Julia 03 - Miss Julia Throws a Wedding (22 page)

I stepped back from the onslaught. “Well, if that’s the case . . .”

She dabbed at her eyes and heaved a heavy sigh. “Maybe now you see why I’m so upset. Well,” she went on, as she looked at me through teary eyes. “I guess I’ll have to buy the ordinary kind, but I tell you, Larry is not going to like it. But, Julia, why in the world would Norma take it? You reckon she had a party or something?”

“Oh, Emma Sue, I don’t think so. But I do think that you’re jumping to conclusions again. There’s no reason to suspect Norma of doing this, and I say that even though I don’t like her and never have.”

“There’s nobody else who could’ve done it.” And out came the damp Kleenex and down came the tears again. “Oh, Julia, if it’s not one thing it’s another, isn’t it? I hope you’ll join me in prayer about this.”

“Well, not now,” I said, determined to forestall a prayer meeting. “And don’t get me started on that subject. You need to pull yourself together, Emma Sue, and lock this door up again. It’s not the end of the world, and there’s plenty of time to buy more. But I caution you, don’t be going around accusing Norma of taking it; you could be wrong. Just don’t do anything until the pastor gets back. He’ll handle it without getting the church sued within an inch of its life.

“Now, I’ve got to go. I’m looking forward to you being at the wedding where you can cry to your heart’s content. I may even shed a few tears myself.” Especially, I thought, if Binkie doesn’t show up.

Chapter 22

I left Emma Sue to her suspicions and headed for home. Before crossing the street, I had to wait several minutes on the corner by the Family Life Center to let a slow stream of traffic pass by. A number of pickups and vans with three or more people crowded onto the front seats crept by, as well as several cars filled front and back with people sitting on top of each other. None of the vehicles was moving very fast, but every time I almost stepped off the curb, another one turned the corner.

Finally, a shiny, red sedan with the tail of some animal hanging from the antenna slowed and stopped, the driver kindly motioning me to cross in front of him. As I waved my thanks, I noticed how similar he and his passengers were to the waiters in the restaurant where Little Lloyd and I had first met Mr. Pickens that time he ingested a whole pitcher of beer. I’d almost not hired him because of it.

I knew a lot of the hard-working people from south of the border had moved to our truck-farming county to pick beans and apples during the season. Local employers were eager to have them, and they’d blended right into the community. As I got to my side of the street, it suddenly struck me that I was one of those local employers. Raymond had been cutting my grass and pruning my boxwoods for almost two years now, and I hardly ever thought of him as a foreigner, except for the fact that I couldn’t make head nor tails out of half of what he said.
He seemed to understand me, though, nodding his head and saying “Sí” to everything I asked him to do, and then doing it. Little Lloyd was taking Spanish in school, so he made use of the time to practice his skill whenever Raymond came to the house. It seemed to me that Raymond enjoyed the boy’s efforts because he laughed a lot as Little Lloyd tried to converse with him.

“Hazel Marie,” I called as I got into the house and walked back to her room.

“Ma’am? Come on in. I’m trying to decide if I need to press my bridesmaid’s dress.”

Our dresses had been altered, delivered and carefully unpacked the day before. She had hers hanging from the closet door, and I had another swift palpitation at the brevity of it.

“You won’t believe what Emma Sue has to cry about now.” And I told her about the missing grape juice, and we laughed at Emma Sue’s propensity to drop a tear at the drop of a hat.

“Harriet, from the florist, just called,” Hazel Marie said. “She wants to bring the ferns for the porch tomorrow morning, and some potted plants to line the front walk. She said she’d fill the arch with greenery at the shop, and bring it, too. She’ll put fresh flowers in it early Saturday morning.”

“That sounds fine, just so nothing wilts or dies between now and then. Oh, Hazel Marie, I just hope and pray that we have somebody to stand under that arch. Binkie’s worrying me to death. If I thought her mother and daddy could do something with her, I’d send them plane tickets to get up here and do it. But from what she’s said, they’re not in any shape to make any headway with her. Of course, they weren’t able to even when they were in good health.”

“Have you heard from Coleman?” Hazel Marie asked. “Maybe something’s changed, if he’s done what you told him to.”

“Not one word. And, frankly, I don’t want to. I’m afraid of
what he’ll tell me. What I’m planning to do is go right on with our plans and, if I don’t hear from them, I’ll call Binkie Saturday at the last minute and tell her to get herself over here for her wedding. Maybe that way, she’ll be too ashamed to tell me she won’t do it. I mean, look, Hazel Marie,
she
hasn’t told me that the wedding’s off. And it’s her place to do it, if she means it. As far as I’m concerned, if I hadn’t happened to see Coleman when he came in, saying it was off, I wouldn’t know anything about it, would I?”

“That’s one way to look at it, I guess.” She stopped and gazed off into space. “Yes, you’re right. It
is
Binkie’s place to tell you, and follow it up with a handwritten note and some flowers. She can’t expect you to cancel everything, just on the groom’s say-so. Unless it was his decision, which we know it wasn’t. It would be the courteous thing for her to do.” Hazel Marie’d been reading the etiquette book again.

I turned toward the front door as somebody rapped on the screen door. “Who could that be?”

As I walked toward the front, LuAnne Conover let herself in. “Julia, I’ve had the most wonderful idea, one I bet you haven’t even thought of since you’ve been so busy, and I want to do it for you.”

“Come in, LuAnne. What is it?”

“Well, I can’t stay,” she said, her hands fluttering as they always did when she had a bright idea. “I’m on my way to that fabric place out on the highway. But I thought I’d better check with you first, just to make sure somebody else is not already doing it.”

“What?”

“Well, you know I’ve been wanting to help with the wedding?”

I nodded, recalling all the silver we’d had to polish without any help.

“Now I’ve come up with just the thing,” she went on, her
eyes sparkling. “I just hope nobody else is doing them, because they’re perfect for me.”

“What, LuAnne?”

“Well, you know those little bags that you put rice or something in and tie up with ribbon? You know, for the guests to open and throw whatever at the bride and groom as they leave? Well, that’s what I want to make for you.”

“Why, LuAnne, that’s a splendid idea. I can’t thank you enough.”

“Well, now, listen. I’ve been looking through Martha Stewart’s wedding book, and she recommends rose petals to fill the little bags. But, Julia, it’d take forever to pluck petals and fill bags. So, I thought maybe using birdseed would be better. Everybody says not to use rice, because it can get slippery on bricks or pavement. And, besides, birdseed’s ecologically sound and feeds the birds, too. What do you think?”

“I think birdseed’s a fine idea,” I said, hoping we’d have some cause to throw whatever she decided to use. “How’re you going to make the bags?”

“I’ll just buy some white net and cut out squares, then tie up the birdseed with pink ribbon. How many bags do you think we’ll need? Fifty or sixty?”

“About sixty, to be on the safe side. But, LuAnne, are you sure you’ll have enough time to do them?”

“I’ll work on them nonstop,” she assured me. Then, leaning in close, she lowered her voice. “Besides, Julia, they’re the perfect thing to work on in my lap. You know, while we’re watching television or whatever. That way, maybe Leonard’ll behave himself.”

“LuAnne . . .” I said with a warning note in my voice.

“I know you don’t like to hear my problems, but, Julia, ever since the doctor put Leonard on that medication, he can’t keep his hands off me.”

It hadn’t been too long before that LuAnne had cried on my
shoulder because Leonard had lost his taste for life. She’d complained that he never put his hands on her, moving her to consider divorce, and at her age, too. She’d even made it plain that she wouldn’t be above considering a dalliance with a race-truck driver, either.

Now the shoe was on the other foot, for Leonard’s appetite had markedly increased, and she spent a lot of time getting her hair done and shopping and visiting friends. Anything to get out of the house and away from him, she’d told me. “He’s driving me crazy,” she’d confided, and it was all I could do to keep from staring at him during church services. He was such a meek-looking man, I just couldn’t imagine. . . . Well, and I tried my best not to.

“LuAnne,” I said, “why don’t you ask the doctor to adjust his dosage? Wouldn’t that work?”

“Oh, my goodness, no. Leonard won’t hear of it. Says, now that he’s got it back, he doesn’t want to risk losing it again. But I’ve found that if I keep myself busy, especially with something in my lap, like some cross-stitch with needles all around, it sort of deters him. That’s one reason I want to do these bags. And to help you, too, of course.”

“It’s thoughtful of you, LuAnne. And we can certainly use them.”

“I’ve got that big pretty basket that fruit came in last Christmas. I thought I’d pile all the bags in that and tie a big ribbon on the handle.”

“That’d be perfect. Thank you again, LuAnne. That’s one less thing I have to worry about.”

She gave me a conspiratorial grin, and said, “No, thank you. You’re giving
me
one less thing to worry about.”

As she left on her fabric shopping trip, I thought to myself that medical science is a wonderful thing, even if it didn’t hit quite the right degree of moderation in some cases.

I had hardly gotten halfway back to Hazel Marie’s room when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it, Lillian,” I called, wondering if LuAnne had come back for a longer visit, which I certainly did not have time for today.

But it wasn’t LuAnne, it was that little snip, Etta Mae Wiggins, in a white shirt and drawstring pants like hospital workers wear. Even though I knew full well she didn’t work in a hospital.

“Yes?” I said, standing with the screen between us.

“Uh, Mrs. Springer,” she said, twisting her hands. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I was out this way seeing a patient, and I thought I’d just drop by and let you know that Mr. Carter hasn’t replaced those bulbs yet. We’re still in the dark, and, Mrs. Springer, it’s scary out there with the woods all around. Especially when we have to go out or come in at night. I just thought you’d like to know he’s still not doing his job.”

“I’ve talked with him, Miss Wiggins, and he assured me that he would have those lights replaced right away. You just haven’t given him enough time. He has to find a ladder tall enough to reach, and someone to help him.”

We stood there looking at each other for a minute, neither knowing where to go from there. I began to feel bad for not inviting her in, but I knew she had work to do, and so did I.

“Well,” she said, beginning to turn away. “I thought you’d want to know.”

As she started toward the porch steps, I had a sudden mental picture of Little Lloyd watching this exchange.

“Miss Wiggins,” I said, opening the screen door and stepping out on the porch. “Just a moment, please. I thank you for letting me know that Mr. Carter hasn’t done what he assured me he would do. I will call someone else this very day, and let Mr. Carter know that I no longer need him in my employ.”

She turned to me, her eyes lighting up. “Oh, thank you, Mrs. Springer. I hate for anybody to lose their job, but he’s just not worth whatever you’re paying him.” She stopped and bit her lip. Then, as if determined to get it said, she went on. “We’ve had something else stolen, too. Blanca Diaz, who lives just two trailers from me, had her beautiful hand-embroidered shawl stolen. She brought it with her from Mexico, and now it’s gone.”

“I’m sorry to hear it, but Little Lloyd is in the process of getting estimates to get a fence put around the park. So, if you . . . I mean, if the residents out there can just watch out for one another a while longer, we’ll have something put up that’ll keep you safe.”