Miss Julia Meets Her Match (27 page)

I glanced at Hazel Marie, but the whole thing seemed to have gone over her head. She hadn’t picked up on Lillian’s near-slip, for she was concentrating on my problem.

“What I don’t understand, Miss Julia,” she finally said, “is why you and Sam don’t go ahead and get married. You know you love him, and he just adores you. That’d fix it, and you wouldn’t have to put up with any more talk.”

“For goodness sake, Hazel Marie,” I said, switching myself around in my chair. “That’s exactly what Sam said, but I am not going to have it. I wouldn’t marry him now for all the gold in Fort Knox.”

“Why you be so bull-headed?” Lillian said, coming back to the table. “He a good man, an’ that kind be few and far between.”

“It’d be the perfect solution,” Hazel Marie said, “and so romantic. I don’t see why you won’t.”

“Because I don’t want to give the gossipers the satisfaction, for one thing. Let them talk. I’ll entertain Sam when and where I please and, who knows, I may decide to really give them something to talk about, and dare the pastor to do anything about it.”

“Oh, Miss Julia,” Hazel Marie said, her eyes glinting with mischief, “I wish you would. What would you do?”

“I’ll have to think about it. Hold his hand in public, maybe.”

Lillian started laughing. “Shoo. You got to do better’n that.”

“I know,” Hazel Marie cried. “Why don’t you let somebody see you coming out of the Mountaintop Motel together? That’d do it for sure.”

We ended up laughing about it, but deep down, I was still deeply disturbed. I didn’t like being talked about, to say nothing of being laughed at. And I certainly did not like being thought of as a fallen woman and, even worse, being blamed for Sam’s lapsed state.

As we prepared to go upstairs to bed, Lillian said, “I hope y’all got yo’ ducks in a row for the party we givin’ for Mr. Tony. It be here ’fore you know it.”

“Oh, Lord,” I moaned, “don’t remind me. I hate to think of facing all those people, knowing what they’re thinking. I wish we could just cancel and forget about it.”

“You’ll do fine,” Hazel Marie said. “They’re going to be so tickled to see Tony all decked out as Tonya that they won’t give you a thought. And if you think it’ll be bad for you, think about poor Mildred and what she’ll have to face.”

I patted her hand and gave her a grateful look as she took herself upstairs to bed.

“She’s right,” I said to Lillian as she put the last of our plates into the dishwasher. “I wouldn’t change places with Mildred for anything in the world. I’ll take what they’re saying about me, which after all does come under the heading of
normal,
even if immoral, over their twittering about Mildred and her new thirty-something-year-old daughter. And, Lillian, you were right, too, about this being another topic that’ll deflect the gossip from Wesley Lloyd and his ladyfriends.”

“Well, Law,” she said, wringing out a sponge. “I almost give it away, ’cause it be on my mind so bad. Miz Causey, my used-to-be next door neighbor, she call an’ tell me they talkin’ ’bout Mr. Springer an’ that Walk Where Jesus Walked woman at choir practice the other night. I don’t know why folks have to be diggin’ up dirt all the time, ’specially when it likely hurt that little boy.” She puttered around, wiping off the counters, window sills and stovetop. “Wisht they’d mind they own business, is what I wish.”

“That’s not likely to happen,” I said, just done in by hearing that Wesley Lloyd’s long-ago antics were making the rounds in another church. “Sleep well, Lillian. I’ll see you in the morning.”

I went to bed, so tired from the previous night’s excursion and the day’s exertions that I could hardly drag myself up the stairs.

I woke that Saturday morning with a renewed determination to protect Little Lloyd from the disastrous knowledge of his father’s straying disposition. That, I told myself, was what I had to keep in the forefront of my mind, regardless of how my own reputation was suffering, and I didn’t care how much it cost me. Well, of course, I did, but I meant within reason.

Then, too, I realized that if the child heard the tales about me and Sam, he’d be rightly disturbed, if he understood them. I had set myself up as an example to him of how one should live in a gracious and morally correct manner. Maybe he’d give me the benefit of the doubt, but even if he didn’t, it wouldn’t be as damaging to him as knowing about his father’s goatish activities. Besides, I was an innocent party, and his father wasn’t, which would surely count for something.

And, as I came out of bed, I smiled at a sudden delicious thought. Why not give the town something to really talk about? And let the boy take part in it? If he thought he knew all there was to know about Sam and me, he’d dismiss anything else he happened to hear.

Of course, my idea would give Pastor Ledbetter more ammunition against me. But, feeling energized at the thought of turning the gossip upside down, I decided to trust that Sam could put him on permanent hold.

To that end, I called Sam. When he answered, I said, “Sam, do you really mean all the things you’ve been saying to me?”

“Every word, Julia,” he said. Then: “What things are we talking about?”

“About how you feel about me. Now, listen, if you want to back off, you can, but do it right now or forever hold your peace.”

“Lord, Julia,” he said, his voice full and rich. “I don’t want to back off anything. Never did, never will. Are you saying you’ll marry me?”

“No, I’m not. What I am saying is that I want some tangible expression of how you feel.”

“Well, hell, woman. Let me put this phone down and I’ll run over there and smooch on you all day long. Will that be tangible enough?”

“That’s not what I had in mind.”

“Tell me, and I’ll do it. Anything in the world.”

“Well, this is a little difficult to ask for, since it should be the man who offers it. But,” I said, drawing a deep breath and plunging in, “I want you to give me a ring.”

There was silence on the line, and I feared that I’d overstepped myself. “Now, Sam,” I quickly said, “I don’t want you to think I’m a golddigger or anything. It doesn’t have to be expensive, but it does have to be big enough to be noticeable.”

“Julia, you take my breath away. Of course I’ll give you a ring, and would’ve done it long ago if I thought you’d accept it. Sweetheart, nothing would make me happier than to put an engagement ring on your finger.”

“
Engagement
ring! I’m not talking about an engagement ring.”

“What other kind is there?”

“Plenty of other kinds, because you know my position on getting married. No, what I want is a friendship ring.”

There was another long silence on the line. Then he said, “A friendship ring, huh? Would that be like a pre-engagement ring or something?”

“I don’t know what it’d be like. I just want something that’ll knock a few eyes out and throw more fuel on the flame. They want something to talk about, so I’ll give it to them.”

He started laughing then and finally managed to say, “Well, I won’t say I’m not disappointed, but I’ll look at it as a step in the right direction. Tell me what kind you want, sweetie, and I’ll take comfort in the fact that I’ll have something wrapped around your finger.”

“I don’t care what you get, just so it’s big enough to be noticed. But, Sam, don’t spend a lot of money on it. And it doesn’t have to be real, even. I just need it before our reception for Mildred Allen’s newborn daughter on Tuesday, so don’t piddle around making a decision.

“And one other thing. I want you to take Little Lloyd when you go to get it. That way, he won’t pay attention to any rumors about us. He’ll think the ring started them.”

“Good thinking, Julia. See you in a little while.”

We hung up with him still laughing, and me smiling at his reaction. I declare, he understood my devious designs better than I did, myself. As my smile spread wider, I realized that I wouldn’t at all mind having Sam’s ring on my finger, even if it didn’t mean a thing in the world.

Less than an hour later, Sam was at my door, eager to set off on his mission. He wouldn’t take the time to come in and speak to Hazel Marie or Lillian, much less linger to hear me caution him about going overboard.

“This is man’s work, Julia,” he said. “Is Lloyd ready? We’re going to have ourselves a time, picking out just the right thing.”

“Now, Sam . . . ,” I started, but he held up his hand.

“Not a word, Julia. Leave it to us.”

Little Lloyd was full of excitement, readying himself in a few minutes for the unexpected outing with Sam. They left, whispering and laughing between themselves.

Latisha was disappointed she couldn’t go, but that active little mind soon came up with another plan.

“Well,” she said, parking her hands on her non-existent hips, “If I can’t go shoppin’ with them, I’m gonna go to that theme park y’all been talkin’ about. That’s what I’m gonna do, soon as somebody takes me.”

“Hush, chile,” Lillian said as she busied herself at the sink. “Nobody goin’ to that place.”

“I don’t see why not.” Latisha turned her big eyes up to Lillian. “I’m gonna ride one of them logs that come flyin’ down a water-chute and throw water all over everybody.” She bent over, laughing at the thought. “Great-granny, you gonna wet yourself all over. An’ listen here, they got all kinds of rides and shows and Mickey Mouses and such as that. I got to get myself out there.”

“Latisha,” I said, “the theme park we’ve been talking about is a little different from the ones you’re thinking of. I doubt you’d like this one.”

“Well, I don’t want no different one. I want the real thing. When can we go, Great-granny? I’m ready any time you are.”

“Nobody gonna be ready any time soon,” Lillian said, as she swooped her up. “I need you to help me with this here.”

Lillian stood her up in a chair at the kitchen table and gave her the job of counting spoons for our reception. As I made myself scarce, I could hear that little piercing voice going on and on, counting, talking, losing count, then starting over. At one point, she stopped counting long enough to tell Lillian some long story about her daddy who was living on an Army basement.

I couldn’t help but smile at how she mixed up words. The child was an entertainment, if you were in the mood to be entertained. Which, at that time, I wasn’t. I went upstairs to my desk to go over the lists for the reception, even though I’d lost my enthusiasm for it. My grand scheme to put Tonya Allen in the forefront of the town talk seemed unnecessary, now that Sam and I were occupying that unenviable position.

I tapped my pen against the side of my face, thinking how the speculations would really run wild, once I began sporting a ring. They wouldn’t know what to make of it, nor would Pastor Ledbetter. Especially when no word of impending nuptials would be forthcoming.

Lord, as I thought about it, I wondered when people had time to take care of the necessities of life. Keeping themselves so busy talking and spreading rumors, when did they get their work done? If it wasn’t the long-dead Wesley Lloyd and his paramours, it was Tony Allen and his remarkable transformation. And if it wasn’t Tony, it was what Sam and I were up to on the sofa in my living room. Which was a wonder to me, because if you’ve ever sat on a Duncan Phyfe sofa, you know the style does not lend itself to any kind of energetic activities, much less amorous ones.

And if that wasn’t enough to occupy my mind, another worry flooded in. Why hadn’t Mr. Pickens called? Could the Mooney woman be in such a high spiritual state that she’d be offended at the offer of money? What would I fall back on then? Lord, I wanted it settled and over with.

I sighed and turned back to my lists, wondering if I had the stamina for a party. But, once you send out invitations, you’re pretty well committed to going through with whatever you’ve invited half the town to.

“Miss Julia?” Hazel Marie came up the stairs to my room. She plopped down in the easy chair beside my front window. “Sam just called. They’re on the way to Charlotte, so they’re going to be late. He didn’t want us to worry.”

“Charlotte? Why in the world?”

“He just said they couldn’t find what they were looking for in Asheville, and he knew he had to strike while the iron was hot.” She smiled as if she knew something I didn’t. “Now, what could he mean by that?”

“I have no idea, except he’s making a mountain out of a molehill. I told him that I wanted a simple friendship ring, the selection of which should not entail a trip to Charlotte. He could’ve gotten something at Wal-Mart, for all the meaning attached to it.”

“Well, I expect he’s attaching a little more meaning to it than you are. You never let him give you anything except at Christmas, so now that you’ve asked for something, it’s his big chance.”

“You are such a romantic, Hazel Marie. I told him why I wanted it, and it’s only to rub in the faces of the gossipers to prove I don’t care what they say. It doesn’t mean a blessed thing.”

“Uh-huh,” she said in a knowing way, which made me want to shake her. “Well, I expect you’ll really be the talk of the town with Sam’s ring on your finger.”

“Let them talk,” I said. “Now, Hazel Marie, if anybody asks you, you tell them that Sam and I have no intention of getting married. Tell them that we have a
relationship,
which is an overused word that doesn’t mean what people think it does.” I paused, thinking how the word had come to imply an intimacy that should be reserved for marriage, but often wasn’t. “Because, when you come right down to it, you could say that I have a relationship with the mailman and the man who services my car. So you’ll be telling the truth, but the way their minds work, it’ll stir up a hornet’s nest of speculation.”

“You’ll certainly stir up Pastor Ledbetter when that gets around,” Hazel Marie said, a worried look on her face. “What if he does call you up in front of the congregation?”