Miss Julia Speaks Her Mind (11 page)

W
AIT
! W
ATCH FOR
cars! Little Lloyd, don’t you cross that street till I get there!” I hurried after him and we hastened across, up my front walk and onto the porch. My heart was racing with the anticipation of telling that woman what I thought of her. I intended to lay her low, but I didn’t get the chance to do it.

A man was sitting in my rocker, hidden by the wisteria vine, with no sign of Hazel Marie Puckett.

The sight of him slowed Little Lloyd’s steps and stopped mine. He was of a husky build, not tall, but solid as a wall. His hair, blacker than his eyebrows or the carefully shaved outline of a goatee and mustache, was slick with pomade or gel or some such. One lock curled on his forehead. He wore a suit, grayish green, a white shirt, and a tie that was splotched with green and maroon colors. And white socks, for the Lord’s sake. He wore a large gold watch turned to the inside of his right arm and a heavy gold ring on each middle finger. A soft leather Bible, with gilt-edged pages, was clasped to his chest. I pegged him for a preacher of some kind—well, the slick kind—before he opened his mouth. But far be it from me to be critical.

He stood up, a smile of welcome on his face, when we stepped up on the porch. Little Lloyd edged close to my side.

“Miz Springer,” the man said with great solemnity as he bowed in what I can only describe as a deferential way. “I’m here to offer my humble apologies for the disgraceful way my niece, Hazel Marie Puckett, has conducted herself and to convey the deep gratitude of all the Puckett family for your kind acts of Christian charity, praise God. All of us, myself not the least, will be forever in your debt for taking Junior in and caring for him like you done. I’m here to relieve you of that burden and to take Junior back into the fold of his loved ones, who have sorely missed him.”

Well, hallelujah, I thought, and couldn’t help but smile at my most unlikely looking savior.

“Forgive me, ma’am,” he went on before I could reply. “Let me introduce myself, though I would hope you’d already recognized me from the
Fanning the Flame
program, televised each and every Tuesday evening from nine till ten over WCHR, channel eight, coming with the power of God into thousands of Christian homes in Western North Carolina and the Upstate.” I shook my head and mumbled that I didn’t watch much television. He smiled like he recognized me as a potential viewer and contributor. “I’m the Reverend Vernon Puckett, known far and wide as Brother Vern, which I would be honored to have you call me.” He held out his hand, which I shook, noticing how sweaty it was. Still, it was a hot day.

“Have a seat, Mr. Puckett,” I said, “and tell us where this boy’s mother is.”

“Well, she’s down in Raleigh,” he said, sighing, lowering himself into the rocker, his thighs bulging like hams. I don’t generally notice such intimate details of a man, but polyester makes for a snug fit. He pulled out a large handkerchief to mop his face. “I declare, that girl has been a trial to all us Pucketts, and I’m sure I don’t have to tell you why, Miz Springer.” He glanced up at me with a penetrating look, letting me know that he knew all
about her connection to Wesley Lloyd. “Now, as you may not know, the Lord’s work takes me all over this state and into others as well. I been in the great state of California, lo these many months, and I tell you, Miz Springer, that place needs the Word of God as bad as anyplace I ever been. Wherever I get a call, I go, praise God, He keeps me busy. As it happens, I been called to hold revival services all next week at Bethany Crossroads Baptist, and that’s right outside Raleigh. It was the Lord’s doings, Miz Springer, ’cause we got a call from Hazel Marie not two days ago, asking if any of us was down that way could we bring Junior to her.” He turned his eyes, black as raisins, on Little Lloyd and said, “You want to see your mama, boy?”

“Yessir,” Little Lloyd answered. He stood beside me, his hand gripped to the arm of my chair. Excited and pleased, no doubt.

“Well, then,” Brother Vern said, slapping the floppy Bible on his knee, “go get what you come with and we’ll be on our way. I got to be down there by nightfall for an early morning telecast, praise God. Got to be up with the chickens!” He threw his head back and laughed, showing me large, artificial teeth. I didn’t much care for the man. Something about him was a little too smooth and practiced for my taste. But then he was a television personality, so I guess he had a bit of the actor in him. Most preachers do.

Little Lloyd hesitated beside my chair. I couldn’t understand the child. Here was an answer to both our prayers, a way to his mother for him and a way out of this mess for me.

“Go on, boy,” I said. “Put everything in that suitcase I gave you, your new clothes, too. I want you to have them. Your mama’s sent for you and I expect she can’t wait to see you.”

“Will you tell Deputy Bates ’bye for me?” he asked, cutting his eyes toward his uncle. Great-uncle, I guess.

“Of course,” I assured him. “He’ll probably want to come see you when you get back to town.”

He gave a quick smile and dashed into the house. I heard his feet pounding up the stairs. I sat back, thankful that this child from the wrong side of the blanket was being taken back to it. I turned my attention back to the man beside me in time to see a broad smile wipe out the frown he’d directed at the boy.

“Mr. Puckett—”

“Uh, uh, uh,” he admonished me, wagging his finger to and fro.

“Brother Vern, then,” I said. “I hope you give your niece a piece of my mind for me. I never heard of anybody dropping off a child on perfect strangers before. Especially in these circumstances, as you’ve indicated you know about.”

“Indeed I do,” he said. He leaned forward in that confidential way that all preachers seem to learn in seminary. I got a whiff of a dark, musky cologne, and noticed the gleam of a jeweled cross in the center of his tie. Zircons? Diamonds? Surely not. I leaned back out of the aroma field as he went on. “I don’t mind telling you that when I learned some years back of how my niece was living, I was shocked to my innermost soul. I prayed about that situation, I can’t tell you how many times I laid it before the Lord, and I talked to her and I pled with her, and all to no avail. And I prayed for you, too, Miz Springer, and I didn’t even know you.”

“Well, I declare,” I said, touched in spite of myself.

“Yes, that girl has caused us all untold heartache, but I know she loves that boy. And a mother’s love overcomes the worst of sins, praise God.”

“Maybe so, but what am I thinking? You and Little Lloyd can’t go off on that long drive without a thing to eat. It’ll take just a minute to put something on the table. And while I’m at it, I’ll see what’s keeping that child.” I got up to go to the kitchen, but he was on his feet faster.

“No need, ma’am, no need at all. I plan on stopping at the
Burger King out by the interstate. We’ll eat as we go, praise God for the conveniences provided for His people. I’m really pushed for time, and Hazel Marie is anxious for us to get there. I thank you for the offer, though, praise God.”

Little Lloyd came out on the porch then, with his suitcase in one hand and his blazer in the other. His glasses had slid down on his nose and he looked out over them in a dazed and addled way. The child must’ve been blind without those thick lenses. I’d intended to get him some better-fitting ones if he’d stayed much longer. But at least he was leaving with a good haircut.

“Well, Little Lloyd, we’ll miss you,” I said, sure the Lord would forgive me for the lie. But what else are good manners but lies? “Lillian’s going to be upset when she comes tomorrow. And Deputy Bates won’t know what to do with that tire swing back there. I hope you’ll come back to see us.” Well, lightning didn’t strike the first time.

“Yes’m,” he mumbled, ducking his head and looking ready to cry. Taking in his look of misery, I felt a sudden twinge of pity. Not that I cared about the boy, you understand, but it was just that I didn’t know how his mother could look after him. I did have a certain responsibility here, however little I’d wanted the care of him.

“You know, Mr. Puckett, I’m a good mind to keep the boy till I hear directly from his mother. Not that you wouldn’t look after him,” I added at the sharp glance he gave me. “But you have your hands full already, what with your television shows and revival services, and what if you miss connections with his mother? You can’t be dragging a child all over the countryside, keeping him up late, feeding him fast-food hamburgers and I don’t know what all. Yes, I think the boy should stay here.”

I glanced from one to the other, saw Little Lloyd’s indecision and Brother Vern’s startled look.

“Oh, no, that won’t do.” Brother Vern raised his hand like he was stopping traffic. “Beg your pardon, Miz Springer. I didn’t mean to speak so sharply. But, you see, I’m under commission to get that boy to his mother. I promised her and, well…” He stopped, shook his head, and narrowed his eyes. “I’ll tell you the truth, Miz Springer, you don’t want to cross that woman. There’s no telling what she’d do and, believe me, you don’t want to find out.”

“Well, if you put it that way,” I said, images of my ransacked house flitting through my mind. But it couldn’t have been the Puckett woman. She was in Raleigh, wasn’t she? “I declare, I don’t know what to do. What do you think, Little Lloyd?”

“He wants to be with his mother,” Brother Vern pronounced. “Don’t you, boy?”

“Yessir, I—”

“Thank the nice lady, then, and let’s get on the road.” Brother Vern pushed himself up from the rocker, a gleam of sweat on his face, and buttoned his suit coat. Double-breasted, too, which was not the best choice for a man of his girth. He tucked his Bible under his arm and walked toward the steps. He was ready to go.

“You sure you have everything?” I asked the boy. “Coloring book and crayons? A book to read on the trip?”

“Yes’m, I’ve got everything.” He lifted his head and stared at me hard, frowning as he looked me straight in the eye like Wesley Lloyd used to do. Not at all like the retiring child who’d been moping around my house for days.

“Well, what about—?”

“I got everything in my suitcase,” he said, his eyebrows wiggling as he frowned and squinched his eyes and carried on until I thought something was wrong with him. Then he surprised
and shamed me by saying, “Thank you for letting me stay. I’m sorry for all the trouble.”

“Why,” I stammered, “no trouble. It was nice having you around.” And while I waited for lightning to surely strike that time, I realized I’d spoken with a smidgen of truth.

Brother Vernon Puckett picked up the suitcase and, with a firm hand on Little Lloyd’s back, guided him down the steps and out to the car. I stood watching them, waiting for the relief of a burden being lifted and not feeling it. The car started with a roar and black smoke billowed out the tailpipe.

“My Lord!” I exclaimed, stunned at my density.
Somebody
had been driving this very same car when the Puckett woman had hopped into the passenger seat hardly a week before. Who’d been driving then? How had Brother Vern ended up with it?

“Wait!” I cried, running down the steps and waving at them. The car roared off, Little Lloyd’s face looking back at me through the side window. They turned right on Lincoln and were lost to sight, black smoke drifting down around my boxwoods.

Before I could turn back to the house, a deep, growling rumble reverberated in my head and filled the empty street. I looked around, unable to tell where it was coming from. Then I saw a black pickup, hiked high on monster tires, edging around the far corner of the block and rolling toward me. My Lord, I thought, my heart pounding like sixty, that’s the very truck, or its twin, that followed me the other night. The very same yellow lights across the top, the same tires, the same black windows. As it passed within ten feet of me, I saw an orange lightning flash painted on the door. I watched it pass, too unnerved to move, as it went slow enough and loud enough to deafen me. I watched it turn right on Lincoln, and heard the sound of that awful motor fade away like thunder in the distance.

I hurried back to the porch and hid myself in the wicker
rocker behind the wisteria, shaken by the coincidence. If that’s what it was. I sat there staring off at the empty street, worrying about Little Lloyd, wondering if the truck was after him and not me at all.

A wisp of black exhaust curled along the steps, and I felt more lost and lonesome than I had even during the time of my recent bereavement.

L
ATER IN THE
day I tried to read the newspaper, even the “Over 50” section that was supposed to appeal to people like me but didn’t, trying to fill the long Sunday afternoon that stretched out before me. The air was still and hot, the house quiet and so lonely that I wondered what I’d do with myself from then on. My throat felt closed and tight, and it got worse whenever that child came to mind, which was more often than I wanted to admit. Where was he, what was he doing, and why did I care?

Well, I didn’t, I reminded myself. He was no longer my problem, if he ever had been. I folded the papers and then my hands, and looked around the empty room. Maybe I’d replace the velvet draperies with something lighter, maybe re-cover the furniture. Maybe a decorating project would take my mind off my recent troubles. Maybe it wouldn’t.

I was glad to hear a knock on the front door around four o’clock, and even gladder to see Sam standing there.

“Come in, Sam,” I said, opening the screen door for him. “I know you’ll rejoice with me that my problems have all been solved.”

“How’d you manage that, Julia?” He settled himself in one of the Victorian chairs by the fireplace. His familiar bulk seemed
to fill the room and the lonely afternoon. I noticed how his hair had lightened, and how blue his eyes seemed in contrast.

I took his hat and placed it on the marble-topped chest, then took a seat on the sofa. “His uncle, or rather his mother’s uncle, was waiting for us after church. He’d heard from Hazel Marie and she wanted him to bring Little Lloyd to her down in Raleigh. I guess she found a place where she could have him with her. They left about twelve-thirty, quarter to one, something like that. They’re well on their way by now.”

I looked at my watch, wondering where on I-40 East that child would be. I hadn’t been able to get his face, staring at me from the car window as they left, out of my mind. Nor that business with his eyebrows before they left.

“That does solve your problem, then,” Sam said. He paused, studying my face then; in that mind-reading way of his, he went on. “So where’s all that rejoicing you mentioned?”

“Well, the thing is,” I said and stopped to finger a button on my dress, “I began to have second thoughts about letting him go, and Little Lloyd didn’t seem all that thrilled about it, either. I didn’t really notice it at the time, because I was so thrilled to have him go. I mean, he wanted to see his mother, I know that. But there was just something about the way he acted, now that I’ve had time to think about it, that makes me wonder about the whole thing.

“And, I might as well admit it, I didn’t have my wits about me enough to question Brother Vern. That car, for one thing.”

“Why don’t you start over,” Sam said, “and tell me from the beginning. Who’s Brother Vern, and what’s worrying you about the car?”

So I told him, and the more details I laid out, the more I realized how wrong I’d been to let the child go off with somebody I didn’t know from Adam.

“But the boy knew him, didn’t he?” Sam asked.

“Yes, he did. He just didn’t seem to like him very much, but I could be wrong. What I should’ve done, Sam,” I said, standing up and pacing the floor, “was to’ve found out where the Puckett woman is. Then I could call her and make sure the boy gets there all right. That’s what I
should’ve
done. Now there’s no way to know where he is or where she is. Or where Brother Vern is, for that matter. I should’ve stuck to my guns. Instead, all I could think of was getting Wesley Lloyd’s child out of my house and out of my life. Totally self-centered, that’s what I’ve been.”

“You’re too hard on yourself, Julia. You were willing to look after the boy—”

“Yes, but I didn’t
want
to. That’s the difference between the letter of the law and the spirit of it. It’s the attitude of the heart that counts, Sam, and you know it as well as I do. And,” I said, taking a deep breath, “I better tell you about that deformed truck, too.”

When I finished, Sam was so agitated, he stood up and put his hands on my shoulders, bringing me to a stop. “Julia, why in the world were you driving around the countryside by yourself after dark?”

“Because I wanted to,” I snapped. “Sam Murdoch, Wesley Lloyd treated me like a ten-year-old all my life, and I’m not going to be treated that way by you or anybody else again.”

He dropped his hands. “You’re right and I apologize. I’m just worried about you, Julia. Will you allow me that?”

I pretended to think about it, then nodded and said, “Yes, you can worry, but give me credit for having some sense.”

Wesley Lloyd would’ve told me to act like I had some, but Sam smiled and said, “I give you more credit than you know, Julia.”

Not knowing how to respond to that, I changed the subject. “What should we do about that child?”

“First thing, now that you don’t have to worry about social
services taking him from you, let’s ask Deputy Bates to contact the Raleigh police to locate the Puckett woman. They can confirm that the boy’s there and being cared for. Nothing will come back on you except a little reassurance.”

“Good, let’s do that. Deputy Bates worked late this morning, but he ought to be up any time now. In fact, let’s go out to the kitchen and I’ll put on a pot of coffee for him. He’ll need something to eat, too. Would you like some eggs for your supper?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” he said, following me down the hall. “But, Julia, I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Anybody can scramble eggs, for the Lord’s sake,” I said, though if the truth be known, I wasn’t much of a hand for any kind of cooking. And didn’t care to learn.

I HAD ANOTHER
restless night, in spite of Sam’s suggestion and Deputy Bates’s willingness to make an official inquiry into Hazel Marie Puckett’s whereabouts. The sheriff would be interested, too, he’d told us, since she was wanted for questioning about the blood on her garage floor and walls. Deputy Bates hadn’t been too happy to learn that Little Lloyd was gone. I’d seen disappointment and concern written all over his face, and his response had rankled me.

“I’m going to miss that boy,” he said.

I took that as criticism and snapped back, “Well, I won’t. How do you think I felt, having that illegitimate child underfoot every day, all day long?”

My eyes welled up, and Sam said, “Now, Julia.”

That wasn’t much help, because I had been remiss in letting that child go off. They knew it and I knew it, but what could I have done when his own kin showed up to claim him? A lot of things, as it turned out. I could’ve wakened Deputy Bates, for one. I could’ve questioned Brother Vern, for another. I could’ve asked, even demanded, that he give me her address. I could’ve
gone upstairs with Little Lloyd and made sure, out of his great-uncle’s hearing, that he wanted to go with him.

Oh, there were a lot of things I could’ve done and should’ve done, and now I had to live with it all. I got up sometime in the middle of the night and walked across the hall to Little Lloyd’s room. The empty bed made me realize how empty my house was, and maybe my life, as well.

I was just a selfish old woman with nothing but a few million dollars to her name. No husband, no children, nothing to look forward to but more of the same. Even the thought of writing checks and buying things couldn’t lift my spirits.

I cried. Sitting there in Little Lloyd’s room, not a light on in the house, an old, slightly blue-haired woman who’d thought of nothing but herself all her life. Yes, I cried.

But not because I missed the boy, not at all. He’d been nothing but a reminder of Wesley Lloyd and, I hate to say this, I wasn’t missing
him
. It was because I was worried about the child and because I’d been lax in looking after him. If I could be assured that he was safe with his mother, I could put the whole week behind me and get on with my life. I might even plan a tea and invite all the women of the church. Wesley Lloyd hadn’t been gone a year yet, but there was no reason I couldn’t entertain if I wanted to. It’d show everybody that I could still hold my head up. So I went back to bed and filled my mind with cucumber sandwiches and layered cream cheese sandwiches, and cheese straws and petit fours and flower arrangements and linen napkins, planning the most elaborate tea anybody’d had since Lula Mae Harding had her last one before she passed and the ladies’ Sunday school class named itself after her.

S
AM ARRIVED THAT
Monday morning about the same time Lillian did, one at the front door and the other at the back. We all
ended up in the kitchen, drinking coffee and eating the toast Lillian had fixed. She wouldn’t sit at the table with us because she’d once told me that it wasn’t right for her to visit with my company. I didn’t care, especially since Sam wasn’t real company, but she busied herself around the stove, getting a big breakfast ready for Deputy Bates when he got off duty. She listened to us, though, and made her opinions known by the expressions on her face. She hadn’t liked it one little bit that I’d let Little Lloyd go off with “somebody callin’ hisself his uncle.”

“What you do that for, Miss Julia?” she’d asked. “That baby need lookin’ after, not let go off with ever’ Tom Dick that come by.”

I said, “It was his mother’s uncle, not any Tom, Dick, or Harry. So don’t blame me for his own mother’s neglect and carelessness.”

“That be a pitiful excuse,” she’d told me.

Sam stirred his coffee, then reached over and put his hand on mine. “I went by this morning and talked to Sheriff Frady. Just laid it all out for him. I don’t have to tell you he was mighty interested in the relationship between you and the boy. Then he called in this lieutenant and I had to tell it again. That lieutenant is sharp. He put it right together with the blood Coleman found at the boy’s house.”

“I’d have thought Deputy Bates would’ve already reported it all,” I said, surprised at where Deputy Bates’s loyalty seemed to be placed.

“No, apparently Coleman just explained that the boy was staying with you and that the three of you had driven out to check on the house. He let them assume that the Puckett woman knew you and that you had agreed to look after the boy. He was trying to keep social services out of it.”

“I hope he won’t get in trouble over it.”

“I doubt it. He could only tell what he knew for a fact, and that’s what he did. Still, he respected your wishes to keep the boy out of a foster home. But, Julia, you’re going to have to talk to them yourself. That lieutenant, what’s his name, Peavey, he wants to know what you know and what you suspect about the whole situation. He’s treating the Puckett woman as a missing person and, after hearing what I had to say, is about ready to treat the boy as one, too.”

“But he’s with his uncle!” I protested. “Great-uncle, I mean. I know, I know. Lillian, quit looking at me that way. I know I shouldn’t have let him go off, but what was I supposed to do?” I wanted to cry again. Instead, I refilled our cups. It was all so unfair. I hadn’t asked to be betrayed by my own husband, and I hadn’t asked to have his bastard dumped on my doorstep, and the Lord knows, I hadn’t asked to be blamed for it all, either.

“Nobody’s blaming you, Julia,” Sam said, reading my mind again. “Tell you what. Why don’t you go fishing with me tomorrow?”

Lillian started laughing, and I glared at her. “Yes, and I can see me going fishing with you, Sam Murdoch. First off, I’ve never fished in my life and, second off, if this town didn’t already have enough to talk about, that would do it.”

“It’d be good for you, Julia, and who cares if the town talks? The men would just wish they were in my shoes, and the women would be jealous of you for landing the handsomest man in town.”

Lillian laughed out loud. “Don’t sound like no fishing I ever heard of.”

“You two,” I said, feeling my face redden. “I’ve got enough worries without adding you to them, Sam Murdoch.”

“Ah, Julia,” Sam said, cocking his head to the side and lowering his voice. “I don’t want to be a worry to you. I want to
help you, if you’ll let me. Getting away for a few hours out on a lake would make all the difference in the world. You’d like it, I promise.”

“No, and that’s that,” I said, refusing to look at him. “You can fritter your time away if you want to, but I have things to do.”

“You better listen to him, Miss Julia,” Lillian said. “Not too many men knocking on yo’ door that I been noticin’. ’Specially not one like Mr. Sam.”

“You tell her, Lillian,” Sam said, smiling now. “Tell her she’s letting the best man she’ll ever know slip through her fingers.”

“That’s about right,” Lillian agreed, with a long look of warning at me.

“The subject is closed,” I said, tired of being teased. I was in no mood for it.

I heard Deputy Bates’s car pull in and was glad to see him come in the back door. He looked tired, but maybe he’d turn the conversation to something more sensible. Lillian and Sam took on over him, Sam pulling out a chair for him and Lillian hurrying over with coffee.

“I’m fixin’ you two eggs over light, sausage, and grits. That all right with you?” she asked him.

“Sounds great,” he said, twisting around to turn off his walkie-talkie that was giving out bursts of static and a jumble of words from somebody with a real bad cold. “What a night,” he went on. “I’m glad to have it over with.”