Miss Julia Hits the Road (8 page)

People leaned toward each other and began talking among themselves, trying to decide where they could go. From the frowns and head shakes, it looked as if a goodly number of empty beds would have to be found before the sun set again.

The Reverend Abernathy said, “I can take four people, if two don’t mind sleepin’ double. An’ I know we can call on Deacon Robert and Deacon Henry, they both got extra rooms. I need to get on the telephone an’ see who else can take in somebody. I’ll do that right now, Mr. Sam, if you’ll keep on managin’ the meetin’.”

I could feel the anxiety level in the church rise as voices increased in volume. Some of the women dabbed at their eyes with lace handkerchiefs, and one man blew his nose long and loud.

As the reverend left to begin telephoning, Sam looked out at those upturned faces and said, “We don’t want anybody to be left without a place to stay, so we need to know where you’ll be. I can take some of you at my house.”

“I got chil’ren in town,” one man said in a mournful voice. “But I hope I don’t have to stay long, they crowded enough as it is.”

“I’ll pass this notepad around,” Sam said. “All of you who have a place to go, write your name and a phone number where we can reach you. Everybody else can be assigned to the extra beds that’ve been offered.”

Sam looked over at me, raising his eyebrows. I nodded, knowing he was asking about Lillian. He jotted something on his pad, then began passing it around.

“Mr. Sam?” Sister Pearl said, as she stood up to get his attention. “You reckon they’s insurance on our houses?”

Sam considered the question, but from the look on his face I could see the answer coming. “Mr. Gibbs may well have insurance on every one of them, but I’m afraid that will only benefit him. If you have individual homeowners’ policies, though, that might cover the loss of any personal possessions that you can’t get out. I’ll have to look into it.”

“I got burial insurance,” she said. “Do that cover anything?”

“Sister,” a hefty man in the front pew said loudly, “the only thing that’ll cover is
you
when you pass over.”

A few rueful grins and head shakes agreed with him.

It was at that point that I realized that Sam was dressed in his normal retirement clothing—khaki trousers, a flannel shirt, and a barn jacket that’d seen better days—with not a stitch of leather on him. It struck me at the same time that he also seemed his old self again—calm and in control. I just hoped it would last, for every person in the sanctuary, including me, was looking to him to tell us what to do.

“What you reckon them ’dozers gonna do, Mr. Sam?” the quavery-voiced man called out.

“I’m afraid they’re going to push down all the houses, Mr. Wills. Then they’ll load up what’s left and clear the land.”

“Can’t we save anything?” That was from Sister Flora, I think. “I mean, what we put in the houses ourselves? I put in a new water heater las’ year, an’ it not near paid for yet.”

“That somethin’ Mr. Gibbs oughtta’ve done,” a man’s loud voice called out. “He leave everything up to us, then snatch it out from under us. I tell you, anything be better’n what we been livin’ with.”

I had my arm around Lillian, feeling her tremble next to me, and Little Lloyd had come to sit on her other side. Hazel Marie was dabbing at her face as she mumbled to herself, “This has just been a terrible day. First, J. D., and now this.”

“We’ll get the water heater out for you,” Sam said to Sister Flora as he walked closer to the pews to answer the question. “I called several people before I came tonight, and we’re going to meet over there first thing tomorrow. We’ll have some trucks, and we’ll help you load up. The big problem is where we’re going to store your things.” He stopped for a minute, then went on as if it hurt him to say what had to be said. “I want you all to know that there’re a lot of people in this town who want to help.”

“Mr. Sam?” a white-headed man asked as he raised his hand. “What about that graveyard up a ways by the spring?”

Before Sam could answer, another voice chimed in. “Oh, Law, we ’bout to forget about that. I got a great-great-granddaddy buried up there. What I gonna do with him?”

Sam studied the matter for a minute. “I know where that is. There’s, what? Some eight or ten graves? Got a fence around them, I believe.”

“Splinters an’ scraps!” a woman suddenly called out, a sob in her voice. “Mr. Gibbs jus’ makin’ kindlin’ outta our houses an’ diggin’ up our bones!”

Then she got up and began pushing her way toward the aisle.

That started a rush of hysteria as another woman threw her arms out wide and collapsed in the aisle with an unnerving scream. The reverend hurried back in as the commotion began to get out of hand.

Several of the calmer ones went to the women, trying to settle them down. They helped the one on the floor back to her seat, then stood around patting and fanning her.

“Now, sister,” Reverend Abernathy said, ushering the first woman back into a pew, “this is not helpin’ anything. Jus’ take your seats, everybody, and work with us here. Le’s us thank the Lord for his goodness toward us, an’ le’s us think about what we can do to take care of each an’ every one of you in this time of need.”

The woman crumpled up, crying her heart out, as they finally got her and the wild-eyed man seated again. I began to tear up myself at the thought of what these people were losing.

I searched in my pocketbook for the Kleenex I always kept handy and passed some to Lillian and Hazel Marie. Then I dabbed at my own eyes.

“Listen, folks,” Sam said, holding up his hands to try to bring some order to the proceedings. “There’re laws that protect cemeteries, especially old ones. Gibbs can’t do a thing to those graves, unless he digs them up and reburies them in a designated site. And if he does, it has to be done in a respectful way. Those graves will not be desecrated, I promise you that.”

Sam’s promise seemed to have a calming effect, but I could feel Lillian still trembling as I slipped my arm around her shoulders.

“Lillian,” I whispered to her. “I know it’s bad now, but we’ll work something out.”

She shook her head, as tears welled up in her eyes. “I didn’t think it come to this, Miss Julia. I been wantin’ to move, but I ought not be pushed out by them bulldozers.”

“I know, but we’re not going to be sitting on our hands,” I said, trying to encourage her. “You’ll have a home, Lillian, and in the meantime, I intend to see what can be done about this travesty.”

She squeezed my hand in response, as Hazel Marie leaned across me and said, “You’re coming home with us tonight, Lillian. Isn’t she, Miss Julia?”

“Of course she is. She doesn’t need to be by herself.” I was about to continue, but Sam began talking again.

“Now, folks,” he said, “a whole bunch of people’re going to show up in the morning to move you out, so be sure you label all your boxes and furniture, whatever you have, so it won’t get misplaced.”

“Oh, Lord,” Lillian whispered. “It gonna be like startin’ all over again. All my flowers be gone, an’ my porch, an’ my neighbors.”

I tightened my arm around her shoulders and whispered to Hazel Marie, “Let’s get her out of here. Little Lloyd, slip up there and tell Sam we’re going home, and for him to come on over if he can.”

As the child tiptoed up the aisle to give my message to Sam, Hazel Marie and I stepped to either side of Lillian and walked toward the door. Lillian stared straight ahead with a blank expression on her face.

As I marched down the aisle, I determined to turn the tables on Clarence Gibbs, just as he’d threatened to turn these people out of their homes and turn long-dead bones out of their resting places. And for a water-bottling plant, of all things. It perturbed me so bad I almost stumbled going out the door.

The three of us walked out onto the steps of the church as Little Lloyd slipped out beside us, closing the door behind him. Gusts of wind whipped at our coats and hair, and I thought, what a terrible time of the year to be homeless.

I thought of Clarence Gibbs, who was probably tucked up in a warm bed in a mortgage-free house without a worry to his name. I wanted to snatch him out of bed and shake him till his teeth rattled for what he was doing to these people.

By the time we got in the car, I was so unsettled that it took me three tries to get the thing turned around and headed away from the church and toward my house.

“Let’s take her to the living room,” I said to Hazel Marie when we got in the house. Little Lloyd held the door open for us, then ran ahead to turn on the lights. Lillian, still with that blank stare on her face, had not said a word all the way home. She’d just sat in the passenger seat, which Hazel Marie’d insisted she take, and looked straight ahead.

I figured she was in shock, which is where I’d be in her situation. We sat her in the Victorian chair beside the fireplace, and I turned on the gas logs to warm the room.

“Her hands’re freezing,” Hazel Marie said. “Lloyd, honey, run get that blanket off the foot of my bed.”

“Just sit back, Lillian,” I said. “You’ve had a shock and you need to rest.” I took one end of the blanket that Little Lloyd brought and, together, we draped it around her shoulders and tucked it in tight.

Hazel Marie took off her own coat and laid it across Lillian’s lap and legs. Then she straightened up and said, “I’ve got to call J. D. and tell him about this. He loves Lillian to death, you know.”

I glanced at Little Lloyd and, as our eyes met, we exchanged knowing smiles. Hazel Marie didn’t notice, which was just as well.

“And she needs something hot to drink,” Hazel Marie went on as she headed for the kitchen. “I’ll put on some hot chocolate while I’m calling.”

“That’s a good idea,” I said, smoothing my hand over Lillian’s blanket-covered arm. “We could all use some, I expect.”

“Here, Miss Lillian,” Little Lloyd said, sliding a footstool near her chair. “Put your feet on this.” When she didn’t move, he lifted one foot at a time and placed them on the stool. Then he pulled one end of his mother’s coat down over her feet.

Hazel Marie returned with a tray loaded with mugs of hot chocolate. Putting down the tray, she took one of the mugs to Lillian and held it to her mouth. “Drink this, Lillian,” she said. “It’ll make you feel better. J. D.’s on his way, and he said for you to sit tight and not worry about a thing.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at the arrogance of the man, but I didn’t say anything. Besides, we could use all the help we could get, even if Mr. Pickens’s help was unlikely to live up to its billing.

The three of us hovered over Lillian, patting and tucking and mumbling comforting words as she sipped the hot chocolate that Hazel Marie kept holding to her mouth.

“Now, Lillian,” Hazel Marie crooned, “You’re going to have all the help you need to finish packing. I’ve moved enough to know what a job it is. J. D. will be there if he can, and Sam, and Coleman, and whoever else they can get. We’ll have you settled in here before you know it, won’t we, Miss Julia?”

“We certainly will,” I said, leaning over and peering closely at Lillian to see if she was looking any better. “Just don’t worry about a thing tonight, and in the morning we’ll go over to Willow Lane and move you out.”

“You think she ought to go back?” Hazel Marie asked, poking the mug at Lillian’s mouth again. “I mean, it might be too much for her, to see the actual moving. Especially with those big machines coming in to tear everything down.”

“We’ll see how she feels in the morning,” I said. “Little Lloyd, are her feet warm? Maybe we ought to scoot the chair closer to the fire.”

Lillian began squirming in the chair, and then, freeing one hand, she threw the blanket back and turned her head away from the mug. “Y’all keep talkin’ ’bout me like I ain’t even here an’ treatin’ me like I’m sick or something,” she said, trying to shrug the blanket from her shoulders. “Jus’ gimme some room so I can get outta this blanket. It about to strangle me to death.”

We stepped back and watched as Lillian untangled herself and pushed the footstool away. As she straightened up, I think we all breathed easier, for her face was taking on some life and she was looking like her old self again.

“Well,” she said with a heavy sigh as she leaned her elbows on her knees, “not no use cryin’ over spilt milk. If I knowed some place to live, I jus’ soon be shed of that ole shack, anyway. Though I don’t know where any of us gonna go.”

“Don’t worry about that, Lillian,” I said with a lot more assurance than I felt. “Everybody has a place to stay for the next few days at least. Then we’ll have to regroup and see what can be done. Hazel Marie,” I went on, turning to her, “we need to get one of the banks to open a special account so people can send in contributions. That’s the way this sort of thing is done, isn’t it?”

“Yes, ma’am, they do that all the time. The television sta tions are forever announcing one fund or another to benefit people who’ve had some tragedy, like a fire or a sickness of some kind. And I think turning people out of the homes they’ve lived in for years would certainly qualify as a tragedy.”