Julia 03 - Miss Julia Throws a Wedding (21 page)

“Not any more than I can help,” I said, glancing up from Little Lloyd’s geography paper. “Why?”

“You better get up from there and look at it. Somethin’ hap’ning over there.”

Chapter 21

“What is it?” I got up and started down the stairs, with Little Lloyd right behind me.

“They’s people over there,” she said worriedly, “an’ I don’t know what they doin’.”

“It’s probably a meeting of some kind. Where’s last Sunday’s bulletin? That’ll tell us who scheduled a meeting. Not that it matters to me who goes and comes.”

Lillian frowned as I walked past her on the stairs, then she followed Little Lloyd down. “I never seen no meetin’ over there like this. An’ I don’t think yo’ bulletum tell you nothin’ ’bout it.”

The evening in early June was just at that time between daylight and dark when things slow down and people sit on front porches to call to neighbors walking by. But nobody was sitting out or walking by. Instead, all I could see when Lillian pointed out the front window was a group of shadows on the far side of the street next to the new brick wall of the Family Life Center. As we watched, the group broke up and individual dark figures moved slowly across the street to regather on the sidewalk by my driveway.

“See there,” Lillian said, “what’d I tell you?”

“Who are they? I can’t make out any faces, but they sure don’t look as if they’re going to the church, do they?”

“No’m, when I first noticed ’em a little while ago ’fore it got so dark, they looked like some of them workin’men that work
so hard over there ev’ry day. But why they come back at night jus’ to stand around? Don’t make no sense to me, when they could be home restin’.”

“I wish we could see them better,” Little Lloyd said, as he stood in front of Lillian and me gazing out with us. “Oh, there go the streetlights. Now we can.”

But we couldn’t. The nearest streetlamp was on the corner, so it just threw the middle of the block into deeper shadow. All we could make out was a group of people, maybe eight or so, milling around.

“Go out on the porch, Lillian,” I said, “and see if you can hear what they’re saying.”

“I’m not goin’ out on no porch. This white uniform’d show up like a lightbulb. They’d know I was out there, listenin’ to ’em.”

“I’ll go,” Little Lloyd said, and before I could stop him, he slipped out the screen door and stood beside a porch post.

Keeping one eye on him and the other on the mass of shadows that I was beginning to see were mostly figures of men, I tried to think of reasons why they’d be there.

“You don’t suppose they’re waiting on someone, do you? I mean, at this time of night who would they be meeting?”

“Maybe they a search party,” Lillian said. “Out lookin’ for that ole Dixon Hightower.”

“I don’t think so,” I said, straining to distinguish any familiar faces. “If they were a search party, there’d be some deputies with them. And besides, Dixon’s long gone if he has any sense. Which, come to think of it, isn’t very likely.”

Little Lloyd eased the screen door open and came back into the living room. “Miss Julia,” he whispered, “I couldn’t hear much, ’cause they’re mostly whispering. And they’re doing it in Spanish. One of them might be Señor Acosta. He’s the foreman on the bricklaying crew over there.”

“I declare, Little Lloyd,” I said, looking at him with interest. “I didn’t know you knew any of the workmen.”

“I don’t, really,” he said. “But Señor Acosta came and spoke to our Spanish class ’cause his son’s in it. So I kinda know him and he’s real nice.”

Lillian said, “I’m thinkin’ we ought to call Coleman. Jus’ in case.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” I said, trying to calm her concern. “Not if Little Lloyd knows one of them. Besides, Coleman’s got better things to do, at least I hope he’s doing them, since the time is drawing nigh.”

“Look,” Lillian said. “They’s two of ’em walking off down the sidewalk. I think they leavin’.”

“I believe you’re right. You know, if they’re some of the workmen on the building, maybe they’ve just come by to admire what they’ve wrought. Although I certainly wouldn’t be able to take pride in the thing.” I bit my lip as I strained to see, then said, “They could also be new arrivals who want to apply for jobs.”

“At this time a night?” Lillian said.

“I guess you’re right, that couldn’t be it.” Then as another possibility occurred to me, I went on. “Oh, Lord, I hope they’re not teenagers up to some mischief.”

“No’m,” Little Lloyd said. “I don’t think that’s it. Señor Acosta wouldn’t be with anybody who’s up to any mischief.” Then as we continued to watch, he said, “I’m maybe getting a little worried, anyway.”

Lillian said, “I think we better call the sheriff.”

“No, look,” I said, as the group began to disperse, with one or two more drifting off down the sidewalk. “They’re all leaving now. I think it’ll be all right, but let’s keep an eye out in case they come back.”

“I’m going to lock the doors,” Little Lloyd said. “Now that I think about it, my stomach’s not feeling too good.”

“Lord, Lillian,” I said as he headed for the back door. “That
child scares too easily. We have to keep our heads, even when we’re concerned about something ourselves.”

“Well, don’t do no harm to keep the doors locked,” she said. “You got all that silver settin’ out in plain sight an’ somebody might want some of it.”

“I know it. But it’s just as Coleman said about Dixon; we should take sensible precautions. And that doesn’t mean booby-trapping the stairs again, either. So keep the pots and pans in the kitchen.”

She didn’t say anything for a minute, then we both started laughing, remembering how Mr. Pickens had tumbled head over heels down the stairs, swearing worse than a sailor.

By Thursday morning, I’d not seen Coleman or heard him come in during the night, so I didn’t know how well his campaign was coming along. Far be it from me to wish for someone to fall into sin, but I had hopes that he’d spent the night with Binkie. Of course, they wouldn’t be
falling
into sin, since it was a settled fact that they were pretty well mired up in it already.

I’d just gotten dressed for the day when the phone rang with news of the first crisis. It was Emma Sue Ledbetter calling from the church and she was in a state. You’d think she’d’ve wanted to avoid me after the stunt she pulled with those bumper stickers and pamphlets and such. But Emma Sue operated on a different plane from most people. A fact that she herself would tell you in a minute.

“Julia,” she gasped. “You’ve got to come over here. You’re the closest church member, and I need some help. Drop what you’re doing and come over as quick as you can.”

That’s all she said, just hung up before I could tell her I was still hot about her ill-conceived home mission project. But I welcomed the prospect of telling her face-to-face, and I
determined to do it even if it meant laying her low with a tongue-lashing in the church itself.

Calling out to Lillian to tell her where I was going, I headed out, working up a righteous anger as I went. Workmen on the building had already started their day, so I had to run the gauntlet to the tune of half a dozen portable radios sitting around on sawhorses and windowsills. The mixture of country western and what Little Lloyd called salsa, which I’d thought was something to eat, was enough to give me a headache.

When I went into the Fellowship Hall of the church, I didn’t see anyone. It was too early for Norma Cantrell to be there, and for the first time I wondered what Emma Sue was doing there so early, herself.

Walking back toward the pastor’s office, I called softly to Emma Sue. A church with nobody in it can be a pretty spooky place, so I glanced through each door as I passed.

“Julia!” Emma Sue sprang out of a side hall, scaring me half to death. “You won’t believe what’s happened!”

“What! Lord, Emma Sue, don’t jump out at me like that.” Then, getting my breath back, I rounded on her. “Now, listen, this is as good a time as any to tell you how I feel about all this public witnessing and street-corner preaching and ringing people’s doorbells just when they’re sitting down to supper. And I want you to know I don’t appreciate you getting Little Lloyd involved in it.”

Emma Sue stared blankly at me, as if she hadn’t heard a word I’d said. Then she blinked and said, “She’s been at it again.”

“Who?”

“Norma! It’s got to be her. She’s the only one around when Lance Petree does visitation and Larry’s not here. I know it was her.”

“What’s she done?”

“I want you to come here and look. Just look.” Emma Sue
took my arm and pulled me toward a pantry-like room in the short hall between Pastor Ledbetter’s office and Pastor Petree’s. She threw open the door and said, “Look at that! Have you ever seen anything to beat it?”

I looked, and all I saw were black ministerial robes hanging from a rod and a row of shelves stacked with pastoral oddments. My eye was taken with a stack of the round silver servers that held in slots the tiny glasses we used for communion. The first time Hazel Marie took communion in our church, she’d leaned over to me and whispered that they looked like miniature shot glasses. I set her straight, you may be sure. On another shelf there was a stack of silver plates the deacons used for passing around the loaves of communion bread. Various other odds and ends like candles, old bulletins and dog-eared books filled the other shelves.

“I don’t see a thing, Emma Sue, except what’s supposed to be here.”

“You’re not looking,” she said. And pointing to the floor under the shelves, she went on. “See that?”

“I don’t see anything.”

“Exactly! It’s gone, and now what’re we going to do?”

“Emma Sue, don’t get yourself in an uproar. Is something supposed to be there?”

“Yes! The wine for communion!”

I stared at her. Wine? In a Presbyterian church?

But she was plowing on, paying no attention to my startled look. “We had almost a whole case of it, and it’s gone! I know it was Norma; she has a key to the closet. It had to be her, and Communion Sunday’ll be here before you know it, so what’re we going to do?”

“Well, I don’t see what the big upset is. Just go out and buy some more; there’s plenty of time. I don’t know why you’d think Norma took it. Doesn’t it make more sense that we used it all last time, and it just wasn’t replaced? After all, it’s a long
time between Communion Sundays, and what with Pastor Ledbetter getting ready to go to the Holy Land, he might’ve forgotten it.” In our church, we only took communion four times a year, once every quarter, which was four times too many for some people who resented the lengthy time it took to pass around the sacramental elements.

Emma Sue lowered her eyebrows at me. “He’d
never
forget that. Besides, I know there was a whole half a case here. Julia, you’re just not getting the enormity of this. Now I know,
theoretically,
that it’s not holy wine until Larry blesses and consecrates it, but it was bought for that purpose and ought to be held sacred.” She patted her chest, as if she was having trouble getting her breath, and her eyes began to fill.

I stood there, wondering how far off the deep end she’d let herself get to. “Emma Sue, first off, I know what it’s supposed to represent in the communion service, and that’s miracle enough for me. But I doubt that even Pastor Ledbetter has the power to turn Welch’s grape juice into wine, whether it’s holy or not. I mean, what we’re talking about here is something you can get at any grocery store in town.”

Our church had always held firmly to the belief that its members shouldn’t be encouraged in the evils of strong drink. And for that reason, along with not wanting to give recovering alcoholics the least little taste of it—which was all they could get from those tiny glasses, anyway—we’d always substituted grape juice for what the Bible called for. Which was wine, as anybody who could read knew. We’d had a preacher one time who wanted us to switch to the real thing, but it caused such an outcry, especially from the ones who proclaimed the absolute literal nature of the Scriptures, that he’d had to forgo it.

“Julia!” Emma Sue cried, her eyes bulging out at me. “It was not just any grape juice, much less Welch’s! It was nonalcoholic communion wine ordered from the Church Closet
Sacred Accouterments catalog at the discount price of forty dollars a case!”