Julia 03 - Miss Julia Throws a Wedding (31 page)

“I should say it is, and we have a million things to do. Now, Binkie, where is Coleman? He needs to be here no later than two o’clock so we don’t lose him, too. And you stay away from him; you know he’s not supposed to see the bride on the wedding day.”

I heard the rustle of bedcovers, and the muffle of a hand over the phone. Then she giggled again.

“Oops,” she said.

When I hung up the phone, I turned to Lillian. “Lord, Lillian,” I said. “Can you believe this? I’ve been going round and round about miracles ever since last night, and had about given up on them. But this is a miracle if there ever was one, although I think it was Coleman who performed it.”

“What you talkin’ ’bout?”

Before I could answer, Hazel Marie and Little Lloyd pushed through the kitchen door, ready for breakfast.

“Hazel Marie, you’ll never guess,” I said. “Binkie’s on her way, and she’s going through with it. Now, what we have to do is not let her out of our sight, just in case she has another attack of hormones.” Then seeing the interest on Little Lloyd’s face, I corrected myself. “I mean, nerves.”

“What happened?” Hazel Marie asked. “What made her change her mind?”

“Coleman put his foot down, that’s what. Instead of moping around and pleading with her and acting pitiful, he just flat-out told her what she was going to do. Not that I think that’s the best approach in the world, mind you. I wouldn’t stand for it myself, although I used to all the time. But it must’ve been just what Binkie needed.”

“I wish J.D.’d put his foot down,” she said, somewhat longingly. “But, oh, I’m so happy for them, and for us. It’s going to be a great day. Lloyd, honey, what kind of cereal do you want?”
As the day wore on, the house rang with so much going and coming that I could hardly keep up with who was in and who was out. Harriet from The Watering Can arrived with two helpers, and they brought in one huge arrangement after another, spilling fern leaves and leaving water spots on the floor. Lillian went behind them, sweeping and mopping. Harriet stuck fresh flowers in the greenery on the arch and, pretty soon, my two front rooms looked like a garden spot.

LuAnne popped in with a large basket heaped high with little net sacks tied with pink ribbon. “Got them all done, Julia,” she said, pleased with herself and rightly so. “I’ll just set the basket by the front door, where the guests can get them as they go out.”

“They’re lovely, LuAnne. Thank you.”

“It was a pleasure to have something to do,” she assured me. “And besides, I got Leonard to help me. Kept his hands so busy tying ribbons, he didn’t have time for anything else.” She giggled as she placed the basket by the door.

“Glad to’ve helped,” I said, but she was already out the door, saying she had to start getting ready for the wedding.

Before Harriet was finished putting the last touches on the flower arrangements, the caterer arrived with her helpers, and they began to fill the kitchen with loaded trays, covered pans and dishes of all sorts. Lillian stood by with her hands on her hips, looking for something to complain about. They ignored her as they filled the refrigerator, checked the dining room table and arranged their party food on every empty surface. James and Emmett had come in by that time and helped them bring in the trays. In their white jackets and black bow ties, both of them looked handsome enough to join the wedding party.

During all the commotion, that lady on the wall across the
street kept looming in the back of my mind. Was she real or just a fancy in everybody’s mind, including mine? And what was she doing on the wall of Pastor Ledbetter’s Family Life Center? You’d think she’d’ve found a more congenial place than a Presbyterian wall to make her appearance.

Then it came to me with certainty that she’d appeared at the very place where she’d do the most good. Something had certainly worked wonders on Coleman, then went right on through him to straighten out Binkie. I couldn’t deny that a miracle of some kind had happened. I’d tried my best with Coleman and Binkie and gotten nowhere, so it stood to reason that a higher power had intervened somehow.

But miracle or no miracle, that sidewalk congregation was going to have to move on before our guests began to arrive or whatever’d happened would be all for naught.

A little after noon, just as I was beginning to worry, Binkie came bounding in, long after I’d wanted her there. She had her wedding dress draped over one arm, and a tote bag filled with shoes, hair dryer and beauty aids on the other.

“It’s beautiful, Miss Julia!” she said, gazing around the living room, filled now with enough flower arrangements to start a shop of our own. “What can I do to help?”

“Not a thing. The bride doesn’t do anything but rest and get ready. Take your things upstairs to my room. Does that dress need pressing? Let Lillian look at it; I don’t trust you with an iron on that flimsy material. Oh, you might want to open some of these gifts that’ve come in.” I pointed to the linen-covered table by the door piled high with presents. “Be sure and keep a record of who sent what and, if you want to get started on your thank-you notes, there’s some stationery in my desk.” You have to keep after young people today to do what they’re supposed to do. I knew people who’d carried a grudge the rest of their lives because they hadn’t gotten a thank-you note.
Mildred Allen was a prime example of it, too. I always made sure I wrote her one if she so much as spoke to me on the street.

Lillian, suddenly deciding that Binkie’s usual breakfast of nothing would make her light-headed and that she needed something to eat, sailed into the kitchen. Katie’s Kuisine had made it plain that they wanted no interference, but that didn’t stop Lillian. Paying no mind to their glares, she went about her business and piled a plate full. Then she poured a glass of milk and took the tray upstairs to Binkie.

That inspired Emmett, who declared, “That whole weddin’ party need something on they stomachs. They gonna be faintin’ all over the place, they don’t eat.” Ignoring the frowns of the caterers, he and James prepared a plate of sandwiches and a pitcher of tea. We all gathered in Hazel Marie’s room to eat since the kitchen and dining room were out of bounds. By the time we’d finished, Mr. Pickens had shown up, his wedding clothes over his shoulder.

“Hey, folks,” he said, going straight over to Hazel Marie and displaying some of that public affection he was so free with. “Everybody about ready? Miss Julia, you mind if I put on this monkey suit over here? I was afraid if I came any later, I wouldn’t be able to get through the crowd to your door.” His black eyes sparkled and I prepared myself for more of his teasing. “Kinda got carried away with your invitations, didn’t you?”

“No, I did not, and you know it, Mr. Pickens,” I told him. “We’re just going to have to put up with them, I guess, and I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t remind me of something I can’t do anything about. Now, you can use Coleman’s room to dress and you need to hurry up. He’s over at Binkie’s, but if he’s not soon here, I’m going to send you after him.”

“He’ll be here. I talked to him a little while ago. Lloyd, why don’t you dress with us, and leave your room for the ladies? They need more space than we do.”

The boy grinned, pleased to be included with the men. Hazel Marie held on to Mr. Pickens’s hand, her face shining as it always did in his presence. Lord, I needed to get those two married, even if it meant losing Little Lloyd for good. But one miracle at a time, I told myself.

Mr. Pickens couldn’t leave well enough alone, though. “I knew you were good, Miss Julia,” he said. “But I didn’t know you could start a brush-arbor revival all by yourself.”

“That’s not what it is,” I said. Then realizing that he was teasing me again, I went on. “You make me so tired, Mr. Pickens.”

“Well,” he said, turning serious for a change, “the street’s filling up with half the county. You’ve got a crowd scene out there and lots of traffic. I had to park a block away.”

“Oh, my word,” I said, getting to my feet. “Mr. Pickens, we’ve got to do something. What if the wedding guests can’t get in? Call the sheriff, Hazel Marie, we’re going to need some crowd control around here.”

“I’ll call ’em,” Mr. Pickens said. “But I expect you’re going to have all the help you need, since half the department’ll be here for the wedding.”

I went to one of the front windows in the living room and peered out. Lord, but the sidewalk was teeming with people in their Sunday best. And they’d spread out until they were right in front of the house and down past Lila McCarran’s yard. Cars and pickups filled with whole families were creeping along the street, slowing even more as they passed that brick wall in front of my house. And to cap it all, there was a guitar player strolling up and down the sidewalk strumming away at some doleful Latin melody. My first thought was that it was Pastor Petree, except he wouldn’t be caught dead in cowboy boots and a baseball cap, much less sporting a mustache as black and bushy as Mr. Pickens’s.

“Mr. Pickens,” I said, patting my chest to help me breathe easier. “I can’t have this. Something’ll have to be done. We found out last night that there’s a miracle on the wall over there. But that’s no excuse for ruining a wedding that’s taken a miracle to pull off.”

Chapter 31

“Huh,” Mr. Pickens said, his eyes sweeping the crowd that now included whole families with children. “Come on, Miss Julia, you don’t believe that, do you?”

“I don’t know what I believe at this point. But Coleman saw something over there, and Little Lloyd thinks he did, too. And I declare, Mr. Pickens, something has certainly worked wonders with both Coleman and Binkie. Now,” I said, looking him straight in the eye, “if something would get to work on you, I wouldn’t have a doubt in the world.”

He laughed as I knew he would. “Don’t expect miracles, Miss Julia.”

“I’m not. But that’s the trouble. I think I’ve seen some, but it’s hard to believe they could come from something on a Presbyterian structure. Especially since it has to do with a woman. Why, John Knox would turn over in his grave, to say nothing of John Calvin and Pastor Ledbetter.”

“Here comes Sam,” Mr. Pickens said, pointing as Sam came from around the back of the house to the front door. “Let’s see what he has to say.”

If anything could’ve taken my attention from the problem in the street, it would’ve been Sam in all his finery. There’s nothing more handsome than a well-set-up man in evening clothes, even though he was wearing a dinner jacket long before the proper time, thanks to Binkie. He almost took my breath away, but I recovered before it was noticed.

“Hello, folks,” Sam said, as he came in. “From the looks of things out there, Julia, your guest list has doubled and then some.”

“Oh, Sam, what’re we going to do? Those people just keep coming and coming. They’re already blocking the street and creating problems.”

“There’ll be some deputies here in a few minutes,” Mr. Pickens assured me. Then shaking Sam’s hand, he went on. “What do you make of it, Sam?”

Sam gave us that tolerant smile he was known for and said, “If people’re convinced there’s something miraculous going on, then it’s natural to want to honor it.”

“Huh,” Mr. Pickens said, leaning over to look through the window again. “That’s the damnedest thing. Can you see it?”

“Oh, yes,” Sam said, nodding his head and surprising me no end. “I can make out the outline, and it does look like a woman’s head and face. You know what it is, don’t you?”

“I don’t,” I said, not wanting him to think I’d been taken up in religious emotionalism. Regardless of how much uncertainty I had in my heart. “Surely you don’t believe it’s the Virgin Mary, Sam. There’s nothing on that wall but some sloppy workmanship. Although I have to give it credit for getting this wedding back on track.”

Sam grinned at me. “You’ll take whatever you can get, huh, Julia? But no, I don’t believe it’s a miraculous appearance. What they’re seeing is something called efflorescence, a salt deposit that seeps out on the surface of the bricks in white lines and splotches. It can happen as new bricks dry out after getting wet. And those bricks got a good soaking when rainwater sluiced down from the roof. At least that’s one explanation for it. I’ve heard that the seepage can take some strange forms, and looks like that’s what’s happened here.”

“Well, good,” I said, pleased that we now had the means to thin out the crowd. “We can just go out there and give those
people your scientific explanation and send them home. If we hurry, we’ll have room for our guests to get through.”