Miss Julia Meets Her Match (32 page)

“Well, that’s a consolation. Even though he’s put disassociation in its place. But I can live with that since I wasn’t planning to have anything to do with him, either. And at least it doesn’t include a public dressing-down.” Then recalling how set in stone Pastor Ledbetter’s decisions usually were, I asked, “How did you manage to change his mind?”

Sam smiled. “Don’t worry about it. I just showed him the error of his ways, and he got the message. I expect he’s trying to save face now by telling Emma Sue to keep her distance from you. That’ll last about as long as his fascination with Curtis Maxwell.”

“That man’s like a spider, Sam, sitting back and weaving his webs. And I wish you wouldn’t use the word
fascination
in the same sentence as the Ledbetters and Curtis Maxwell. It’s too close to the truth where Emma Sue is concerned, in spite of her denial that anything’s going on between them. Lord knows, we don’t want to imply that there is. There’re enough infelicitous couplings going on already.” I forgot myself for a moment and leaned my head against his shoulder. He tightened his arm around me until I straightened up at the sound of the children’s voices in the kitchen.

“But back to Curtis Maxwell,” I went on. “I’m convinced he’s behind everything that’s happened. Well, except for Tonya Allen. I doubt he had anything to do with her.”

“No, I expect he didn’t.” Sam’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “So you want to go to the tent meeting? Okay, we’ll go. We’ll find Pickens and check the place out at the same time.”

“There’s another problem, Sam. Hazel Marie’s planning to go, too, and take Little Lloyd. I’d rather she not see Mr. Pickens out there, so I’ve done everything I could think of to dissuade her. But she’s determined. I think she’s expecting the Holy Spirit to descend, and she doesn’t want to miss it.”

“We’ll watch out for her. And him. But Pickens will probably be more than ready to get back to something normal. And if I know him, he’ll take Hazel Marie’s mind off whatever she’s got it on.” He rubbed his hand over my arm, taking my mind off what I’d had it on, too. “And,” he said, “I’m just as curious as you are to see what they’re doing out there. I know you’re not interested in politics, Julia, but you know Mayor Beebee’s hooked his wagon to them. I have a feeling that this special meeting is an indication the whole project’s in trouble. Which means he is, too.”

“That wouldn’t bother me.”

“Me, either,” Sam smiled. “But I like to keep my hand in and see which way the wind’s blowing.”

“Why don’t you run for mayor, Sam? You’d do a better job than anybody who’s running now, although Mr. Denby’s a good mechanic from all I hear. It doesn’t follow, though, that he’d make a good mayor. But you would.”

“Well, I’ll tell you, Julia. I’d consider throwing my hat in the ring, except for one thing. A politician needs a wife. How could I campaign on family values if I don’t have a family?”

“Oh, you,” I said, smiling at the way he could turn any subject at all back to his preoccupation with my single state.

So it was settled. Sam and I would go to the tent meeting and, in spite of all my suggestions of better things for her to do, Hazel Marie was planning to go, too. I tried to talk her out of it, not wanting to witness her castigation of Mr. Pickens if she saw him out there. But she was so eager to go, that all I could hope for was that he’d be on a ladder somewhere out of sight, still nailing shingles.

Then, to make matters worse, Hazel Marie talked Lillian into going, which meant that both children would be part of our entourage instead of staying home, far from baleful influences.

And wouldn’t you know but LuAnne called with word that everybody was excited about the meeting, and now that Pastor Ledbetter and that soap salesman had urged attendance, they’d all turned into sheep, willing to do anything they were told. So Dwayne Dooley was going to have a full house but, if I knew the temper of my fellow church members, he wasn’t going to have a full collection plate. Oh, it would look full, but a dollar bill from each attendee wouldn’t amount to much, even if three hundred people showed up. And there’d be some, like me, who wouldn’t give a red cent.

Convinced that the Walk Where Jesus Walked people were nothing more than swindlers in sheep’s clothing, I had myself worked up to the boiling point by Saturday evening. I
knew
they were not what they purported to be, and Monique’s willingness to fill her bank account proved it. I so wanted to broadcast that fact all over town, but of course I couldn’t. I could only hope that when she hightailed it out of town, Dwayne Dooley and the rest would soon follow. Then I’d be rid of them all, binding lease or no binding lease.

Even though it grated on me to finance that woman’s departure, I had to do it. After all, if I’d not been so pleased to get a return from unused property, they would’ve never set up shop here in the first place. I owed it to the naive and unsuspecting Abbot Countians, to say nothing of Little Lloyd, to protect them from what I’d made possible.

“Miss Julia,” Lillian said, as she pulled a tee shirt over Latisha’s head, “how long you think this meetin’ gonna last?”

“I have no idea. As long as it takes to ask for money and to collect it, I guess.”

Lillian glowered at me, shaking her head at my cynicism. “You be better off, you not ’spect the worst outta people you don’t even know.”

“Lillian,” I said, snapping my pocketbook closed after making sure the check was in it, “I may not know all those people, but I know one. And you do, too, because I told you about her and the reprehensible stories going around about her.”

Latisha turned her large eyes up at me. “I been hearin’ my teacher read all kinds of stories here lately, but I don’t b’lieve she got to that kind yet.”

“And let’s hope she won’t ever,” I said, realizing anew that I had to watch what I said around inquisitive children. “Where’re Hazel Marie and Little Lloyd? Sam’ll be here any minute, and we’ll have to go.”

Before Lillian could answer, Little Lloyd came into the kitchen with his mother right behind him. He looked so neat and put-together in spite of his casual attire—khaki shorts, a polo shirt, and tennis shoes. Hazel Marie wore long pants with a matching cotton sweater, so neither of them looked as if they were going to a worship service. Which was just as well, because they weren’t.

“Think it’ll rain again?” Little Lloyd asked, glancing out the window at the low clouds, glowing at the edges from the setting sun.

“I hope not,” I said, looking over his shoulder, expecting to see Sam to come driving in. “But let’s take some umbrellas just in case.”

“I think we’d better,” Hazel Marie said, as she distributed umbrellas from the stand to each of us. “Miss Julia, I’ll take everybody in my car and let you and Sam have some privacy in his.”

“I’m in no mood for privacy,” I returned. “Still, it would be crowded with all of us in one car. You can follow us, Hazel Marie, and we’ll park close to each other and go in together.” I took my bottom lip in my teeth, worrying anew about exposing Little Lloyd to the unknown doctrine of a vagrant preacher with no seminary degree. “I’m still not sure these children ought to go. I’d stay home with them, but . . .” I stopped. I couldn’t stay home, and I couldn’t say why.

“Oh, no,” Hazel Marie said, as Lillian looked up in surprise. “You have to go, Miss Julia. It’ll be fun for all of us to go together. If it’s anything like I remember, you’ll have a great time. If they don’t get too carried away.” She stopped and frowned. “Well, if they do, we’ll just get up and leave.”

“All right, then,” I conceded. “But, believe me, I am not above walking out if I don’t like what I hear. I don’t care who it embarrasses. So be warned.”

Lillian winked at Little Lloyd and said, “We jus’ make out like we don’t know you.”

Hearing Sam’s car turn into the driveway, we gathered our things and hurried out. Sam’s face lit up when he saw me approach, a wondrous thing that still amazed me. What in the world did he see in an old and cranky, no-nonsense woman like me? Of course, I was not without a few virtues to my credit—honesty, for one, and level-headedness and moral rectitude, in spite of what my own pastor thought. On the other hand, I’d never known, or known of, a man who had virtue as his number-one requirement in a woman, so that still left me at a loss to explain what attracted Sam to me.

Ah, well, I thought, as I gave Sam a tight smile and slid into his car, why question a good thing?

“You ready for this, Julia?” Sam asked, as he backed out of the drive.

“As ready as I’ll ever be. Now, Sam, be careful how you drive. Hazel Marie doesn’t know the way, so we don’t want to lose her.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, cutting his laughing eyes at me.

“You,” I said, smiling in spite of myself.

But the closer we got as we drove the several miles south of town, the more distressed I became. How would I recognize the Mooney woman? What would I do if I did? How would Mr. Pickens find me, and how would he get the check to Monique without anyone seeing? And what if Hazel Marie saw him drive off with a strange woman who had a suitcase with her? Surely he’d know the peril he was in and be doubly careful.

Sam drove past the state road that Lillian and I had taken the past week to meet Mr. Pickens, but I didn’t point it out. We drove several miles farther on, turning at last onto the road that bordered the south edge of my property.

“Lord, Sam,” I said, struck by the straggly trees that lined both sides of the road, “there’s nothing out here but trees and scrub. I ought to buy some more acreage before developers discover it. In fact,” I went on, vaguely recalling a list of properties in Binkie’s possession, “I think Little Lloyd has a tract in here somewhere.”

Sam nodded. “You know, I believe he does.”

“Then I ought to buy up enough to tie in with his, wherever it is. It’ll be worth something some day.”

“Good idea,” Sam said, making me preen a little by taking my business acumen seriously. “I’ll check the plats and see where the lines are.”

As we drew nearer to the theme park, we joined a line of cars waiting to turn in. I was startled to see a ten-foot-high chain-link fence along the road for several yards before opening at a gate where gravel had been spread to cover the mud.

“Why in the world would they enclose this place with a fence?” I asked. “Can you imagine what it cost to fence in twenty acres?”

“I doubt it’s all the way around,” Sam said, as he pulled into the drive. “And, remember, they’ll be charging admission when they open it to the public, so they’ll need a fence.”

“They better not be charging admission tonight.”

Sam grinned, drove through the unattended gate and swung to the left, where a young man was motioning to parking places. We were not the first by any means, for the muddy, thinly graveled area was thick with many more cars than I’d expected to see. In spite of being there myself, I had hoped for a poor and discouraging turn-out.

“Just wait, Julia,” Sam said as I reached for the door handle. He opened the door on his side and looked down at the treacherous footing. “I’ll come around and help you out. This place is a swamp.”

I looked at my white lace-ups with a sinking feeling. They were going to be ruined, but there was nothing for it but to follow through. By the time we met up with Hazel Marie and Lillian and the children, we were all picking our way through the rutted and soggy parking lot toward another gate in another fence. Lillian kept mumbling about how somebody ought to put down more gravel, and Hazel Marie moaned about her high heels that kept sinking into the mud. Latisha wanted to run ahead but Lillian kept her close with a firm hand. Little Lloyd eyed the darkening sky, predicting just as darkly that we were in for more rain.

At the next gate, there was a woman handing out what I took to be programs of the order of service, but which turned out to be something else. She directed us down a gravel path toward a large mustard-colored tent just visible through the few pines they’d left standing. I pursed my mouth at the sight of so many stumps, indicating the number of trees they’d taken down.
That’s one thing against them,
I thought to myself, determining to count the offenses.

“Look, Miss Julia,” Hazel Marie said, pointing at a shed to the right of the path. It was a three-sided construction made of unplaned planks with a roof of straw. Bales of hay were stacked inside, surrounding what looked like a horse trough.

“It’s the manger!” Little Lloyd said, proving that he had a more imaginative mind than I, for it looked nothing like what one would expect to find in a sun-baked desert country.

“I didn’t know they had pine boards in Palestine,” I sniffed.

“Look beyond it,” Sam said, and we all stopped to wonder at two walls standing alone. Although I shouldn’t say exactly standing, but they were evidence that some attempt had been made toward authenticity by using mud bricks. Most of the walls had melted in the heavy rains, so they were hardly more than two piles of glistening mud.

Latisha said, “I don’t see one of them logs I been wantin’ to ride, an’ I been lookin’ everywhere.”

“I tole you,” Lillian told her, “that this not the kind of theme park you got on yo’ mind. This a
religious
theme park, an’ they don’t have no logs. ’Cept what they cut down.”

People were passing us on the path, some of whom spoke and others stopped to shake hands. They seemed in a gala mood, eager to hear and see what they’d been talking about for so many weeks. We followed the crowd toward the tent, taking note as we did of the small buildings in various states of construction on each side of the path.

The children were entranced, I think because the place looked like a toy village, and they would’ve loved to’ve gone in and out of the carpenter’s shop—I could tell because of the Ace Hardware saws hanging on the walls, a replica of the Upper Room where a table waited if anybody had the nerve to climb the rickety stairs, and the net-covered boat anchored at the pool of Siloam or the Sea of Galilee, I didn’t know which.