Читать книгу The Lady's Slipper - Emma Carlson Berne - Страница 5

MELODY THOUGHT SHE’D never seen the sky as blue as it was today. The azure canopy arched over the Detroit skyscrapers rising silver in the distance. The May air was soft and scented with that special fragrance of damp earth and new leaves that only comes in the spring.

Melody bounced a little on the springy backseat of the Ford Fairlane as it sped past the shops and offices that lined the busy streets. She glanced over at her cousin Val sitting beside her. Val’s mom, Tish, was driving them to a picnic.

Val grinned at Melody. “I’m so glad we’re going to this picnic together, Dee-Dee,” Val exclaimed. “I hardly see you anymore.”

“Except for every week at church and every Sunday for dinner,” Melody teased, smiling. But what Val said was true. About one year ago, Val’s parents had finally been able to purchase their own home in a nice neighborhood. It had taken them a long time, because many neighborhoods didn’t want black families on their blocks. But the Fair Housing Committee, a group that was working to end this housing prejudice, had helped Tish and Charles, Val’s father, find someone who was willing to sell to any buyer, regardless of race.

Melody was so happy for Val and her parents when they finally moved into their very own home. But Val’s new house and school were farther away, and Melody missed her cousin. They couldn’t walk home from school together the way they had when Val was staying with Melody’s grandparents.

“Don’t worry,” Melody told Val. “It’s not like I’m going to forget you. You’re still my best cousin. We’ll just have to make up for lost time when we are together.”

“That’s right, girls,” Tish said over her shoulder. Her beehive hairdo shone in the sun pouring through the windshield. Tish owned a hair salon and always had the newest hairstyles. “You girls keep each other close. That’s what families do.”

The car wheels thump-thumped over the edge of the pavement and onto the steel girders of the MacArthur Bridge. Below them, the Detroit River glittered blue-brown in the sunlight.

“Woo-hoo! Belle Isle, here we come!” Melody called as they left the gritty city of Detroit behind. She craned her neck to spot the green leafy oasis of the park at the other end of the bridge. They were going to the spring picnic of the Fair Housing Committee at a park shelter on Belle Isle, a large island that sat right in the middle of the Detroit River. The entire island was a park.

“Belle Isle,” Tish sighed as the park’s huge trees came into sight. “This place is a rest for weary eyes.”

Melody agreed. There was something special about Belle Isle. Not twenty minutes from the car horns and asphalt streets of Detroit, the grasses and trees of the island fluttered in cool breezes. You could do anything there—swim off the little sandy beach, take a pony ride, watch the monkeys on their gym at the children’s zoo, walk through the woods—

“Mom, can we stop at the carousel?” Val’s eager voice interrupted Melody’s reverie. “Dee-Dee, remember how this was the first thing I wanted to do when we moved here?” Val and her family had lived in Birmingham, Alabama, until two years ago, when they’d moved up north to Detroit.

“Yes!” Melody laughed. “You loved the silver horse the best. Remember how we’d have to wait and wait for that one to be free, and I’d be so impatient…”

“Forget about the carousel, baby, we can’t stop right now,” Tish told them. “We’ll be late for the picnic, and we’ve got the meat. Everyone will be wanting their hamburgers.”

“We’ll ride later,” Melody told her cousin. “For old times’ sake. Look, there’s the fountain!” The girls stared at the hulking gray stone fountain that spouted jets of water. They passed the band shell with its rows of benches, empty for now, and the ornate stone building that housed the aquarium.

“Oh, look at the conservatory in the sunlight!” Melody exclaimed. Tish slowed the car, and they all gazed at the vast glass-and-steel building that glittered like a massive diamond in the bright sunlight. The giant center dome was crowned with a cupola, with low greenhouses extending out either side—all built of glass so the exotic plants inside could grow in the heat and light. Lawns spread out around the main building and the greenhouses.

“Didn’t you visit the conservatory with your school last year, Melody?” Tish asked as she started driving again.

“Yes,” Melody said, “on a field trip.” She remembered the musky, warm air inside the huge greenhouse. It had seemed like a blast of the tropics in the middle of a snowy Detroit winter. She recalled the towering palm fronds that brushed the ceiling, the giant pink hibiscus flowers thrusting their heads over the railings, and lavender wisteria that hung over archways like a gorgeous trailing curtain. Melody had never wanted to leave. Flowers and gardens were her favorite things—she loved digging in the soil, touching and smelling the flowers, helping living things to grow. Her grandfather, Poppa, loved flowers as much as Melody did—that’s why he had his florist shop, Frank’s Flowers.

“Here we are.” Tish pulled up in a row of cars parked in front of a shady stone picnic shelter beside a grove of trees. A knot of adults stood around a smoking grill, the women in summer shifts, the men in short-sleeved shirts and straw fedoras. A few children chased one another on the grass, while some girls and boys sat on the picnic benches talking. “There’s Phyllis,” Tish said as she tugged a green metal cooler from the trunk. She nodded toward a tall woman wearing a yellow print dress. “She’s the leader, you remember, Val?”

“Oh yes,” Val said. “I remember she likes to talk…a lot,” she murmured to Melody. Melody smothered a giggle. The housing group had helped Tish and Charles so much that Tish still attended the meetings. She often took Val, but Melody had never tagged along before.

More cars pulled up, spilling out their occupants—black and white, young and old—and soon the grill was full of sizzling burgers and hot dogs, their rich smoke wafting through the air and making Melody’s mouth water. A few women spread a checked tablecloth on one of the picnic tables and set out big bowls of potato salad, Jell-O with pears, potato chips, and carrot and celery sticks. Coffee bubbled in a dented metal percolator at the side of the grill.

“I didn’t realize the fair housing group had so many white people in it,” Melody whispered to her cousin. “I thought it was just people from our church.”

But Val didn’t seem surprised. “This part of the housing group is called Operation Open Door,” she said, taking a paper plate from the stack at one end of the table. “It’s people from the churches and also the synagogues. So some of the people are Jewish.”

Melody looked at the group with renewed interest. She’d never really talked to any Jewish people before, that she knew of. She did recall Big Momma, her grandmother, saying that their own neighborhood used to be mostly Jewish before it became mostly black.

“Let’s eat, folks!” Tish called out a few minutes later, waving a metal spatula in her hand.

Everyone began lining up for food. Melody heaped her plate with Jell-O, chips, and a burger with lots of bright yellow mustard, and then followed Val over to one of the picnic tables, concentrating on her heaping plate. Suddenly, she collided with a tall white girl, almost tipping her meal into the grass. “Whoops!” The tall girl grabbed Melody’s plate with a lightning reflex. “Don’t lose your burger!”

“Thanks,” Melody breathed. The girl looked a couple of years older than Melody and Val, who were ten and twelve. She wore fashionable pink-flowered hip-huggers and a sleeveless pink blouse. Her flipped black hair was held back by a pink headband, and she even wore eyeliner. Melody thought she looked very sophisticated.

The girl smiled down at her, and Melody realized she was staring. “Thanks again!” she stammered and practically ran to the table where Val was already eating.

“Val, who’s that?” Melody nodded at the tall girl, who was sitting a few tables away with a dark-haired woman who looked just like her. Melody figured the woman must be the girl’s mother.

Val twisted around. “Oh, that’s Leah. She’s fourteen. Her mom’s in the group, too—I think she knows my mother. They’re from one of the synagogues, like I was telling you. I think they live in the next neighborhood over from you.”

“She looks cool.” Melody admired Leah’s outfit again. She wasn’t allowed to wear hip-huggers, but her big sister Yvonne, who was in college, had some. Then she turned back to Val and asked, “How come the Jewish people are on the housing committee?”

Val looked serious. “They’ve always worked on fair housing practices. Mom said that they had trouble buying homes once, too—people didn’t want Jews in the neighborhoods the same way they don’t want black people now. So we sometimes work together.”

As Melody watched idly, the girl Leah leaned over and said something to her mother, who nodded. Leah slid off the picnic bench and walked rapidly away from the shelter in the general direction of the carousel until Melody couldn’t see her anymore. Melody wondered where she was going—to the carousel? Well, maybe to the bathroom or something.

“Everyone! Your attention for a moment, please.” The tall woman, Phyllis, stood up, and the talk died down. “Thank you all for coming to our spring picnic. We have such a delicious spread here. I just wanted to take a moment to update you on our efforts. As you know, we have been asking residents in key neighborhoods to sign Covenant Cards, which say that they will welcome people of any race or religion to their neighborhood. As of April, over three thousand Detroiters and one thousand suburban homeowners have signed. This is a great success!”

Everyone clapped and cheered, and Melody felt her heart lift. She remembered feeling the same way last year when she and her family marched in the Walk to Freedom and heard Martin Luther King speak. It felt like everyone was joined together for the same goal: fairness and equality.

Phyllis spoke over the applause. “We must not let our efforts cease! I have fliers here letting residents know that our volunteers will be coming to their neighborhood asking for Covenant Card signatures. We will need to distribute these fliers this week.”

“Ooh, I can do that,” Val murmured to Melody. “I could go after school.”

“I’ll help you,” Melody assured her.

Phyllis sat down, and everyone started talking and eating again. The wind rustled the leaves, and a cool breeze off the river blew across the back of Melody’s neck. Val was chattering about handing out the fliers, but Melody was watching the girl with the stylish pink bell-bottoms, Leah, coming back up the paved path. She walked with her shoulders straight and her tanned arms swinging. Melody thought she looked like the model on the cover of the Teen magazine she’d seen last week at the drugstore. Leah slid onto the bench beside her mother and pulled her plate toward her.

Suddenly, as if she felt Melody’s eyes on her, Leah turned and smiled at her. Melody looked away, embarrassed at being caught staring again, but Leah rose from her place and came over to Melody’s table, carrying her plate of half-eaten food.

“Hi,” she said, sitting down on the bench beside Val, across from Melody. “Do you mind if I join you? I think our mothers are perfectly happy without me.” She gave a tinkling laugh and nodded toward Tish and the dark-haired woman, now vigorously discussing something. “I’m Leah,” she told Melody.

Melody smiled. “I’m Melody. Thanks again for rescuing my lunch.”

“How’s your new house?” Leah asked Val. Delicately, she forked up a bite of potato salad. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s great,” Val said. “I love having my own room. We painted it pink.”

Leah sighed. “Oh, that sounds so pretty. Pink’s my favorite color. Mom painted mine gray. Except she called it ‘pearl.’ Call it what you want, it’s still gray.”

“You could pretend you’re living in a cloud,” Melody suggested. Leah laughed, and Melody felt a flush of pride. Leah thought she was funny, or maybe clever. “I like your hip-huggers,” she told Leah. “I wish I was allowed to wear those.”

“Thanks,” Leah said. “Believe me, I had to beg long and hard to get Mom to make me some. She wanted me to buy my own pair with some of my babysitting money.”

“Babysitting would be fun,” Melody exclaimed. “I’d like to babysit to have a little extra spending money. And babies are so cute.”

“Yeah.” Leah hesitated. “But I’m saving up for something more important than clothes. Anyway—” She jumped up. “Let’s go ride the carousel. You want to? I’ll just go tell my mom.”

“Great!” Melody jumped up too.

To her surprise, Val frowned a little. “I thought we were going to ride the carousel just you and me,” she murmured to Melody as Leah strode over to her mother.

“Well, why not Leah, too?” Melody asked. “She’s so nice. Come on, let’s go ask your mother.” Melody hurried over to join Leah without waiting for Val’s answer.

The carousel was spinning merrily when they arrived, filled with shrieking children all clutching the brass poles and riding up and down on the brightly painted horses. The calliope music slowed and stopped just as they walked up. The scowling man who ran the ride clanked the metal gate open as the children filed off.

“We used to ride this when Val first moved here,” Melody told Leah as they lined up and handed over their dimes. “Back then she always wanted the silver horse.”

Val nudged Melody and gave her a look.

What? Melody mouthed. Val frowned and looked away.

“Aw! That’s so cute,” Leah was saying, smiling at Val. “Hey, there’s your old friend.” The girls followed Leah as she quickly wove through the animals until she came to the silver horse. “Hop on!” she patted his worn black saddle.

“That’s okay,” Val said a little stiffly. “That was when I was little. I don’t care what color I get now, obviously.” She climbed onto a yellow horse, while Melody chose a prancing red one.

“I used to come here with my grandfather,” Leah shouted over the music as the carousel started and their horses rose and fell. “He always liked the lion.”

“Was that when you were a little kid?” Melody called, clinging to her pole. The horse was more slippery than she remembered.

“Yeah. He could get around better then.” Leah’s voice dropped so that Melody had to strain to hear it over the music.

“Is he crippled?” she asked.

But Leah only looked straight ahead, her lips folded tightly together in a line so straight it looked like a slash across her face. Melody was pretty sure Leah had heard her. Why didn’t she answer?

Suddenly Melody felt awkward. Maybe Leah’s grandfather was crippled—and maybe it had been insensitive of her to ask Leah about it.

When the ride stopped, the girls made their way back from the carousel on the paved path that wound through the zoo. The noisy gibbons sounded like a flock of birds, and llamas gazed at them through long-lashed eyes. They paused to watch the baby elephant get a bath from a hose, then wandered slowly on toward the aquarium and the conservatory. The air was hot now and humming with the sleepy drone of midday insects. As they passed a playground, swing chains clanged and little children shouted and scrambled over a metal jungle gym. The doors of the aquarium were propped open, and people streamed in and out.

Leah and Melody chatted as they walked. Leah was easy to talk to, Melody thought, and she laughed a lot. Melody noticed, though, that Val was unusually quiet.

Leah veered off the sidewalk. “Here, let’s cut through by the conservatory. This way leads right to the shelters.” The noises of the zoo and the playground faded as the girls padded through the short, thick grass. Gardens rose around them, lush and fragrant in the humid air. Leah led the way confidently, like a forest guide, weaving between flower plots with rows of tulips and clumps of huge ornamental grasses. Through the tree branches, Melody could just see the silvery walls of the conservatory rising into the sky.

“Oh, this is so pretty,” she breathed. “I’ve never been back here.”

“Are we even supposed to be going this way?” Val asked from just ahead of her. “There’s no path or anything.”

“It’s okay!” Leah called from ahead. “It’s just a shortcut.”

The girls walked single file, pushing through the tall dry grasses left from last year. A yellow and black butterfly lit on a shrub covered with purple flowers, and Melody slowed to inspect its intricately patterned wings opening and closing. She bent down so that her eyes were level with the insect. Its two black antennae waved delicately. Melody caught her breath as the butterfly’s black tongue, slender as a hair, unrolled to taste the center of one of the purple flowers.

“Val,” Melody murmured. “Look at this.”

But her cousin did not answer. Melody raised her head. She was alone. Val must have thought Melody was still behind her or she wouldn’t have gone ahead.

Melody looked around. The corridor of flowers was deserted. “Val!” she called. “Leah!” But there was no answer.

Melody hurried through the shrubs and flowers, but whatever map Leah was following in her head was invisible to her. Melody followed a faint trail that she thought would lead to the shelters and the river, but she found herself wandering in an apple orchard, frosted thickly with fragrant white blossoms. Then abruptly, the trees cleared, and the conservatory loomed in front of her.

“Definitely not the right way,” Melody murmured to herself. But she knew that if she went around to the front entrance, she could follow the sidewalk back to the park shelters. She trotted across the expanse of lawn and toward the side of the huge glass building. Leah and Val were still nowhere in sight, but a man stood bent over by a side door in front of her. The door was shut, and he appeared to be inspecting the doorknob. The air was very still.

“I think the entrance is around the front,” Melody called out.

The man straightened up. He was nicely dressed in a brown suit. His red hair was brushed back under a tan fedora. His face was smooth and bland. “Thank you, little girl,” he said quietly. “I seem to have taken a wrong turn.” He walked off around the side of the building.

Melody squinted at the door the man had been looking at. The shiny metal handle was smudged with fingerprints as if he had been trying to open the door.

Melody walked around to the front of the building, the same way the man had gone. When she reached the front sidewalk, Val and Leah were waiting for her, waving. But the man was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he hadn’t really been looking for the front entrance.

“Hurry up, Melody!” Val looked annoyed, but also slightly worried.

“We thought you got lost,” said Leah.

“Sorry,” said Melody. “Come on, let’s get back to the picnic.” She sighed as they hurried along the walk. “I love the conservatory.”

“Me too!” Leah agreed. “Have you seen the giant ferns?”

“Yes!” Melody remembered the giant, towering fronds.

“The birds-of-paradise are my favorite.” Leah’s face was lit up. “Blue—”

“And orange!” Melody broke in. “I love them, too! My grandpa had one in his flower shop once—remember, Val?”

“Um…” Val looked blank. “Was that the little tree thing he had?”

“No, that was a rosebush in a pot!” Melody laughed. She turned back to Leah. “And did you know there are orchids there? There’s a whole orchid room. I haven’t seen it, but I bet it’s beautiful.”

“Yeah!” Leah agreed. “They’re gorgeous, and so many different kinds—moth orchids and boat orchids and cattleyas and vandas—”

“Wow!” Melody was impressed. “You really know about orchids! I know more about plants that grow around here. I have a book that has orchids in it, but I’ve never seen one in real life before.” Melody’s well-worn copy of Plants of the World had been on her bedside table since Poppa had given it to her three years ago, and she liked looking at the orchid pictures. Some of the blossoms looked like exotic spotted butterflies, others like fancy purses.

“Orchids are so neat,” Leah said, enthusiasm bubbling in her voice. “There’s a chocolate orchid that smells just like chocolate, and there’s one called the white egret orchid. It’s my favorite. It looks like a bird spreading its wings. And the monkey orchid actually looks like there is a tiny monkey face in the middle of the flower.”

“And some of them are very rare, right? That’s what my book says.”

Leah paused. “Yeah. And the rare ones can be worth a lot of money. Not many people know that.” She shot Melody a strange glance and walked a little faster. Her cheeks were red.

Melody started to ask Leah what was wrong, but she had a sudden feeling Leah didn’t want her to. Anyway, they were almost back to the picnic shelter.