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.”
Rosie reached over and patted my arm. “Aren’t you the sweetest thing, looking out for me like that? But I’ll be fine. I don’t think you could find anything up there without me or a map showing you the way.” She closed her eyes again and her rocking slowed to a stop.
I was careful not to sit and rock too long with Baby Girl. I didn’t want her falling asleep until she had a clean, dry bottom. Some babies can sleep right through a diaper change, but she isn’t one of them. I tried not to wake Rosie when I got up to bring Baby Girl in for a changing and a nap. I wasn’t successful. She appeared at my elbow as I struggled with the last tape on the diaper.
“I had John put up the crib in this bedroom,” she said, leading us to a room the color of sunshine.
“John?” I asked.
“He comes by to cut the grass and fix things up outside. It was my way of showing my granddaughter there was no need for me to move out of my house. I’m quite capable of taking care of myself. I’ve been doing it for years now. I figured for what I pay John, he could come inside and do a little work, too,” she answered.
“Will your granddaughter be coming for dinner?” I asked as I laid Baby Girl down.
Rosie threw her head back and laughed. “Not likely. I haven’t seen her around here in years. I raised her in this house. But ever since she up and moved to Atlanta, she acts like she’s too good for these parts. She sends a little cash every week and calls once a month.”
I saw such sadness in her eyes that I had to look away. It made me think about being away from my family, and I wondered what Mama and Daddy would tell folks about me.
We walked out into the hall and Rosie took a deep breath. “It smells like those boxes will have to wait,” she said. “Dinner is ready.”
I set the table with the china she handed me. I had never held such fancy things before and was afraid I would drop something. When I finished, Rosie came in with a casserole. “Will you look at that?” she said. “You set a table as pretty as you set a window.”
I was never much of a cook, having been taught by Mama, whose greatest talent is having babies. But after one bite of Rosie’s chicken and dumplings, I found myself begging for the recipe.
Rosie blushed. “Next Sunday, we’ll make it together,” she said.
By the time I bit into the chocolate chess pie, I was wishing every day was Sunday.
After we cleaned up from dinner, we went up into the attic. One look and I knew Rosie had been right. I would never be able to find anything on my own up there. If the Second Hand Rose ever did sell some of its wares, there was enough up here to stock it again twice over.
What looked like a mess to me made perfect sense to Rosie. She pointed to three cartons without so much as a peek inside and led the way down the stairs. By the time I carried the third box down, Rosie had begun pulling flags out of the other cartons. “I think we have enough of these to put some out in my flower boxes and still have plenty for the store,” she said.
With an armful of miniature flags, we went to work on the boxes. We must have poked half a dozen flags in between the flowers in each container. The wind was picking up, causing them to flap and wave. It was a pretty sight until it hit me. When the hot, still air is replaced by cool winds, a storm is sure to follow. No quicker did I think it than the black clouds rolled over us. A flash of lightning split the sky and a boom of thunder shook the house. This was too much excitement for Baby Girl. The next sound I heard was her howling. The thunder was no competition for her cries.
I paced back and forth on the front parlor rug, rubbing Baby Girl’s back and trying to soothe her. The sky had opened up and sheets of rain coated the windows. Rosie had run around closing everything as soon as the rain began falling. It was the fastest I ever saw her move.
Rosie settled herself into the overstuffed chair in the corner. She rested her head back on the crocheted doily and stretched out her arms. “How about you give Georgia to me for a little bit,” she said.
“She’s awfully fussy,” I answered.
Rosie sat there with her arms outstretched, smiling at me until I handed Baby Girl to her. I stood by the window wondering when the rain would stop and worrying about where we were going from there. When the lights started to flicker, Rosie said, “You should fix Georgia another bottle before the house goes dark.”
I was changing Georgia’s diaper again when the lights went out. “Looks like you girls aren’t going anywhere tonight,” Rosie said. “You better carry her. My footing is not so good in the dark.”
Still, Rosie led the way with the flashlight. When I laid Baby Girl down in the crib, Rosie handed me the second flashlight. “The dresser and the closet are empty,” she said. “My room is right across from this one, and the bathroom is down the hall. You’ll find fresh towels and anything else you might need in the bathroom cupboard. I’ll let you get to your unpacking and your books.”
I opened my mouth, but words failed me. Did Rosie know we had nowhere to go, or was she just offering a practical solution to the rain? I looked over at our bags. I had been carrying all of our belongings everywhere for days. I’d been afraid of leaving something behind on the porch and returning to find the family home. Only now did I realize how that must look to Rosie. If I didn’t find a home for us soon, I at least had to find a place to stow these bags while I was at work.
Rosie interrupted my thoughts. “And don’t you be worrying about those boxes tonight,” she said. “Tomorrow’s only the first of the month. We’ve got a few days to work on them.”
When Baby Girl’s thumb found its way into her mouth and her eyes fluttered shut, Rosie leaned over the crib and kissed her head. “May the angels watch over you, Georgia,” she whispered.
I leaned over the crib, kissed Baby Girl, too, and added, “And keep you safe through the night.”
“You sleep well, too, Becky. Tomorrow’s a whole new day,” Rosie said, as she crossed over to her room.
When I heard the flashlight click off and saw nothing but darkness seeping from under her door, I called over, “Good night to you, too, Rosie.” Then I whispered, “And thank you.”
CHAPTER 9
I woke up with the sun. Baby Girl had pulled me from my sleep three times last night. My body seemed to be controlled by old habits, no matter how many times my sleep was disrupted. I rolled onto my side and looked over at Baby Girl. She lay in her crib with her back rising and falling in steady succession. I thought about my own brothers and sisters, and my insides twisted. I wondered if they were missing me the way
I was missing them. I worried about Mama, too. How was she keeping up with everything without me there to help? I buried my head in my pillow to quiet my tears. I didn’t want Rosie thinking I was anything but happy about being here for the night. After a half hour or so, a new sound filled the air around me. The plop, plop, plop of the newspapers on the pavement had been replaced with sizzle, sizzle, snap. Before long, the heavy scent of the bacon frying caused my mouth to water.
I slipped out from under the sheet and made the bed. I threw on some clothes and walked into the kitchen. “Do you mind me making Georgia a bottle?” I asked. I decided the night before that I had to get used to calling Baby Girl Georgia, at least in front of Rosie. It didn’t feel natural, though.
Rosie smiled. “I was going to do it myself, but I haven’t made baby formula in a long, long time and I was afraid I wouldn’t get it right,” she said. “So how about you get her breakfast ready, while I get ours on the table.”
After breakfast, Rosie volunteered to sit with Georgia while I showered. As I stood there with warm water flowing from my head to my toes, I thought about this most recent turn of events. Just twenty-four hours earlier, Baby Girl and I were wandering the streets, my head filled with worries about nightfall. But this morning, I woke up in a real bed with this red-headed angel sleeping next to me in the fanciest crib I ever saw. It only takes a few days of going without to learn to appreciate the luxuries of a bed and a shower.
Rosie talked me into leaving our bags behind so there would be room in the carriage basket for the contents of one of the cartons. I stuffed Baby Girl’s necessities into a tote bag Rosie found, and we were ready to go. That is when Rosie handed me the envelope. “I wish there was more in this,” she said. “Maybe this week business will pick up.”
I doubted the Second Hand Rose was headed for an upswing. The only door on Main Street I had seen people passing through belonged to the Tick Tock Diner. Even the library was pretty empty but for us, and that place was free. I slipped the envelope into my pocket without as much as a peek. I knew I couldn’t put off looking inside it for long, but I didn’t want to do it in front of Rosie.
As I tucked Baby Girl into her carriage, I was reminded of my promise. If I was going to keep my word, I needed to start thinking ahead.
As I lifted the carriage down Rosie’s porch stairs, I was struck by the difference an address can make. I was used to getting up and out early. We had started our day when the newspaper boy was the only one awake in that neighborhood besides us. And at that hour, the quiet wasn’t broken when we got to Main Street where, besides the Tick Tock, everything was closed up tight. Even the air had seemed different last week, when the heat would gradually creep up on me.
Starting out the day at nine forty-five in the morning, the heat came crashing over me like a wave. We walked down the block to the music of screen doors snapping shut, dogs howling, and radios blaring. When we turned up Main Street, Rosie stopped to say hello to every shopkeeper unlocking a door.
I went right to work hanging the scallops of red, white, and blue fabric on the front of the window. I had gathered a few jars and vases from the shelves and was arranging bouquets of flags in them when I noticed a man standing on the walk, staring in the window.
“He’s looking at the bike,” Rosie whispered.
The prospect of a real live customer started my insides dancing. “Do you think he’ll buy it?” I whispered back.
“Not likely,” she said. “That’s Pete Garcia from the used bike shop across the street.”
I wondered how long he would stand there and if he was mad about us having a bike in our window. Then the most incredible thing happened. A car slowed down and came to a stop by the curb right in front of the Second Hand Rose. A woman and a little boy stepped out and before they could cross the street, that boy caught sight of the bike.
“I want to go in there,” he said, pointing at the bike and tugging on his mother’s arm.
“Not now, Henry,” she said.
“But you promised,” he whined. “You promised I could have a bike.”
“We will go to Toy World on Saturday,” she answered.
Henry let go of his mother’s hand and ran into the Second Hand Rose. His mother came chasing in after him. “Now Henry, you know better than to run away from me like that,” she scolded the boy.
“But I don’t want to wait until Saturday. I want that bike in the window, so I can ride it at the picnic on the fourth,” he said, stamping his foot.
I held my breath, waiting to see what would come next. If I had ever spoken to Mama or Daddy that way, it would have been a long time before my bottom would want to be anywhere near a bicycle seat. But Henry’s mama had a different way of handling the situation. As she was paying for the bike, she commented on the store window. “I love your window display. It looks like an old-fashioned small town picnic—except for the dishes, of course. I think we’re more paper plate people around here.”
“I always say just because we live in a small town doesn’t mean we have to think small,” Rosie said. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that whereas folks around here have one set of dishes for everyday and one set of dishes for fancy, big city folks have dishes for every occasion. I’m sure you’ve noticed that very thing in the home decorating magazines.”
Now, I would have bet all the money in my pocket that Rosie had never read a home decorating magazine in her life, but Henry’s mama was nodding her head in agreement. As I loaded the carton of dishes and glasses and Henry’s bike into the back of the car, I thought of Daddy again.
One of my chores back home was selling vegetables down by the road. One day I had a whole bushel of green beans left and Daddy wasn’t happy to see it. “But Daddy,” I said. “Nobody needed green beans today.”
“Becky, people don’t know what they need until you tell them,” he answered.
When it came to money, Daddy got his sayings right.
CHAPTER 10
I must have found Baby Girl’s sweet spot in that crib, because on only her second night in it she managed to sleep through with only one moonlit feeding. I should have slept like a baby, too, but instead I tossed and turned in that bed trying to figure out our good fortune.
Just before closing time the day before, Rosie sent me to the market to fetch some catfish for dinner. As we walked back toward her house, so I could pick up Baby Girl’s and my belongings, Rosie asked, “Do you want me to fry up that catfish for us before or after you go to the library?”
I held my breath for a minute and tried to think before I spoke. I had found the nerve to look in that pay envelope earlier in the day and discovered it didn’t hold enough to cover rent anywhere. I had thought about asking Rosie if Baby Girl and I could stay in the back room of the store for a few days. But I was afraid if Rosie knew we were homeless, she would have second thoughts about being involved with us at all.
“You do like catfish, don’t you, Becky? I don’t like to brag, but if you don’t it’s only because you haven’t tried my catfish yet,” Rosie said.
I looked into Rosie’s eyes. I had been so busy trying to hide the truth from her all week that I had failed to see that she had already seen a big part of it. I gulped down a big helping of air trying to push back the sobs that were fighting their way out of me.
Rosie reached out and rubbed my arm. “If we’re going to be roommates, then we need to get to know these kinds of things about each other,” she said. “Now, let’s get home before this catfish cooks itself out in this heat.”
We walked down the street in silence until Rosie said, “You’re awfully quiet tonight. Are you tired? I must be working you too hard. A young girl with a baby needs as much rest as she can get. You turn in early tonight.”
I wanted to tell her the Second Hand Rose was the best job I ever had. I wanted to tell her that she wasn’t working me too hard and that she was treating me better than anyone else had in my whole life. But I was afraid if I said anything, I would
burst into tears and hug her tighter than an old woman wants to be held.
When I crawled into bed that night, I stared at the ceiling for hours trying to understand Rosie’s kindness. I tossed and turned as I heard Daddy’s voice in my head. “Becky, even a snake oil salesman wears a smile, but only a fool would be taken in by it. A smart girl knows better than to trust anyone.”
But Daddy didn’t know Rosie. He didn’t know people like her walked on this earth along with the snake oil salesmen. He didn’t know there were people who in an instant could make you feel like their home was your home. I thought about the knowing look I had seen in Rosie’s eyes. I went to sleep and left thoughts of Daddy behind.
The next morning, I cradled Baby Girl in the crook of my arm while Rosie and I ate breakfast. “How did our little princess sleep last night?” Rosie asked.
I looked down into Baby Girl’s sweet face and answered, “Like a baby—meaning for no more than three hours at a time.”
“You must be exhausted,” Rosie said. “Do you need some time off from work?”
“No, ma’am,” I answered. “I’m fine.” The truth is, I was fine. Waking up knowing we would have a roof over our heads that night was a weight off my shoulders. It left me with an energy I’d been missing for days.
When we got to the store that morning, I put that energy to good use and got to work on that front window display. I wanted to fill in the empty spots from yesterday’s customer. I found a huge supply of ribbon in the second box of decorations and discovered even a gray steel pail looks holiday-ish when it’s wearing a bow.
I stepped out onto the sidewalk to get a passerby’s view of the window. As I was admiring my handiwork, some movement across the block grabbed my attention. It was the bicycle man from yesterday. He was lining bikes up on the walk in front of his store. The bikes had red, white, and blue ribbons woven between the wheel spokes and floating from the handle bars. I was trying to decide whether I should feel mad or flattered when Rosie came out.
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