Miss Julia Speaks Her Mind (17 page)

“They got us in the pen,” Hazel Marie said. “Thank you,
Lord.” She leaned back against the headrest, and seemed to relax for the first time since we’d started.

That was the easiest driving I’d ever done, and I resolved to get myself one of those CB radios and from then on call for an escort every time I went anywhere.

We rolled on down I-26 eastbound, the third truck occasionally pulling ahead to let a fast car pass, then easing back beside us. When we got to the I-85 interchange, I didn’t even have to worry about getting on the right exit ramp or merging with the heavier traffic. I just leaned that little car in the curve right along with our trucking friends and let them clear a path for us.

“I think I see it,” Hazel Marie said, pointing ahead of us. “See those red lights high up over there? I bet that’s the tower.”

“I can’t look,” I said, “but you must be right. He’s moving us over to the outside lane. Yes, and there go his lights. Y’all watch for the exit.”

The lights on the truck in front of us were blinking like a nervous Christmas tree, and the horn started blowing. I flipped on my turn signal to let him know he could let up, I’d gotten his message.

“There it is!” Lillian yelled. “Slow down! Turn off! Turn off ’fore you miss it!”

“Blow your horn back at him, Miz Springer,” Hazel Marie said.

“I can’t do everything at once,” I cried, slowing down, straining to see the exit, blowing my horn, and hoping the truck behind wouldn’t climb over us. When we were safely on the exit road, every truck on both sides of the interstate blew their air horns and flashed their lights. Truckers’ prayers for poor Hazel Marie, I guess. Lord, forgive me for lying by indirection, but she could use whatever prayers she could get.

The broadcasting studio was a squatty cement block building with that steel-strutted edifice, blinking with red lights, towering
above it. A weed-choked wire fence enclosed the parking lot, with a security light on a pole at the open gate. A half-dozen or so cars were parked in the uneven asphalt lot, but we didn’t see any people. One yellow bulb burned over the entrance to the building, and there was a weak light coming from a small window high up beside the door.

“It sure looks closed up. Wonder if anybody’s in there,” I said, trying to decide the best place to park.

“Somebody’s there,” Hazel Marie said. “The studios don’t have windows, that’s why it’s so dark.”

I knew that.

“I’ll park by the side of the building while we decide how to go about this,” I said.

“If you don’t mind, Miz Springer,” Hazel Marie said, “park over in that far corner. I got to pee-pee again if we got time.”

I rolled my eyes even though nobody could see me, and drove over to the darkest corner in the lot. Hazel Marie slid out of the car and I was treated to the slithering of satin and the top of her head again as she crouched down beside the open door.

“She losin’ a lot of fluids,” Lillian said. “We ought to stop on the way home an’ get her a drink.”

I said, “Don’t even think about it.”

“Woo-oo,” Hazel Marie sighed as she eased back in her seat. “That’s a relief. I was ’bout to pop.”

“All right, now,” I said. “We’re here, and Brother Vern’s program’ll be over in about ten minutes. What’re we going to do?”

“I’m gonna sneak in and get Junior,” Hazel Marie said.

“You ain’t gonna do no sneakin’ in what you got on,” Lillian reminded her.

“I’ll go in,” I said. “Little Lloyd’ll come when he sees me. He knows me.”

“Uh-huh,” Lillian said. “An’ that Brother Vern know you, too. You think he jus’ gonna let you come take that chile by the
hand an’ walk outta there? Ever’body in there workin’ for Brother Vern, an’ all he got to do is yell, ‘Stop that woman!’ an’ they stop you.”

“Well, what do you suggest we do?” I asked, edgy now that we were there without knowing what to do next.

“I bet those truckers would’ve helped us,” Hazel Marie said. “Wish I’d thought to ask ’em. We coulda told them my little boy was kidnapped by a crazy snake handler or something.” Once lying starts, it just keeps growing, which is why I’m against it as a general rule.

“Huh,” I said, “too late now.” But I shivered at the thought of a bunch of wild truck drivers crashing in on a live television program. Sister Rubynell’d really have something to screech about, to say nothing of all those children in there. “We better think of something quick.”

“Brother Vern don’t know me,” Lillian said. “Lemme outta this car. I’m goin’ in an’ get our little boy.”

O
KAY
,” I
AGREED
, because I couldn’t think of a better way. “Miss Puckett, let Lillian out on your side. Then if you can manage it, see if you can get in the backseat. When she comes out with Little Lloyd, we won’t have time to get you in and out of the car.”

She nodded and opened the door again. When she was out, hunched over and holding her rib cage, Lillian crawled out beside her. Then, whimpering with pain, Hazel Marie managed to get over the seat and into the back. She groaned as she settled into the seat. A flash of lightning lit up the weeds along the fence, as well as her drawn face, frowning with pain.

“Lordamercy!” Lillian yelped as a roll of thunder followed the flash. “I got to get outta this ’fore I get struck down.”

She started toward the station, but I stuck my head out the window and called to her in a loud whisper.

“Lillian, Lillian! Come back here a minute.”

She came to my window and leaned against the door. “What you want?”

“Take this,” I said, rummaging in my pocketbook. I held out two new hundred-dollar bills from among several that I kept on
me in case I needed anything. And also because Wesley Lloyd had never given me more than fifty dollars at a time. “I didn’t see any of your people on that television show, so you may have trouble getting in. Tell whoever you see that you work for somebody who’s too feeble to get out of the car, but who wants to contribute one of those bills to Brother Vern’s ministry, and to buy a bumper sticker from Brother Stedman with the other one. Don’t give them to just anybody. Make them let you inside where Little Lloyd can see you.”

“That’s a good idea,” she said. “Money do talk. And open doors, too.”

She hurried toward the building, shoes flapping on her heels. I admired her courage, knowing how frightened she was of lightning. To say nothing of knocking on a door belonging to white people in the middle of the night.

“As soon as she’s in, I’ll pull up right in front,” I told Hazel Marie. “We’ll keep the car door open, so all they’ll have to do is jump in.”

“Keep the motor running, too,” Hazel Marie said through clenched teeth. Those she had left, that is.

We watched as Lillian tried the door at the front of the building. Then she began pushing a buzzer, and for a long while I thought no one was going to answer. When the door finally opened, we could see her talking to someone for what seemed like several minutes. Finally, she held up the two bills and the door opened wider. She went in and it closed behind her.

“She’s in!” I eased the car up beside the front of the building, keeping the headlights off. I reached over and opened the passenger door wide.

My hands trembled on the wheel as I wondered what was going on inside. I slid my left foot onto the brake pedal so the other one could rest on the accelerator, ready for takeoff. Other
than the rumble of thunder, Hazel Marie’s painful breathing, and the muted roar of traffic on the interstate, everything around us was quiet.

“I hope nothing goes wrong,” Hazel Marie said. “She’s been in there an awful long time. What if he wants to put her on TV? He does that sometimes, just picks somebody out to interview as the Lord leads him.”

Lightning flashed again, closer this time, and heavy raindrops began to spatter on the windshield. I looked out to my left, seeing the rows of cars on the interstate and dreading the moment of merging again.

“Lillian won’t go on TV in her work dress,” I said. Then to keep my mind off what was happening inside, I asked, “Where did Brother Vern go to seminary?”

“He didn’t. He was working for the World of Boots and Shoes when the Lord called him to preach. He got the call right between the Bass Weejuns and the Converse high-tops. He says fitting shoes on people’s feet gave him more training in misery than any seminary could.”

I left that alone, since Hazel Marie’s soft voice told it so matter-of-factly. Far be it from me to disturb anybody’s faith.

“Well,” I said, “I guess it takes all—Oh! here they come!”

The door of the building flew open and Little Lloyd ran out with Lillian right behind him. Several men and a pack of children, pushing, shoving, and yelling, ran after them.

“Get in! Get in!” I threw back the passenger seat and Little Lloyd practically flew over it to land in the back.

“Mama! Mama!” he cried, lunging for her. She reached for him and pulled him close.

“Sweetheart,” she said. “Oh, baby, are you all right?”

“Careful, Little Lloyd, your mother’s hurt. Hurry, Lillian!”

She was in and trying to get the door closed. Men, teenagers, and little children swarmed around the side of the car. One of
the men held on to the door while Lillian tugged and strained to get it closed. She screamed as somebody reached in to pull her out of the car. I stomped the gas pedal so hard the tires spun on the asphalt. When I took my other foot off the brake, the little car practically leapt in the air. The momentum swung the door wider, then slammed it shut, flinging the man holding it to the ground.

The chain-link fence loomed before us, coming at us fast. I jerked at the wheel, spinning it around, feeling the car swerve and rock on its frame. Before I knew it we’d turned completely around. Practically in our tracks. I heard screams, but they were all coming from inside the car. People, some of them children, ran from one side of the lot to the other, arms waving, trying to get me to stop. They scattered as I came back at them.

“Miz Springer!” Hazel Marie yelled. “Watch out!”

“What you doin’?” Lillian cried. “Don’t run over them people!”

“I can’t find the gate!”

“Turn on the headlights!” Lillian yelled.

That helped. I found them and the gate and sped out onto the access road.

“Oh, my Lord,” I said, “how do I get over there on the interstate?” Bumper-to-bumper traffic moved along beside us, separated by a ditch of weeds and a metal railing.

Hazel Marie had her arms around Little Lloyd, but she sat up straighter to look out the windshield. “There’s a ramp right up there past the rise. You can get on there.”

My stomach dropped as we sailed over the rise and down the ramp to the interstate. One car after another, a continuous line of headlights and taillights, filled both lanes of southbound traffic. I didn’t let it bother me, though, since Hazel Marie had told me how to manage an entry. I zoomed toward the nearest lane, looking neither to the right nor the left.

Little Lloyd screamed. Lillian called on Jesus, but I just sped up and slid the car into the traffic. I’d never heard such blowing of horns and screeching of brakes. I paid no mind.

I breathed a sigh of relief as we moved along with the traffic. Lillian’s hand was practically white where she was gripping the armrest.

“Anybody following us?” I asked.

Lillian turned around and said, “Only ’bout two million cars, but I can’t see who’s in ’em.”

“Well, let’s hope for the best. Little Lloyd, are you all right? We’re glad to have you back.” The amenities done, I said to Lillian, “Help me look for the windshield wipers; that rain is peppering down now. I wish this car wasn’t so new so I’d know where things are.”

“You know where you goin’?” she asked as I finally turned the right knob and got the wipers going.

“No, Lillian, I don’t. I just know we’re going away from Brother Vern. Other than that, I’m just driving and doing the best I can.”

“We’ll go to Atlanta if you keep on this way,” Hazel Marie said. “Watch for a Greenville exit and come off on that. We can get back to Abbotsville that way.”

“My Lord!” I said as the roar of a heavy motor surrounded us and bright headlights behind us nearly blinded me. I reached up to adjust the rearview mirror. “What’s that truck doing so close to us?”

“I can’t see nothin’,” Lillian said, as she twisted in her seat and shielded her eyes with her hand. “He mighty close, but he don’t look like one of them trucks we had before.”

“Lemme look,” Hazel Marie said, and I heard the intake of her breath as she tried to turn around. “Pull out in the other lane, Miz Springer, if you can, and I’ll try to get a look at him from the side.”

I twitched the car over into the fast lane and got a horn blast from another car for my trouble. I had the turn indicator on, so it shouldn’t’ve been a surprise. I speeded up, though, and lost the glare of headlights through our rear window.

“I see him!” Hazel Marie yelled. “Oh, my goodness, that’s Jerome’s pickup. I know it is, see how high it’s jacked up.”

A jacked-up truck rang a bell that I didn’t want to hear.

“Look at them wheels,” Lillian said. She’d turned completely around to kneel in the seat. “What he doin’ with them big wheels on a pickup?”

“Truck pulls,” Hazel Marie said, as if that explained anything. “I didn’t see his truck back at the TV station. I don’t know what I’d of done if I had.”

“Maybe it was parked in the back,” I said. “But if it’s the same truck I’ve seen before, it has a habit of appearing out of nowhere. The question now is, how do we get away from him?”

“We got to think of something,” Hazel Marie said. “Miz Springer, we can’t let him catch up with us. He’s pulled into our lane now! Oh, God, don’t let him catch us.”

“Mama?” Little Lloyd said.

“Don’t worry, Little Lloyd,” I said, “he hasn’t caught us yet, and if this car lives up to the claims they make for it, he won’t.”

“What you gonna do?” Lillian asked. “Outrun him all the way to Atlanta, Gee-A?”

I said, “Think of something, somebody.”

“One good thing,” Hazel Marie said, “we can’t miss that pickup. It stands out even in the dark. Miz Springer, try and get back in the outside lane, but stay with some other cars so he can’t tailgate us again.”

“I hope you have a plan,” I said.

“Don’t turn on your blinkers,” she said. “We don’t want to give him any warning. Just scoot on over whenever you can, and let’s hope he loses track of which car we’re in.”

I did, but nobody liked me doing it. People can be so rude about blowing their horns. I just blew mine back.

“All right,” I said, “I’m over here. Did he follow us?”

“You look, Miss Lillian,” Hazel Marie said. “Me and Junior’re gonna scrooch down so he’ll only see two heads in the car, and maybe he’ll think it’s not us.”

“He still in that other lane,” Lillian said, “and they’s a whole lot of cars around him an’ us.”

“Good,” Hazel Marie mumbled from the floorboard. “Miz Springer, take the first busy exit into Greenville, then turn into the first street you come to on the right. Park on that street and cut your lights. If he follows us off the exit, maybe he’ll keep on going.”

I couldn’t argue with the plan. It sounded like something that’d worked for her before, and it did again. We came off the interstate with several other cars, and as we left the ramp, Lillian said the pickup was still trying to get in the exit lane.

I parked the car on a dimly lit side street, turned off the lights, and kept the motor running. We sat there in the dark, listening to each other breathe and Little Lloyd sniffing.

“There it is!” Lillian pointed as the monster truck, black as the devil, passed at the end of the street. Jerome didn’t slow down, apparently trying to catch up to where he thought we’d be. The roar of the truck’s motor reverberated down the side street. I shuddered at the sight and sound of it, for it had to be the same truck I’d seen twice before. Now, thanks to Hazel Marie, I knew who was in it and, as she would’ve said, it scared the…well, pee-pee out of me.

“Lord,” I said under my breath, “that thing could run us off the mountain and nobody’d ever know.”

“What we gonna do if it come back at us?” Lillian asked. Her hands twisted in her lap, and I felt a twinge of guilt for putting her in this dangerous situation.

“We’re gonna be gone,” Hazel Marie said. “Miz Springer, ease on out now and get back on the interstate. We’ll go back the way we came, now that he thinks we’ve gone this way.”

I pulled out slowly, easing out of the side street and heading across the overpass to enter the interstate on the opposite side. More heavy traffic, but there was safety in numbers so I didn’t mind it so much.

“This is not going to fool him long,” I said.

“Yes’m,” Hazel Marie said, “but by the time he figures it out, we ought to be far enough ahead to make it home all right.”

“Well, an’ that’s another thing,” Lillian said. “What we gonna do when we get home? If he really after us, ain’t no being home gonna stop him.”

“We can get help there,” I said, trying to reassure her. And me. “If we have to, we’ll sic Deputy Bates and Lieutenant Peavey and Binkie Enloe on him. We’ll be all right once we get there. I just don’t want to be driving alone on that mountain with him right behind us.”

“Look, there’s that TV station ’cross yonder.” Lillian pointed past my face, but I was too busy to look. “They’s still some people out in the parking lot. Talkin’ ’bout us, I ’spect.”

I heard some whispering between Little Lloyd and his mother, then he stuck his head up between the front seats. “Miss Lillian, I want to thank you for coming to get me. And you, too, Miz Springer. Me and my mama really ’preciate it.”