Julia 03 - Miss Julia Throws a Wedding (35 page)

And, as I was being amazed by the selection, which didn’t sound like any wedding music I’d ever heard, Miss Morgan swung into a tune with enough extra ruffles and flourishes to sound like a full-fledged orchestra. I threw up my hands,
unable to manage another crisis, much less a musical one. I grabbed Emma Sue’s arm and headed out the door.

“Little Lloyd,” I said as we passed. “Stand right here and seat people as we herd them in. Remember to save places for Lillian and me on the front row, and for Miss Wiggins and her friend, too, since she’s being so helpful.”

“Save one for me, too,” Emma Sue said as I marched her out on the porch and surveyed the yard, teeming with guests who’d forgotten why they were here.

“Go over that way, Emma Sue,” I told her, “and tell them we’re ready to start.”

She tottered off, her high heels sinking into the lawn, but her eyes were drawn to the object of veneration and wonder across the street. I headed toward a group of deputies whom I recognized, in spite of their civilian clothes, by the similar mustaches they sported.

“Time to go in, gentlemen,” I said, as two of them stubbed out cigarettes on my front lawn. “If you’ll start, I think the others will follow.”

Just then Lieutenant Peavey’s voice, amazingly lifted in something close to a breathy, tremulous soprano, floated out to us, and the whole crowd—wedding guests and street worshipers, alike—turned as one toward the sound. Several of the worshipers fell to their knees on the sidewalk, and I was tempted to do the same. It seemed another miracle for such a high, quavery voice to emanate from the muscular throat of Lieutenant Peavey.

One of the deputies murmured, “There he goes. Gives me goose bumps every time I hear him.”

Lieutenant Peavey gave me goose bumps too, every time he opened his mouth in my presence.

As the deputies moved toward the porch, I went around the yard, urging, cajoling and inviting our guests into the house.
They went, easily enough, but with backward glances at the image on the wall. I couldn’t see it myself, but I guess it was all in your point of view.

LuAnne Conover, with Leonard close behind her, paused on her way in and whispered, “I declare, Julia, Leonard is about to drive me crazy. Weddings give him all kinds of ideas.”

“Keep him in check, LuAnne,” I whispered back, not wanting to witness any of his ideas in action. “But I wish you’d hidden that medication from him, today at least.”

She smiled a satisfied smile and whispered, “Oh, I wouldn’t want to interfere with his medical treatment.”

I rolled my eyes, but she’d joined the guests as they crowded onto the steps and up on the porch, waiting to get in. I turned and motioned for Emma Sue to follow them. Tearing her attention away from the Family Life Center, she came over to me.

“Julia,” she said, wiping the tears from her face. “What’re we going to do? That thing’s a desecration, and there’s even a priest over there who’ll report it to the pope as a miracle. First thing you know, that popemobile of his will be parked by our church, and I just can’t stand the thought. You’re going to have to excuse me from the ceremony, for I’m being led to witness to those poor souls who’re lost in superstition.”

“Emma Sue,” I said, grabbing her arm and giving it a shake. “Don’t you dare! Those people aren’t bothering anybody. Well, except for drivers trying to get through, but you leave them alone. I’ve got a wedding to put on, and I don’t want you stirring up trouble and disrupting it.”

“Well,” she said, as she yielded to my leading. “I guess I could wait till after the wedding, but my head’s going to be bowed in prayer all the way through.”

“Good, and you might as well mention the rest of us while you’re at it.” I was in dire need of some prayer myself.

“Oh, thank goodness,” I said, as Mr. Pickens’s car screeched to a halt in the middle of the street, and Lillian and a short, thin and very ebony man disembarked. “There’s the preacher.”

“
That’s
the preacher!” Emma Sue came to a standstill. “Julia, you can’t!”

“I certainly can and, furthermore, I certainly will. That’s the Reverend Morris Abernathy, and I thank the Lord for him. Now, go on in, Emma Sue, and let me speak to him.”

Tears flooded her eyes as she looked at me with shock and deep disappointment. “I don’t know that I can be a party to this. What’s Larry going to say?”

“I don’t care what Larry Ledbetter says. And as far as you being a party to this, do what you want. But I’ll tell you this, Emma Sue, if you start proselytizing those people and creating a disruption to this wedding, I’ll move my letter to the Episcopal church. Then see what happens to the church budget.”

“Oh, Julia,” she said, her eyes peering at me through a film of tears. “You wouldn’t! Why, Episcopalians’re almost Catholic with all that incense and carrying on.”

I sucked in a breath between my teeth. “Go in, Emma Sue, or go home, I don’t much care which. Now, excuse me, I have to meet the Reverend Mr. Abernathy.”

I left her then, and walked over to Mr. Pickens and Lillian. “Mr. Pickens, hurry on in and help Little Lloyd get everybody seated. He’s probably running his little legs off.”

Mr. Pickens gave me a wink and a small salute. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “On my way.”

Turning, I said, “Lillian, thank you a million times. I am so relieved to have a qualified minister at last. You run on in; Little Lloyd’s saving you a seat on the front row next to me.”

I gave her a hug for coming through for me again, then she introduced me to the savior of the wedding. “This here’s the Reverend Morris Abernathy, Miss Julia, an’ he say he happy to
be of service to you and the Lord. He gonna get them two married good an’ tight, don’t you worry.” She straightened the veil on her hat, and walked with regal grace in her hot pink silk to take her place among the guests.

Turning to the not-very-tall man standing beside me, I was somewhat taken aback at his get-up—striped trousers with spats, of all things, and a morning coat with tails almost to his ankles. Yet, in spite of his outdated attire, there was a serenity about him that put my mind at ease. He came barely to my shoulder, and I had to look down on his head of frizzled white hair. His deep brown eyes were milky with age, and his small hand trembled as he held a limp and well-worn Bible.

“Reverend,” I said, extending my hand. “I’m Mrs. Julia Springer, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for coming at the last minute. You are a lifesaver.”

A small smile lit up his eyes, as he grasped my hand. “Mrs. Springer, that’s the business I’m in. Now, you just show me where you want me, and I’ll join that young couple in holy matrimony. Let not your heart be troubled any longer. My,” he said, looking around at the dwindling crowd on my front porch and the burgeoning crowd on the sidewalk. “This is a big wedding.”

“Well, no, not exactly. That crowd over there are here on another matter.”

“Ah, yes, Miss Lillian was telling me about it. I’d certainly be interested in seeing what they’re seeing.”

“You won’t see a thing, I promise you.” I took his elbow and turned him toward the house. “But you can look all you want, just as soon as the ceremony’s over. Come this way, Reverend. We’ll sneak through the back. Oh!” I stopped with a sudden piercing thought. “It’s just that it’s easier to get to our makeshift altar through the kitchen and the dining room.”

His kind eyes crinkled, as he took my hand and patted it. “Don’t trouble yourself, Mrs. Springer. I been goin’ through
kitchens for these many years now, an’ it don’t never bother me as long as it lead to the altar of the Lord.”

Standing there in the midst of confusion on both sides, I put my other hand on top of his, as a sense of peace came over me. “Perhaps we could talk sometime, Reverend Mr. Abernathy. But for now,” I said, leading him toward the side of the house, “we’ve got a wedding to get through.”

Chapter 35

As I hurried the Reverend Mr. Abernathy around the side of the house, I heard Hazel Marie bang her hand against the window screen overhead.

“Miss Julia! Miss Julia!” she hissed, trying to get my attention without alerting half the town. “We need you up here. Binkie’s sick!”

“Oh, my word,” I said, clutching the Reverend’s arm. “We have to hurry, Reverend. That’s the bride she’s talking about!”

I hurriedly opened the kitchen door and urged the preacher in. Sam and Coleman stood by the swinging door to the dining room, waiting for the signal to enter. Since I was the one who was supposed to give the signal, they were in for a long wait. Coleman was white around the mouth in spite of his tanned face. He shifted from one foot to the other, as nervous as a cat. I don’t care how much a man wants to marry, when it comes right down to the doing, he’d probably just as soon bypass it. Sam looked as easy as he always did, smiling and assuring Coleman that it would all be over in a few minutes. The caterer’s helpers leaned against the kitchen counters, waiting for the time to serve the food. They were taking a great deal of interest and amusement in Coleman’s pre-wedding jitters.

I introduced the Reverend Mr. Abernathy to Sam and Coleman, wondering what their reaction would be to the ministerial substitute. Coleman didn’t turn a hair. In fact, he was in such a daze that I don’t think he noticed the difference
between the Pastors Petree and Abernathy. Sam surprised me, greeting the minister by name, shaking his hand and asking about his family. But then, Sam knew just about everybody.

“It’ll be just a few more minutes,” I said, not mentioning the current crisis with Binkie, for fear of distressing Coleman more than he already was. I patted his arm. “The guests are slow getting seated, since they lingered so long outside. Coleman, you need to sit down and rest. Reverend, you come out when Mr. Pickens lets you know the last guest is seated. You’ll know who he is, he’s got an exceptionally full mustache. And, Sam, you bring Coleman out right after Little Lloyd walks me to my seat.”

“We’ll wait for the high sign, Julia,” Sam said, pulling out a chair for Coleman, as James put a glass of ice water in front of him. “You run on and get started,” Sam went on. “Coleman’s going to be a wreck if we have to wait much longer.”

As the Reverend Mr. Abernathy suggested a word of prayer, I eased out into the dining room and poked my head around the door to scan the rapidly filling living room. Our guests were arrayed in all their finery, patiently waiting for the long-delayed moment of truth, while Miss Mattie Mae Morgan regaled them with her unique artistry at the piano. Lieutenant Peavey waited by her side for his next rendition. I saw Mr. Pickens escort the sheriff’s wife to a seat on the groom’s side, his black eyes sparkling as he said something he probably shouldn’t have to her. Little Lloyd made me proud as he walked tall and somewhat stiff with Emma Sue Ledbetter on his arm.

I caught Lillian’s eye and motioned her to follow me upstairs. As she was seated on the front row, everybody noticed her leave. I saw the whispers start behind some hands, and a few smiles as I gathered up my long skirt and we both scurried up the stairs.

“What’s the matter?” Lillian asked, breathing hard as we
reached the top of the stairs. “Is Miss Binkie’s mind changed again?”

“Lord, let’s hope not,” I said, hurrying toward my room. “No, Hazel Marie said she’s sick, so we’ve got to get her unsick in a hurry. On top of that, Coleman’s downstairs looking ready to throw up, too. Lillian, those two are getting married today, if I have to hold a bucket in front of them.”

Hazel Marie greeted us as we entered the room. “Oh, Miss Julia, she’s a mess. She’s already thrown up everything, her lunch and all, and now she’s just heaving and heaving. Etta Mae’s trying to help her. She’s a nurse, you know.”

Well, not exactly, I thought, but near enough. Lillian headed for the bathroom, where Binkie, still in her robe and bare feet, knelt by the commode. Miss Wiggins stood over her, holding her head.

Lillian took over, giving her diagnosis immediately. “It’s the excite-ment,” she pronounced, knowing exactly what to do. “She need a cold washrag on her head.”

“What she needs is a good whipping for getting herself in this condition in the first place,” I mumbled, standing outside the bathroom for fear of a sympathetic response to Binkie’s alimentary spasms.

Lillian wrung out a washcloth in the sink. “She didn’t do it by herself, so quit fussin’. We got to get her up from here.” But Binkie’s stomach heaved again, and Lillian pressed the washcloth to her forehead.