One time, though, when I reached my spot in the patch, a basket filled with something wrapped in a colorful cloth sat with a note pinned to it.
Bet all that runnin’s makin’ you tired. Save some for the trip home.
~Annie
I peeled back the fabric and found cookies, muffins, an apple, and an orange. She was right. Usually by the time I got there, I was beat. The cookies were still warm and smelled of chocolate and vanilla. I bit in and collapsed onto my back. It was an eye-rolling, soul-finding experience—those cookies were divine.
“Come out of them flowers, child.” Annie’s voice startled me, her southern drawl thick as molasses.
I rolled over onto my belly and army-crawled through the thick stems until I was met by a pair of white sneakers.
“Where’s your mama?” she asked.
“I-I don’t know, ma’am.”
“Ma’am? Shoot. Ain’t old enough to be no ma’am.” Annie placed both hands on her hips. “What you plannin’ to do when I harvest those flowers in a week? Where you gonna go?”
I swallowed and sat cross-legged in front of her, savoring my cookie.
“I don’t know…”
“You gotta be what, eight, nine?”
I nodded.
“Why you gots to run from them like that?” She sat down beside me and crossed her legs. “Better yet, why you not standin’ up for yourself, sugs?”
“There’s too many,” I said, staring down at the chocolate melting onto my fingers. “I did once… I’d rather run.”
“Okay, then run.” She leaned back, holding herself up on her hands and looked up to the sunflowers. “They are beautiful, ain’t they?”
I nodded again and lay down.
“Tell you what, sugar…” She lay beside me, folding her hands behind her head. “I’m gonna be cutting them down to get them seeds soon. When you come a runnin’ and you don’t see those big yellow flowers up there… you cut through my lawn and go one block over. That’s where my bakery is. You come inside. You’ll be safe there. We can let your mama know where you’ll be and she can come get you when she’s got the time.”
I took another bite of cookie. “My mama don’t care… she won’t pick me up.”
“What’s your name?”
“Magdalene Maxwell, but I hate it.”
“Whatdoyou like?”
“Maggie.”
“Well, Maggie… that may be… but I’m not fittin’ to be havin’ no police report filed against me for kidnappin’ your mama’s child. I want you to call her and tell her that’s where you gon’ be after school… startin’ next week.”
“Yes, Ma?—”
Annie sat up and gave me that stern look I’d soon remember better than anything. “Now I know you nots about to call me Ma’am again, is yah?”
Giggling, I shook my head and shoved the rest of the cookie into my mouth.
She smiled back, stood up, and offered me her hand. “Good, let’s go give her a call.”
I looked to the sunflowers one last time before they dissolved into the blinding fluorescent lights of that goddamn trauma room I’d become so familiar with in my short time in Port Grey, Massachusetts.
I blinked and focused on the big shadow by my feet.
