Miss Julia Rocks the Cradle (16 page)

I didn’t respond, still thinking of what we’d gone through the night before. If you want to know the truth, the storm hadn’t been all that bad, now that it was over and done with. It would’ve been a mere inconvenience if, that is, we hadn’t lost power and if Hazel Marie’s babies hadn’t chosen to emerge during the midst of it. That made it one of those storms of the century in my book.

As Mr. Pickens steered the car to a stop before my house and beside a mound of snow left by the snowplow, I heard the whine of a power saw. Sam was standing where my driveway was supposed to be, watching Poochie Dunn cut small limbs from the large one across the cars. Another man was stacking the cut pieces along the side.

“I wish Sam wouldn’t stand so close,” I said, as the grinding noise revved up and another limb fell. “Half the time Poochie doesn’t watch what he’s doing.”

Mr. Pickens grinned. “Maybe not, but Sam was glad to see him. There’ll be a bunch of people out today, trying to make a little money. Poochie’s probably as good as any.”

“Well, I hope so,” I said, buttoning my coat. “Anyway, one good thing about living so close to town: we’ll get power back when Main Street does. I expect there’ll be people living farther out who’ll be without it for days to come.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Mr. Pickens said. “Wait till I come around, Miss Julia, before you get out. It’ll be slick.”

I looked at Etta Mae and Lloyd in the cramped backseat. She was sound asleep, but Lloyd was eager for me to get out so he could climb over my seat.

“I can’t wait to tell Lillian and Latisha about my sisters,” he said. “And that I got to hold them.”

I leaned back and patted Etta Mae’s knee to wake her. “We’re home, Etta Mae. But wait and let Mr. Pickens help you to the door. The walk hasn’t been shoveled yet. Then I want you to go to bed.”

She came awake yawning, glanced around and said, “I still feel bad about leaving Hazel Marie.”

“You shouldn’t. You didn’t get any rest last night, so it’s no wonder you’re tired. Besides, Mr. Pickens is going back over there and he’ll be with her all afternoon.”

Mr. Pickens opened my door and offered his hand. I was glad to have it, for the street was like a skating rink. As we high-stepped it through the snow to the front door, Sam left his supervisory job and took over from Mr. Pickens.

He put his arm around me and steadied me as we slogged through the snow. “I’m so glad you’re home, Sam,” I said. “It’s been a night to remember and one I wouldn’t want to repeat.”

“You’re not likely to,” Sam said, laughing. “Pickens wouldn’t survive it.”

“I don’t know why not. By the time he knew anything, it was all over.” When we stepped up on the porch, I stomped the snow off my galoshes and held the door for Etta Mae and Lloyd. “Sam,” I said, lowering my voice, “I really need to talk to you. You’re not going to believe what else happened yesterday.”

“Okay, sweetheart, but I better stick with Poochie till he’s through.”

“Tell him to hurry. This is important.”

Mr. Pickens waved, got in his car, and left to go back to the hospital.

“Oh my,” I said, waving back. “I thought he’d come in and at least get himself shaved.” Then turning again to Sam before going inside, I said, “Sam, please don’t let Poochie do any damage. He’s as likely to cut up a car instead of the tree.”

“He’s doing fine. Now you go on in and get warm. I’ll be in soon, and I want a play-by-play account of last night.”

He would get more than that by the time I was through telling him how I’d been treated. But what a relief it was to find the house warm and the lights and appliances working. The roar of the generator was little enough to put up with to have hot water. Longing for a bath, I quickly greeted Lillian, then started upstairs, leaving Lloyd excitedly telling Latisha and Lillian about holding his baby sisters.

“It’s gonna be my turn next,” Latisha said, her piercing voice following me upstairs. “Great-Granny say they have lots of hair, so the first thing I’m gonna do is put in some cornrows.”

I laughed as I headed for our temporary bedroom, once Hazel Marie’s, making tracks to a hot bath.

Lillian had a pot of coffee ready when I came downstairs, freshly washed and clothed. I’d been tempted to lie down for a while, as Etta Mae was doing, but decided I’d be better off with an early bedtime.

Sam came stomping in, his face red from the cold, just as Lillian and I sat down at the kitchen table with cups of hot coffee and a plate of cookies.

“Well, Julia,” he said as he removed his coat, “your cars are now uncovered. I’ve got Poochie and his helper clearing the driveway and the walk. I don’t think they can do any damage with shovels.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” I said, smiling as I poured coffee for him. “Sit down and get warm, Sam. Lillian and I were just about to relive last night.”

“I want to hear all about it,” Sam said, pulling his chair up to the table. “Start at the beginning and tell me everything.”

“Well, the first thing that happened was Latisha waking me with a flashlight in my face to tell me the power was out.” Then with help from Lillian I started telling it, step by step, and the further along I got, the more my heart expanded at how extraordinarily we had all performed, and the more I began leaving the story to Lillian. It was her time to shine, and Sam was appropriately impressed with the tale of her skill.

I sat and listened but desperately wanted to get Sam off alone to put my case against the system into his hands. I could barely contain myself, but Lillian deserved his full attention and my time would come.

But not for a while, because Sam offered to take Lillian and Latisha to the hospital to see the babies, although I knew he was eager to see those infants too. My legal consultation with him would have to wait. Maybe it was just as well because the more I thought about it, the less eager I was for him to know he was married to a woman with a mug shot and a record.

Latisha, of course, was beside herself with excitement, and Lillian glowed with anticipation. Lloyd decided to go with them but assured me he’d come back when they did.

“It’s fun to see the babies,” he said in that solemn way of his, “but it sure gets boring watching Mama sleep.”

As Lillian shrugged into her coat, she said, “I’m gonna try to get Mr. Pickens to come eat supper with us. He prob’ly not had a bite all day. Everything’s in the oven, an’ we’ll eat soon as I get back.”

“I’m gonna ask Miss Hazel Marie what she gonna name them babies,” Latisha announced, as Lillian tied a hat on her head and handed her a pair of gloves. “Me and Lloyd been thinking up some good ones.”

After they left, I settled down beside the fireplace, luxuriating in the warmth from it and the furnace. We never truly appreciate the common pleasures of life until we have to do without, and I determined to mend my ways accordingly.

Even though I was about to nod off as I stretched out in a wing chair, my feet on an ottoman, the ringing of the telephone was a pleasant surprise. The lines were working again, so we didn’t have to depend on cell phones, which I’d not recharged, anyway.

“Julia,” LuAnne Conover said when I answered, “do you have power?”

“We do now, but only because Sam found a generator. But oh, LuAnne, let me tell you what happened.”

“Well, first,” she said, talking right over me, “let me tell
you
what happened. You won’t believe this, Julia, but guess who spent the night with who.”

“Who?”

“That teacher, what’s-her-name Petty, spent the night with
Thurlow Jones
! ” LuAnne had to stop to get her breath as the words caught in her throat.

“Oh, that couldn’t be true.”

“Well, it could too. I just talked to Mildred and she heard it from Doris Allman, and Doris got it straight from the horse’s mouth. She’s close friends with the Walkers and you know they live right down the street from Thurlow, and Bob Walker went out early this morning to check on the neighbors and he saw Thurlow walking the Petty woman home through the snow in their backyards. And here’s the thing, Julia, Bob said she still had on her gown! It was hanging below her coat, so it hadn’t been just a brief visit.”

“I don’t know, LuAnne. It could’ve been nothing more than a neighbor helping a neighbor. This whole section lost power, and I expect Thurlow was simply looking after her. She lives alone, you know.”

“I do know it, so she has no one she has to answer to. And I think it’s awfully suspicious to be sneaking home at sunup. Bob said she was hanging on to Thurlow as if her life depended on it.”

“It probably did,” I said, recalling how I’d hung on to Coleman and Mr. Pickens and Sam, in turn, as they helped me slog through snowdrifts. “But I’ll tell you, LuAnne, when you lose power in cold weather, any port in the storm will do. So maybe he had heat and she didn’t. I can’t think of another reason in the world why any woman would spend a night with Thurlow Jones. And, frankly, I’d have to be near freezing to do it.”

“Well, me too,” LuAnne said, then in a musing sort of way went on. “But still waters do run deep, and we don’t know why that man was found dead in her toolshed or garage or wherever. In fact, we don’t know anything about
her,
and I think that’s strange. She’s lived here all her life, except for college, I guess, and who knows her? I don’t even know where she goes to church.
If
she goes. And if she doesn’t, that would be a pretty come-off for a teacher of young children. We need to look into this, Julia. No telling what goes on in that little area of town. Everybody leaves Thurlow alone because you never know with him. And that leaves him free to do whatever he wants. But a
teacher
? We ought to find out what’s going on.”

“Well, you’ll have to do that yourself, LuAnne. I have my hands full here.” Then I went on to tell her what had happened the night before: how Lillian and Etta Mae had delivered Hazel Marie’s twins in front of the fireplace with a storm raging outside and our cars blocked in and Sam and Mr. Pickens halfway across the state and how fortunate we’d been that Lillian had bought new shoelaces for Lloyd’s tennis shoes.

“
Shoelaces
?” she asked. “What did shoelaces have to do with it?”

So I told her and her reaction was all I could’ve hoped. “I can’t get over it, Julia,” she said as she gradually realized how monumentous a task a home delivery had been. “You actually helped deliver those babies? On your living room
floor
? How in the world will you ever have a Circle meeting in there again? And serve
food
? ”

“Oh, LuAnne, nobody’ll think a thing about it. But listen, the whole thing was just remarkable, and Lillian was—well, I can’t praise her enough. You know I’d never seen a delivery before. Not that I actually
looked,
but you know what I mean.”

LuAnne was properly impressed with what had happened, and to tell the truth, so was I. The more I thought about it and talked about it, the more wonderful it seemed. But I tried not to think about the birthing episode in too much detail because every time I did, I’d think of all that could’ve gone wrong. Then my nerves would start twanging and my stomach would clutch up on me and I’d have to quickly think of something else.

So to turn my thoughts in another direction, I said, “LuAnne, I think we should give Miss Petty the benefit of the doubt and not assume that anything unsavory went on last night. You know what it’s like to be in a cold, dark house with no idea when the power will be back on and a terrible storm bringing down trees all around you. I expect if she did go to Thurlow’s, it was because she was frightened. Or it could be that he went over and insisted she come to his house—purely out of neighborly concern for her welfare.”

I stopped and considered the possibility of Thurlow’s having any neighborly concern for anybody and thought it unlikely because he’d never shown any signs of it before. Still, I couldn’t discount the possibility that some empathy for the plight of Miss Petty alone in a freezing house had welled up in his stony heart. For one thing, he probably hadn’t wanted another dead body showing up practically in his own yard.

“I think,” I went on, “that without any further indication of wrongdoing, we ought to assume good motives on the part of both of them. And with all I have to contend with right now, I’m going to figure it’s their business and not mine.”

“Well, I’ll tell you this,” LuAnne said, “if I had a child in her class, I’d
make
it my business. I’d make it my business to find out exactly what went on last night and what might be continuing to go on. Lloyd is at just the right age to pick up on things like that and be mortally influenced. And with his mother having her hands full looking after those two babies, and at her age too, who’s going to be looking after him? You, Julia, that’s who. If I were you, I’d want to know what kind of life his teacher is leading.”

“I guess if you put it that way . . .”