Miss Julia Stands Her Ground (21 page)

The telephone rang early Sunday morning while we were scrambling around getting ready for church. It was Emma Sue, and she started right in with no apology for the early call.

“Julia? You know my toddler class has been bringing in pennies for their offering all year? Well, today I'm collecting them to get a Christmas present for one of the little orphan children. And the whole class will sign a poster with their handprints. Anyway, I'm going to have a bag full of loose pennies, and it'll be so inconvenient to take to the bank that way. So I was wondering if Lloyd would like to roll them for me this afternoon.”

“He's in the shower now,” I said, “so I can't ask him. But I expect he'll be glad to do it. You want him to pick them up after Sunday school?”

“Oh, no. I think the children in the nursery during the service will want to contribute, too. I'll have to collect from them, so I'll just bring the whole bag and the little thingies to roll them in to your house after lunch. I think Larry wants to talk to you, too, so we'll drop by later on. If that's all right.”

Well, it wasn't, because I didn't want to talk to Larry. I knew what the pastor wanted to say to me, but I didn't know what I wanted to say to him. I'd about decided that I could pray till the
cows came home, and I still wouldn't know what to do about running for the session.

So I sighed, and said, “Make it late this afternoon, Emma Sue. I think Hazel Marie is going out with Mr. Pickens, and they usually take Little Lloyd with them. And Sam likes his afternoon nap, especially during football season. He drops off as soon as a game begins and wakes up for the final few minutes.”

We said our good-byes, and I began to finish dressing, just so vexed that I was going to end a potentially pleasant Sunday by wrangling with the pastor.

 

But at the time, I didn't know the half of it. Just as we got ourselves settled in our usual pew, four rows from the front and on the side aisle, we had to stand again for the processional hymn. The church was full and, while I mumbled the words to the hymn, I glanced around to see who all was there. With people standing and the choir processing along the center aisle, it was hard to pick out who was in their customary place and who wasn't.

As the tail end of the procession approached the altar, I thought my heart would stop. Following right behind Pastor Ledbetter, then sliding into aisle seats on the far side, were Brother Vernon Puckett and Deacon Lonnie Whitmire. They squeezed into the pew, making the Harden family slide closer together so that their shoulders were all bunched up. The smallest Harden child got shoved out of her place, and she let out a wail until her father put her on his lap.

It is just so inconsiderate to push into a pew that is already full, taking up space reserved for one's pocketbook and hymnal. But people do it all the time.

I poked Sam with my elbow. “They're here, Sam,” I hissed. “What're we going to do?”

“Who? Where?”

“Over there. Look across the aisle and up one pew.”

Sam's eyebrows went up as he located the unlikely visitors. Then he smiled. “Good,” he said. “Maybe they'll learn something.”

That just frosted me. The only thing I wanted them to learn was to stay away from us. But I didn't get a chance to say it, because the pastor was beginning the opening prayer.

When that was over, the church filled with the rustling of people taking their seats. Then we had to stand for another hymn. It was one I didn't know, which wasn't unusual, not being musically inclined, so I cut my eyes at Hazel Marie, hoping she hadn't seen who I'd seen.

But she had, for she was staring across the aisle as if she couldn't believe her eyes. The hymnal had all but slid right out of her hands. Little Lloyd looked up at her, then he glanced at me. He was too short, or at least I hoped he was, to see what had taken his mother's attention.

I had to do something, because the last thing I wanted was a confrontation in the narthex when the service was over. Who knew what Brother Vern would say to her and about her with everybody and his brother looking on and taking it all in.

“Sam,” I whispered, leaning close to him, “we're leaving. Don't let them come to the house.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“However you can. You're the head of the household, so handle it.”

Then I leaned across Little Lloyd, took Hazel Marie by the arm, and whispered, “Let's go. You, too, Little Lloyd.”

Hazel Marie slid the hymnal into the bracket on the back of the pew in front of us and, with a dazed look on her face, turned with Little Lloyd to follow me out into the side aisle.

It always creates a stir of whispered speculations whenever anybody leaves the service early, but this time I didn't care. Besides, everybody was still standing, and if they were singing as
they were supposed to be doing, hardly anybody would notice us. So instead of parading all the way to the back of the church, I led my little troupe to the door at the front that took us behind the chancel.

As soon as we were out of the sanctuary, Little Lloyd said, “What's going on? Why're we leaving?”

“There's somebody we don't want to talk to,” I said, hurrying them down the stairs to the Fellowship Hall under the sanctuary and out the backdoor of the church. The sun was bright enough to make me squint, but there was no warmth to it. The wind whipped around us, swirling our coats and messing up our hair. Ice crystals sparkled in the clear air, making it hard to breathe.

“Who?”

“I'll tell you later,” Hazel Marie said. She had regained some color in her face, and was matching me stride for stride as we hastened down the frigid sidewalk past the Family Life Center and on toward home.

As soon as we got inside, I told Little Lloyd to go upstairs and change out of his Sunday clothes. “But, before you go, we might as well tell you that your great-uncle Vern was in church, and we didn't want to talk to him. Now, I know that wasn't very courteous of us, but you'll remember how troublesome he's been in the past. Your mother and I thought it the better part of discretion just to avoid socializing with him.”

“Oh,” he said, nodding. “I don't blame you. I don't want to socialize with him, either.” Then his face brightened. “Now I've got all day to work on my science project. I'll call Charles and tell him we can get started collecting germs.”

“Germs?”

“Yessum. We're going to see what kind of germs are on door handles at churches and schools and stores and things like that. Then we're going to grow them and write a report.”

“Well, you be careful with those things.”

As he ran off upstairs, I turned to Hazel Marie. She was sitting in one of the Victorian chairs by the fireside with a pensive look on her face, frowning.

I sat down opposite her, wondering where and how to start. “It might be a good idea for you not to be here, Hazel Marie, in case they decide to visit. Why don't you go on over to Mr. Pickens's?”

“I can't. He's in Florida somewhere, seeing that friend who keeps having problems. Something to do with a case that has ties up here, I think. He won't be back till tonight.” She glanced over at me. “Why would Brother Vern come to our church?”

“I haven't the slightest idea. He surely doesn't want to join. That man would never be happy just sitting in a pew. He needs a pulpit, and I thought he had one. We might as well face it, Hazel Marie, he was there for one reason and one reason only. And that was to aggravate us.”

“That's what I think, too.” She took her lower lip in her teeth, thinking it over. Then she said, “Who was that with him?”

I did a little frowning of my own. “Don't you know?”

She shook her head. “No'm. He did look a little familiar, though.”

A little familiar?
Would that mean that she'd never known Deacon Lonnie in an intimate manner? Or did it mean that there'd been so many she couldn't remember one from another?

Not wanting to pursue that unnerving line of thought, I got up and went to the kitchen. She followed, and together we reheated the meal that Lillian had prepared for our Sunday lunch. Before long, Sam came in from church, and the four of us gathered around the table. With Little Lloyd present, we skirted around the subject of Brother Vern, but Sam had told me as soon as he came in that he'd made it his business to get out before being accosted by him.

“He's not coming over here, is he?” I'd asked.

“He could, but if anybody rings the doorbell, let me handle it.”

I nodded, but my mouth tightened. So far, the head of my
household had not handled Brother Vern anywhere near to my satisfaction. And the only handling that would've satisfied me was to have gotten rid of him for good.

As soon as lunch was over, Little Lloyd took his books and papers and left for his friend's house. Hazel Marie insisted on clearing the table by herself, saying that she needed to be doing something. She had been quiet and subdued all through the meal, spending her time stirring peas with her fork and gazing off in the distance.

My spirits sank to the bottom of my soul, as I watched her troubled expression. Was she afraid that her past was catching up with her? I mentally shook myself, thinking that, most likely, she was just shaken up from seeing Brother Vern again. We all have relatives who shame and embarrass us, although hardly any who are as capable at it as he was.

Sam thanked us for lunch, then headed for the living room and the Sunday paper. With my head spinning with one fearsome possible outcome after the other, I soon followed him.

“Sam,” I said, “put that paper down and tell me what we're going to do. I don't like it that Brother Vern showed up at our church and brought that man with him. That is pure harassment. Or, no, it's intimidation, that's what it is. It may even be a threat.”

“Julia,” Sam said, folding a section of the paper, “I don't see how we can keep him from coming to church. He didn't make an effort to waylay me, so maybe he was just checking out Ledbetter's sermon. Puckett could use some pulpit pointers, if you ask me.”

I waved my hand in dismissal. “That man thinks he could give our pastor some pointers. No, Sam, he was there to put Lonnie Whitmire on display. And listen, I asked Hazel Marie if she knew him, and she wasn't sure. What do you think that means?”

“Probably just what she said. Even if she knew him years ago, she might not recognize him right off.”

I moved closer to him and lowered my voice so it wouldn't carry to the kitchen, where Hazel Marie was loading the
dishwasher. Then I waited a few more minutes as I heard her going upstairs to her room. “But what if it means that she doesn't recognize him with his clothes on?”

“Why, Julia,” Sam said, his eyebrows going straight up and a smile playing around his mouth. Then seeing that I was in no mood for frivolous remarks, he sobered up and said, “Let's not lose our trust in Hazel Marie. I know she can be a little scatterbrained at times, but believe me, she wouldn't forget something like that.”

I nodded and kept my own counsel. But every time the wind rattled the windows or the furnace clicked on or the house creaked, my insides tightened up for fear that it was Brother Vern and Deacon Lonnie stepping up onto the porch.

As the afternoon lengthened and no one came by to interrupt our day of rest, my eyelids grew heavier and heavier. It wasn't until Hazel Marie tiptoed into the living room and whispered my name that my head jerked up.

“Oh,” she said. “Are you asleep?”

“Not really. Just resting my eyes.”

Sam stirred beside me, sitting upright and rubbing his neck. That's the problem with putting your head back on a chair or sofa and taking a quick nap—your neck stiffens up on you. But Sam came awake with his usual smile, speaking to Hazel Marie and patting me on the knee. He was the most remarkable man—never waking up cranky or grumpy like some people I could mention.

Hazel Marie sat down in the Victorian chair across from us. She had changed into a sweater and a pair of jeans that looked as if they'd had twenty years of hard living, but were, in fact, the newest fashion purchase. “I had a nap, too,” she said, covering a yawn with her hand. “Is Lloyd home yet?”

“I haven't heard him. But it's getting late, so maybe we should call him.”

“Yes, I'll do that.” She glanced at her watch, then said, “It sure gets dark early these days. I thought it was later than it is. I'll give
him a few more minutes, then call him. Would you like me to start supper?”

Well, not particularly. Hazel Marie was good help in the kitchen, but you wouldn't want to leave her in charge of a entire meal. Not that I was much better, but between the two of us we usually managed fairly well without Lillian.

Sam said, “Why don't I fix my famous omelettes?”

“Oh, good,” I said. “I was hoping you'd say that.”

Hazel Marie laughed and rose from her chair. “I'll get the table set and call Lloyd.”

As she started out of the room, the doorbell rang, and my heart did a flip in my chest. Hazel Marie veered toward it, saying, “I'll get it.”

“No,” I said, trying to launch myself off the sofa, while Sam was doing the same. “Hazel Marie, wait. . . .”

It was too late, for she was already at the door, opening it, and greeting whoever was there. I can't tell you the relief I experienced when I heard Emma Sue's voice and saw her as she appeared with Hazel Marie in the door to the living room. By that time, Sam and I had finally gotten to our feet, so we were standing to give her an exceedingly warm welcome. She walked in, canted over to one side with the weight of a large, brown pocketbook hanging from one shoulder.

“Emma Sue!” I said. “I declare, I'd forgotten that you were coming by. It's so good to see you. Here, have a seat. Would you like some coffee? Something warm? How have you been?”

“Fine, Julia.” She gave me a sideways look, wondering, I supposed, at my effusive joy at seeing her. “Whew,” she said, shrugging the pocketbook off her shoulder. She wrapped the strap around her hand, allowing the bag to dangle almost to the floor. “This thing is heavy as lead. It's filled to the brim with I-don't-know how many hundreds of pennies given by those precious little children. We can all take a lesson from their example of stewardship.”

“Yes, well,” I said, feeling that I needed no lesson in contributing to the church. “Toddlers are hardly the example I would choose. But you should've gotten the pastor to carry it for you. Isn't he with you?”

“He got held up at the hospital,” she said, rubbing her shoulder with her free hand. “Doing visitations, you know. So I can't stay. I just wanted to leave these pennies for Lloyd. Is he here?”

Hazel Marie said, “He should be back any minute. He's working on . . .” The doorbell rang again and, as she turned toward it, I stretched out my hand to stop her.

“I'll see who it is,” she said. “Do have a seat, Emma Sue, and I'll help you unload those pennies.”

Sam, who so far hadn't gotten a word in edgewise, hurried after Hazel Marie, a worried look on his face. And rightfully so, for after I heard the front door open there was nothing but dead silence. Then the relentless voice of Brother Vernon Puckett greeted Sam in unctuous but insistent words that were the preface to doom and destruction for the rest of us.

“I know you have to run, Emma Sue,” I said, anxious for her to be on her way. “Just leave your pennies, and Little Lloyd'll get right on them.”

“Well,” she said, turning to see Brother Vern, Sam, and Hazel Marie enter the room. I couldn't remember if Emma Sue had ever met Brother Vern, but at the moment I wasn't quite at my social best.

Brother Vern, ruddy of face and slightly windblown, strode into the room like he was not going to be deterred from his mission this time. From the imperious lift of his head and the squinched-up expression on his face, I could tell that he was bound and determined to say his piece regardless of what anyone thought.

He came up short when he saw Emma Sue. Sam quickly introduced them, saying that she and Brother Vern had a lot in common, both being in the ministry to varying degrees. I bit my
lip, thinking it best that we get her out before Vernon Puckett said something that would shock Emma Sue to her core.

Before I could open my mouth, Sam gave me an intense look that made me realize that Emma Sue's presence might keep Brother Vern's lid on.

Emma Sue, unaware of the tension, held out her hand and smiled at Brother Vern. “It's so nice to meet you. I always welcome the chance to speak with a fellow worker in the Lord's vineyard.”

Brother Vern deigned to nod his head in her direction, then proceeded to let her know that he did not consider her or her husband an equal laborer in anybody's vineyard. “Some people,” he said, “are working the wrong fields, and them that till in rocky soil ought to know enough to pick up and go elsewhere.” He raised a finger straight up, as if he were speaking from on high. “I tell you and I tell all these folks here that the wrath of God will not be delayed too much longer. It's gonna come down on 'em the likes of which nobody has seen to this day. Look to yourself, woman, and take heed.”

Emma Sue's head snapped back and her eyes nearly popped out of her head. She was not accustomed to having her position as the wife of a minister of a mainline church being treated with such disrespect. And she didn't take a backseat to anybody when it came to following Biblical precepts.

I moaned to myself as I wondered how I was going to explain the unseemly behavior of a guest in my house. I looked over at Hazel Marie to commiserate with her, but she was standing stock-still, a stunned and mortified look on her face.

Sam put a gentling hand on Brother Vern's shoulder and said, “I'm sure everybody agrees that things are bad all over. Come on now, and let's have a seat. I'd like to hear about your print ministry. I'm working on a book, you know.”

But Brother Vern was not to be sidetracked. “I'm not here to talk about that. Everybody and his brother is working on a book,
and none of it fit to read. No, I'm here to find out what you're doing about the serpent that's nestling in your bosom. You've put me off long enough, and it's time, Brother, it's long past time to pluck that serpent out.” Brother Vern stopped to take a breath and a step closer. “I tell you, Brother Murdoch, you got nothing but poison in your well, and you got to clean it out and I mean,
clean it out!
” And with that he spun around to face Hazel Marie, pointing his finger right in her face. His voice rose in the cadence of early morning radio preachers. “This woman . . . this, this harlot, has turned your head-ah. She has blinded your eyes-ah. She has in
sin
uated herself into your life-ah. This woman has eaten the forbidden fruit and borne a tainted issue-ah, and I got a witness-ah, that can flat out
prove
it. Brother, I'm tellin' you, she is wicked-ah and unholy-ah, and a blot on your testimony-ah. . . .”

He stoppped again for breath, leaving a tense silence in the room. Every one of us was struck dumb by his withering attack on Hazel Marie, and in front of Emma Sue Ledbetter, too. Hazel Marie's face was as white as a sheet. She stood there, her eyes wide with astonishment and what may have been fear, as his words lashed her up one side and down the other.

And he wasn't through. “And I'm a-gonna tell you something else about this
Whore
of Babylon . . .”

Emma Sue sprang at him, screeching, “Don't you talk to her like that!” She pulled back her overloaded pocketbook by the strap and, with the force of a righteously angry Christian woman, swung it in a sweeping roundhouse. I felt the rush of air as the heavy bag whizzed right past me, and heard the thunk when it connected with Brother Vern's chest. The bag sprang open on contact, wallet, comb, Chapstik, car keys, notepad, three pens, two pencils, and hundreds of pennies came spewing out into his face, over his head, onto the furniture, and across the room in a copper-colored spray of coins. Emma Sue's momentum whirled her around, with the bag whipping along in a wide circle. Sam ducked as it swished past his head, showering Hazel Marie with
a swath of coins and coin wrappers. Pennies spewed out here, there, and everywhere, some hitting with a metallic clank as they fell onto tables and chests, others tinkling melodically as they rolled along the floor into the far reaches of the room. Several of them landed off the Oriental, where they twirled like tops on the hardwood until they died down and clinked over.

Brother Vern grunted with the impact, took a step back, and, struggling to stay upright, tripped over his own feet. He sat down heavily on the floor, pennies falling from his shoulders and hair.

“Emma Sue?” I said in a quavering voice.

Sam took the pocketbook from her, picked up her wallet and car keys, then reached out a hand to help Brother Vern to his feet. “My goodness,” he said, “we've got a mess here, haven't we? We'll be picking up pennies for the rest of the week. You need to have this strap fixed, Emma Sue.”

Brother Vern was having none of it. He batted Sam's hand away and sat still, looking stunned and woozy. Less, it seemed, from the actual impact of the pocketbook than from the identity of the swinger of it. Finally, he began trying to rise, rolling over at first, then heaving himself up on his knees.

Emma Sue, still with fire in her eyes, put her hands on her hips and, without so much as a glance at Sam, said, “There's nothing wrong with that strap, Sam Murdoch.” Leaning over Brother Vern, she said, “You better understand, right here and now, that I am not going to listen to anybody talk to Hazel Marie like that.” Then she pointed her finger in Brother Vern's face. “I don't care who you are or what you do. You are not going to come in here and say ugly things to my Christian sister. Not while I'm around, you're not. I'll have you know that anybody who can pray the way she can is spiritually head and shoulders above us all, and she does not deserve to be run down by the likes of you. Give me my bag, Sam, I'm going home.”

She gave Hazel Marie a hug, and left with her head held high, slamming the front door behind her.

Ignoring Brother Vern's protests, Sam helped him to his feet and guided him toward the door, saying, “I think we've talked enough today, don't you? It takes a while to get our dignity back after a public fall. Why don't you give me a call when you're feeling better.” And Sam ushered him out of the room and through the door. I heard his words fading away as he saw the shaken preacher out onto the porch and down the steps.

I started toward Hazel Marie to offer comfort and reassurance, but she backed away, wringing her hands. I declare, her face was so pale and her eyes so wracked with pain that she looked like a war-torn waif. I wanted to put my arms around her, even though I rarely get such an improbable urge.

“I need some time, Miss Julia,” she whispered in a ragged voice. “Look after Lloyd for me.”

“Of course,” I said. “I'll call him.”

But she was already on her way through the kitchen, and soon after I heard the backdoor close and her car start up in the driveway.