Miss Julia Speaks Her Mind (19 page)

L
ILLIAN
,” I
CALLED
toward the kitchen, “I’m going over to the church.”

“What for?” she yelled back, but I was already out the door.

I hurried across the street and the parking lot, hoping to catch Dr. Fowler before he left. If I could get him off in the bowels of the church by himself, I ought to be able to find out whether his interest was in me or my pocketbook.

When I swung open the door to the fellowship hall, I saw the two of them, still talking, at the far end near Pastor Ledbetter’s office suite. Their eyes lit up when they saw me.

“Miss Julia,” the pastor called, coming toward me with his hand out. “I hoped you’d change your mind. I was just telling Dr. Fowler how much we need your input and he’s so anxious to get to know you better.”

“Well,” I said, “I find I have a little time this morning, so, Dr. Fowler,” I said, turning to him, “if you still want a tour of the church, we can do it now.”

“Indeed I do,” Dr. Fowler said. “I’d be delighted to have a lovely lady show me around. Here, take my arm and let us proceed.”

Now that’s a gentleman for you. I put my hand in the crook of his seersucker-clad arm, smiling at him and wishing I could smile up at him, instead of across and maybe a little down. But beggars and widows can’t be choosers, and I confess to a little glow at the thought of any kind of interested party, even if the party was on the short side.

“Splendid,” Pastor Ledbetter said, showing his teeth in a wide smile. “I couldn’t ask for a better arrangement. Now y’all take your time. Nothing’s going on in the church right now, no meetings or anything, so just wander around as long as you want. I’ll do some work on my sermon, then come track you down about twelve and we’ll see about lunch.”

“That’s fine,” Dr. Fowler said, staring at me as he spoke. “Miss Julia and I are going to explore this magnificent building. Aren’t we, Miss Julia?” And he patted my hand as it still rested on his arm.

“Yes, and I’ll begin by pointing out that we’re now in the fellowship hall, where we have prayer meeting on Wednesday nights with covered-dish suppers. A Boy Scout troop used to meet here, until a former pastor put a stop to it on the grounds that they weren’t Christian enough.” I waved my free hand around the large basement room, linoleum-floored and stacked with folding tables and chairs along the walls.

Dr. Fowler and I climbed the stairs to the sanctuary on the main floor, with him holding doors for me and watching each step I took. Those strange eyes didn’t miss a trick.

As we stood at the back of the empty sanctuary, I was struck again by how spacious and elegant it was. White walls with cream-painted moldings, deep red carpeting down the center aisle that attracted any number of brides because of its processional value, red velvet pew cushions donated by a group with bony backsides, eight large Williamsburg brass chandeliers, double
pulpits, choir loft with rows of organ pipes on either side. A beautiful and worthy place to worship the Lord, and considering what it cost to build and furnish, it ought’ve been.

We strolled up the aisle, arm in arm, and I pointed out the pew where I always sat. I showed the doctor one of the hymn books with Wesley Lloyd’s name on a sticker inside the front cover.

“You must miss him very much,” Dr. Fowler said tenderly.

“Not especially,” I said, feeling I should be truthful in the Lord’s sanctuary, and assuming that Dr. Fowler had been apprised of some of Wesley Lloyd’s inclinations.

“Well, the heart closes over pain and begins to heal itself,” Dr. Fowler said, “and I expect that’s happening to you.” He seemed so sympathetic to my plight that I gave him credit for being a better physician than his looks suggested.

We walked behind the choir loft, glancing, as we passed, into the practice rooms where dark red choir robes hung in rows. Then we strolled down the hall and into the new Sunday school building. By that time, Dr. Fowler had taken my hand from his arm to hold with his own. He had our hands clasped up close to his side. I pretended I didn’t notice the change, chattering on about how this building had been attached to the original one, and how many Sunday school rooms it had, and how many members used it, and so on and so on. You know how I get when I’m nervous.

“Miss Julia,” he said, slowing his steps and leaning slightly toward me. “Julia, you just seem so much at home here. I can tell that you are in your element, right here in this sacred place.”

My heart, or something, fluttered. What a nice compliment, since I’d always considered myself a deeply spiritual person. And this doctor was the only one who’d recognized it. He was exceptionally perceptive, and I predicted he’d do well in his new prac
tice. But this wasn’t getting the information I needed, so I stopped that train of thought.

“I want to show you the chapel,” I said, moving with him down the hall. “It’s a very small sanctuary that was donated by the Belcher family, and it got away with Wesley Lloyd something awful because he didn’t think of it first. See, here it is.” I opened a door with my free hand, and we looked into the beautiful room, shimmering now with the morning sun streaming through the stained-glass windows.

“Lovely,” he breathed.

I nodded in agreement, then realized he was staring at me. I declare, I’d not had so much attention directed my way since Wesley Lloyd’s funeral. I felt an unfamiliar tremble work its way down deep inside of me, and I had to work to pull myself together.

Still and all, it’d been such a long time since I’d been in proximity to a man that I believed I’d be forgiven for enjoying a tingle or two. Who would know? Wesley Lloyd hadn’t been interred all that long but, let’s face it, his mind hadn’t been entirely centered on home life for some little while.

“The church provides for a lot of the needs of its members,” I said, subduing a tremble in my voice. “But Pastor Ledbetter seems to think we need a new building for family activities.”

“Family activities are very important,” Dr. Fowler said, his voice lowered to match the holiness of the place, his eyes searching mine, “especially in this day and age. Now, dear lady, what else do you have to show me? I’m entirely in your sweet hands.”

I swear, which I hardly ever do, my knees started to buckle. My mind was telling me that Dr. Fowler wasn’t all that attractive—short, skinny as a rail, red hair, pale skin, and wispy hair, what there was of it, had never been to my taste—but my senses were being powerfully moved and not by the thought of building
plans. And here was a man looking deep into my eyes, breathing in little gasps and saying the sweetest things. He could be appealing, in the right light, to any neglected woman.

“Why don’t we walk over here,” I said with a little quiver, as he covered my hand with both of his. “I want to show you the bridal parlor. We have a lot of weddings in the chapel, small weddings, you know, and especially second weddings.” I believe I actually tittered as we walked into the parlor. “I mean, people who are marrying for the second time. Widows, and the like.”

“Lovely,” he said again, and glanced at me.

It was a lovely room, done all in shades of green—carpet, walls, draperies, upholstered chairs and love seat. Very soothing and inviting. Wesley Lloyd had contributed toward the furnishings, especially the gilt-framed portraits of former pastors and leading lights of the church, which included his father and grandfather.

“I can see,” Dr. Fowler said, rubbing his hand over mine, “how this room would mean a lot to someone just beginning a new marriage. Second marriages can be very fulfulling.”

I took a deep breath and breathed out through my mouth. “It’s a little warm in here,” I said, fanning the bodice of my dress as discreetly as I could. “They don’t keep this building very cool during the week.”

I indicated the portraits on the wall, which was all I could manage at the time, and we walked slowly around the room. Dr. Fowler read the brass plate on each one, all the while keeping me close to his side.

To tell the truth, I thought the feelings that were coursing up and down inside of me had been banked years ago along with the ashes of my marriage, but skinny little Dr. Fowler was proving virile enough to stoke my fire. And don’t talk to me about age. If you haven’t lived sixty-some-odd years maintaining a ladylike deportment in all areas of life, you don’t know what’ll sud
denly turn on when you least expect it. Age and deprivation are powerful stimulants, and, if you don’t believe me, wait till it happens to you.

Dr. Fowler turned away from the portrait he’d been studying and caught his breath as he brushed against me. He backed against the wall, still holding my hand, and I stepped closer before I could help myself. Drawn by animal magnetism and Old Spice. I leaned in for a bigger whiff. I’d always been a fool for Old Spice.

“Oh,” I whispered.

“Julia,” he said, his voice strident with urgency.

I pulled his hand up to the middle of my bosom, without letting it touch anything important, and leaned into him. Excitement thundered like a drum in my head.

“Miss Julia!” His eyes darted around the room.

“Don’t worry. We’re alone,” I whispered, wishing he had enough hair for me to run my fingers through. In fact, there were a lot of things I wished were different about him but, if I kept my eyes closed, I could concentrate on my feelings and not on his looks. It’d been a long time since I’d felt anything close to such heady emotion, and I wanted to make the most of it as long as he was willing. Which he certainly seemed to be.

“I…I know we are.” His voice squeaked, high and shrill. But passion can do that to a man.

He twisted his hand in mine, but I held on tight and put my face against his neck, wet now with perspiration. A man in heat. I’d about forgotten what one was like.

“Miss Julia…please,” he gasped, turning his head so I could snuggle closer.

Lord, when a man is so carried away that he begs for your favors, a woman can be forgiven for having her spirits lifted.

“Shhh,” I whispered, not realizing I was so close to his ear.

He squawked. I have to be honest, that’s what he did, and it
almost closed me down. But I’d read that in the throes of passion some men make strange noises, some cry out, and others hold their peace. Wesley Lloyd had been in the last category, and I found it interesting to be tangling with a different sort this goround. It takes all kinds, don’t you know.

“Miss Julia,” he whispered, frantically wiggling his body between me and the wall. “I
must—
”

“No, wait,” I said, understanding now what the word
fast
meant.

“You don’t understand,” he said, putting his free hand on my waist and turning me toward the love seat.

“I believe I do,” I gasped. Lord, I wished the man looked a little better, but I was running a fever by that time. Finding out about Pastor Ledbetter’s plans had gone completely out of my head.

I closed my eyes tighter, letting the darkness bring Wesley Lloyd’s preferences to mind. He preferred to conduct our business in the dark and by feel.

As Dr. Fowler clasped my waist tighter and pushed himself away from the wall and against me, I felt his rising interest.

“I have to…” he croaked, pushing me backward. “I
really
have to get—”

The door slammed open, and we both jumped about a foot. Away from each other.

“What in
the
world?” Pastor Ledbetter stood there, bug-eyed and open-mouthed.

“
…out of here!
” Dr. Fowler bellowed. He ran to the pastor and edged behind him. “The woman’s crazy, Larry, just like you said. My God, she practically ravished me!”

Dr. Fowler’s flushed face glared at me. He patted his straggly hair and pulled his suit coat together. With trembling fingers, he buttoned it closed.

“This…this woman,” he went on, his voice quaking with outrage. “Larry, you wouldn’t believe.”

“Yes,” Pastor Ledbetter said, sorrow pulling at his long face and slumping shoulders. “Yes, I would. I saw it for myself. Miss Julia, what are we going to do with you? You know we can’t have this sort of thing. And in the church, too. I am so disappointed in you, and so very sorry for you.”

“I couldn’t control her, Larry,” Dr. Fowler said, finally getting his breathing under control. “I tried to get away, but I’ve never seen such a deluded patient walking around free before.”

Mortification swept over and through me, as I reinterpreted Dr. Fowler’s words and actions of a few moments before. My Lord, what a fool I’d made of myself.

I did the only thing I could. I fainted.

WHEN MY EYES
popped open, I was lying on the green velvet love seat in the bridal parlor, my head flat and my legs dangling over the arm of the sofa. Pastor Ledbetter sat on a straight chair next to me, fanning my face with a legal-size envelope.

“I think I’ll just lie here and die, Pastor,” I said as the humiliating memory flooded my mind.

“No, no,” he said soothingly. “You mustn’t say that. You’ve allowed Satan to have the upper hand, Miss Julia, and now you have to fight back. He’s left you with a sickness of the soul.”

“You think so?” I covered my eyes with my hand, so tired and unnerved I couldn’t bear the light.