Miss Julia Stands Her Ground (6 page)

Hazel Marie chattered all the way home, beside herself with excitement over my possible run for the session. I mostly sat and listened, holding on to the armrest, as I usually did when she drove. Now that I had her alone in the car, I couldn't bring myself to tell her about Uncle Vern. Hazel Marie lived in the present more than anybody I'd ever known. She viewed the world with eager expectancy, which was a marvel to me, since the world had not treated her all that well. Until I came into her life, that is. Or rather, until she came into mine, and I kept her in it.

I hated that she had to be told that something was threatening not only her well-being, but Little Lloyd's, too. And that kept my tongue still and my mouth closed. That, and being too close to home to get it all said and dealt with.

“I know the pastor won't like it,” Hazel Marie said, glancing at me, then quickly back at the street. “But that's never stopped you before. I think it's just what the church needs. We could use a little shaking up. Why, Miss Julia, you'll be representing half the congregation.”

“More than half, Hazel Marie.”

“That's what I mean. Anyway, I'd love to be a fly on the wall at the session meetings when you're there. I bet those old men won't know what to do with you.” She laughed with delight.

“I haven't said I'd do it.”

“Oh, but I think you should. It's perfectly all right now, and you know our church is way behind the times. A lot of churches have had women elders for ever so long, and nobody thinks anything about them now.”

“I know, Hazel Marie, change has been in the air for years, but the Bible hasn't changed. And, you have to admit, that Paul was pretty specific about who should be deacons and elders and bishops, and it certainly wasn't women.”

“Well, but in those days women didn't go to school or get out in the world. It's different now, and I think if Paul was living now, he'd be singing a different tune.”

She turned into our driveway, came to a stop, and put the car into park. “Anyway,” she went on, “whatever I can do to help, just let me know.”

I opened the car door, but didn't make a move to get out. “Hazel Marie, don't get too worked up over this, because I'm inclined not to do it. For one thing, I have a lot on my mind right now and don't have time to fiddle with it. And for another, I'm not convinced that we should go against the Bible, even if parts of it do seem out-of-date and a little on the unrealistic side. I mean, if we all did what it says, then every last one of us would sell everything we own and take off for the mission field. And if that happened, who'd be here working so they could contribute to the mission fund for our support? So, I know we have to take a few things with a grain of salt.” I started to climb out, but turned back to her. “My problem is, I don't know where to salt and where not to.”

As we walked into the house, I felt more and more apprehensive about telling Hazel Marie what I had to tell her. I didn't know how she'd take it, and I wanted to have plenty of time and space for her to get it out of her system if she blew her top. As she might well do. I knew I would in her place.

“Don't forget, Hazel Marie,” I said reluctantly, as we entered the house. “I want to talk with you right after lunch. I'll come up to your room where we won't be interrupted.”

“I'm looking forward to it. We can discuss how to get the word out for your campaign, and I want us to decide about Christmas, too. You know, kinda go over who's going to get what for who. It's only a few weeks away, and I'm already getting excited.”

I didn't say anything, just nodded. But it seemed to me that we ought to get closer to Christmas before we started worrying about gifts. Of course, nobody else did, for Christmas decorations had been up in the stores since Halloween. And about the same time, those Budweiser horse commercials had started airing, making Hazel Marie teary-eyed one minute and ready for shopping the next.

As it was nearing lunchtime, Hazel Marie and I went to the kitchen, where we were both brought up short. Little Lloyd was sitting at the table, all hunched over, nibbling on a piece of dry toast.

“Lloyd!” Hazel Marie cried, running over to him. “What's wrong? Why aren't you in school?”

“I'm sick, Mama.” And he did look peaked, all white and washed-out looking.

Lillian walked over to the table. “That school called while y'all was at yo' circle meetin', an' I went an' picked him up. The teacher say he th'owed up in the class.”

Little Lloyd nodded his head. “Right in the middle of social studies.”

“Has he got a fever?” I put my hand on his forehead, which felt warm, but as my hand was cold, I couldn't be sure. “This child ought to be in bed.”

“Yessum,” Lillian said. “I was 'bout to take him upstairs, but he say he so empty I thought he need something on his stomick.”

“Come on, honey,” Hazel Marie said, helping him up from the
chair. “Let's get you to bed. Miss Julia, do you think I ought to call the doctor?”

“No, Mama,” the boy said before I could answer. “I don't need the doctor. I feel better now, and besides, I wasn't the only one to get sick. Barry Peterson threw up, too, and Saralynn Hargrove thought she would, but she didn't. And her daddy's the doctor, and she didn't call him.”

“Why don't you wait a little while, Hazel Marie,” I said. “Put him to bed and take his temperature, and let's see if this toast stays down. He needs some fluids, too. It sounds like something's going around at school, and it may just be a twenty-four-hour bug.”

“Come on, sweetie,” Hazel Marie said, her arm around the boy's shoulders as she walked him out of the kitchen. “I'll tuck you in and sit with you. Maybe you can sleep a little while.”

“Yessum,” he said, sounding weak and pitiful as they left the kitchen.

Well, there went my serious conversation with Hazel Marie. But first things first, and the state of Little Lloyd's alimentary system certainly came first.

I don't know how the child got any rest, for if I wasn't going in to check on him, Lillian was bringing up trays of soup and whatever else she thought he needed. And Hazel Marie sat by his bed all afternoon, dozing in a chair when he napped.

An hour or so before dinner, I tiptoed up the stairs again to see how he was doing. As soon as I looked in, Hazel Marie came out into the hall, pulling the door closed behind her.

“He's asleep,” she whispered. “I think he's a little better now. But he still has a fever, and he hasn't eaten anything. I forgot to tell you, Miss Julia, but I was supposed to go over to Tina Doland's house tonight. I called her and told her I couldn't come, but Tina said she really wants me to be there. She has something special planned.”

I pursed my mouth, thinking of Tina Doland, who was an active
member of First Baptist, and was forever coming up with something for other people to do. “Go, if you want to. I'll watch Little Lloyd. Just remember that she probably wants to rope you into something that her church is pushing.”

“I know.” Hazel Marie nodded. “But she's asked a lot of people we know, and she said to tell you that you're invited, too. I didn't think you'd want to go, though.”

“No, I don't. But, Hazel Marie, I thought you were making time for us to have a talk.”

“Well, I thought so, too, but you know how Tina is. She just said that if I couldn't leave Lloyd, they'd bring the party here. I didn't know how to get out of it, so do you mind? She'll bring the snacks and everything, and we don't have to do a thing but get Sam out of the house, because men aren't invited.” Hazel Marie gave me a worried look, then went on. “You might enjoy it, Miss Julia. If you're in the right frame of mind.”

“What kind of frame of mind?”

Hazel Marie squinched up her face while her eyes moved in every direction but mine. “Uh, well, it's kind of a new kind of get-together. Like, well, a Tupperware party. You've been to those, haven't you?”

“Once,” I said. “Which was enough. Frankly, I've never thought it appropriate to invite people to your home and expect them to buy something so you'll get something free.”

“Oh, we won't get anything free. Tina might, because she's the official hostess, but we won't. I'm sorry, Miss Julia. I should've asked you first, but I think I'm stuck now. I just didn't know what to tell her.”

“This is your home, too, and you don't need to ask me about every little thing. Besides, I know Tina can be a steamroller when she wants to be. But I'm going to excuse myself and let you handle it. I'll sit up here with Little Lloyd, and you can enjoy the party.” I started to turn away, disappointed that my talk with her was being deferred yet again.

At least Little Lloyd was on the mend, so that was one less thing to worry about.

I reached the head of the stairs and stopped. “Hazel Marie, I know you'll feel obligated to buy something tonight, but you ought to check with Lillian first. She may not want any more plastic bowls.”

“Oh, it's not that kind of party. I just used that as an example.”

“In that case, I might slip down and join you for a while. What kind of party is it?”

Hazel Marie's eyes darted around. “Um, well, they call it, well, it's called a passion party.” She took in a deep breath, and gave me an earnest look. “But it'll be in real good taste.”

“A
Passion
party?” I frowned, wondering what Mel Gibson and his cohorts had dreamed up now. “Why, Hazel Marie, we've barely gotten past Thanksgiving, and Tina's celebrating Easter? That's the most sacred time of the year, and I just don't think we ought to commercialize that.”

Hazel Marie stared at me for a minute, then she doubled over, laughing. Glancing behind to see if she'd wakened Little Lloyd, she held herself in check and walked over to me, her eyes dancing with mischief.

Leaning close, she whispered, “It's not that kind of passion, Miss Julia. It's the
other
kind.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Oh, you do, too,” she said, giving me a light tap on the arm. “And if you don't, I'm going to get J.D. to explain a few things to Sam.”

I dismissed Hazel Marie's indelicate remark, knowing how she enjoyed teasing me. She was getting as bad as Mr. Pickens, who lived to shock and embarrass me. Nonetheless, I felt it incumbent upon me to be in attendance at the party. Especially since Tina Doland had commandeered my living room to push her wares, whatever they were.

To tell the truth, Tina had never been one of my favorite people. At one time she had run with a fast and loose crowd, and her reputation had suffered for it. Her husband, Tommy Doland, worked for a large construction company of some kind, and he was forever winning trips to Las Vegas and Atlantic City, which just goes to show. Somewhere along the line, though, both of them had reverted to their earlier religious upbringing, and they'd done it with a vengeance.

Now, you wouldn't find a more active couple in any church in town. Whatever program or committee or slogan or activity Dr. James Dobson or their Baptist preacher came up with, Tommy and Tina were right there in the forefront. I didn't especially like to be around them, if you want to know the truth, especially Tina, since I was on her call list for all her requests for donations. And I wasn't even a member of her church.

Besides, when you're proclaiming the benefits of a simple and
godly family life, your mouth shouldn't be caked with lip liner, lipstick, and lip gloss. And if you're forever witnessing to the joys of submission to your husband, you shouldn't be wearing dresses too short and your pants too tight. Of course, Hazel Marie wore hers that way, but that was different. Hazel Marie didn't flaunt herself before other people's husbands the way Tina did.

Anyway, the word was out that whatever had changed Tina, it hadn't completely taken hold. But who am I to question anyone's spiritual condition? Maybe she'd had another conversion experience. Baptists are known for that, you know. And if that was true, I would give her the benefit of the doubt. I'd keep my opinions to myself until she proved otherwise. I don't believe in talking about people, anyway.

Still, I was more than a little uneasy about the approaching party. I didn't like the high-handed way it had been moved to my house just to accommodate Hazel Marie, who was known to have plenty of spending money. That was enough to put me off, right there.

I just wished I knew what Tina would be selling. Anything called a passion party conjured up any number of possibilities, Hazel Marie's intimations notwithstanding, because that was too far-fetched for me to believe. Maybe Tina planned to introduce some new weight program that featured passion fruit as a calorie eater. Or maybe she was into physical fitness and had warm-up suits for sale. People who exercise a lot can be quite passionate about it, I understand. Then again, it could be a course on how to have a passion for winning souls, and she'd have study guides and books for sale.

That's probably what it was, since Pastor Ledbetter occasionally whipped up a sermon exhorting us to put some passion in our spiritual lives.

On the other hand, it was hard to tell what Tina had in mind, for our local Baptists could work up a missionizing fervor for just about anything. It always brought me up short to see something
like
Workout with Jesus
on a marquee in front of a church, because I just couldn't wrap my mind around a picture of him on a treadmill.

 

We hurriedly finished dinner before the party guests arrived, and Sam good-naturedly took himself off for the evening. I didn't think it was a good sign that men wouldn't be welcome, but then they generally weren't at an afternoon tea, either.

Little Lloyd was able to come to the table in his bathrobe, but he didn't have much of an appetite. Hazel Marie prepared a tray of iced ginger ale and soda crackers to put beside his bed, in case he felt like eating later on. As she ran to answer the first ring of the doorbell, I straightened his bed and propped up his pillows.

“We'll be right downstairs, Little Lloyd,” I told him. “Just sing out if you need anything.”

“I'm feeling a lot better,” he said, pushing back his glasses with one hand and reaching for a book with the other. “But I slept so much today, I probably won't close my eyes all night long.”

“Oh, I expect you will.” I moved the lamp a little closer. “Don't read too long, now. You need to rest your eyes, especially while you're feeling poorly. Do you have enough blankets on your bed? I don't want you to get chilled. Next thing you know, you'd be down with pneumonia or something.”

“Yessum, I'm warm enough.” He closed his book with a finger left to hold his place. “You don't need to worry about me. I'm a whole lot better, and I'll probably go to school tomorrow.”

“Well, we'll see. Call me now, if you start feeling bad again.”

I walked to the door, then looked back at him sitting up in bed with the lamplight making a halo of his wispy hair. We smiled at each other, and I pulled the door closed behind me.

 

By the time I got downstairs, Hazel Marie had welcomed six or seven women and was opening the door for more. I knew most of them, and knew of the rest. Helen Stroud was there and Mildred
Allen, but not Tonya, which I thought unusual since she generally accompanied her mother wherever she went. LuAnne greeted me with a flurry of hands and excited giggles.

“Julia!” she said. “I couldn't believe it when Tina called to change the party from her house to yours. Marriage has done wonders for you, because I didn't think you'd ever be a party to a party like this.”

So LuAnne knew more about the merchandise than I did, which didn't allay my concerns as to its suitability in a mixed company of Baptists, Presbyterians, Episcopalians, Methodists, and a few Catholics, as this group was shaping up to be. It was just not done to proselytize from one church to another, and I hoped Tina would keep her enthusiasm under control and not offend anybody.

Moving through the crowd of women, I noticed that most of them seemed somewhat subdued, even shamefaced, with averted eyes and less than warm greetings to each other. Hazel Marie made an effort to introduce everybody, but she didn't know half of them. I think they were mostly independents of one kind or another.

Tina took her place in front of a card table and opened up a large black case on the table. As she organized her notes, I smiled at Miriam Hargrove and Kathleen Williams, who had just come in. They gave me a quick nod and took seats in the back of the room. It struck me that everybody had been remarkably close-mouthed about this party at the circle meeting that morning. And with that thought, I realized that Emma Sue Ledbetter wasn't with us, though that didn't exactly surprise me. She wasn't very ecumenical in her thinking.

“Ladies,” Tina said, bringing to a close the murmur of voices among those present. “Ladies, tonight I am going to introduce you to some products that will literally change your lives. But before I show them to you, let me remind you that we are blessed to live in a time of greater freedom for women, but don't get me
wrong, I'm not advocating women's lib. I'm just saying that there's no reason in the world that women, whether married or not, shouldn't experience the full pleasure and richness of all our God-given senses.”

Well, I couldn't argue with that.

“Now, don't worry.” Tina said. “I'm not going to give you my personal testimony, but I am going to say that when I came to know the Lord, I realized that I had a real problem. What is a woman supposed to do? How is she supposed to act? What is free and open to her, and what is not? It all boiled down to one basic question: Is it permitted, or even possible, to be both saved and sexy?”

My eyes rolled back in my head, and I had a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“And to answer that question,” Tina went on, “the company I represent, Erotica Home Parties, for which I am your official passion consultant, has come out with a number of products that will open the doors of the Christian woman's sensual nature. Just as we are to reach our full potential mentally, physically, and spiritually, so God wants us to reach our full potential sexually.”

I felt myself rearing back in my chair, as my mouth tightened to a thin line. There wasn't a sound in the room, for Tina had our full attention.

“Now, ladies,” Tina said with a laugh, “there's no reason for you to be embarrassed at anything we talk about. We just have to remember that a woman's sensuality is natural. In fact, it is a God thing, and we're all in the same boat. We all have needs and desires that are God given, and all I'm going to do is help you fulfill them. And believe me, you will thank me for it, and if you don't, your husbands certainly will.”

That got a ripple of polite laughter, but not from me.

“So let's start with something simple,” Tina said, drawing out a pink plastic bottle with a multicolored label. She opened it and poured a thick, clear liquid into the palm of her hand. “This is our
strawbery-flavored, organic massage oil and, ladies, it contains only edible oils from nature, and I stress edible. It creates a tingling sensation on the skin and tongue, and tastes delicious. Here, Janet, let me rub some on your arm so you can see how it feels.” She did, eliciting an amazed expression from Janet as the oil began its work. Then Tina passed the bottle around and urged us to try it on ourselves. “Just imagine what this will feel like all over your body, and even better, imagine what it'll feel like on your husband's body. It's our Delicktable Massage Oil, and it will put zing into your lovemaking.”

I drew back when the bottle came around to me, not wanting to touch the thing, much less rub its contents on my arm. But it had broken the ice, for the women were laughing and exclaiming, and losing much of their earlier reserve.

“Now, ladies,” Tina called above the laughter, “I want to show you something that will start things off right from the minute your man comes in the door. If he comes home tired and cranky, just flash him with this.” Out of her satchel came a strip of pink and black lace. She stretched it over her hands to reveal what I thought were bikini step-ins, but, Lord, there was no bottom to it.

Gasps of shock and what sounded suspiciously like delight rose around the room.

“And what about this?” Tina yelled, holding up what seemed to be black pantyhose. “Just flip your dress up when he starts complaining about dinner, and see how fast he changes his tune.”

My word, the whole bottom and back end were missing. It was the most indecent thing I'd ever seen.

“Anybody want to model this for us?” Tina said, laughing. But not a soul volunteered, which didn't surprise me.

What did surprise me, as well as everyone else, was what she pulled out next. It took me a minute to identify the items, because I wasn't all that familiar with the real things, much less life-sized plastic models of them. Tina carefully placed an array of what she called Erotica Love Toys on the table. Each item had its
own name, which she called out and urged us to write down so we could place our orders.

“This one is called the Jelly Rabbit,” she said. “And this one is the Bell-Ringer, and here's the Double-Duty Boy. And you can get the pulsating variety or the vibrating kind, and, believe me, with one of these
no
body will be lying there thinking of England.”

I could hardly get my breath by this time, panting in outrage at the nerve of Tina Doland for lining up substitute male members on my card table in full view of everybody. I had to avert my eyes and fan my face. So realistic, don't you know, and right there in my living room, where cultured family life was carried on.

I want to tell you that I had never seen nor heard of anything so coarse and tasteless. But Tina kept on and on, assuring us that each one of the gently curved, lifelike, lubricated, and battery-operated plastic passion toys was used by the most genteel of women.

“Ladies,” she said, “you haven't lived until you've tried one of these. Turn one on, and you'll turn
him
on, too.”

I couldn't sit still any longer. “Hazel Marie,” I whispered, leaning close. She didn't move. Her mouth was slightly agape, as she gazed in wide-eyed wonder at Tina's lifelike merchandise.

“Hazel Marie!” I hissed, finally getting her attention. “I'm going to see about Little Lloyd.”

She nodded, absently, and I took myself off, unwilling to spend another minute in the presence of such lewd notions as were being introduced to our minds. No one paid my leaving any attention at all. They were all transfixed by what they were seeing and hearing, and the possibilities being opened up to them in the privacy of their own homes.