Miss Julia Delivers the Goods (29 page)

“Listen, Mildred,” I said, “I do thank you for warning me. Now help me think of a way to nip this in the bud. If she’s determined to have a party for me—although I can’t think why—let’s see if we can talk her into a nice reception, maybe in the Fellowship Hall at the church, where games would be most unsuitable.”

“Why, Julia,” Mildred said, laughing, “the party’s not for you. It’s for Hazel Marie, of course.”

Lord, my heart dropped right down to my feet. A surprise
baby
shower? Was that what Emma Sue was planning? And then, joy bloomed in my soul, and I gave thanks for answered prayers. A baby shower given by Emma Sue Ledbetter, of all people, meant that Hazel Marie would not suffer the scorn I thought would be heaped upon her. Tears welled up in my eyes at the outpouring of love that would be showered on her, along with an abundance of baby things she would need.

“Oh, Mildred, that is the dearest thing. You can’t know how much Hazel Marie will appreciate it, or how much I do, either. Emma Sue can have all the games she wants to, and we’ll enjoy them. I’ll tell you the truth, I have never before realized how deep Emma Sue’s Christian commitment is, but this just goes to show, doesn’t it?”

Mildred eyed me with a raised eyebrow. “I’m not sure a going-away party indicates any particularly deep spiritual commitment on Emma Sue’s part. Of course it’s thoughtful of her to want to give Hazel Marie a nice send-off, but she told me it was the perfect way to pay back her social obligations and do a good deed at the same time.”

“Oh,” I said, taken aback by how my mind had leaped to such an easy but totally improbable outcome for Hazel Marie. And, even worse, it had been on the tip of my tongue to tell Mildred that all the guests should know, before they purchased their shower gifts, that Hazel Marie would need two of everything.

My breath caught in my throat as I realized how close I had come to making Hazel Marie the talk of the town.

 

 

 

Walking home from Mildred’s house, I hardly noticed the late afternoon heat—except for having to mop my face now and then. My footsteps were dragging, for I found myself dreading to face again the problems that abounded at home. I’d never felt quite so defeated before. Well, yes, I had, right after I learned what Wesley Lloyd Springer had been doing during the last decade of his life. But even so, I had quickly discovered a way to handle it, unorthodox though it might have appeared. And it had worked out brilliantly, I must say.

But this, this with Hazel Marie left me with no way to turn. Oh, there was an easy solution and its name was Mr. Pickens, but how to tell him? And when to tell him? And what would Hazel Marie do if I did tell him? I fondly pictured her falling into his arms as soon as he fell onto his knees, but what if I were wrong? What if she felt so betrayed by him for getting her in the fix she was in and by me for breaking my promise, that her trusting heart began to break and she ended up a mere fragment of her former self?

It could happen, you know. You could be so hurt by those you’ve trusted that nothing, including yourself, is ever the same again.

I stopped beside a holly tree on the edge of Mildred’s yard, pretending to examine the leaves and berries in case anybody was watching. But all I wanted was to delay taking up my burdens again.

My rows were getting short and, if you don’t know what that means, it means that the end was approaching. Time was running out with Hazel Marie getting bigger by the minute, as well as getting well enough to take off on her own. At the same time Mr. Pickens was working as hard as he could on Sam’s case, and, if he was right about either the judge or the sheriff, he’d soon come up with an answer, then be off on his own, as well. Something had to give before they flew off in different directions.

I walked past the holly tree and stopped at the graceful limbs of an abelia bush. That was worth a minute or two of study, so that’s what I gave it. While I fingered the leaves as if I knew what I was doing, my mind sifted through the options open to me.

First of all, I couldn’t let Hazel Marie face the going-away party that Emma Sue was planning. She would never be able to withstand the questions about her new job that didn’t exist or the scrutiny of her new waist expansion that would be part and parcel of any social gathering where she’d be the focus of all eyes. I’d have to tell her that according to Mildred, Emma Sue would call us late Monday afternoon to come over for an important discussion about some church problem. And, furthermore, if either Hazel Marie or I declined to come, she would move the whole party, lock, stock, and barrel, to my house. Whatever it took, Emma Sue intended to surprise us with a party that would send Hazel Marie off with the town’s best wishes to her new job in Palm Beach.

I shuddered at the thought, knowing what the news of that would do to Hazel Marie. She’d start packing with a vengeance. She might even leave before the weekend was out, and here it was already Friday with me floundering around about what to do. And still, Lloyd knew nothing—no what, why, or when, especially why.

One good thing—Hazel Marie could hardly take him with her if she left in such a hurry. The school year started on Monday, so there was every reason in the world to leave him with us. But, oh, how would I sleep, knowing that Hazel Marie was alone and friendless in the wilds of south Florida?

But then, out of the blue, some of the ideas that had been randomly floating around in my mind began to fall into place. I quickly turned away from Mildred’s horticultural display and, with determined strides, headed for home. I’d made up my mind.

I realized that there was a remote possibility that Hazel Marie would refuse Mr. Pickens because of his heretofore mulishness, even if, contrary to his track record, he promised lifelong marital fealty. But I had decided to take that risk. Hazel Marie might never speak to me again for betraying her trust, but I had decided to run that risk, as well.

 

 

 

 

I stopped midstep as a sudden bright thought zinged into my head. Maybe she wanted me to!

Of course, I thought, that’s it! She doesn’t want to give in to Mr. Pickens after having turned her back on him and flounced off as if he didn’t matter to her. She had her pride, but it had worked her into a corner of her own making, which she couldn’t unbend enough to get out of. I could understand that. I’d done it to myself more than once.

But she wanted him back, I was convinced of that. I mean, what woman, facing the arrival of not one but two infants, wouldn’t want another pair of helping hands, if nothing else?

 

 

 

 

“Lillian,” I said, quickly closing the door behind me to keep the cool air inside the house, “My mind is made up, and, regardless of the consequences, I know what I have to do.”

“Well, ’fore you do anything,” Lillian said, dipping green beans from a saucepan into a bowl, “you better get on in yonder, ’cause supper almost ready. An’ Mr. Sam an’ Mr. Pickens in the livin’ room starvin’ to death, they been waitin’ on you so long.”

“Is it that late?” I glanced at my watch and saw that it was. “Is Lloyd home?”

“He settin’ in there with ’em, ’bout to cave in he so hungry.”

“They’ll just have to wait a few minutes more because, Lillian, you won’t believe what Mildred told me.” I walked over close to her so I could whisper the news. “Emma Sue is planning a going-away party for Hazel Marie! Can you believe that?”

“Why, Miss Julia, that so nice.”

“
Nice!
It’s terrible. Well, I mean the thought is nice, but if there’s anything that’ll send Hazel Marie away from here—maybe even tomorrow—it’s hearing about a party where everybody’ll be looking at her and asking questions.”

“Well, yessum, I see what you sayin’. She not up for something like that, the pore little thing.”

“The only good thing, it’s supposed to be a surprise party, so I’m not obligated to tell her about it. But come Monday, she’ll know and so will everybody else. Something’s got to give before then, Lillian, and I intend to see that it gets done.”

I paced between the stove and the refrigerator, then turned back to her. “Well, I can’t do it right now, so go ahead and call the others to the table. I’ll just slip through the back hall and speak to her. I’ve hardly seen her all day. Is Latisha with her?”

“No’m,” Lillian said, opening the oven door and turning her head from the blast of heat. “I leave her with the neighbor lady. Miss Hazel Marie, she act too sad today for any kind of play-pretty foolishness.” She pulled a pan of yeast rolls from the oven, then looked up at me. “An’ she kinda gettin’ up on her high horse again, too.”

“Oh, my. What’s upset her?”

Lillian nodded toward the living room. “I ’spect it ’cause of him settin’ in yonder. Soon as she hear him come in talkin’, she say she lose her appetite, an’ feel like she ’bout to start th’owin’ up again.”

“Well, that just does it,” I said, dismayed that my recently-decided-on plan was coming apart at the seams. I walked over again to Lillian and whispered, “Lillian, I had made up my mind to go ahead and break my promise to her. I was going to get Mr. Pickens off to himself—tonight, if possible—and just flat out tell him what’s what. But I need to do it when she’s in a good mood, because I know that just as soon as I tell him, he’s going to go flying in there. And it would be a disaster if he went in when she’d already worked herself into a state. He wouldn’t stand a chance.” I grabbed Lillian’s arm and held on. “But I am going to do it before the weekend’s out, and I don’t care what I have to suffer for doing it. It’s for Hazel Marie’s own good, and his, too.”

Lillian sighed and patted my hand. “I been thinkin’ an’ prayin’ ’bout the same thing, wonderin’ when you gonna do something. I know you hate to break a promise, but look like when you ’tween a rock an’ a hard place, they’s nothin’ else to do. Jus’ look what happened to Jephthah when he make a promise he ought not to make, an’ wouldn’t go back on it. I can’t help but b’lieve the Lord woulda let him off, if he jus’ ask right.”

I stared at her a minute, trying to remember who Jephthah was and what kind of ill-advised promise he’d made. I didn’t have time to look him up, but I could trust Lillian. She knew her Bible, and if she thought he’d have been better off breaking his promise than keeping it, well, that certainly set a precedent, didn’t it?

 

 

 

“Hazel Marie?” I said, as I tapped on her door and walked into the room. At the sight of her blotched face and puffy eyes, I came to an abrupt stop. “Oh, my goodness, are you all right? What’s wrong?”

“Everything,” she sobbed, sitting there in her pink work-out outfit, dabbing at her eyes. “
He’s
here again, and I just can’t stand it.”

“Well, honey,” I said, taking a chair next to her, “he’s here only for Sam. He’s not going to bother you, and, Hazel Marie, I do think he’s trying to make amends. He brought you that lovely box of candy, which shows he’s trying to be nice, don’t you think?”

“No, ma’am, I don’t.” She threw down a wet Kleenex and snatched a fresh one from the box. “It just shows how selfish he is.
He’s
the one who likes candy so much, not me.” She blew her nose, threw down the Kleenex and snatched another one. “I’d like to take that candy and cram every piece of it down his throat!”

“Now, Hazel Marie, you mustn’t get so worked up. It’s not good for you.”

“Well, he ought to know what he’s done.”

I took her hand and held it a few minutes, trying to comfort her. But in just that instant, my mind lit up like the sun rising in the east. There it was! Exactly as I’d thought.

As Lillian began tinkling the little silver bell, summoning us to the table, I stood up and said, “Hazel Marie, try not to worry. Things are going to work out, I’m convinced of it.”

 

 

 

 

Hurrying through the back hall to the kitchen, I grabbed Lillian’s arm as she headed to the dining room, almost tipping over the platter of fried chicken she was carrying.

“Lillian,” I whispered, since I could hear Sam and Mr. Pickens at the table just beyond the door. “Wait a minute. I just got the green light from Hazel Marie. She wants Mr. Pickens to know!”

Lillian set the platter on the kitchen table and looked at me in some disbelief. “What she say?”

“She said, ‘
He ought to know what he’s done
.’ That’s exactly what she said as sure as I’m standing here. And if that doesn’t release me from my promise, I don’t know what does.”

Lillian studied on it for a minute, repeating my words. “He oughta
know
what he’s done, he
oughta
know what he’s done. I don’t know, Miss Julia, I can see it mean he oughta know ’thout bein’ told.”

I waved my hand, not wanting to be deterred. “A technicality, Lillian. Let’s not get tangled up with alternate meanings. She said it, plain as day. And tomorrow morning Sam’s taking Lloyd to buy school supplies, and I’m going to get Mr. Pickens off to himself and lay it on the line.” I thought for a minute. “I might need you to help me.”

 

 

 

 

“He left everything in a trust,” Sam said, after we’d finished dinner and Lillian had cleared the table. With Lloyd excused to visit with his mother, Mr. Pickens and I sat listening to Sam’s report on Judge Robert Eugene Baine. “A will is open to the public, but a trust is not, so that’s a closed door. But I got to talking with a woman there in the records office who knew the family—I think I just missed you, Pickens. Anyway, according to her, the judge’s wife died about thirty years ago, and an unmarried daughter stayed on, looking after the house and taking care of him in his old age. Apparently, she’s still living on the home place out on Staton Bridge Road.”