Miss Julia Stands Her Ground (22 page)

Lord, who could've imagined such a scene? I couldn't, and I'd been an eyewitness to it. Sam came back in, and all we could do was stand and look at each other across the copper-covered room.

“Well,” he said, with a twist of his mouth, “at least she didn't start crying.”

“I don't know which is worse: Emma Sue in tears or Emma Sue enraged,” I responded, crossing my arms and holding myself to stop the trembling. “I never thought I'd see the day when Emma Sue Ledbetter went on the attack. We sure saw a different side of her today, Sam, and, believe me, I'm going to watch my step around her from now on.”

“Speaking of which,” Sam said, waving his arm at the layer of pennies on the floor. “Watch where you walk. Don't want you to slip and fall.”

“Yes, well, I guess we should start picking them up, but if I get down, I might never get up. Oh, Sam,” I moaned, “forget about money on the floor. What I want to know is, what exactly did Brother Vern say? Did he come right out and say that Little Lloyd is not Wesley Lloyd's child?”

“He implied it, Julia, but in such roundabout terms that nobody but us knew what he was saying.”

“I think Hazel Marie knew, or guessed. Oh, Sam, that's why she flew out of here like she did. And what about Emma Sue? You think she understood what he said?”

“Emma Sue? No. All she heard were ugly words thrown at Hazel Marie, and that was it for her. As for Hazel Marie, I think she was just plain humiliated by her uncle's behavior.”

“Well,” I said, “she would be, of course. We've gone so long thinking he was out of our lives forever that it must've been a total shock to her. You know, he just walked right in and lit into her like nobody's business. It shocked me, too.”

“It shocked all of us. Now, let's get something to eat.” Sam walked gingerly across the layer of pennies, took my arm, and led me toward the kitchen. “Where did Hazel Marie go?”

“I don't know. She just said she needed some time.” I got as far as one of the chairs by the kitchen table. I took hold of it as a sudden thought came to me. “Oh, Sam. Maybe it's worse than that. Maybe she remembered Deacon Lonnie after all, and when Brother Vern started in on her, she knew what was coming next.”

“Now, Julia . . .”

“No, wait. Maybe her leaving like that is an admission of guilt. Oh, my word, I can't bear the thought of it.” I clung to Sam, just sick to my soul.

“Now, Julia, you're jumping to conclusions. Hazel Marie is tender-hearted, you know that, and she was ashamed at the way her uncle showed himself. I expect she's gone to J.D.'s for a little comfort.”

I took a deep breath. “You're right. If he's home from his trip, that's exactly where she went, and I hope to goodness he gives it to her.”

Sam smiled. “I expect he will.”

I heard bicycle wheels squeal on the drive way. “There's Little Lloyd, and about time, too. Make out like everything's fine, Sam.”

Little Lloyd came in, shedding his cap and coat, and propping his book bag against the wall. “Hope I'm not late. We really got a
lot done. Charles's mom took us all around, even to the courthouse and a doctor's office.”

“Why, those places aren't open on Sunday,” I said, as I put placemats on the table.

“Yessum, but we only swabbed the knobs on front doors, so they didn't need to be open. Then we transferred our samples to petri dishes with a growth medium in them. I sure hope we got some germs that'll grow.”

Not being especially scientifically minded, I knew enough to caution him. “Be sure and wash your hands good.”

By this time, Sam had bacon frying in a skillet and was cracking eggs into a bowl. Setting the table, I hesitated before laying a place for Hazel Marie.

Little Lloyd looked around, then asked, “Where's Mama?”

Sam and I exchanged a quick glance before I answered. “She's at Mr. Pickens's. I expect she'll be back after a while.”

“Oh, okay,” Little Lloyd said, seemingly unconcerned. “I didn't think he'd get back this early. He told me it might be midnight or later. I'm going to wash up.”

As the child left for the bathroom at the back of the hall, I hurried over to Sam. “Oh, my goodness, Sam,” I whispered, “what if he's not back? Where would Hazel Marie go?”

“I wouldn't be surprised if she had a key. She's probably over at his house waiting for him.” Then, as Little Lloyd came back into the room, Sam said, “I have a job for you, Lloyd, if you're willing. I need some help picking up about a ton of pennies off the living room floor. You want to help?”

He grinned. “Yessir, but how'd they get there?”

“Mrs. Ledbetter brought them. She wants you and me to count them and roll them in wrappers. But, in an unfortunate occurrence, she dropped the bag and it popped open. There're pennies everywhere.”

Little Lloyd laughed. “Wish I'd been here to see that. I bet she bawled her head off, didn't she?”

Sam laughed, as I said, “Little Lloyd! Show some respect.”

“Well, but she cries all the time. Everybody knows it, but I respect her anyway.”

“Here it comes,” Sam said, dividing his omelette onto three plates. “Everybody sit down.”

After supper, the three of us adjourned to the living room, and Sam and Little Lloyd got down on the floor and began picking up coins. They brought them to the dining room table, where I was happy enough to sit and count them out into stacks. Although I must say that if a certain somebody had had the bright idea of collecting them, then that somebody should've been willing to see the job through herself.

I counted and stacked pennies from the piles that Sam and Little Lloyd kept dumping on the table, all the while listening for Hazel Marie's car in the drive.

Finally Sam stood up with a great creaking in his knees, and said, “Let's leave the rest, Lloyd. These old bones can't take anymore.”

Little Lloyd crawled out from under a lamp table. “We've got 'em all except what's underneath things. I'll get them tomorrow.”

They joined me at the table, and we wrapped pennies in companionable silence, although I fumed at having to finish up Emma Sue's project.

“Time for bed, Little Lloyd,” I said, glancing at my watch. “And time to wrap this up. My hands are filthy. I'll be up in a little while to check on you.”

He wished us both good night and went upstairs without complaining. He was such a satisfactory child, always cheerful and obedient, much like his mother.

“Where is she, Sam?” I whispered. “She ought to be home by now.”

“Listen to yourself, Julia,” he said. “It's only nine o'clock. When has she ever come home this early when she's with Pickens?”

“Well, I know,” I said, sighing. “It's just that I thought she
might call. To see if Lloyd got home all right, for no other reason.” I pushed several rolls of pennies away from the edge of the table. “Lillian's going to throw up her hands when she sees this mess in the morning. We'll have to move furniture to be sure we've got them all. Sam,” I said, looking up at him. “I'm surprised that Emma Sue hasn't called, either. Mark my words, she'll be suffering because she lost her temper, which is not the image she wants everybody to see. Sooner or later, she'll be crying on my shoulder.”

“Tell her I'm proud of her, and if she hadn't taken a lick at Brother Vern, I was going to.”

“Were you really?”

“I'd already taken a step toward him when that pocketbook came at me on her backswing. I ducked just in time, or I'd've been laid low, too.”

We ended up laughing together, replaying the scene in our minds. But it didn't take long for me to straighten up as I thought again of the threat posed by Hazel Marie's uncle.

“He's not through, Sam. You know he's not. He's going to confront Hazel Marie with his so-called proof, and you know what? I think he wants an audience. I think he was glad Emma Sue was here, because he wants to embarrass and shame Hazel Marie.”

“Maybe so, Julia. I am a little surprised he didn't bring that Whitmire fellow with him. And the more I think about it, the more I think he may have something else up his sleeve.”

“Lord, I hope not. I can't stand too much more. Well, let me get up from here. I'll be back down in a few minutes.”

I went upstairs and tapped on Little Lloyd's open door. He was sitting on the side of the bed, already in his pajamas, leafing through a book.

“Time to be in bed,” I said. “School tomorrow, you know.”

“Yessum,” he said, swinging his feet up on the bed and scooting up to the head of it. “I know what I'm going to get Mama for Christmas.”

I straightened some papers on his desk. “What?”

“A tattoo on my arm. With
Mom
on it.”

I whirled around.
“What?”

He threw his head back and went into a fit of giggles. “Just kidding,” he said, hardly able to get his breath. “I got you good though, didn't I?”

“You nearly gave me a heart attack.” I went over to the bed, and held the covers so he could slide under them. “Don't do that to me again.”

“Okay, but what I think I'm really going to get her is another gold charm for her bracelet. Something to engrave my name on, like maybe,
From your son, Lloyd Puck
. . . uh, maybe just
Lloyd.
”

“She'll love that. Now, say your prayers and turn off the light. Are you warm enough?”

“Yessum.”

“Good night, then.” I got as far as the door on my way out.

“Miss Julia?” he said, rising up from the pillow. “Is my last name Puckett or Springer?”

Oh, Lord, I knew this was coming sometime. I stood with my hand on the door, unable to turn and face him. It wasn't my place to explain such delicate matters to the child, but I had to answer him in some way. I took a deep breath and said, “Both.” And hoped it would satisfy him.

“Well, but everybody I know has the same last name as their daddy, but I have Mama's for mine.”

“Yes, well, families can get all mixed up, and it'd take a legal mind to straighten them out.”
There was a thought!
“I tell you what, Little Lloyd, why don't you ask Sam, or maybe Binkie?”

“Okay, I will. Good night, Miss Julia. Tell Mama I'll see her in the morning.”

I bade him good night again, and got out of that sticky situation as fast as my feet would carry me.

“Sam,” I said, hurrying over to him when I got downstairs, “you won't believe what that child just asked me. He wanted to know whether his last name is Springer or Puckett. He knows he's a Puckett and his daddy was a Springer.” I sat down beside Sam, but couldn't put myself at ease. My nerves were tingling all up and down my system. “At least, I hope his daddy was.”

“I'm surprised he hasn't asked before this,” Sam said, a brooding look on his face. “He's too smart not to have thought about it. But that's for Hazel Marie to explain to him. Not us.”

“Well, speaking of . . . I think I'll call Mr. Pickens and see if she's all right.”

“I wouldn't do that, Julia.” Sam put a hand on my arm. “It might be better to let her have this time with him. He'll calm her down and reassure her. I expect she'll be home in a few hours. It's still early, you know.”

“Not for me, it isn't. I declare, this has been the longest and most upsetting day I've ever had to endure, and I'm ready for it to be over.”

Sam and I were getting dressed the next morning, although he was much more adept at it than I was. The events of the previous day were still having their effect, for I was so unsettled that I doubted I could recapture my normal serenity of mind. Sam
was having no such problem. He was shaved and dressed in half his usual time, which was never very long in the first place.

“Julia,” he said, while I was still trying to button my dress, “I've come to the conclusion that I've been remiss in dealing with Vernon Puckett.”

That was a surprising admission. “I wouldn't say remiss, exactly,” I said, looking up at him. “But maybe a little slow.”

“Well, either way, it's coming to a screeching halt. I'm going to track him down today if it takes me all day. The idea that he would come into our home and verbally attack a woman under our protection is more than I can tolerate. I should've ushered him out yesterday before he got started. As far as I'm concerned, he is no longer welcome in this house.”

“As far as I'm concerned,” I said, my spirits lifting at this pronouncement, “that's long been the case.”

“I know it, Julia, and I've let you down by letting it get this far. But Puckett's going to know that I've had all I'm going to take from him.” Sam headed for the door. “I'll be out and about all day, Julia, and it may be suppertime before I get back. Tell Hazel Marie that she doesn't have to worry about him any more.”

“Wait, Sam. Did you hear her come in last night?”

“No, but I never do.” Sam paused in the door on his way to the kitchen. “She's probably sleeping late, so I'll take Lloyd to school, then be on my way.”

As we gathered for breakfast, Little Lloyd brought up his mother's whereabouts again. “I guess Mama's still sleeping. Her door's closed, so I didn't bother her.”

“That was thoughtful of you,” I said, relieved that she was safe in her bed even if I hadn't heard her come in.

“I hope she not sick,” Lillian said, as she wrapped a sandwich for Little Lloyd's lunch. We'd had to get an extra large lunch box to hold all the food that Lillian packed for him, little of which, I suspected, actually got eaten.

“Oh, I doubt she's sick,” Sam said in that easy way he had of calming everybody's fears. “Pickens has been out of town for a few days, so I expect it took them a while to get caught up. You ready to go, Lloyd?”

 

After they left, Lillian joined me at the table for a second cup of coffee. Even though I was more than pleased at Sam's determination to have it out with Brother Vern, I found myself increasingly edgy.

“I'm going up to check on her,” I told Lillian.

I went upstairs, tapped on Hazel Marie's door, and, getting no response, I opened it to find a perfectly made bed with no sign that anybody had been in it. I nearly broke my neck hurrying back downstairs.

“Lillian! Lillian, she's not there. Oh, my goodness,” I said, leaning for support on the edge of the table. “Where is she? What's happened to her?”

“Why, Miss Julia, I hate to have to tell you this, but I 'spect she spend the night with Mr. Pickens.” Lillian stood up and guided me to a chair. “Now, you quit that carryin' on. She a grown woman, an' I guess she can stay out all night if she want to.”

“You don't understand, Lillian,” I said, breathing in gasps. “Brother Vern was here yesterday, and . . .”

And I proceeded to tell her some of what that meddling fool was up to and how he'd lambasted Hazel Marie in front of us all and how Emma Sue had knocked him for a loop and how Hazel Marie had run out and not been heard from ever since.

“Oh, my Law, . . .” Lillian moaned, flopping down on a chair. “That pore little thing, havin' to put up with such again. Where you reckon she at, Miss Julia?”

“She's got to be at Mr. Pickens's, and I don't care if she stayed all night with him or not. I'm calling him right now.”

So I did, looking up his office number first, since it was high time for him to be at work. All I got was his answering machine, so I left a message.

“Mr. Pickens, call me as soon as you come in. And in the meantime, I'm calling you at home.”

And I did that, too. His home phone rang for ever so long, as my hand on the receiver grew tighter and tighter.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, Mr. Pickens, you're there. Thank goodness, I thought I'd missed you.”

“Who is this?” Mr. Pickens sounded as if he were still in bed and not a little cranky at being disturbed.

“Why, it's Julia Murdoch. Wake up, Mr. Pickens, half the morning's gone and I need to speak to Hazel Marie.”

There was a long silence on the line, in which Mr. Pickens was either yawning or going back to sleep.

“She's not here,” he finally said.

“Now, listen, I know that you two want to keep me in the dark as to your personal lives, but I don't have time for such niceties. I don't care what you do or when you do it. So put her on the phone right now.”

“Miss Julia,” he said, sounding more awake by the minute. “Hazel Marie's not here.”

“But she has to be! Have you looked around?”

“I didn't get in till about four this morning, but I think I would've noticed if she'd been here. Now, what's going on?”

“Oh, Mr. Pickens. She left here yesterday afternoon right after Brother Vern called her the whore of Babylon in front of Emma Sue Ledbetter, and Sam's gone to track him down, and she's not in her bed, and she hasn't been there all night, and we don't know where she is.”

“I'm on my way.”

 

“Oh, Mr. Pickens,” I cried, practically throwing myself on him as soon as he stepped into the house. While waiting for him Lillian and I had done little else but wring our hands.

“Tell me again,” he said, “and this time in detail. When did it all start?”

He put his hands on the back of a chair and leaned over it, his arms straight and stiff. Lillian sat hunched over the table, not even thinking to offer him something to eat—a clear sign of her distress.

So I began where it started, a week or so back, when Sam first told me that Brother Vern was back in town, carefully omitting the reason he'd come back—not wanting to ruin her reputation if I didn't have to—and ended with Hazel Marie's sudden departure. “And, Mr. Pickens, you wouldn't believe the awful things that man said to her, and right in front of the preacher's wife, too. She was so upset that she just took off, asking me to look after Little Lloyd on her way out. I thought she meant for the evening, but now it looks like she meant forever. And he doesn't even know she's gone, and how am I going to tell him?”

Mr. Pickens pressed his mouth together, his black eyes studying the tabletop intently. “I'll check with Coleman first,” he said, relinquishing his hold on the chair and heading for the telephone to call Deputy, I mean, Sergeant Coleman Bates at the Sheriff's Department.

Lillian and I stared at each other, hardly able to breathe, as we listened to one side of the conversation. Mr. Pickens explained to Coleman that Hazel Marie had been missing since the previous night, then asked about vehicle accidents and hospital admissions.

“He'll call back,” Mr. Pickens said, hanging up the phone. “Now, think hard, Miss Julia, did she give you any idea of where she was going?”

“Don't you think I have been thinking? No, she didn't, because I thought she just wanted to clear her head after Brother Vern's rampage.” In my distress, the words started tumbling out. “And,
Mr. Pickens, I didn't start to worry until Little Lloyd went to bed. But Sam said he was sure she was with you, and even if you weren't home, she probably had a key and would just wait for you. And even then, I thought she'd come home sometime last night even though I didn't hear her, which I usually do, but not always. It wasn't until I saw her bed hadn't been slept in, then called you and found out she wasn't there, that I knew she was really gone. And, oh, Mr. Pickens, both of us were sleeping while our sweet Hazel Marie was out wandering around somewhere alone in the night.”

I put my head down on the table and cried, wanting so badly to tell them the real reason behind Hazel Marie's flight from hearth and home. In my telling, I'd slid right over the question of Little Lloyd's paternity, letting Lillian and Mr. Pickens think that Brother Vern was only up to his usual mischief. I'd gone over and over in my mind exactly what the meddling fool had actually said the day before, and as far as I could determine, he hadn't come right out and named Lonnie Whitmire the child's father. But Hazel Marie had seen the two of them together, so she would've known what he was about to say. Why else would she have run from us?

“What I don't understand,” Mr. Pickens said, “is why she'd be so upset. She's had to deal with her uncle before, so what made this time so different that she'd run off?”

“Yessir, tha's what I want to know,” Lillian said, nodding solemnly. “Why she not slap him down like Miz Ledbetter do? Why she have to run away from all of us?”

I knew, but I couldn't bring myself to tell them that this time everything was different because Brother Vern was claiming a different father for Little Lloyd and accusing Hazel Marie of long-term deceit and deception, and that a great and awful dread was building up in me that this time she might be running from the truth.