Providence

by Cocca, Lisa Colozza

  Next, I went to work on me. I must have used half a bottle of their liquid soap removing the dirt and grime. I took notice of what kind it was and promised myself I would replace it tomorrow. I wasn’t about to add robbery to my list of accidental crimes.

  I sat down and started feeding Baby Girl when I noticed a gray cat rub up against the screen. It was too big and healthy-looking to be a stray, so I worried that its owner would come through the gate looking for it. I slipped back out of the porch and carried the cat out to the driveway. I hid behind the gate and watched it run across the street to one of the neighboring houses.

  Baby Girl took this opportunity to slip off to sleep without finishing her bottle. I moved the carriage as close as I could get it to the lounge chair that would be my bed for the night. I wanted to be sure that I would hear her right away so she wouldn’t have time to wake the neighbors. I lay down and watched her breathing for a little while, but when I closed my eyes it wasn’t her sweet little face I pictured. I was thinking about that cat, and wondering what it looked like when it was a kitten. When I was nine, I found a stray kitten down by the main road. She was the same color gray as the dress on the Christmas tree angel, and just as soft. I named her Gray Velvet and couldn’t wait to show Mama and Daddy. But when Daddy looked at the kitten, he didn’t see what I saw. “Did you feed this cat?” he asked.

  “Yes, Daddy,” I said, feeling proud of myself for taking such good care of the kitten.

  “She’s the runt of the litter,” Daddy said. “Even her own mama didn’t want her. She’s too scrawny to grow into a good mouser. That cat’s useless to us and she’ll never move on since you fed her. You go out back and drown her now.”

  Daddy could be cruel at times when he thought there was a lesson to be learned by one of us; still, I couldn’t believe the words he was saying. I remember staring at Daddy for what seemed like days. He looked back at me and said, “Get to it now, and don’t you be bringing any more strays into this house.”

  I hid Gray Velvet in my room and fed her with an old baby bottle. A few days later, she escaped into the living room. Daddy took both Gray Velvet and me by the scruffs of our necks and dragged us up to the barn. He handed the cat to me and filled a bucket with water.

  “Now, you’re going to do what you should have done when I first set eyes on that cat,” he said.

  I tried to run away, but Daddy grabbed me and forced Gray Velvet and my hands into the bucket. At first, Gray Velvet seemed to hold her breath. Then she tried swimming away. Eventually I could feel her fighting for air and choking. All the while, I tried to help her. No matter how hard I tried to pull my hands and Gray Velvet out of the bucket, I was no match for Daddy’s strength. He held tighter and kept my hands under the water until she stopped moving. “This is a lesson you won’t forget, Becky. You do what your daddy tells you, or you’ll regret it.”

  I was crying too hard to answer, but Daddy was right about one thing. I won’t ever forget.

  The next morning, I awoke not to the baby’s cries or another nightmare, but to the sound of plop, plop, plop. The sun was starting to push itself into the sky, so I knew we needed to get out of there. I slipped out of the porch door and peeked through a knothole in the fence. The plop, plop, plop sound I heard was newspapers hitting the neighbor’s driveways. I hurried back to the porch and collected our things. Baby Girl was fussing a little, so I had to tend to her needs first or we would wake the neighbors with her howling. A quick bottle and a fresh diaper and we were on our way. Lucky thing for us, folks on that street didn’t keep farmers’ hours.

  The only thing open in town that early was the Tick Tock Diner. I slid into a booth by the window and Dottie, the waitress, sauntered over. She was wearing the same uniform she had on last night. The grease stain on her right hip pocket and the ink stain on her left told me that Dottie didn’t spend her after work hours over at the Super Suds.

  “Back again?” she said.

  “Food was so good last night,” I said, “that I had to come back for more.”

  She shook her head. “What can I get you?”

  “Coffee, please,” I said. Baby Girl had gotten me up so many times last night that I had to make extra bottles. I was worried about being able to keep my eyes open all day.

  Dottie returned with the pot, poured me a cup, and tossed some of the little cream cups on the table. “A young girl like you shouldn’t be drinking coffee,” she said. “Do you want something to eat with that?”

  I looked at the menu, trying to find the perfect blend of cheap and slow cooking. I wasn’t enjoying this lady’s company but I was too tired to be pushing that carriage up and down the streets until the Second Hand Rose opened. Unfortunately, we were her only customers, so when Dottie brought my breakfast she hung around the booth.

  “Where you from?” she asked.

  “A little north of here,” I answered.

  “How long you planning to stay?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered. “Maybe for good. I got me a job over at the Second Hand Rose.”

  Dottie nodded at Baby Girl. “Will her daddy be joining you soon?”

  “No.”

  “So where are you staying?”

  My fingers tightened around my fork. The door opened and a group of old men puffing on cigars shuffled in. “Coffee all around, Dottie,” one of them shouted.

  I watched Dottie saunter back to the coffee pot. Those eggs were going to be my last hot meal for a while. I needed to stay away from the Tick Tock Diner until I had time to think of some answers for all of Dottie’s questions. Since this was the only restaurant I had seen in town, I figured our dining out days were done.

  CHAPTER 6

  I arrived at work an hour early and waited for Rosie. When she saw me sitting on the step she clapped her hands and raised them to the sky. “You’re early,” she said. “I knew I did right in hiring you and giving you that carriage. My granddaughter said I’m an old fool for trusting a stranger. But I told her that there are some folks who are never strangers; they’re friends right away.”

  Her kind words struck me like a splash of sunlight. I parked the carriage behind the counter and got right to work. Rosie wanted to go through the boxes of baby stuff herself, so I started moving things around to make room for the new merchandise. I sorted and folded and moved things until it occurred to me that I hadn’t heard as much as a whimper out of Baby Girl. I walked up to investigate and found Rosie sitting in a rocking chair feeding her.

  “I’m sorry, Rosie. I didn’t hear her fuss. I don’t want us to be more work for you,” I said, approaching them with outstretched arms.

  “Nonsense,” Rosie answered. She went right on rocking and showed no signs of handing over Baby Girl. “Georgia and I are just fine. Why don’t you take a little break? We don’t have to finish all of the work in one morning.”

  I felt a little shook when Rosie called Baby Girl Georgia. That was another one of the lies that would never leave me. I watched the two of them rocking back and forth, and couldn’t tell which of those little ladies looked more content. That is why I didn’t say anything about the pink dress with white smocking and rosebuds that Rosie had put on Baby Girl.

  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.