Turtle in Paradise (13 page)

Her smile doesn’t falter, but her voice trembles a little.

“Not very well at all, as it turned out,” she says, and that’s when I know.

I know that my father doesn’t have three eyes and isn’t a murderer, unless you count sponges. He’s kind. And he likes the funny pages.

Just like his daughter.

“Enough about that,” Mama says briskly, and stands up. “We better hurry along and say good-bye to Minnie. I wish we’d been able to stay for a longer visit, but Archie is anxious to start our new life together.”

“I want to say good-bye to Smokey. She’s at Nana Philly’s,” I say. “You should see her before we go.”

Mama takes a deep breath and looks down.

“My grandmother, I mean,” I say.

“She said I wasn’t her daughter anymore,” Mama says. “She said I was a disgrace.”

“Oh, Mama,” I say. “I’m sure that’s not the meanest thing she’s ever said.”

Nana Philly looks just the same as when I first saw her: she’s sitting in her chair wearing her long white nightgown, the silly red cloche hat on her head. Except now she’s reading a new fashion magazine that I bought her and Smokey’s sitting on her lap, content as can be.

“I’ve come to say good-bye,” I say. “We’re going to Georgia.”

She looks up from the magazine.

“Maybe you can come visit sometime. I bet there’s lots of kids you can be mean to there.”

The corner of her mouth curls up.

“Take care of Smokey for me,” I say, and hug her tiny body. She’s just a bag of bones. “I’m gonna miss our lunches.”

Her shaky hand smooths my hair.

“Me thoo,” she says.

“There’s someone else who wants to say goodbye,” I say, and turn to the doorway. “Come in, Mama.”

Mama steps into view.

Nana Philly looks startled.

“Mother,” Mama says in a stiff voice.

Nobody moves for a moment.

Tears start falling from my grandmother’s eyes,
and then Mama starts crying, too. The next thing I know, Mama’s on her knees in front of Nana Philly and they’re hugging each other like nothing ever happened.

A Hollywood writer couldn’t have imagined a sappier scene.

I sit on the porch with Beans, Kermit, Buddy, and Ira. Mama’s in the kitchen with Aunt Minnie and Uncle Vernon. Her happy laugh floats out the open window.

“Will you play marbles with me, Turtle?” Buddy asks.

“I don’t have time, Buddy. We’re leaving any minute.”

“You think you’ll come back and visit?” Kermit asks.

Beans smacks Kermit. “Don’t give her any ideas. I just got my room back.”

Pork Chop comes riding down the lane on his new bicycle.

“What are you doing here?” he asks me.

“I’m not gonna miss you, either,” I say.

“No,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “I mean, what are you doing here? I saw your new daddy leave.”

“What?” I say.

“Dark hair? Panama hat? I saw him get on a boat hours ago. I figured you were with him.”

The blood rushes in my ears, and I feel like I’m going to be sick.

Buddy inches away from me. “Are you gonna puke, Turtle?”

Archie’s words ring in my head.

“Princess, everybody’s got a dream.”

And I know it’s true. I’ve been had.

Archie sold me a dream—Mama happy, a home, a family at last—and I bought it hook, line, and sinker. Turns out I’m as much of a sucker as anybody.

“Do you know where the boat was headed?” Kermit asks Pork Chop, but he shakes his head.

“Easy enough to find out,” Ira says.

I pull the five-dollar bill out of my pocket and stare at it. Then I crumple it.

“I need to know where he went,” I say, and look in Beans’s eyes. I was wrong. They’re not the color of snot; they’re the color of alligator pear.

Beans sets his cap low and nods grimly.

“Leave it to us,” he says.

Mama and Aunt Minnie and Uncle Vernon are laughing over sweet tea in the kitchen when I walk in with the boys an hour later.

“Mama,” I say.

She looks up at me, her eyes sparkling. “Archie outside?”

Now I know why those men jumped off roofs. They couldn’t bear to see the light go out of a loved one’s eyes—to know they’d let the person down.

“Archie’s not coming, Mama.”

“What?” she asks, still smiling.

I look across the table at Aunt Minnie. She knows at once what I’m saying.

“Oh, Sadiebelle,” she murmurs.

“I don’t understand?” Mama asks anxiously. “Did something happen to him?”

“He’s gone, Mama,” I say.

“Archie’s dead?” Mama screeches.

“Well, Mami always says that Cuba is her idea of heaven,” Pork Chop says.

“Cuba? What are you talking about?” she asks, bewildered.

Uncle Vernon sighs and looks down.

“Aunt Sadie! He took Turtle’s part of the treasure and hopped a boat to Cuba!” Beans blurts out. “He’s a no-good crook!”

Mama turns so pale I think she’s going to faint.

“No,” she whispers, staring past us like we’re not even there.

“Please, Mama,” I say, and I get that same feeling I get right before everything falls apart.

“I don’t believe you!” she shouts at everyone, and then she’s gone, running out the front door.

I leap up and chase after her. She’s halfway down the lane when I catch up.

“Mama, stop!” I plead, grabbing her skirt. She whirls around, her face anguished, and collapses right in the middle of the muddy lane, tears running down her face.

“But he promised! He promised he’d take care of us!” she says, sobbing like she’s dying. I feel her hurt like my own; it’s the worst feeling ever. Uncle Vernon was right—I do have a soft underbelly.

It’s Mama.

“Everything’ll be fine,” I tell her, but I’m lying.

There’s never going to be a happy ending for us, and I feel a horrible pain in my chest and I know it’s my heart, ripping open like a pair of Buddy’s pants. And I can’t help it; I start crying. I cry for everything—for poor Smokey getting burned up by those boys, for every mean word some kid said to me,
for all the times one of Mama’s fellas raised our hopes and dashed them. Most of all, I cry for my poor dumb heart for secretly believing that Mama and Archie and me could be a real family.

The tears rain down like spitballs, and there’s no stopping them now. They’re like a hurricane sweeping me away. Mama’s drowning and she’s dragging me under with her, and this time there’s no one to rescue me. This time I’m not going to make it—

“Turtle!” Beans says.

I blink away tears to see him standing there with the rest of the boys, Aunt Minnie and Uncle Vernon behind them.

Beans elbows Pork Chop in the ribs.

“Uh, say, you want to be in the Diaper Gang?” Pork Chop asks me, looking uncomfortable.

“I don’t like babies,” I choke out.

“What about paper dolls?” Aunt Minnie asks, stepping forward. “I have some nice ones.”

“But they’re your dolls,” I say.

“They belong to the family,” my aunt says in a gruff voice. “So you’re going to have to stay here if you want to play with them. Your mother, too.”

I look back at the little Conch house. It will never be the Bellewood, with its modern attractive exterior and Venetian mirrored cabinet. But it doesn’t
seem quite so small or shabby to me anymore. I can see past the rickety porch and the tin roof and know it’s built just like its people, to sway in a storm and not break.

“Aw, just say you’ll stay, Turtle,” Kermit says, and my heart swells like a sponge. Maybe the real treasure has been right here on Curry Lane the whole time—people who love Mama and me. A home.

Mama looks up. Her eyes are cloudy, but mine are clear.

“All right,” I answer for us both. It may not be a Hollywood ending, but then I’m no Shirley Temple.

“Does that mean you’ll play marbles with me now?” Buddy asks.

And then Beans makes a face at me. “Besides, you already got a dumb nickname like everyone else around here.”

“Beans!” Aunt Minnie barks, but all I do is smile. I’ve lived long enough to learn the truth: not all kids are rotten, and there are grown-ups who are sweet as Necco Wafers.

And if you’re lucky—
lucky as an orphan
—some of them may even end up being your family.

Turtle in Paradise
was inspired by my Conch great-grandmother Jennie Lewin Peck, who emigrated with her family from the Bahamas to Key West in the late 1800s. As a child, I heard about Spanish limes and sugar apple ice cream and the importance of shaking out your shoes to avoid scorpions. My family is related to the Curry family of Key West, after whom Curry Lane is named.

Many families suffered hardship during the Great Depression, and it was not unusual for parents to leave home in search of work or for children to be cared for by relatives. Then, as now, entertainment was a great distraction, and movies, radio shows, and the funny pages provided much amusement for everyone. Little Orphan Annie, Shirley Temple, and the Shadow were all superstars in their day.

From the
Little Orphan Annie
comic strip, February 26, 1935

Shirley Temple popping through a 1935 calendar

At the height of the Depression, Key West was in economic ruin, with the majority of the population on public relief. The town officially declared bankruptcy. FERA, the Federal Emergency Relief Administration, came into Key West in 1934 with the intent of reinvigorating the economy by marketing it as a tourist attraction. Key West was on its way to recovery when what became known as the Labor Day Hurricane struck on September 2, 1935. While the Lower Keys and Key West were largely spared, the Middle and Upper Keys bore the brunt of the storm, with terrible loss of life.

Searching for pirate loot has always been a popular pastime in the Keys. Jeane Porter, in her book
Key West: Conch Smiles
, writes, “When I was a little girl in the early ’30s everybody in Key West had a treasure story.” While actually finding pirate treasure may seem far-fetched, historical rumors abound. In Charlotte Niedhauk’s account of living in the Florida Keys during this time,
Charlotte’s Story
, she relates the tale circulating around Key West of a sponge fisherman who mysteriously disappeared with his family to South America after finding the treasure of a pirate named Black Caesar. Whether Black Caesar ever visited the Keys is still a matter of speculation.

Pepe’s Café is a beloved institution in Key West. It still exists, although it is no longer on Duval Street.

The sponging industry and turtle kraals are now remnants of the past, but they were once thriving industries. Nicknaming was a Key West tradition, and the nicknames came in all styles. The scorpion sting suffered by Aunt Minnie was inspired by an actual incident.