad as any of them if I keep you kids apart. I might regret welcoming you back, but I’m already regretting not having you around.” Winnie’s brows furrowed and her mouth turned down with sadness.

“I promised my daddy I’d be better. I promised him I’d steer clear of—” She thought back to the words he’d used, the anger he’d said them with, and the names he’d called her friends. “What’s different anyway? Why invite us back now? We’re no safer there. This same thing could have happened at your place,” Betty challenged, pulling the hat from her head and exposing the damage Nicky had done.

“The difference is my place,” Winnie paused, grabbing Betty’s hand and squeezing it tightly. “If they want to do that at my place they’ll have to come through me first.”

Betty swallowed her emotions and raised her chin as she stacked the last of the erasers. “My mother has a church meeting after school tomorrow. No one would miss me.”

“Good, ’cause we miss you,” Winnie said with a tiny smile lighting her face.

Like being in the clutch of a bear, Betty lost her breath in Alma’s tight hug. She felt an odd mix of relief and fear.

“I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again, not up close anyway,” Alma rejoiced with a buzzing excitement. “I heard what that boy did to you.” She tapped at the hat on Betty’s head and jumped when she was swatted away.

“Please don’t. It looks awful,” Betty said solemnly. “I don’t want you to see it.”

“I don’t care what you look like. If I did don’t you think I’d have noticed you were white by now,” Alma teased.

“I can’t stay very long. I’m not supposed to be out of the house at all really. It wasn’t until I saw your house that I knew I’d come at all,” Betty explained with a sigh.

“We’re mighty glad you did,” Winnie cut in as she dropped a bagful of vegetables on the counter. “Alma, do me a favor and head down to Cynthia’s with these carrots. I promised I’d bring her some.”

“But Betty just got here,” she protested with a stomp of her foot. With a subtle raise of her eyebrow Winnie quieted her daughter, who snatched the carrots away and headed for the door.

“How are you doing, girl?” Winnie asked, moving toward Betty. “What can I do for you? I’ll do anything to take that sadness out of your eyes.”

Betty thought on it for a few seconds. Could a slice of Winnie’s pecan pie do the trick? Could some of her special feel-better soup make a dent in Betty’s heartache? Not likely. “Just,” Betty choked out as she dove into Winnie’s arms, a place she missed terribly, “please don’t turn me out again. No matter what, please don’t tell me not to come back. I need to know you’re here, and I can be here if I need to be. I just need to know someone loves me, no matter what.” Blubbering through sobs, Betty grabbed the soft fabric of Winnie’s shirt and held on for dear life.

Winnie struggled to find words, settling for rocking Betty back and forth as she hummed her apologies. “I promise,” she whispered into what was left of Betty’s hair. “No matter what, you can always come here. You do have people who love you.”

Alma thumped her way back through the door and stiffened at the sight of the sheer, unbridled emotion unfurling before her. “What’s the matter?” she asked, raking her eyes over the two of them as they sobbed.

“Nothing,” Winnie said, straightening Betty up and brushing the wrinkles out of her own apron with a pat of her hands. “We were just coming to an agreement about the future, that’s all.”

“And what did you agree to?” Alma asked disbelievingly.

“That this door will open anytime she knocks on it. She’s not alone. She won’t ever be alone,” Winnie explained as she stroked Betty’s hair.

“It’s not safe here, though. I thought,” Alma stuttered but was cut short by Winnie’s familiar glare.

“It’s not safe anywhere.” Winnie returned to the job of sorting out vegetables. “Might as well be together.”

“What about Simpson?” Alma asked, attempting to look casual.

Betty remembered the last conversation she and Alma had, leading up to the attack in the shed. She’d spent the last few weeks wallowing in her own sadness, so much she’d overlooked how tragic the scenario was for Alma, too. It would be impossible to deal with having a crush on someone you could never be with. Simpson had become a regular around Alma’s house, laughing and playing, and then suddenly he was gone. There was nothing fair about the world they lived in, but it seemed doubly cruel when the heart was involved.

“I haven’t gotten within a hundred feet of him since that day. I’m a pariah in town now, and I told him he’s got enough problems. Hanging around me isn’t worth the trouble.” Betty flopped into the dining room chair and tossed her tired head back.

“How does he seem? I don’t see him in school at all. He’s in the other side of the building with the older kids.” Winnie looked concerned.

“The last time we talked he wasn’t so good. He thought he should have done more to help me that day. He thinks he should have stopped his brother. I told him he shouldn’t have, and he isn’t a coward. But,” Betty paused, looking at her fingers and twisting them nervously, “maybe he should have done something.”

“No way,” Alma said, jumping to his defense. “That’s his brother. If he went back home and told their folks, Simpson would be swinging from a tree by now. He’s no coward.”

“Easy, child,” Winnie commanded, eyeing her daughter skeptically at first and then morphing into a knowing look. “I suppose you care a lot for Simpson, but there’s no point wasting the little time we have debating things that don’t have answers. Not while there’s flour to sift.”

“What are we making?” Betty asked, the life bolting back into her body as she stood.

“Bread. We’re going to make enough for the week since it seems I’ll be working late.”

“Why?” Alma asked, still looking cross about Simpson. “They can’t keep you there late every day.”

“They can if they want to. Someone needs to run the detention class, and I seem like the best person to dump that on.”

“But then you won’t be able to walk home with Mr. Kape and the other colored teachers,” Betty pointed out, realizing how vulnerable that would make Winnie. “Maybe that’s why they’re doing it. They want to get you alone.”

Winnie let out a sad hum. “It breaks my heart knowing you’ve got to think like that. I know I’ve had some part in you realizing the world isn’t perfect, but I wasn’t trying to make you afraid of it.” Winnie dusted the counter with flour and reached for the clay canisters that held her other ingredients.

“She’s right, Mama. You can’t be leaving there late and on your own. People keep saying it’s getting worse and worse. They’re saying Edenville is at its boiling point.” Alma sidled up to her mother and dusted her own hands with flour, getting ready for her job in the recipe.

“You think I’m dumber than a coal bucket? I know better than to be walking back here on my own. Your daddy is changing his schedule at the factory so we can walk home together. Stop worrying your pretty little heads about me, and start measuring that flour so I can teach you the tricks to the perfect yeast dough. It’s white vinegar, by the way.” With expert precision Winnie brought the ingredients to life in the form of a smooth silky ball. Betty watched in awe as everything else melted away except the earthy scent of rising dough.