by Ann B. Ross
On the way, Lillian dug into the plastic bag and handed me two graham crackers sandwiched with peanut butter. “It won’t hurt you none to eat this while you drivin’. Jus’ keep yo’ eyes on the road while you doin’ it.”
A short way on the outskirts of Abbotsville, I impulsively turned onto a side road that led us to a long, sloping, grass-covered hill lined with hemlocks and dotted with a few leafless oak trees. A tarred track curved away from the two stone pillars that indicated the entrance to Good Shepherd Memorial Park.
As we passed between the pillars, the tombstone-studded hill spread out before us. Lillian sat up. “What we doin’ here? I thought we lookin’ for Miss Hazel Marie.”
“We are, and I know she’s not here, so don’t say a word. I’m just seeing if everything is as it should be.” I swung the car onto the lane that bisected the cemetery, following it to the top of the hill where the Springer family plot was outlined by a dry stone wall. One tall moss-covered tombstone marked the resting place of Wesley Lloyd’s father, a lesser one, his mother.
I slowed the car and peered through the window. “Look at that, Lillian. Why in the world did I let them put that double tombstone over Mr. Springer?” I pointed to the wide granite marker that had SPRINGER engraved across the top. An engraved line down the middle divided the stone into two halves. One half was etched with Wesley Lloyd’s name and dates, along with the words WELL DONE, GOOD AND FAITHFUL SERVANT.
“Lord, Lillian, I’d forgotten about that. Mr. Springer arranged for it long before he passed, and I was in such a state at the time that I told them to go ahead and put it up. And just look at it.”
My own name and birth date balanced Wesley Lloyd’s on the other half of the tombstone, and beneath the blank space for the date of my passing were the words LOVING WIFE.
“The arrogance of the man!” I fumed. “That thing has got to go. There’s not a way in the world I’m going to be buried beside anybody but Sam.”
“I still don’t know what we doin’ here,” Lillian said. “We didn’t bring no flowers or nothin’.”
“Flowers don’t last long, especially in this weather,” I mumbled, still eyeing the site while my mind was on the logistics of getting an earthmover in there without destroying a fifty-year-old wall. Not that I particularly cared, because whether we exhumed Wesley Lloyd or not, and even if it tore up the entire burial plot, I was going to get that double marker removed. After we got through with Wesley Lloyd, he could just lie there under a single gravestone, alone forever. I’d show him a “loving wife.”
Wanting out of the place, I sped up, but Lillian was still mumbling at my lack of respect for the dead. “Lots of people put plastic flowers on they graves.”
“Lord, Lillian,” I said, turning to look at her. “Mr. Springer would come flying out of there if I did that.” Besides, I was more interested in what was in his grave, namely the same DNA as Little Lloyd’s, not what was on top of it. “We better go.”
“Yessum, an’ I don’t know why we up here in the first place. You don’t never tend to his grave nohow.”
“Lillian,” I said, somewhat exasperated, as I took a side lane that would lead us back to the main road. “His grave is well tended because I pay a tidy sum every year for what they call perpetual care. Although how long perpetual would last if I missed a payment, I don’t know. But I’m not about to come out here and pull weeds every time it rains.”
“We s’posed to look after the dead,” she said under her breath.
“Well, I’m more concerned about the living. Now let’s get on to Miss Wiggins’s place.”
“Wasn’t me wantin’ to stop at no graveyard.”
I let her have the last word, because she didn’t know the interest I now had in getting in and out of a particular grave site. Trying to make up the time, I sped along the highway toward Delmont. But wouldn’t you know, we caught the only red light. I cleared my throat of lingering peanut butter and tapped my hand on the wheel, waiting for the light to change.
Before long, we were through the town and out on the road again, watching for the left turn onto Springer Road.
“I haven’t been out here in I don’t know when,” I said, as I made the turn. A horn from an oncoming pickup blasted us and the driver shook his fist. “People can be so uncivil when they’re behind the wheel. He could see I had my blinker on. Let’s see, Lillian, the trailer park’s on your side, so watch for it. We ought to be fairly close.”
We went over a slight rise in the tarred road and saw the trailer park on our right. A dozen or so trailers, looking bleak and forlorn under the gray sky, lined the narrow gravel drive. As I made the turn, I took note of the neatness of the place, a far cry from the way it had looked when I first learned that it was part of Wesley Lloyd’s estate. Even though I had little use for Miss Wiggins, I congratulated myself for elevating her to the managerial level. With her bossy ways, she was making the tenants toe the line and pick up their trash.
“Watch out!” Lillian yelled, grabbing the dashboard with both hands.
I slammed on the brakes and gasped for air as the seat belts jerked us upright. “Lord!” I yelled back as the car skidded on the gravel, ending up nose to nose with another car on the way out. Gravel spewed up around both cars, and I could hear my heart pounding away at the close call.
“Look, Miss Julia!” Lillian yelled again. “It’s her!”
“What? Oh, my goodness, it is!” I opened my door and started out of the car, almost strangling myself on the seat belt. Fumbling to unsnap it, I said, “Watch her, Lillian. Don’t let her leave.”
But Hazel Marie wasn’t going anywhere. By the time I got around to her door and looked through the window, her head was resting on the steering wheel.
Lillian, who’d followed me, peered over my shoulder, looking in at Hazel Marie. “Lord Jesus, she ain’t hurt, is she?”
The door was locked, so I knocked on the window. “Hazel Marie! Are you all right?”
She looked up at us, her eyes red-rimmed and teary. Then she slowly opened the door and stepped out. Lillian pushed me aside and wrapped Hazel Marie in her arms.
“Law, Miss Hazel Marie, we been worriet sick. Where you been? Why you not come home where you s’posed to be?”
Hazel Marie stared at me over Lillian’s shoulder. Her eyes seemed to be filled with fearful questions. Did I know? Did I suspect? Did I want anything more to do with her?
We looked at each other for several seconds while my mind went a mile a minute. As Sam had pointed out, everything Brother Vern had said had been couched in such ornate and oratorical flourishes that only those in the know would’ve caught his meaning.
And I was in the know. But, for Hazel Marie’s sake, I didn’t have to be.
“Hazel Marie,” I said, reaching out to pat her arm, “don’t you worry about that uncle of yours any more. Both Sam and Mr. Pickens are after him with a stick. He is not going to be around to embarrass you in front of Emma Sue or anybody else. You don’t have to run off and hide your head. Everybody has relatives they’d rather not have, so you just hold your head high. He may shame you with words, but he can’t touch you any other way.”
She stared at me for a while longer, then gradually a look of gratitude filled her eyes with more tears. “Oh, Miss Julia,” she said, moving away from Lillian and flinging herself at me. “I was so afraid . . . I thought you’d, you know, believe all that stuff he said.”
“There, there,” I mumbled, patting her back, somewhat unnerved to have her clinging to me. “Who could understand him? I know I couldn’t, nor any other preacher when they get on their high horses.”
She stepped back then, wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater, and sniffed loudly. She tried to laugh, but made a poor showing of it. “I’m about to freeze,” she said. “I left so fast yesterday that I forgot to get a coat.”
“Well, let’s go home,” I said, noticing now how the wind was whipping up under the low clouds. “We’ve all been quite besi
de ourselves with concern for you.”
Hazel Marie straightened her shoulders, sniffed one more time, and said, “Not yet. I have to do something first. Etta Mae helped me see that I have to face him down. We talked all night, and now she’s about half sick and had to go to the doctor. But I’m not waiting for her. I’m going to nail that man’s sorry hide to the wall all by myself.”
“No, you’re not,” I said. “I’m going with you, but let’s go home first. I’ll pull over, and you lead the way.”
“I think I jus’ miss something,” Lillian said, looking from one to the other of us. “Whose hide we gonna be nailin’?”
Hazel Marie’s eyes took on a hard glint, and between clenched teeth, she said, “Lonnie, that lyin’ hypocrite, Whitmire’s.”
Chapter 40
As I followed Hazel Marie’s car on our way home, I thought of all the backflips I’d done to keep her from knowing about Lonnie Whitmire. Somewhere along the line she must’ve recalled more than a familiar face. I hated to think what that might be, but I wasn’t about to let her get away from me again.
Pulling into the driveway behind Hazel Marie’s car, I took up as much room as I could to prevent her from flying out of there again. Lillian had ridden back with her—another device to keep our wayward girl in line.
As we got into the house, Hazel Marie said, “I need to take a quick shower and change my clothes. I’ve been in these since yesterday. Then I’m going after Lonnie.” She started toward the stairs, then whirled around. “What time is it?”
“A little before one,” I told her. “Hazel Marie, do you know where this Lonnie Whitmire is?”
“Etta Mae told me. I want to get this done before Lloyd gets home.” And out of the room and up the stairs she went.
Lillian turned to me, leaned close, and whispered, “Who that man she goin’ after?”
“Somebody she used to know.” I whispered back, realizing that I’d not kept Lillian up to date. “He’s hooked up with Brother Vern and is just a tool in his hands.”
“Law, look like he want to be more’n that.” Then, with a sudden frown, she asked. “You say tool or fool?”
“Both. It’s like this, Lillian. Brother Vern’s using him to hold Hazel Marie’s past over her head, only she’s had enough of it, and so have I. Except I’m not supposed to know what’s going on, so don’t say anything.”
“No’m, but you be better off, you don’t keep it all to yo’self. You want somethin’ to eat now?”
“Lord, Lillian, I can’t eat anything at a time like this. I’ve got to be ready to go when she is.” Hearing the shower running above us, I said, “Maybe a quick sandwich.”
Then recalling the answering machine, I hurried over to it. The light was blinking, so I waved for Lillian to come over.
“Look, Lillian, we have a call. Make sure I’m doing this right so we don’t lose it.” I gingerly pushed the Play button and waited while the thing rewound itself. “I hope it’s Sam saying he’s on his way home.”
“Maybe it Mr. Pickens.”
Either one would’ve done, but it was Pastor Ledbetter. “Miss Julia?” His deep voice came over the machine with such authority that I almost picked up the receiver. “I’d like to come over this afternoon and get this matter settled. I’m sure with a little praying and counseling, you’ll see that for the peace and order of the church, you’ll want your name omitted from the election slate. I thought I’d hear from you before this, but . . . Well, I’ll see you later today and we’ll talk.”
“Oh, for goodness sake,” I said. “I don’t have time to worry with him. See, Lillian, that’s the problem with these machines. People can reach you even when you’re not here, and that means you can’t get out of anything.”
“Well, maybe you be gone with Miss Hazel Marie when he come, an’ you get out of it that way.”
“Call him back, Lillian, and tell him today is not convenient. Do it after we leave.”
She started shaking her head, as she headed for the counter to make sandwiches. “No, ma’am. Uh-uh. Not my place to be callin’ yo’ pastor an’ gettin’ you outta talkin’ to him. That’s yo’ business, not mine.”
“Well, they Lord, Lillian. If I call him, he’ll keep me on the phone for an hour. By the time he gets through, he won’t need to come over. Well, . . .” I threw up my hands, “he’ll just have to take his chances. Now Lillian, tell me what Hazel Marie said in the car. Did she say anything about what happened yesterday, what upset her so bad and all that? I mean, I know Brother Vern is enough to upset anybody, but was it anything in particular?”
“No’m, she don’t say much. She jus’ hunker down over the wheel an’ drive like nobody’s business.”
“Yes, I noticed. I could hardly keep up with her. But surely she said something. You know, why she was gone all night and what she’s planning to do now.”
“No’m, she jus’ ast me to watch out for Little Lloyd, case she don’t get back ’fore he come home. An’ I had to say I would, but I sho’ hate to stay here while y’all out nailin’ that man’s hide to the wall.” She put a plate of sandwiches on the table. “You want milk or tea?”
“Coffee. Lillian, I declare, you should’ve asked her. Started her talking, so we’d know something.”
“It not up to me to be doin’ such as that. ’Sides, you the one wants to know, so you ast her.”
I rolled my eyes as I bit into a ham and cheese sandwich. “All right then,” I said. “I will. But don’t blame me if we end up at that Whitmire man’s house with Hazel Marie running wild and me not knowing how to handle it.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t,” she said, in such a complacent manner that I almost choked on the sandwich.
Hearing Hazel Marie clomping down the stairs, I hurriedly finished my lunch and jumped up from the table. She bounded into the kitchen dressed in fresh jeans, another heavy sweater, and ankle boots. Her hair was combed and her makeup freshly applied. She jabbed her arms into the sleeves of a three-quarter-length coat, which she had assured me was the “coat of the season” this year, and she was ready for action.
“If I don’t get back in time,” she said, hurrying past the table on her way to the door, “tell Lloyd I’ll see him.”
“Just one minute, young lady.” I grabbed my coat and pocketbook. “You’re not leaving without me.”
“An’ you need to eat somethin’,” Lillian put in.
“Etta Mae fixed a big breakfast,” she said, scooping up my keys from the table. “I’ll take your car, Miss Julia, if you don’t mind. You didn’t leave me enough room to get out.”
“Lillian,” I said, struggling to get into my coat, “when Sam and Mr. Pickens get here, . . . Hazel Marie, wait!”
She was out of the house, hell-bent for my car, and I had to run to catch up. She stood by the open door of the car, her hair whipping in the wind, and watched as I caught up with her.
“You don’t want to be a part of this,” she said. “It’s something I need to do myself. I’m going to have it out with him, and it’s likely to get pretty nasty.”
“What? I can’t get nasty, too? I’m going, Hazel Marie, so resign yourself. I’m not about to let you face that man without me.” I stood on the other side of the open door, holding onto it so she couldn’t get in and lock it.
She stared at me, her eyes watering in the cold. Or maybe just watering. “I don’t think you know what this is about, Miss Julia, and I don’t think you want to know. Lonnie Whitmire is somebody I knew years ago. I didn’t recognize him yesterday in church, because he’s really changed. He used to have a little wispy beard on his chin.”
“Well, he still has wisps, only not on his chin. But, Hazel Marie, I don’t care who you used to know. If he’s bothering you now, let me help you put him in his place. Or we can sic Coleman on him.”
She finally broke her gaze and looked down, leaning her head on the cold metal of the door. “It’s more than that, Miss Julia. He’s hooked up with that uncle of mine, wh
o’d do anything in the world to put me down in your eyes.” She sniffed, then rubbed her nose. “When I realized who he was, I knew there was no telling what they’d be saying about me.”
“Lord goodness, Hazel Marie. You think I’d believe a word out of the mouth of either one of them?” I caught my own mouth with my teeth, thinking frantically. She didn’t know about Brother Vern’s visitations to Sam and me. She didn’t know that he’d brought Lonnie Whitmire, looking for all the world like Wesley Lloyd Springer, right to our very door. She didn’t know that Sam and I knew that Brother Vern had thrown Little Lloyd’s paternity up for grabs. As far as she knew I was completely in the dark, and I intended to let her keep on thinking that way.
It didn’t bother me a bit to pretend ignorance. In fact, I didn’t turn a hair as I lied through my teeth. “I don’t know what you think Brother Vern said yesterday to make you run off that way. All I heard was the same old ranting and raving he’s always done. For my money, it was nothing new, even if he did drag Deacon Lonnie to our church. So you knew him. So you even dated him a while, if you did. That’s nothing that should bother you now. Lord,” I went on, “I’d hate to have some of my old suitors show up in church. Considering what some of them were like, I’d be embarrassed to death, just like you were.”
She turned her head but didn’t lift it, just cut her eyes up at me, like she wanted to be sure I meant what I was saying. “But what if maybe they were saying ugly things about you,” she whispered. “And you couldn’t prove they weren’t true? What about if that happened?”
“There’s always a way to prove the truth, if it even needs proving. And I have the means to find it.” I didn’t mention that it might involve hiring a backhoe or a front-end loader. “Now,” I went on, as I started around the car, “let’s go find Lonnie Whitmire and stop whatever he’s been cooking up with Brother Vern.”
She slid into the car while I got in the other side. She sat there for a few minutes, mostly staring out of the windshield, but darting an occasional sideways glance at me. “I wish you wouldn’t, Miss Julia. Go with me, I mean. He could say some awful things about me. He’s done it before.” She clasped the top of the steering wheel with both hands, then leaned her head against them, hiding her face. “I don’t want you to hear what he’s going to say. You won’t think much of me after that.”