Julia 03 - Miss Julia Throws a Wedding (32 page)

Mr. Pickens said, “I doubt a scientific explanation will cut much ice with believers, Miss Julia. They’ll see what they want to see, and you’ll have to put up with it.” He stopped, opened his mouth, closed it, then said with a touch of awe, “Would you look at that!”

Sam and I looked over his shoulder, thinking to see some new evidence of a miracle. Instead, we saw Miss Mattie Mae Morgan, decked out in a red silk damask gown that swirled around her red pumps as she lumbered up the walkway. As she reached the steps, she hiked up the long gown to her knees, and came puffing onto the porch.

“Oh, my word,” I said, my hand at my throat. “There goes Binkie’s color scheme.”

“Miz Springer!” Mattie Mae called as she opened the screen door. “You ain’t gonna b’lieve what’s out there on that buildin’! It’s Mary, Mother of God, sure as I’m standin’ here. Oh, Lord! I’m gonna play that instrument like it never been played before! In the presence of a miracle, that’s what I am. Hallelujah, Jesus!”

“Miss Morgan!” I cried. “Mattie Mae! Get hold of yourself. You need to calm down. Sam, Mr. Pickens, you see what’s happening? The wedding’s going to be ruined! I just know it is!” I could’ve cried right there.

Hazel Marie came halfway down the stairs and called, “Miss Julia, you better come on up and get dressed. I’m ready to do your hair, and Binkie needs you.”

I turned to her, wringing my hands, then back to that spectacle on the street. “How in the world can I do two things at once?”

“Go on and get dressed, Julia,” Sam said. “J.D. and I’ll take care of Miss Morgan and watch things down here.”

Mr. Pickens said, “Here comes Peavey. You’re in good hands now, Miss Julia.” He gave me a wicked grin.

I glanced out the window and saw Lieutenant Peavey walking into the yard. He was resplendent in a white dinner jacket with a ruffled shirt, bow tie and cummerbund. And his ever-present sunglasses.

“Well,” I said, “send him out there. If he can’t scare them off, nobody can. As for myself, I’m going to get dressed before he gets in here.”

I hurried up the stairs to be greeted by the smell of burning hair. The doors of my and Little Lloyd’s rooms were open, and Binkie and Hazel Marie were running between them in various stages of undress. Hair rollers and hair curlers steamed along with an iron sitting upright on the ironing board.

“Hurry, Miss Julia,” Binkie said. Her hair was rolled on rollers as big as juice cans, and she was running around in a loose robe with her dyed-to-match shoes in her hand. Her face was flushed and her eyes were sparkling. “Hazel Marie! Can I take these rollers out now?”

“Get in here, Miss Julia,” Lillian said as she wielded a curling iron on her own head. “I’ll he’p you with all them buttons soon as I get this hair straightened.”

Lord, I thought, some are curling hair and some are straightening, but all of them looked to be using the same instruments.

I went into my room and took my dress from the bed. On my way to the bathroom to undress in private, Binkie came running back in. “Is Coleman here yet? Have you seen him?”

I stopped, tried to calm my nerves, and said, “Mr. Pickens is in charge of Coleman. Don’t worry; he’ll be here.”

I closed the bathroom door and leaned against it. Lord, where was Coleman? Wouldn’t that be a pretty come off if he didn’t show up? I dressed as quickly as I could, spending a few minutes on my face without looking too closely in the
mirror. I find that, after a certain age, it doesn’t do to spend too much time in front of one of those things. They can make you not want to go out in public.

I came out of the bathroom trying to get those endless buttons fastened. But being so anxious to get back downstairs to see if that crowd of people had been dispersed and to see if Coleman had arrived, I wasn’t doing much more than fumbling with them.

“Set down right here,” Lillian said, swinging a chair around. She was in nothing more than a slip, but she’d already arranged her hat on her straightened hair. “Lemme get them buttons for you. Miss Hazel Marie, you can come on in now. I got her settin’ down.”

Hazel Marie hurried in, as fully dressed as she was going to get in that next-to-nothing garment Binkie had chosen. She was still in her bare feet, holding a number of brushes, mirrors and little plastic containers in both hands.

“Hold still, Miss Julia,” she said. “I’m going to fix your face.”

“My face doesn’t need fixing.”

“Yes, it does. It needs some color. Now look, I’m going to put some lavender eye shadow on, just a dab or two, and darken your eyebrows a little.”

As she laid hands on me, I said, “Hazel Marie, watch what you’re doing! I’m not used to all that paint.”

“Hold still,” Lillian said, as her hands worked at the buttons on my bodice. “An’ get used to it.”

“Now for some blush,” Hazel Marie said, swirling a huge brush on my cheekbones. “Oh, you’re going to knock Sam’s socks off. Binkie, where’s that hair pick? I need to fluff out her hair a little.”

“You’re beautiful, Miss Julia,” Binkie said, handing the pick to Hazel Marie.

“I doubt that,” I said, resigned to their ministrations. “Hurry up, Hazel Marie, you’ve still got Binkie’s hair to do, and I need to get downstairs.”

“Okay, a little mascara and some lip gloss and we’re done. Now turn around and look in the mirror.”

They all gathered behind me and looked over my shoulders. I couldn’t help but smile. It was a transformation, if I do say so myself. Maybe it was a day for miracles in a number of ways.

“That’s remarkable, Hazel Marie,” I finally said. “I just hope the powder doesn’t get clogged up in all these wrinkles.”

Hazel Marie cocked her head to the side, considering her handiwork, then said, “Binkie, what do you think? My Joy or your Giorgio?”

“She could wear either. Whatever you think.”

Hazel Marie reached for a bottle and said, “The Joy, then. But I warn you, Miss Julia, don’t get too close to J.D.; this stuff makes him wild.” And she giggled.

Then she dabbed perfume behind my ears and on my throat before I could tell her that Estée Lauder’s bath powder was already doing the job.

“Enough, Hazel Marie,” I said, getting to my feet. “I have things to do. Lillian, do you need help with your dress?”

“No’m, I got it right here, an’ I’m fixin’ to get in it soon’s we get Miss Binkie in hers.”

“Well, I’m going downstairs and try to do something about that mess outside. But first, I’ll make sure that Coleman’s here. Thank you, Hazel Marie, for your help. I just hope I’m recognizable.” I started out of the room, holding up my gown, but stopped as I saw Binkie sitting in the open window. “Binkie, get out of that window! People’re going to see you and they’re not supposed to until you come down the stairs. And you’re not even half dressed!”

“Oh, shoo, Miss Julia. I’m having too much fun watching
all those people out there, and I think I see that miracle they’re talking about.”

“Where?” Hazel Marie said, dropping a brush and heading for the window.

“Where?” Lillian said, running behind her with her dress half zipped.

“Well, tell me, too,” I said, following suit. “I’d like to see some real evidence.”

“Okay,” Binkie said. “Look real close at that wall, right between the middle windows. See all those white lines on the bricks? If you start on the top level and follow the lines on the left side down past the second story and on down to the first, you’ll see that they form sort of a half-profile of a woman’s face. Now go back to the top and follow the lines on the right side, and you’ll see what looks like a shawl or a cowl, or maybe it’s her hair. Look where the face should be, and there’re your eyes, nose and mouth.”

“Oh, my Lo-o-rd,” Lillian said, her eyes popping out of her head. “I see it! Sweet Jesus, I see it plain as day!”

“I do, too,” Hazel Marie said, her voice choking with emotion. “You think we ought to pray or something?”

“We ought to pray for some sense,” I said, not wanting to admit that I’d begun to believe in
something
on the wall, even though I couldn’t make out a face for love nor money. “I don’t see a thing but some mighty poor construction work. I declare, you’re all as bad as those people in Atlanta who saw Jesus in a plate of spaghetti on a billboard.”

Lillian lowered her voice and said, “Lotsa people saw that, and the Reverend Oral Roberts saw Him astraddle of a hospital, big as you please. It don’t do to question ever’thing, Miss Julia. You miss a lot, if you do.”

I rolled my eyes. There was a lot I didn’t mind missing.

“Yes,” Hazel Marie said, “and I heard that eight thousand
people showed up to see Jesus’ image on a garage door. I think it was in California.”

“California.” I sniffed, still trying to make out what they were seeing and failing on all points. “What do you expect?”

Binkie turned a mischievous face to me. “Well, what about the Mother Teresa cinnamon bun? I’ve seen a picture of it on the Internet, and it looks just like her.”

“Oh, Binkie, quit encouraging them. Now get out of that window and get dressed. Look, some of the guests’re beginning to arrive. Wouldn’t you know Mildred Allen’d be the first one, and more than an hour early? Wants to look things over, I expect.” I started out of the room. “Hazel Marie, if Little Lloyd’s ready, send him on down so he can begin seating people.”

I closed the door on the dress-strewn, perfumed air of the room and hurried to tap on Coleman’s door. Without waiting for an answer, I stuck my head in just enough to get a glimpse of his brief-clad bottom. Considerably relieved to see even that, I quickly withdrew, murmuring, “Sorry, just making sure you’re here.”

Then I hastened downstairs, intent on putting an end to miracle-watching, at least until after the wedding. But that was before I saw Sam’s awestruck face.

“What’s the matter with you, Sam?” I said. “Don’t tell me you’ve seen the woman on the wall, too.”

“No, Julia,” he said, coming over to take my hand. “I’ve just seen the woman on my heart.” His smiling eyes searched my face, my hair and my attire.

I turned away, uneasy with such close scrutiny. “Oh, Sam. Don’t get carried away.”

He leaned close and whispered, “I’d like to carry you away.”

Before I had to answer, Mr. Pickens raised his eyebrows and gave me what we used to call the once-over. “Sam,” he said, “is this woman yours or is she for the taking?”

Just then, Miss Mattie Mae Morgan struck up a resounding chord and launched into the pre-wedding music with plenty of extra trills and rumbling bass notes. Just as well, because I could pretend I didn’t hear Sam when he said, “Oh, she’s mine, all right. Keep your distance, Pickens.”

Chapter 32

Just then I was struck dumb by the entrance of Etta Mae Wiggins from the Hillandale Trailer Park, her arm draped through the crook of the arm of a tall, tan-skinned man who could give Mr. Pickens and Coleman, both, a run for their money in the looks department. Miss Wiggins was dressed fit to kill in a black sundress, barely held up with more of those spaghetti straps Binkie was so enamored of, with sequined white flowers across the bodice. It ended a good deal north of her knees and, as far as I was concerned, was totally inappropriate for the occasion. I mean, black? For a wedding?

“What is she doing here?” I whispered to Sam and Mr. Pickens.

Mr. Pickens turned to look, then he waved to the couple, and answered, “That’s Bobby Lee Moser from the Delmont sheriff’s office, and I’d guess that’s his date with him.”

“Etta Mae Wiggins,” Sam said, taking my hand again and running his thumb over it. “You remember her, don’t you, Julia?”

“I remember her, all right.” Thinking I’d have to make the best of it, but somewhat reassured by Sam’s present lack of interest in her. Or so it seemed.

I said, “More people’re coming up the walk, and it’s more than an hour before the ceremony. Where’re the ushers? Where’s Little Lloyd?”

“Here I am.” And there the child was, as handsome as he
could be in a miniature dinner jacket and black trousers with satin stripes down the sides. “What do I do?”

“Just go to the door and escort people to their seats. Hold your arm for the ladies like I showed you, and remember, bride’s guests on the left of the aisle and groom’s on the right. Mr. Pickens, you need to get on the job, too.”