Providence (6 page)

At lunchtime, I pushed the carriage down to Haystack’s Market. I needed to replace the soap, and Baby Girl was going through diapers and formula at top speed. A jar of peanut butter and a box of crackers would be my dinner for the next few days. On my way to the register, I gave in to temptation and picked up a couple of peaches and another bottle of pop.

I walked back to the Second Hand Rose, thinking about how fast my money was going. I wondered when Rosie would pay me, and how much I’d have coming to me after all of this baby stuff.

Rosie was watching for us through the window. I guess a part of her might have been afraid that her granddaughter was right about us.

“I was worried that I’d worn you out this morning,” she said as we came through the door.

“Not at all.” I smiled back at her. “I’m ready to get back to work.”

I grabbed a dust rag and started cleaning off the things in the housewares section. I cleared off one of the shelves and set up a little display with a placemat and napkin set, some dishes, and a coffee pot.

I had just finished when Rosie came to tell me it was closing time. “Will you look at that!” she said. “Why, with you working here, I’m going to end up with so many customers, I won’t be able to keep my shelves stocked.”

This sounded a little odd to me since Rosie, Baby Girl, and I were the only people to pass through the door of the Second Hand Rose that day. But I must admit I was feeling prouder than a peacock. Rosie’s kind words pushed my money worries aside and we all walked out of the store wearing big smiles. Baby Girl and I were going to the library before heading back to our temporary home. Rosie accompanied us down the two blocks to the big stone building.

“I see there’s going to be a Fourth of July parade,” I said, pointing to the sign nailed to the lamppost.

Rosie nodded. “Every year it comes right down Main Street.” She laughed. “Of course in this town, where else would it go?”

“Is it a big one?” I asked.

“In the old days, all the storefronts were decorated and the sidewalks were filled with people coming to hear the bands and wave to the marchers. But I’m afraid that’s history. Nowadays people are too busy to be bothered with all that.”

“But there’s still a parade?” I stopped in the front of the library.

Rosie nodded. “It’s not like it was years ago, but we have still one,” she said. She took a deep breath and smiled. “Listen to me carrying on about the size of a parade. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, it’s to spend my time appreciating what is and not worrying about what isn’t. See you in the morning,” she said.

CHAPTER 7

We slept on the porch every night that week. For me, it seemed more like catnaps. Baby Girl was waking me several times a night to be fed or changed. When I got her settled, I spent more time staring at the ceiling. Worrying about where we were going next kept my brain from ever shutting down and resting. I never seemed to sleep more than an hour or two at a time.

Each morning, I took a new route to the store, keeping my eyes open for any more of those little Room to Let signs. I wasn’t used to surviving on so little sleep. Mama usually took care of the night feedings herself. When she did need my help, I would feed and change the little one and fall right back to sleep. It never interfered with me being able to start my day at six in the morning. I knew the lack of sleep must be showing in my face. But you would never know it, judging by Rosie. Every morning, she met us at the door. She smiled at me like I was a ray of sunshine pushing my way through the clouds.

Every day, I straightened the merchandise, dusted, and set up displays. One day I talked Rosie into letting me throw some of the clothes in with my laundry down at the Super Suds. I used an iron from housewares, and before long I had some outfits looking like new. I was getting really good at displaying things to their best advantage.

Rosie oohed and ahhed and kept slipping new baby clothes into the carriage.

Each night at closing, Rosie walked us down to the library. It was a cool, comfortable place to stay while we waited for the night sky to make it safe to return to the porch. I found it curious that she never asked me where we were staying. I hoped it was because she knew there were plenty of places in town that I could call home. It was that idea that kept me scanning the papers looking for a room. I didn’t find any cheap housing, but I also didn’t find my own name in the paper. Of course, no matter how hard I tried to keep Rosie’s words in my head and appreciate what is instead of worrying about what isn’t, my feet still felt heavier each night as I pushed that carriage back to Cobbler Court. With each passing day, I found myself worrying more and more.

On Saturday, I decided it was time to talk money. Rosie hadn’t brought the subject up and I couldn’t imagine where my pay was going to come from. There hadn’t been a single customer in all week.

Rosie came walking up the street carrying a basket. “I brought us a little treat this morning,” she said.

She poured us tall glasses of sweet tea to wash down the homemade crumb muffins. Every bite tasted like heaven—especially after days of peanut butter and crackers. By the time I licked the last crumb off my finger, I decided money talk could wait until closing.

“You have this great big picture window in the front of the store. Why don’t you have a display in it?” I asked.

“Because you didn’t put one there yet,” she laughed. “You’re the artist here.”

No one in my whole life had ever called me an artist before. I got right to work. I washed that window inside and out. There must have been three years of dust and dirt built up. I laid out a red, white, and blue quilt and placed a picnic basket and some red dishes on top of it. I cleaned up an old blue bike and put red, white, and blue ribbons streaming from it. I finished the window off with a few patriotic-looking outfits, and I hung some matching curtains in the background. When I was done, Rosie stepped out onto the sidewalk to get the customer’s view of my handiwork.

“Why, it looks just like a storefront from a movie,” Rosie said. “The customers will be lined up out the door.” She seemed so pleased that I hated to raise the subject of money. But I just had to. It was closing time, and I didn’t know what I’d do once my money ran out.

“Rosie, you’ve been so kind to me, to us, that I hate to say anything,” I began. “But this little girl goes through a lot of food and diapers, so I was hoping I’d get paid today.”

“Where’s my head?” Rosie laughed. “Thank you for reminding me.” She hurried over to the register, which of course was empty. “Oh dear, I’m afraid I don’t have any cash in the drawer. I know what to do. You have that window looking so pretty on the inside. How about we decorate the outside, too?”

I was failing to see how that was going to solve my money problem.

“I have flags and streamers at home. Why don’t you come over tomorrow for dinner? You can help me get those things out of the attic and I can pay you. I always keep cash on hand at home,” Rosie said as she wrote down her address and drew me a little map. “I go to church in the morning, and you’re welcome to join me there, too.”

I stared at that paper, wondering if Rosie really intended to pay me for my work. “Thank you for your invitation to dinner,” I finally said. “Georgia and I will be pleased to join you.”

After closing up, Rosie stood on the walk admiring the window again. “Well, if you aren’t the luckiest thing to happen to me in a long while, I don’t know what is. I didn’t know I was hiring a window artist when you walked in my store.”

I’m sure my cheeks turned as red as Baby Girl’s hair. My folks weren’t prone to lavishing kind words on me. As Daddy always said, “Put praise in my pocket. Compliments won’t buy me a new pair of shoes.” He surely lived by that. I don’t remember him ever praising me, Mama, or anyone else.

“Which way are you headed today?” Rosie asked. “The library is closed by this time on a Saturday.”

Shook by the change in schedule, I didn’t answer at first. It was too dangerous to try to sneak into that porch in the daylight. “I need to run up to the market for diapers,” I said. “Then I’m off to the Super Suds. After that I’ll probably stretch out with a good book.” I bit my lip and silently vowed to curb my rambling tongue.

Rosie laughed. “You and your books,” she said. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

As I watched Rosie walk down Main Street, it was her words that came to mind, not Daddy’s. “Some folks are never strangers; they’re friends right away.”

Rosie had put her faith in me. Now, it was my turn to put my faith in her.

CHAPTER 8

I woke up to the familiar
plop, plop, plop
. It had become a part of our morning routine, just like packing up all of our belongings. Our bags got a little fuller each day, because Rosie kept slipping new baby things in them. I was afraid the heavier our bags got, the lighter my pay would be.

I wasn’t sure where we were going to go that morning. The night before, I had made sure to do all of the things I’d told Rosie. I didn’t want any more lies between us than were already there. So with all our errands done, we rolled out the gate that morning with no real direction in mind.

Then, I saw it sitting there in the driveway: a newspaper. The message was clear. Vacation was over and the family who rightfully lived here would be back by nightfall. The welcome mat had just been pulled out from under us.

We wandered the streets, my eyes scanning the front of every building we passed. Block after block, I searched for any opportunity to put a roof over our heads that night. The closer we got to Main Street, the bigger the ache in my stomach grew. The night before at Haystack’s Market, I was careful not to give in to temptation again. But after paying for the diapers and the formula, I was left with $3.89.

Despair had just about won over me when Baby Girl cooed and stretched. I bent over the carriage and stroked her cheek with the back of my finger. “Of all the temporary mamas in the world, you got stuck with me,” I said. “But don’t you worry. I don’t know how, but I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

I walked the rest of the way to Main Street, racking my brain for a way to keep that promise. When we reached the center of town, I saw folks entering the Tick Tock Diner in steady succession; I figured church must be out. Rosie’s home was on the other end of Main Street.

Rosie’s side of town was very different from the one Baby Girl and I had been residing in all week. In that neighborhood where the tree house was, the houses were big and new. The lawns flowed like one giant carpet across the fronts of the homes. In Rosie’s neighborhood, the houses all looked tired and worn out. The peeling paint and cracked windows faced overgrown grass and weeds.

I turned down Jefferson Street and stopped at number twenty-one. Rosie’s house looked like a calendar picture. It was tiny like its neighbors, but it wore a fresh coat of white paint. The door and shutters were ruby red, and the railing of the front porch was lined with flower boxes. Pansies and ivy crowded the planters with the green vines hanging down to touch the tops of the sunflowers that grew in a straight line in front of the porch. Beams of sunlight reflected off the windows and drew my attention to ruffled edges of the curtains.

I stood there admiring the beauty of it all until Rosie came through the screen door. “You’re at the right place,” she called.

Inside, the place reminded me of the Second Hand Rose. Every shelf and tabletop was covered with knickknacks and doodads. And each little treasure was shrouded by a coating of dust.

The aroma drifting in from the kitchen reminded me of the hunger growing inside of me. It must have done the same thing for Baby Girl because she started whimpering. Rosie suggested we sit out on the porch to feed her. I settled into one of the rocking chairs and Rosie came out with a pitcher of sweet tea and some glasses.

“Dinner will be at least another hour away,” Rosie said. “After Georgia settles in for a nap, we can haul that stuff down from the attic.” She took a long sip of her iced tea and closed her eyes.

“Show me how to get up there and I’ll carry everything down myself,” I offered. “There’s no need for you to climb up there.”