Flowers in the Snow

by Danielle Stewart

  “You already have. You helped me plenty tonight. I’m so sorry about your brother. I’m so sorry that your mother . . .” Betty trailed off not sure there was a word in the English language for what his mother had just done. “I’m just so sorry,” she repeated feeling as if she were walking through a dream world. Her heart was shattered, but she couldn’t muster tears yet. It was like someone had paused her senses, knowing if she were able to feel them now, she wouldn’t survive.

  Another officer came up and pointed his flashlight in their faces. “You kids were here when it happened?” he asked with a toothpick between his lips.

  “Were you?” Stan asked, eyeing him angrily.

  “I wasn’t. I wouldn’t have been. I can assure you of that. Listen, those folks over there told me your brother is one of the dead.”

  “Murdered,” Stan corrected as he clenched his hands into tight fists.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. I want you to know the FBI has been called in already. This isn’t gonna go unnoticed by the world. I promise.” The officer pulled a notebook from his pocket and a pen from over his ear. “Can I get your brother’s information so I can contact your parents?”

  “They already know,” Stan said, looking down at Betty as though he was giving her a chance to stop him. When she stayed silent he continued, “My mother was just here letting me know my brother was trying to protect an unarmed defenseless black woman from a mob, and he’s dishonored our family. She doesn’t want his body. She doesn’t want to seek any kind of retribution. As far as she’s concerned, justice has been served. My daddy will already know what happened because he was here.”

  “Was he killed too?” the officer asked, looking around as if he’d missed something important.

  “No, I’m sure he’s fine. Maybe a bit banged up from beating people to death but otherwise probably feeling pretty great tonight.” Stan met the officer’s confused gaze and his fierce stare made it clear he was telling the truth.

  “You need to be seen by the doctor. Both of you. Young lady, you’ve got some good scrapes on your face that need cleaned up. Has anyone called your folks?”

  “Beatrice?” her mother’s voice rang out frantically. “Beatrice are you here?”

  “That’s my mother,” Betty said, pointing to a woman with curlers in her hair and a robe wrapped tight around her.

  “She looks worried sick,” the officer said with a half-smile, as though it was good news to have a mother who didn’t want you dead.

  “Oh Beatrice, thank heaven you’re all right. Come on, we need to get you home.” Her mother grabbed her two hands and squeezed them tightly.

  “I need to go check on my friend. I don’t know if she’s hurt.” Betty looked at Stan for backup, but he didn’t provide it.

  “She lives on the west side.” Stan explained, looking knowingly at the police officer.

  “It’s not safe there right now. There are officers trying to help but you couldn’t go there now. If you give me her name I can check on her and call your house to let you know how she is.”

  “You best not,” Betty’s mother cut in. “My husband wouldn’t want that. We’ll work it out on our own. All I care about right now is my daughter, and she’s alive.”

  “There are people over there who aren’t.” Betty turned toward the area where Simpson had died, where she could have easily died tonight, and implored her mother to look as well. “They pulled people from the crowd and set cars on fire. They murdered them. They pulled me over there too. If Daddy hadn’t yanked me out of there, I’d be dead.”

  “Your father was here too?” the officer asked, taking a renewed interest in the details now that he knew Betty was in the mix first hand.

  “We’re leaving. She’s not gonna say anything else tonight,” her mother insisted as she tried to lead Betty away.

  “I think these two are probably in shock. He’s just lost his brother, and she saw it all. They should get checked out by the doctor before they go anywhere.” The officer pointed over to the medics who’d gathered at the entryway of the school. “And son, I’m truly sorry about your brother. Did he have a date here with him tonight, a girlfriend we should talk to?”

  “Oh no,” Betty said, clutching her heart. “How am I going to tell Alma? How am I going to tell her he’s dead?” And just like that the mechanism that had held her raw emotions at bay came free, and the solid ground below her feet crumbled. “He’s dead,” she cried. “How am I going to tell her?” The words kept coming, the same question over and over again. People closed in around her, but she couldn’t figure out exactly who they were. They sat her gingerly on the ground and talked in her ear, but she couldn’t hear them. Simpson was dead. The last five years of her life that were tethered to his friendship seemed to float away. She didn’t want to live in a world where this could happen. She didn’t want to breathe the same breath as people who could murder her friend. She didn’t want to see the look on Alma’s face when she heard the truth.

  She closed her eyes and wished she never had to open them again.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Winnie once said grief was the last connection you have to someone. The deeper the love shared the more cavernous the grief. The days after Simpson’s death were a testimony to Betty’s love for him. She fell into an impossibly deep darkness. It was like having an abundance of love with nowhere to put it anymore.

  True to her word, Simpson’s mother had ensured there had been no funeral. The promise of the FBI had been a hollow one. A rumor that failed to come true. In fact nothing had changed in the immediate wake of all the murders. The media arrived and left, moving on to something more pressing somewhere else. Their tragedy was plowed under by another. It seemed unimaginable that any catastrophe could overshadow what happened in Edenville, but there were things happening all over the country that were as pressing but fresher. In Betty’s heart this was a travesty of epic proportions, and it saddened her to imagine it was just a drop in the ocean of heartbreak across the country.

  “You’ll need to eat something eventually,” Betty’s mother whispered. Sweeping a warm hand against Betty’s cool forehead she brushed her bangs from her eyes. “If you don’t I’ll have to fetch the doctor again. They may put you in the hospital. We don’t want that. Your daddy wants you back on your feet before people start talking. Just have a little soup.”

  Betty closed her eyes and rolled to her side, turning her back on her mother. She hadn’t started out angry, but that’s exactly where she found herself now. Raging inside, she couldn’t fight the distain she felt for her father’s violence and her mother’s complacency. For the way all of Edenville had failed their children.

  “I’m not bluffing you,” her mother reiterated. “I’m going to fetch the doctor if you haven’t eaten that soup by the next time I come up. You don’t want me to send your daddy up.” Her mother’s show of warmth the other day was quick to evaporate. That’s what happens when something doesn’t run deep; it’s swift to disappear under the heat of reality.

  A knock at the front door caused Betty to pull her blanket up to her chin, closing it like a cocoon around her.

  “I’ll go see who it is,” her mother groaned as she slipped out of Betty’s bedroom door. “Eat something.”

  A few minutes later she heard a light tap that let her know whoever had knocked on the front door was there to see her.

  “Betty?” Stan asked gingerly. “Your mama said you weren’t really up for company, but I have something to tell you.”

  “What is it?” Betty asked, not bothering to turn over. “What could you possibly tell me that would make me feel any better?”

  “I never said it would make you feel better. I just said I had to tell you something. I can’t even make myself feel better.” Stan stepped in and leaned against her wall.

  At the thought of his pain, in what they both must be feeling, she decided to roll over. The thought that misery loved company was a hollow one. Stan’s eyes, red from c
rying, did not make Betty feel better. “I’m sorry. I just can’t believe he’s gone. I have so much left to tell him,” she croaked.

  “Me too,” Stan admitted as he rubbed at the muscle in his neck. “I just keep thinking I’ll wake up, and he’ll be back on the top bunk in our room. He was the best of my brothers and he’s gone. I think he could have really done something in this world, but now we’ll never know.”

  “I’ll always wonder what he would have grown up to be,” Betty sighed as she pulled herself up to a sitting position. Her entire body ached with grief, and her chest felt like it might cave in.

  “I’ve got to tell you about your friend Winnie,” Stan said biting nervously at the inside of his cheek.

  “I already know she got home safe. Simpson saved her life. I got word yesterday. I haven’t gone down there yet because I can’t bear to face them.” Betty wiped at the corners of her stinging eyes with the rough edge of her blanket. “Plus my daddy, he’s—”

  “You saved her too. I saw you dive in front of those two guys so she could get away. Don’t forget all the stuff you’ve done.” Stan looked earnestly at her as though he was proud of her sacrifice. She wasn’t. She’d been spared and the more time that went by the more she wished she hadn’t been. Maybe being in heaven with Simpson would be better than this hell on earth.

  “It won’t make a difference when I go down there. I’m sure they’ve already gotten word about Simpson too. They’re probably beside themselves. I know I didn’t tell you this, but Simpson and Alma, they liked each other. She’s had a crush on him for years. He told me just that night he liked her back. She must be a wreck. Tomorrow, maybe tomorrow, I’ll go down there if I can sneak away.”

  “You can’t,” Stan whispered with sharp pain in his eyes. “They aren’t there. They left.”

  “What do you mean they left? Where would they go?” Betty felt a vice closing on her heart.

  “I went this morning to check on them. I wanted to tell them you were all right, in case they hadn’t heard, and break the news about Simpson if it hadn’t made its way to them. When I got there the place was empty. One of the neighbors told me they left in the middle of the night, and they weren’t coming back. Not ever.” Stan drew in a deep breath, readying himself for Betty’s reaction to the bad news he was dumping on her.

  “No, you’re wrong. You probably went to the wrong house or something. They wouldn’t leave. Winnie promised me I’d always have a place to go, no matter what. Alma swore we’d be best friends for the rest of our lives. They wouldn’t leave me. They wouldn’t just leave me here all alone.” Betty shook her head adamantly. She felt the urge to strike out at Stan who was timidly moving closer to her.

  “They did. They’re gone. But they left this note for you. The neighbor asked me to make sure you got it.” Stan pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and tried to hand it to Betty.

  “I don’t want that,” she barked, slapping his hand away so hard it stung her palm. “I don’t want a letter from them. I don’t want an explanation. I want—I want—” Betty folded over onto herself and began to sob. “I want to go with them. I want to be wherever they are. One night and I’m alone again.”

  “You’re not alone. I’m here. I’ll be your friend. I promise. This isn’t over. I’m not going sit around and do nothing. Edenville is going to change. I’m going to make it change.” Stan slammed his fist into his hand, and Betty jumped at the edge in his voice.

  “Don’t you get it, that’s why they killed him? He tried to do what’s right and they murdered him. You want to end up the same way?” Betty stared at him through tear-blurred eyes and waited for him to agree with her.

  “The only thing in the world I want is to have my brother back, but if I can’t, I’ll be damned if I let him die for nothing. People are going to know my name. They’re going to listen to me. You can help me; we can do it together.” Stan stepped forward again and looked oddly hopeful.

  “Are you crazy?” she asked in breathy exasperation. “How do you suppose we go about that?”

  “What they did, the people they killed, that can’t be swept under the rug. People in town are disgusted by it. They’re fed up with being afraid of the Klan. There’s a minister from Arkansas who’s coming here next week. He’s bringing a large group with him.”

  “So what? They’ve done that in other parts of the country, and it’s just more bloodbath.” Betty wanted to slap Stan across the face just in hopes of getting reality to sink in to him again.

  “He’s white. The people coming with him are white. They’ve made a difference in other parts of the country. The media follows them. They have the numbers. I want to be a part of that.” Stan’s face was crimson with a fierce determination.

  “It’s not going to bring Simpson back. You know that, right? Nothing we do will bring him back.” Betty’s voice was soft not wanting to deliver the blow that could break his fragile heart.

  “I know,” Stan conceded staring down at his shoes. “And reading this note won’t make your friends being gone any less real. I’m sorry they left you. But at least you get a little piece of them to say goodbye to. I wish I had that from Simpson.”

  Betty grabbed the paper Stan shoved toward her again. When she unfolded it, some pressed flower petals dropped out. She recognized them instantly as the flowers she’d brought to Winnie earlier that week. The ones that had managed to survive in the snow.

  My dearest sweet Betty,

  I know I’ve broken my promise to you, and I’m eternally sorry. There is nothing I can say right now that will mend the fractures in your heart. And worse than that, I know our leaving has made your sorrow even deeper. I’ll never forgive myself for that even if someday you do. To leave you in a time like this was an impossible choice but one I had to make.

  Please know if you feel alone it’s not true. Our love will be with you everywhere you go and in everything you do. Hold us as close as you will Simpson’s memory for both were forged in the deepest love.

  You will survive this, Betty. It won’t be easy. Right now you’re in the middle of the kind of heartbreak that is bone deep. It will come in waves and you’ll want to drown in it. You’ll promise yourself you won’t cry, and then you’ll break that promise a million times. But someday it will change. Your heart will begin to see vibrant colors again. Because grief is not a place to stay, it’s a doorway to pass through.

  I don’t have the words to make you feel better. And I don’t have arms that can reach you. But I have a heart that will always hold a place for you. And I hope there is a place in yours for us. There might be days it feels too painful to remember what we all shared, but I hope you realize the love we have is too amazing to forget.

  I saw you throw yourself down to save me. That image will be seared in my mind for the remainder of my life. There will never be a day we don’t think of you and speak your name in our house wherever that ends up being.

  If the world is ever different, if the grace of God allows, we will see each other again someday. Until then find a way to rise above. Remember everything I ever taught you, because I will remember all you’ve taught me.

  With the deepest love,

  Your family—Winnie, Nate, and Alma.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Betty hadn’t felt like she was ready to change the world. Surely she hadn’t been prepared to do so. But ironically, not being able to hear Winnie’s voice anymore made the words she’d spoken in the past resound powerfully in Betty’s mind. She was far more equipped for battle than she realized.

  When taking up a picket sign felt terrifying, she remembered Winnie saying it doesn’t matter what you say you’d do, it only matters what you actually get up and do. So she got up and did it. As did Stan. When it was time to sit out all night on the cold concrete with hundreds of other students who were willing to face the Klan, she remembered Winnie telling her change never came from a comfortable place. When she was spat on, shoved, threatened, and afraid, she re
membered it was hate causing all this pain, and throughout history hate had yet to win.

  On the days she wasn’t sure she could go on fighting for what she believed, a whisper would pass across her ear, letting her knew she wasn’t alone. The changes did come. The world did start to see. Not all at once. Not without more violence. But a drop in the ocean still adds water.

  “Rumor has it the FBI has rounded up two hundred Klan members in Mississippi. That’s where my family went. I wonder if any of them were arrested,” Stan said as he poured Betty another glass of sweet tea.

  “I heard they’re labeling them as terrorists now. It’s about time,” Betty agreed, passing the newspaper across the table to him. “Have you heard anything from your family since they left?”

  “Not a word. I doubt I ever will. If the Jeffrey family here hadn’t taken me in, I don’t know where I’d be. But I sure as hell wasn’t going with them.” Stan and Betty spent most afternoons sitting out on the porch of the family who’d been kind enough to let Stan stay with them so he could finish high school in Edenville. The less time she spent at home the better. Her father’s power in the world was evaporating while hers was growing stronger. That tipped the scales to an uncomfortable level and made their already awkward house even more so. Staying away was the best she could do.

  “I’m glad you didn’t go.” Betty smiled. “Going on without you would have been impossible.”

  “You’re making me blush,” he joked as he rolled his eyes. “There was no chance I was leaving you. No chance I ever will. Have you given any thought to what you’ll be doing after you graduate next week? I know you’ve heard from a couple colleges, but you never told me your plans.”