Julia 03 - Miss Julia Throws a Wedding (39 page)

Before she could answer, a loud
whomp, whomp
pierced the air, bringing even Miss Morgan to a sudden halt. We all turned to look down the street where the racket was coming from.

Threading its way down the dark street, through the double-parked cars and street dancers, a sheriff’s patrol car eased toward us, roof lights flashing and siren whooping loud enough to stop the music and draw attention away from even
Pastor Petree. In fact, as I watched the car approach, I saw the pastor’s foot slip as he turned to see what had interrupted his sermon. He had to grab on to the ladder to save himself from a sudden descent.

As the patrol car slowed to a halt in front of my house, its lights flashing red and blue streaks across the gathering crowd, its siren blasted out again, then died away in a long, piercing wail.

“What is that thing doing here?” I gasped, wondering what other crisis was at hand.

Sam grinned. “That thing’s going to start Binkie and Coleman on their honeymoon.”

Chapter 39

I was still gaping at the couple’s unlikely conveyance when Little Lloyd ran up, gasping for breath. “It’s gone, Miss Julia! It was there a minute ago, and now it’s gone!”

“Slow down, child.” I put my hands on his shoulders, feeling them heave with excitement. “Now what’s the problem?”

“That . . . that,” he got out between gasps, his eyes so big they were about to pop out of his head. Pointing toward the porch, he finally managed to say, “That basket of Mrs. Conover’s, the one with the birdseed bags that I was supposed to hand out. It’s flat gone!”

“Oh, it couldn’t be,” I said, straining to see through the milling guests. “It just got moved aside when they brought out the piano. Let’s go look for it.”

“No need, Miss Julia,” Little Lloyd said, shaking his head firmly. “I’ve looked all over, and I’ve asked everybody, even Miss Mattie Mae Morgan, and nobody’s seen it since Mrs. Conover set it out there.”

“Well, who in the world could’ve taken it?”

“I know who did it,” the boy said with a dark frown. “I bet it was that ole Dixon Hightower.”

I tried to reassure him that Dixon would not be mingling among so many people, but in my heart of hearts I was beginning to wonder. Twice Hazel Marie had thought she’d seen him. Maybe she had. Maybe Dixon was another uninvited guest, but one who was making free with a basket of birdseed bags.

About that time, I was distracted by the crowd turning with an audible sigh and a few catcalls, as Binkie and Coleman appeared on the porch. They were still in their wedding outfits, Binkie’s bare shoulders splashed with intermittent streaks of red and blue lights from the patrol car. A spotlight aimed by the driver of the car suddenly found them, lighting them up like movie stars, and I saw the television camera turn toward them. Coleman stood there in the glare, grinning with delight, his arm around Binkie as they acknowledged the crowd’s benediction. Even the worshipers of the woman on the wall drifted closer, smiling and waving at the happy couple.

As Binkie and Coleman came down the steps, I noticed the guests looking around for something to throw. Even though nothing was forthcoming, Binkie ducked and Coleman put an arm over his head. Yells from the deputies and, I’m sorry to say, from some guests who should’ve known better, urged them on to the culmination of their marriage, although in terms I’m unwilling to repeat.

As Binkie passed me on the way to the car, she stopped and hugged me. “Miss Julia, this has been the best wedding anybody could ever have. I wouldn’t’ve missed it for the world.”

She didn’t give me a chance to answer, for she was quickly on her way. But I thought to myself that if it’d been left up to her, she certainly would have missed it.

“Wait! Wait!” Miss Wiggins yelled, hurrying toward the car. “Put this in their basket.” And she thrust a large ribbon-decorated bottle through the window to the driver, who I saw was Deputy Moser.

I pursed my mouth at the nerve of her, but there was little I could do about it. I comforted myself that maybe Binkie and Coleman wouldn’t partake, thereby spoiling their wedding night with a stimulant.

Hazel Marie called, “Throw the bouquet!”

When Binkie reached the open door of the car, she turned
her back to the crowd and flung her bouquet high in the air. Hazel Marie ran to get under it, but that pushy Etta Mae Wiggins leaped up and came down with it. Hazel Marie backed off in disappointment, but Mr. Pickens whispered something to her that picked up her spirits.

“Where’s the garter?” a group of deputies called out. “We want the garter!”

And before my very eyes and those of a hundred people or more, Binkie hiked up her dress and disencumbered herself of the blue garter with a little pink flower on it. Coleman stood there laughing, not at all disconcerted by his wife’s public display. He took it from her and whirled it around his head a few times, then slung it far and wide.

As it began to fall, deputies scattered away, yelling in mock terror, none apparently wanting to be the next to take a wife. I noticed Mr. Pickens laughing and cringing behind Hazel Marie, who was trying to be a good sport about it. I could’ve whipped him.

A laugh erupted from the crowd as the garter floated down and came to rest on Lieutenant Peavey’s rigid shoulder. He’d been standing on the side, above the fray so to speak, but the blue elastic fell on him like it had singled him out. Though I couldn’t see that any woman would want him, he was so unbending and set in his ways. Imagine living with such a man, I thought. Then I realized that was exactly what I’d done for some forty or more years.

As we laughed at Lieutenant Peavey’s discomfort, a louder noise than we’d heard before emanated from the throats of the worshipers behind us. I turned to see them running out into the street, their attention turned to some new occurrence. Their hands were stretched out, reaching up in the air as they shouted and jumped and snatched at the small, large and odd-shaped things that were floating down from the top of the Family Life Center. As I watched, openmouthed, I felt
a sprinkling like raindrops, only not at all wet, on my head and face. Brushing away whatever was raining down on us, I found my hand covered with birdseed. Birdseed! Falling through the air and strewing across the ground.

Hosannas or hallelujahs began to drown out the wedding festivities. The whole marital event threatened to become unhinged, as the crowd seemed to be going into a state of ecstasy or something. I looked around for Little Lloyd.

Coleman quickly pushed Binkie into the car and tried to close the door to keep her safe, but she popped back out, determined to see what was going on.

Lieutenant Peavey and his deputies, professional faces restored, began to spread out to see what was happening.

“Sam,” I said, clutching at his arm. “What is it?”

“Don’t know, Julia,” he said, frowning with concern. Then: “Look! What in the world is that?”

Then we all saw a sight that brought gasps and screams from the guests in the yard. In the soft light of early evening, the glare of the television lights and the colored streaks of the patrol car, bits of paper and streamers and shiny banners were flickering through the air, as birdseed peppered on and around us. Down past Pastor Petree it all came, falling into the outstretched hands of the crowd below.

Our guests milled around, bride and groom forgotten in this new attraction, watching and wondering at what clearly seemed a miracle you could put your hands on. In fact, some of the guests ran out to join the worshipers and began snatching at the fluttering objects raining down from the Family Life Center, like they believed manna was falling from heaven.

Before I could grab his collar, Little Lloyd dashed out into the street to join the general melee, where I saw Binkie’s flower-bedecked head bobbing up and down in the crowd.

“Sam!” I cried. “Oh, Sam, go get her. Where’s Coleman? She’s going to do herself some damage out there!”

“He’s right behind her,” Sam assured me. “See, he’s pulling her away.”

Relieved that Coleman was on the job, I shifted my concern to the source of the paper-and-birdseed shower. “Where’s that stuff coming from? Sam, can you see anything?”

“Looks like it’s coming from the roof.” Sam stretched to try to see over the heads of the mob. “Here comes another downpour. See it?”

Yes, I did, for what looked like an armful of papers, large, small, long and slender pieces whooshed up in the air above the roof of the Family Life Center, then came drifting down to the eager hands below.

Little Lloyd came running back to us, his eyes big with wonder and his hands grasping a few pieces of the airborne treasure. “Miss Julia!” he cried, fear, wonder or awe vibrating in his voice. “Look what it is!”

Sam took a shiny paper from him and held it up. My knees nearly buckled under me as I read
PRAY WITH US
. “My Lord!” I cried, clutching Sam’s arm to keep myself upright. “It’s one of Emma Sue’s bumper stickers!”

“Yessum,” Little Lloyd said, nodding his head and trying to catch his breath. “But look at this,” he added, holding up a much smaller piece of paper. “It’s not Mrs. Ledbetter’s.”

I took the paper and read:
GOOD FOR ONE FREE LUBE JOB AT P
&
J
’
S PIT STOP
. “It’s a gift certificate!” I drew in my breath sharply. “Oh, my goodness, remember that church that had all their bingo prizes stolen? How many of these things are there?”

“Lots of ’em!” Little Lloyd assured me. “I heard people yelling about groceries and movie passes and free gas! It’s a miracle, Miss Julia!”

“Well, I guess it would be, if I believed in such things. Still,” I said, marveling at the sudden appearance of that which had been taken from the backseat of my car, as well as from the
Briar Creek House of God, “how could these things come out of the blue like this?”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Sam said, laughing and pointing to the top of the building. “There’s your answer.”

I looked up to see a jumping, yelling small figure scampering along the ledge of the roof right above Pastor Petree’s head. The figure reached down and threw out another handful of papers to the waiting hands below. At the sight of him, half a dozen deputies dispatched by Lieutenant Peavey swarmed to the door of the building, intent on rounding up the perpetrator of, well, I didn’t know what. Littering, maybe.

Pastor Petree seemed oblivious to the antics above him, for he’d turned on the ladder to face the crowd, making his perch somewhat problematic, to say the least. He held one of Emma Sue’s bumper stickers, a look of wonder on his face.

Then the figure above him leaned over and dropped a double handful of small, brightly colored objects onto the pastor’s head, and I thought the poor soul was going to go into a rapture of some kind. Miss Wiggins screamed as she snatched at the objects. “My candy! It’s my candy!”

Then, from the midst of the shouting, shoving crowd, I heard Binkie’s clear voice. “That’s my client!”

When a cackling laugh floated down from the ledge, I too recognized the source of the miracle of the coupons. “It’s Dixon Hightower!” I yelled. “Sam . . . !”

“Dixon!” Little Lloyd yelled, jumping up and down. “It’s that Dixon Hightower! Oh, my word, he’s here amongst us!”

I reached out to calm him down, but something dark and feathery brushed my shoulder and I jumped a mile.

The air was suddenly filled with a mighty rushing of wings amid the scattering and cries of wedding guests, as a swarm of pigeons from the steeple of the church swooped down on my lawn. They flew in and around us, coming to skimming halts around our feet, then waddling and pecking at the grass.

Little Lloyd’s arms flailed as another bevy of flapping wings swooshed past his head. “Help!” he cried. Then, seeing what they were after, he yelled, “It’s the birdseed! Look, Miss Julia, they’ve come for the birdseed!”

“Oh, Sam,” I said, almost collapsing on his shoulder. He put his arm around me and held me close. “What else can go wrong?”

Plenty, as it turned out. Coleman hustled Binkie to the waiting patrol car and, as they climbed into the backseat, Deputy Moser released the trunk latch and a rush of balloons escaped into the air. Children ran to catch them as the balloons wobbled and floated up, passing the flecks of paper floating down, and disturbed by the commotion, the pigeons rose in a fluttering mass. Then they circled and rushed down again. Just as they began to settle on the yard, Sergeant Moser eased the car down the street, trunk lid flapping as the last of the balloons zoomed out like a comet’s tail. Then, with Binkie and Coleman waving from the windows, he set off that whomping siren again.