Shantytown

             
             It was like most Florida days, the sun so hot it stung. Heidi bounced into Murr’s kitchen just to cool down. As always, she let the screen door ban shut behind her. “Hi Murr,” she said, flashing her innocent smile. The part in her hair was typically crooked, and ragged blond strands hung loose from her pigtails. Her freckles, Mom called them sun sprinkles, blended with the smidges of sweat and dirt indicative of a child too busy to be concerned about appearance.

            “How about some cookies and milk?” Murr offered, brushing a grey curl out of her face. She was fond of Heidi. She’d always wished for a little girl, and Heidi was a welcome diversion for the empty loneliness of her little trailer home. “Would you like to come to the groves?” she asked, knowing Heidi would jump at the chance for an outing.

            “Can I pick oranges and suck out the juice?” Heidi begged, already planning her climb up one of the orange trees that quenched her thirst on these oppressively hot days.

            “I’m sure nobody will miss an orange or two,” Murr said. “But you best be careful with that little pen knife of yours, you hear?” The aging woman didn’t have a genuine Southern drawl, only a touch, as if she’d come from the North some time ago.

            You know I’m a girl scout. I won’t cut myself,” Heidi promised, already dreaming of the sweet juice dripping into her mouth from the little round hole she’d cut  at the top of the orange. “When do we leave?” she abruptly asked, unceremoniously cramming the cookies into her mouth all at once. She washed them down with the milk.

            “Hold on, now, little lady,” Murr countered. “You’ll need to scrub up a bit and re-do your braids. I can’t have you make a bad impression on Joe.”

            “Who’s Joe?” Heidi asked, wondering if Joe was the owner of the grove she would visit. She knew a Joe from the little Baptist church Murr attended.

            “He’s foreman of the workers, and we’re bringing him some things from the church,” Murr answered.

            Heidi wasn’t aware the delivery was a charity run. Folks were discreet, and Murr was no exception. She wasted no time on explanations, and Heidi wasn’t interested anyway. She was more curious about where Mur was taking her than why.

            Murr didn’t lose any time pulling the rubber bands out of Heidi’s braids and brushing her hair smooth. Before long, Heidi turned into a prim Southern miss. The pale blue cotton jumper matched Heidi’s eyes; and although it was wrinkled, the white satin ribbons Murr found for her braids made her feel rich. The part in her hair had become straight as Main Street.

Murr let Heidi help load some boxes into the beat up red Mercury’s trunk. Before she could plop herself in the front seat of the car, Murr asked her to sit in the back, explaining that the Perry’s were coming along. Heidi didn’t like the Perry’s much, even though they were radio evangelists who used to broadcast from the local station. Though she should have been impressed, she felt uncomfortable with them. They were just too friendly, too thoughtful, too concerned. They reminded her of her friend Claudia who always made promises but never delivered. So she just smiled politely at them when Murr pulled into their driveway.

            Before Mr. Perry took his seat next to Murr, Mrs. Lee Ann offered their Cadillac for the trip.  Murr declined, “It’s too much work to move the boxes again.”

Mrs. Perry, as though unwilling to give up her comfort pressed Murr with an, “Ah  you sho’, Sweetie?” in her lethargic drawl.

When the old Mercury finally turned down Highway 50, Heidi stopped fidgeting. The drive past grove after grove of orange trees took more than 20 minutes, and Heidi’s mouth got awfully dry. She wished she could stop the car to grab an orange or two from a tree, but sat quietly, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Finally, the car slowed to turn into a sandy white driveway between neat rows of orange trees. Heidi bubbled with anticipation, “Are we here, Murr? Are we here?” The driveway was long, and Heidi sat on the edge of her seat the whole way, craning her neck for a view of what lay ahead. Slowly, the drive opened out in front of them, as the trees on the sides of it thinned. When the Mercury rolled to a stop in the middle of a dusty clearing, Heidi convinced herself Murr had brought her to a ghost town. At least, except for a man leaning against a shady wall, it seemed lifeless.

A ramshackle wood building stood on the left bearing a crooked sign so peeled Heidi could read only a couple of letters. She guessed it must be a tavern, because two men were leaning against its doorjamb, beer cans in hand, talking softly. Opposite, was a smaller wooden shack, a cross perched precariously on the peak of its roof, as if the rusty sign of faith on the hut made it a church. Scattered casually next to the two buildings were other smaller shiplap structures terribly distressed, but inviting, their shady porches sheltering a few older folks hidden in the shadows. A rusty Ford flatbed with no plates stood idling near the church, and a few mangy dogs, ribs showing, were lying under porches.

Heidi became aware that the place, though it looked ghostly, was only subdued buy the incessant Florida heat. She tumbled out of the Mercury almost before it rolled to a full stop. Eager as ever, she wanted to help Murr take the boxed to the little church the Perrys had started to walk toward. Before she got her arms around one of the bigger boxes, the town came alive.

A boy about her age offered to help carry. Heidi noticed a woman on the porch of one of the buildings nod in approval. Like the pancake queen Aunt Jemima, her face was black as the exotic Negros she’d once seen in her German geography book. Perhaps the woman was the boy’s mother, though Heidi was unsure because the boy had blond fuzzy curls and a pale complexion.

The two men from the tavern who had come out of its shadows and had put their beers on the stair were also Negroes. At the makeshift church, the man called Joe came forward to meet the Perry’s. His skin was a deep purple black.

The dogs came alive then, and though she wasn’t usually frightened of dogs, she stiffened as they came toward her. “They don’t bite,” the boy promised as she deposited her load on the church step so she could bend down and scratch the dog’s ear.

Heidi couldn’t hear the Perry’s conversation they held with Joe, but she noticed that Joe was awfully polite, as if he shared her uncomfortable feelings about the Perrys. She didn’t pay much attention, because she was distracted by the sight of so many Negros together. In her short time in Florida, hardly any dark skinned people crossed her path. They were always on the other side of the street, or at the back of the bus, singly and alone. It seemed confusing that they always were too far away to greet properly. So she was pleased that Washington, that was the boy’s name, took her by the hand and brought her to meet his mom.

“You’s a right pretty girl,” Washington’s mom said, fanning herself against the heat. The wooden planks of the porch creaked under the rocking chair. “You let dem men carry de boxes, so’s you don’t mess dat dress,” she said, nodding toward the car where several men were helping Murr unload. Then she pushed herself up out of the rocker and disappeared into the shadowy interior of the house, while Washington sat down on the edge of the porch and started talking about the work at the groves.

Heidi, noticing Washington’s bare feet, kicked off her own shoes and parked them on the porch. She slid down to the bottom stair to wiggle her feet in the warm sand. A dog under the stair nudged her heel with his cold wet snout and she giggled.

Washington grinned, “Hi Momma!” he said, scratching the dog’s nose. “Why you’s not in de barn?” he asked, pulling her out and raising her to his lap. He wrapped his arms firmly around her and got up. “C’mom,” Washington motioned with his head toward the church meaning for Heidi to follow him. When he passed beyond the church door, she wondered where he was headed. As soon as they rounded the corner of the little structure, she saw a storage barn, its black open face inviting her out of the heat. Washington disappeared into its shadowy interior, and she followed gingerly waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dark. Before she could see clearly, she heard high pitched squeals on her right. She turned toward the sound and could barely make out Washington, his finger to his lips in the universal sign of silence.

Heidi stumbled on a rubber boot that had been left on the ground, nearly crashing into the empty crates Washington was standing next to. He caught her by the arm and steadied her whispering, “Look.” Between the crates and loose straw lay Momma with five tiny naked puppies squirming for her milk.

Hours slipped by like minutes watching the puppies and playing hide and seek among the crates. Heidi didn’t want to return to the hot sun, but noticed the shadows had deepened. “Maybe we ought to get back.”

“Let’s pick an orange first,” said Washington. “I’m thirsty, aren’t you?” They walked into the open. The sun had slipped below the tree line, and while Heidi searched among the branches of the tree she’d climbed, Murr called for her. “The sweetest ones are on the bottom,” said Washington handing her an orange he’d picked. She carefully cut a hole in the top and handed the pen knife to him. Sucking on her orange, she hurried to the Mercury, its engine already running.

Washington ran after her to bring her shoes from the porch where she’d forgotten them. Handing her the pen knife he squeezed her hand in farewell. Heidi didn’t know she wouldn’t see him again. When the old Mercury turned away from the groves Heidi was in the front seat because the Perrys wanted to discuss things quietly together in the back seat. Their whispers provided background for her reveries. Occasional words broke through her consciousness: nigger dogs, mulatto, shantytown. Their meanings were unclear, but she turned them over in her head and then discarded them as feeling wrong, though she wasn’t sure why she thought that. She was glad when the Perrys were finally dropped off at their house.