Miss Julia Meets Her Match (19 page)

I needed to tell him what was going on, even if Pastor Ledbetter was as innocent as a lamb, which I kept reminding myself he just might be. But even so, he was guilty by association by virtue of the fact that a romantic interlude had occurred in his office where he prepared the sermons designed to tell us how to live godly lives.

Sam wasn’t going to like that sort of goings-on any better than I did, but, Lord knows, I didn’t need this on top of the constant worry over Monique Mooney. Yet something had to be done or, first thing you know, it would be all over town and people would be laughing at the pastor, his wife, and every Presbyterian in the county. Talk about ruining your testimony.

I slid into my shoes and, taking a sweater, went downstairs and out the door. As I walked the four blocks to Sam’s house, I realized that he had certainly made himself scarce of late. No longer was he showing up at my door every time I turned around, and I wondered if he was trying the silent treatment I’d told him Norma and the mayor were engaged in.

If that’s what he was doing, it was working. I missed him, although I could do without his constant harping on the subject of marriage. Once I made up my mind, there was going to be no un-making it. I walked along, trying to enjoy the first signs of spring on the way. Pale green buds with a hint of pink and red were on the azaleas, the forsythia was in full bloom, as were the early tulips and hyacinths. Birds twittered in the trees, then dashed down to the emerging grass to look for a meal. I noticed these things, but they didn’t hold my attention as they might ordinarily have done. I had too much else on my mind.

Sam came to the door and welcomed me with a big smile.

“Julia,” he said, swinging the door wide, “I was just thinking about you. Come on in.”

“You may not want me, Sam, because I’ve come to jump all over you.”

“Well, get on in here, woman, and start jumping.”

I gave him an icy glare as I entered the hall. “You’re as bad as Mr. Pickens, always taking everything I say the wrong way.”

He laughed as he steered me to the leather sofa in his living room. I say living room, because that’s where he did most of his living. But it was more of a study or a library, if you took note of the shelves of books around the walls, as well as the stacks of books and magazines beside every chair in the room. And, I daresay, he’d read everyone of them.

“Now,” he said as he took his seat beside me, “what have I done to deserve to be jumped on?”

“It’s what you
haven’t
done that’s the problem.” I turned to face him, ready to let him have it. “Sam, if you talked to the pastor like you said you would, it didn’t do any good. You’ll have to do it again, because he’s in bad need of some deep spiritual counseling. The man is headed straight to perdition, and something has to be done. Just listen to what I think I walked in on this morning.”

And I told him what I’d heard coming from the pastor’s office while I was innocently standing in Norma’s office. I must say that my account sobered him considerably, and for the first time he seemed to take my concerns with the seriousness they deserved.

“This is bad, Julia,” he said, stroking his chin as he thought of the ramifications. “You’re sure it was Ledbetter?”

“No, I’m not. I didn’t see who it was, and all I can swear to is that there was a man in there. I know a man’s voice when I hear it, even if it was only groaning and moaning. But I can absolutely vouch for the shape Norma was in. You should’ve seen her, Sam, she looked, I don’t know, mussed up and, well,
aroused.
”

He cut his eyes over to me, a suspicious twinkle in them. “You’d know how that is, I take it?”

“I’m not dead, Sam. Who wouldn’t, with lipstick all over her face and her blouse half undone. And I thought she was going to faint when she saw me. Guilty, that’s what she was. She knew she’d been caught. And, let me tell you, she made sure that door was closed in a hurry so I wouldn’t see who was in there. That’s the only thing I can give her, she was protecting the pastor. Or whoever it was.”

“Okay,” Sam said, “let’s think about this for a minute. You’re not sure it was Ledbetter, are you? It could’ve been somebody else, right?”

“Well, yes, it could’ve been. Little Lloyd saw somebody who might’ve been Curtis Maxwell coming out of the church with certain evidence smeared all over his face. But it happened in the pastor’s office, and nobody uses it but him. In fact, it stays locked when he’s not there, so how could anybody else be using it?”

“But Norma has a key, doesn’t she?”

“Well, yes, I guess she does. But, Sam, surely Norma wouldn’t be so brazen as to have Mr. Maxwell in there. I mean, the pastor could’ve come sailing in at any time and caught them. She wouldn’t risk her job just for a few minutes of . . . whatever it was. Would she?”

“I wouldn’t think so. Although if she knew where Ledbetter was, knew, for instance, that he was tied up somewhere and wouldn’t be back for a while, then she might.” He stopped and studied the problem for a minute. “Look, Julia, the only thing we’re sure of is that Norma was entertaining someone in the pastor’s office.”

“Yes, and not only on church property, but on church
time,
when we’re paying her to be working.”

“Right. Okay, that’s enough to get her fired, if we want to pursue it. But, Norma’s the least of my worries. I don’t want us jumping to conclusions about Ledbetter. He knows he’d have a lot to lose, and not just his job, but his wife, his reputation, his standing in the presbytery, and his pension. I’m inclined to believe it wasn’t him.”

“Yes, and since talking with you, I guess I’m inclined to agree. It’s just, well, I hate to admit it, Sam, but once I got that picture of the two them in my mind, I couldn’t get it out.” I stopped and considered the image for what I hoped was the last time. “I’m trying my best to substitute Curtis Maxwell in the picture, but you know how the mind works sometimes. It can run amok, or at least mine can. But I’m about to be convinced that it wasn’t our pastor.”

“I hope so, Julia. We don’t want to condemn an innocent man.”

“Well, one thing is certain. Norma is not an innocent woman. She was entertaining either Curtis Maxwell or Pastor Ledbetter.

“That brings me to Emma Sue. When you talked to the pastor, did you tell him about her and Curtis Maxwell? I can’t tell you, Sam, how upset he was when she started using cosmetics. Although,” I said, musing on Emma Sue’s sudden about-face, “for some reason she’s reverted to her former self. More’s the pity, to my way of thinking. But you’d think he’d be beside himself with the way she’s behaving around that man.”

“No, Julia. I’m not going to talk to a man about his wife’s behavior. That’s just not done. I did bring up Maxwell, though, and immediately got a defense of the man that I couldn’t break through. Ledbetter is certainly taken with him, and that’s the reason he changed his mind about supporting the theme park. Sounds like anything Maxwell wants, Ledbetter wants, too. He said Maxwell is thinking of making a permanent home here, so Ledbetter’s courting him for all he’s worth.”

“Why in the world would a man who could live anywhere want to live in Abbotsville? That doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Well,
we
live here,” Sam reminded me. “I tell you, Julia, I think all that’s wrong with the pastor is that he’s so impressed with Maxwell and so determined to get him in the congregation that he’s lost all perspective.”

My mind was churning with the complications that would arise if that jet-setting businessman could lead our pastor around by the nose. I didn’t trust anybody who claimed that wealth was the reward for faith. What did that say about the thousands and millions of believers who didn’t have two cents to rub together? Next thing you know, he’d be saying “Send
me
your money, and the Lord will return it to you a hundredfold,” just like those television preachers rant about. I don’t doubt that the Lord bestows material blessings on some, but it doesn’t always follow that wealth indicates divine favor. If you think it does, you don’t know many wealthy people.

“What’re you thinking, Julia?” Sam interrupted the flow of thoughts that were running through my mind.

“I’m thinking I ought to move my letter and join another church. I am just so tired of one upset after the other, and all because of Pastor Ledbetter.” I took a deep breath. “I’m tired of the church being a place of turmoil. It’s not right, Sam. It ought to be a place of peace and quiet, where one can reflect on one’s shortcomings, of which we all have a gracious plenty.”

“I agree, Julia, but I think we need to hang in there. Ledbetter’s eyes will be opened sooner or later, and he’ll need some support. He’s not a bad man nor a bad pastor.”

“Well, I have a different opinion, and you would too if he’d tried to have you committed to a home for incompetents and take over your dead husband’s estate, like he did to me. I won’t forget that till my dying day. There’s no telling where I’d be now, if it hadn’t been for you and Binkie.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Sam said. “I’m not forgetting what he tried to do. He can be bull-headed when he thinks he’s right, but we don’t want to destroy him, do we?”

“I guess not,” I reluctantly agreed. Then with a smile, I said, “I wouldn’t mind embarrassing him to death, though.”

“We could do that,” Sam said, laughing. “I think what’s happening now is that he’s let Curtis Maxwell’s wealth and personal charisma blind him to what’s really going on.”

“Don’t talk to me about charisma! That word’s been so overused, it doesn’t mean anything anymore. But,” I said, slowing down as I recalled something, “speaking of that, Mr. Maxwell did mention the Holy Spirit several times when he gave his little speech at Emma Sue’s. Right there, I should’ve been on my guard. Sam,” I said, grasping his arm in my agitation, “the man may have charisma, but it’s more than that. He’s
charismatic,
and maybe Pentacostal and Holy Roller, too. I’ll bet you anything he speaks in tongues, and those theme park people are just the type to shake and shout and carry on, too. Oh, Lord,” I moaned, covering my face with my hands, “Pastor Ledbetter’s going to lead us into a
cult,
and you know we Presbyterians can hardly read the King James version, much less learn to speak a language that nobody can understand.”

“Julia,” Sam said, taking my hands and, I do believe, trying not to laugh. “I don’t think we have to worry about that. You’re jumping to conclusions and getting yourself all worked up. Let’s just hang back for a while and see what happens. Chances are, Ledbetter’ll come to his senses soon enough. And,” Sam shrugged, “if he doesn’t, the session will tell him his ministry here is over.”

“So,” I said, taking back my hands, “we’re just going to let Norma make a love nest in the church? And let Emma Sue and that smooth operator hang all over each other? Is that what you mean?”

“Not exactly. Look, I’ll go back to Larry and tell him he needs to be more careful of what goes on in his office.”

I jumped back in alarm. “Oh, no. Don’t do that. He’ll know it came from me. Because you know Norma told him I heard what they were doing.”

“Not if it wasn’t him doing it with her. Anyway, I think we ought to give him a chance to straighten out his own mess, don’t you?”

“I guess, although he’s never in the past been willing to acknowledge any mess of his own making. But he’s sure been quick enough to notice anybody else’s.”

“Now that we’ve decided that, what about some of that jumping on you promised me? I’m all set, so you can start in anytime you’re ready.”

What in the world do you do with a man who has a one-track mind? But, being concerned with what could happen to him as a result of romantic deprivation, I acquiesced to a few minutes of personal interaction, all the while hoping that James wouldn’t walk in on us.

When I got home I found Little Lloyd and Latisha sitting on the floor in the living room, playing Old Maid. The game wasn’t going so well, since, with only two players, they were defeating the purpose. It didn’t help, either, that Latisha fell over backward, laughing, when Little Lloyd drew the Old Maid from her hand.

“You got her!” Latisha cried. “You got her, an’ you better keep her, ’cause I’m not gonna be no old maid.”

“You’re not supposed to tell,” Little Lloyd said as he rearranged his cards. “It’s no fun, if you tell.”

“Well,” Latisha came back at him, “it’s only me an’ you, an’ if she’s not in my hand, I know good an’ well she gotta be in yours.”

Little Lloyd smiled as he glanced up at me and said, “I can’t fool Latisha. She catches me every time.”

“Yeah,” Latisha chimed in, “an’ I’m gonna keep on a-doin’ it, too.” She moved over to make room and said, “Come play with us, ma’am. We’ll let you be the Old Maid, ’cause that’s what Great-Granny said you’d be if you don’t marry that ole white-headed man what come courtin’ you.”

Little Lloyd hid his face behind his cards, trying not to laugh. For myself, I was so surprised that I hardly knew how to form an answer.

“I’m a widow, Latisha,” I finally said, “so I can hardly be an old maid.” Then thinking I’d been too short with her, but wanting to get her mind off that subject, I went on. “How’re you liking kindergarten?”

“Well, it’s all right, but that ole teacher don’t do nothin’ but make me color and color and color. I’m gettin’ tired of it. I want to get my hands on that Play-Doh an’ make me something.”

Little Lloyd suppressed a grin and said, “Tell Miss Julia what you’re going to do this summer.”

“Oh, yeah,” Latisha said, her eyes shining with anticipation. “My mama say she gonna take me to the beach, an’ when I get there I’m gonna wear my new zucchini.”

That stopped me. “Your new what?”

Little Lloyd doubled over, laughing, but he managed to get out, “Her new
bikini!
Latisha, it’s a bikini, not a zucchini.”

“I don’t care what it is,” she said, not at all abashed, “I’m gonna wear that thing, come hell or high water.”