The Lady's Slipper. Emma Carlson Berne

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СКАЧАТЬ call your daddy, will you?”

      Melody opened the screen door off the kitchen and stepped outside. Daddy was out there with his head under the hood of the Ford, tinkering. “Daddy, dinner,” Melody called.

      Her father wiped his hands on a rag and draped his arm around Melody’s shoulders as he came up the steps. “Let’s get some of that pot roast. I’ve been smelling it for the last half hour.”

      “Where’s Poppa?” Melody asked.

      “Right here!” Melody’s grandfather’s voice rang from the doorway as he came in carrying a big cardboard box.

      “Come get your dinner, Frank,” Big Momma fussed. “Your meat is getting cold.”

      “I just picked these beauties up from my supplier. Didn’t have time to drop them at the shop yet.” Poppa set the box down on the coffee table. Melody could see it was full of small potted plants with ruffly, deep pink flowers.

      Mommy, Daddy, Lila, Big Momma, Poppa, and Melody gathered around the table. The gathering was smaller than usual. Her oldest sister, Yvonne, was away at college, and her big brother, Dwayne, was touring with his Motown group, The Three Ravens. Val’s family was also missing the Sunday dinner. Aunt Tish was repainting her salon and needed Val and Charles to help so she could be open the next day.

      “Say grace, will you, baby?” Big Momma asked Melody.

      Melody closed her eyes. “By Thy hands must we be fed. Give us, Lord, our daily bread.” She let the familiar words linger on the air.

      “Are those begonias, Poppa?” Melody asked her grandfather as the gravy boat, bowls of corn and peas, and basket of rolls began making their way around the table.

      “They are!” Poppa poured fragrant gravy over his meat.

      “I’ve never seen ones like those before,” Melody said. She dished some corn onto her plate. “They look fancy.”

      “They’re for the Belle Isle Conservatory Flower Show. It’s next weekend.” Poppa took a bite of meat and patted his gray mustache with his napkin. “Our flower club is sponsoring the show this year, and I’m going to have a booth there to display some of the best bouquets and potted flowers from the shop.”

      “Hey, I was just at the conservatory yesterday!” Melody exclaimed. “Well, outside it. For the Fair Housing Committee spring picnic with Tish and Val.”

      “Yes, how was the picnic?” Mommy asked, refilling Daddy’s coffee. “Did you learn something?”

      “Well, I met some people from the synagogues there.” Melody looked around the table.

       “What, you mean Jewish people?” Lila asked. “On the Fair Housing Committee?”

      Mommy nodded. “Jewish people and black people have worked together on issues like this for a long time,” she said, sounding like the teacher she was.

      “Did you know that one of the founders of the NAACP was Jewish?” Daddy asked. He sipped his coffee.

      “That’s the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People,” Lila told Melody.

      “I know that,” Melody told Lila. But she hadn’t known that one of the founders was white, or Jewish.

      “From the start, Jewish people have worked on civil rights. Rabbis marched arm in arm with Dr. King in Selma, Alabama, during the freedom marches this spring,” Mommy added.

      “I also met a new girl at the picnic. Her name’s Leah. She’s white—she’s from one of the synagogues, and I really like her,” Melody told the family. “Can she come over sometime, Mommy?”

      “Of course she can, honey,” Mommy said. “Any of your friends are welcome at our house.”

      “Well, don’t get too busy,” Poppa said, holding up his hand. “I’m going to need some help next weekend.”

      “I’ll help you, Poppa!” Melody exclaimed. She loved helping Poppa in his shop. “What do you need me to do?”

      “What I need is an assistant at the flower show,” Poppa said. “I need someone with experience, someone I can rely on, someone…” He pretended to look around the table as if considering his options. “Ah! Like you!” Poppa pointed at Melody, and she giggled at his joke. “I can’t think of a better assistant. Come out to Belle Isle in the truck with me on Friday, and we’ll set up the booth together. And—” Poppa smiled at Melody with his eyes crinkling. “I hear there’s going to be a fancy party on Saturday at the conservatory for the flower club members—and their dates. It’s called the Saturday Night Soiree.”

      “Oh!” Melody dropped her roll on her plate. “Poppa, Mommy, do you think I can go?” She looked hopefully from grandparent to parent.

      Poppa smiled mischievously. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see if you get an invitation to the Soiree, now, won’t we?”

      chapter 3

      Friends and Fliers

      TUESDAY AFTER SCHOOL, Melody trotted down her porch steps as Val hopped out of her family’s Ford Fairlane and slammed the heavy door with a clunk.

      “Bye, Daddy!” Val called.

      Charles leaned across the seat and spoke through his open window. “Now, you girls be careful. The neighborhood you’re going to is mostly friendly to black people, but not every person is. I’ll pick you up back here in an hour or so, baby.”

      Val waved at her father, and the station wagon pulled away from the curb.

      “Hey, cousin,” Val said. “Have some fliers!” She pulled a stack of fair housing fliers from the bag slung over her shoulder, and the girls headed down the sidewalk.

      The day was crystal blue with puffy white clouds sailing overhead. On the tidy lawns, tulips nodded their red and yellow heads, while the last of the crabapple petals sprinkled the sidewalk at their feet. They passed the chain-link fence of the park they’d fixed up last summer with their friends. Melody got a little burst of pride every time she saw the bright metal jungle gym and new swings. The morning glories she’d planted around the base of the swings were starting to twine up the metal poles, getting ready for summer, when their blue horn-shaped flowers would burst forth.

      About half a dozen blocks away, the girls turned right. They were out of Melody’s neighborhood now. The houses were larger here, big wooden and brick homes that had once been fancy, with large porches and bay windows. Some had been converted to apartments and had two or three mailboxes on the front porch. At one house, a white woman was collecting her mail. She glanced over her shoulder at the girls and frowned, then disappeared through her front door.

      “Is this where we’re stuffing the mailboxes?” Melody asked, suddenly feeling a bit nervous.

      “Yep,” said Val confidently. “This is the neighborhood.”

      “Hey, did you say Leah lives here? Maybe we’ll see her.” The thought of a familiar face was comforting.

      Val СКАЧАТЬ