Flowers in the Snow

by Danielle Stewart

  Flowers in the Snow

  Book One of The Edenville Series

  Danielle Stewart

  Copyright Page

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locals, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  An Original work of Danielle Stewart.

  Flowers in the Snow Copyright 2015 by Danielle Stewart

  eBook Cover Design by Gin’s Book Notes & Design (http://ginsbooknotes.com)

  Stock Photography Credit Attribution Copyright:

  Johnny Adolphson/Shutterstock.com

  Dedication

  To those who open their hearts and their doors to the children who need love. You are changing the world.

  A special note from the author:

  When I began writing Betty’s story all I had in my mind was her life. Researching the era she grew up in opened my eyes to the struggles felt by so many people during that time. I reached out to friends and family who were gracious enough to share their personal stories of the Civil Rights Movement, racism, love, kindness, and healing. I will forever be in their debt for what they added to this story, but more for what they’ve added to this world.

  I don’t know how to solve the problem of hate that divides the world and causes so much violence and pain. It’s different now than it was in Betty’s day but it isn’t gone. All I can say is that for me and my family - in our home - in our lives – we choose inclusion. We choose tolerance. We choose love.

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Synopsis

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  A Message from Betty

  Books by Danielle Stewart

  Synopsis

  If you step across the threshold of Betty Grafton’s house, you can be sure of two things: she’ll feed you until you’re ready to bust and she’ll love you before you even realize you’re worthy of it. She’s spent her life building a family that finally feels complete.

  But as sad news forces her to relive the darkest moments of her life, she decides to share the story with those she loves. Revealing the hard truth about growing up in the South during the 1960’s is difficult but necessary. She tells the tale of how an unlikely friendship shaped her into the woman she is today. Exposing her mistakes, her fears, and her impossibly difficult heart break, Betty strives to teach them all what it means to truly love.

  Prologue

  Betty

  It’s funny, even when you know something’s coming, it can still take you by surprise. I’ve known for months this letter would arrive, but I still can’t bring myself to open it. Peeling back the glued flap of the familiar pink envelope feels like pulling the lever of a floodgate that will set free the tears I’ve been holding in.

  Instead I just step onto my porch, hold it to my heart as I settle into my rocking chair. The sun is on its way down now, and as it paints the sky in all manner of reds and pinks, I listen to the gaggle of people moving around my kitchen. What a family I’ve built over these last ten years. I have more kids to my name than I ever imagined, and their kids all call me Grammy, yet almost none of them are my blood. That’s the lesson of my life; family is who you decide to love, not necessarily who you’re related to.

  Another lesson of my life: you can get a second chance at love even when the first one was perfect in its own way. Burying my husband years ago, after he was killed in the line of duty, nearly broke me. But my daughter, Jules, and I have rebuilt what was destroyed, and with my second husband, Clay, I’ve found a way to go on. He’s made my dreams of owning a restaurant a reality. It doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten about Stan; it simply means I love him enough to move on with my life.

  Today as I sit on my porch I am everything I ever wanted to be. Not many people can say that, so I know I’m lucky. But that isn’t enough to stave off the sorrow that comes with knowing one of the people who has been a stepping-stone on my path to happiness has taken her last breath. She’s lost her battle with cancer, and the letter I’m holding will be the last I ever receive from her. For over forty years I’ve frequently reached into my mailbox and found a pink paisley envelope with my friend’s familiar scrawl. In all that time we never ran out of things to tell each other. We never ran out of kind words. We never ran out of love for each other. I always knew death would be the only thing to break the bond we had. I just hoped there would have been a couple more decades before we had to say goodbye.

  A burst of laughter spills out the open windows, and I can’t help but smile at the joy contained within these walls. Each adult inside my house came with his or her own baggage. Truckloads of it, really. Some abused, some deserted, some confused, and some afraid, but they all turned up here, needing one thing. Love. I am the flame and they are the moths. Some people may call that a curse, but for me it’s been a blessing.

  I’d like to take credit for the way my heart and home are open to everyone I meet, but I know I wasn’t born that way. Love is taught. It’s handed down. And I was lucky enough to have someone take the time to show me how to really love. Not just say the words, but love with my whole self, so even when I’m not with her—she can feel me there.

  Chapter One

  “Are you all right, Grammy?” Frankie asked as she settled into Betty’s lap and wrapped her arms around her neck. She was too big to sit there comfortably, but there was no way in hell Betty would ever refuse a chance to hold her oldest granddaughter. Experience told her these hugging days were fleeting, so she’d better soak up every hug she could before they were gone.

  “I’m just sitting here thinking of years gone by. It’s been a long life, baby, but it has also gone so fast I can’t stand it. The days are long, but the years—oh goodness, the years have just melted away.”

  “You’ve got a lot of years left, Grammy. Remember you have to help me pick a boyfriend in a few years. That’s our deal,” Frankie teased as she flashed a playful smile.

  Betty laughed and affectionately tucked Frankie’s red hair behind her ear. “You said a few years, I said ten years. And girl, I can tell you now there won’t be a boy on this earth I think is good enough for you.” Planting a kiss on the crown of Frankie’s head, Betty pulled the envelope away from her chest and held it where the child could see.

  “What’s that?” Frankie asked, crinkling up her freckle-covered nose.

  “It’s a letter from a friend. The last letter she’ll ever send me. I’m afraid to open it,” Betty admitted, knowing she was starting a conversation she wouldn’t be able to easily stop.

  “You’re not afraid of anything, Grammy. You’re the bravest person I know,” Frankie said earnestly as she batted her long lashes over her crystal blue eyes.

  “I haven’t always
been. I was your age once, and I was plenty scared. As a matter of fact I wasn’t much older than you when I met this friend. She changed my life.”

  “How do you know it’s the last letter she’ll send you? Are you fighting?” Frankie cocked her head sideways to get a better look at the envelope as though she’d be able to see something on it that would give her a clue.

  “No girl, we aren’t fighting. The only fighting we’ve ever done has been on the same side of a war. She’s gone on to heaven now. Unfortunately there’s no way to mail something from up there, no matter how badly we wish we could,” Betty said with a sniffle.

  “I’m sorry, Grammy.” Frankie sighed as she rested her head on Betty’s shoulder.

  With a quake, Betty began to shudder, unable hold back the tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “Are you crying, Grammy?” Frankie asked in shock, witnessing something she’d never seen before. “Mom, Mommy, something’s wrong with Grammy,” she shouted through the open window.

  A thundering herd of feet came charging through the screen door. Adults and children alike gathered around Betty, who was now sobbing with no shame for it. “I’ll be all right in a minute,” she choked out, but it didn’t seem to convince anyone.

  “What is it, Ma?” Jules asked, dropping to her knees and holding her mother’s hand in hers.

  Over Jules’s shoulder Betty could see everyone moving in closer. Bobby and Piper each held a twin in their arms and looked on with thick worry. Many years ago, Bobby had started out as the neighbor’s boy who needed a place to go when his parents couldn’t keep it together. He was the first to feel healed by Betty’s cooking and warmed by her love. Through him she met the rest of them. Piper, his wife, was the worst off of them all—the most damaged by a childhood gone wrong. Betty would never admit to any of them, but there were days, through the worst of her times, she wasn’t sure Piper would make it. But now, looking at the grown woman she’d become, there was no doubt left in her mind; Piper had made it.

  “They are beautiful babies,” Betty hummed, reaching out her hand and touching Piper’s daughter, Sky, gently on the leg. “I can’t believe they’ll be in kindergarten this year. You’ve made a wonderful family, and every time I look at them it reminds me of the biggest truth in this world. Love is greater than any differences we have.”

  Bobby and Piper hadn’t thought twice when they got the call telling them they were matched with a set of twins who needed an immediate placement. They never asked the color of their skin or what tumultuous path they may have been on. They said just one word: yes. Being an interracial family came with its own set of unique challenges, but with grace and pride they’d navigated it beautifully. These children were loved. Not in spite of their dark skin nor because of it. It was simply because they were folded into this family, and, as others had learned before them, once you were in, you were in for life.

  “Why are you crying?” Michael, her son-in-law, asked, holding his newborn son in his arms. The baby had just crossed over six weeks old, but Betty had already dubbed him an athlete. He was holding up his head and moving his hands like a baby twice his age. Jules, as a second time mother, had rebounded quickly from labor and birthing. It was nice to have them all back together celebrating Wednesday night dinners as a family again.

  When Jules married Michael, Betty knew things would work out. Michael was the perfect match of calm to her daughter’s storm. When they had Frankie nine years ago, Betty thought her life was complete. Now she was blessed with four children she considered her grandchildren, and she couldn’t imagine life without them.

  Surrounded by all this love she figured now was as good a time as any to break her silence about the letter she was holding. “Alma’s passed on,” Betty managed to say as she patted at the corners of her wet eyes with a handkerchief Bobby had handed her. Clay cut through the group and ran his hand along her cheek. “She told me this letter would be sent after she died. And now here it is. I knew it was coming, but it still doesn’t make it any easier.”

  “I’m sorry, Betty,” Clay offered, furrowing his brows. His warm eyes were pools of genuine empathy that Betty dove into. A second husband to a widow was a difficult thing to be. Betty knew that. She gave Clay a lot of credit. Though it was unspoken, there was always a sense of competing with someone’s lost love. Her first husband couldn’t be replaced in Betty’s heart, but, luckily, Clay had never tried that. He found his own way to love Betty and the rest of this unique little group. That was what made him perfect for her.

  “Who’s Alma, Grammy?” Logan asked as he slipped out of Bobby’s arms and brought his small toy soldier over to Betty. He and his twin sister were always lugging around an armful of toys wherever they rambled about. Logan ran his little gun-toting toy across his Grammy’s leg. His full lips and plump round cheeks were always tempting Betty to kiss and pinch them. She normally gave in to it no matter how much he squirmed to get away.

  “Just like this,” Betty said, taking the toy from him and giving it a long look, “Alma was a soldier.”

  “A Marine like Daddy?” Frankie asked, leaning against Jules and looking up as though she wasn’t sure the story could be real.

  “No, not in the Marines. Y’all are growing up with your own troubles, but back in my day we had plenty of ours, too. Alma took up a fight that was far overdue, and it nearly cost her everything.”

  “This is the woman in the letters, right Ma?” Jules asked, looking down at the familiar pink envelope Betty was still clutching. “I’ve always wondered about those. You’ve gotten them in the mail for as long as I can remember. She’s your pen pal?”

  “Yes, but we weren’t always just pen pals. Long before that we were living right here in Edenville together. Other than your father, she and her family were the most important people in my life. She reminded me that the things I was busy taking for granted, she was praying for every night. She was my diary. We thought we were just getting by, but I woke up one day and realized we were making memories that would last a lifetime. Most everything y’all know about me came from what I learned from her and her family. I wouldn’t be the woman I am today without her.”

  “Then the world owes her a thank you,” Bobby said, offering Betty a warm smile.

  Betty pursed her lips and shook her head, looking angry. “The damn world owed her an apology, but she never got it. Our story is one that’s blazed into my mind. I can still smell and taste the food we ate. I can still feel the fear and the anger. I can still hear her voice.”

  “Tell us, Grammy,” Frankie pleaded, now looking confused. “Tell us how you knew her.” She clasped her hands together, begging with her whole body.

  “It’s late, dear. Y’all should be heading home. I’ve got a sink full of dishes to do and a letter to try to read. Maybe some other time.” Betty’s sadness was starting to cover her like a wooly, suffocating blanket. Rather than hoping everyone would stay and rescue her from it, she wanted to be alone and give in to it. Betty had given out lots of advice in her life. What hardly anyone knew was it had all been given to her first. That’s how she knew it was completely acceptable to let the ghosts of the past possess you for a while, as long as you didn’t let them stay too long.

  “Maybe tomorrow,” Piper chimed in, raising her eyebrows as if the statement was a challenge to Betty. That was how Piper was these days now that she had her life together and her feet back under her. She didn’t let people get away with being self-destructive by putting off something that was good for them. Even though it was bugging Betty, she was actually proud to see the change in Piper. “The weather is supposed to be beautiful. We can camp out here on the porch, and you can tell us about Alma. It sounds like her story deserves to be told.”

  “It does,” Betty replied in a voice just above a whisper as she put the envelope back to her chest again. It was the closest she could get to holding her friend in her arms, but it was falling miles short. “Tomorrow,” she conceded with a nod. “I’ll tell y’all abou
t it tomorrow.”

  “We’ll do the dishes tonight, Ma, before we head out. Why don’t you just read your letter and rest up.” Jules rounded up the kids and started shuffling them back into the house. Everyone but Piper stepped back inside. Her dark chocolate eyes glinted with understanding, and Betty recalled the storm that used to rage in them when they first met.

  “I can stay with you while you read it if you like,” Piper offered, rubbing Betty’s arm affectionately.

  “You’ve really changed over the years. It’s amazing to me. You’ve survived so much and have thrived.” Betty tilted her head and smiled.

  “Of course I have. I’m one of your strays,” Piper teased. That was what they’d taken to calling themselves over the years. It wasn’t that far from the truth. In one way or another they were all in need of something when they turned up at Betty’s house, and she’d taken them in, either literally or figuratively, depending on their circumstances.

  “It’s been the greatest pleasure of my life to take in so many. To think I had even the smallest impact on your lives warms me to the core.”

  “To call the impact you’ve had small would be the understatement of the decade. If not for your intervention I’m not sure where I’d be. You showed me I was worth the time when I didn’t think I was worth anything. You have this way of seeing the best in all of us, and then finding a way to remind us of it when we forget. That’s some maternal ninja stuff right there. I don’t know if I’ll ever be half the mother you have been, but the best choice I ever made was making you Grammy to my twins,” Piper said confidently. Piper was never one to lose her composure, unlike Jules, Betty thought, who couldn’t tell a knock-knock joke without getting worked up.