Miss Julia Weathers the Storm

by Ann B. Ross

  Hearing Hazel Marie and Binkie come in downstairs, we hurried back down to see them. Everybody got hugged as if we hadn’t seen each other in months while the men started bringing in groceries. Both Binkie and Hazel Marie raved over the house, thanking Sam profusely for his generosity.

  Binkie said, “It’s a thousand times better than a motel room with Gracie sleeping in the middle of the bed.”

  “Or,” Coleman added, referring to their usual camping trips, “a pup tent with no room to turn over in.”

  Mr. Pickens had begun emptying grocery bags, setting out boxes, cans, and packages on the counter. He looked into one bag, then, holding it open, he sidled up to me. “Found your favorite here, Miss Julia. Wanta see?”

  I glanced inside the bag to see a good many suspicious-looking cans. “Mr. Pickens,” I said softly because I don’t believe in publicly chiding anyone, “restraint is good for the soul. Don’t drink that stuff in front of the children.”

  Those black eyes of his practically danced in his head. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m saving half of it for you.”

  Chapter 13

  I woke the next morning to the blare of cartoons on the television, the scream of “Mine!” from a child, the clatter of a spill of Legos, Hazel Marie announcing that breakfast was ready, and Binkie saying, “Let’s all be real quiet so people can sleep.” Too late for that.

  I turned to see Sam awake, staring at the ceiling. So I said, “This is what we wanted, isn’t it?” We smiled at each other, agreeing that indeed it was.

  At the rumble of male voices in the center room, I stirred and said, “I should get up and help with breakfast.”

  “Oh, let’s take our time and let the kitchen clear out.” And that’s what we did, emerging some while later to find Coleman filling the dishwasher. He’d already cleared the table and the island, working as efficiently as if he did it every day, which he probably did.

  I had put on one of the outfits that Hazel Marie had chosen for me—a loose top and what she’d called capris that bared my legs from below my knees to my purple-tipped toes. Highly self-conscious from being so unusually clad, the worst was being without stockings. The stark nakedness of my bare, white shins and feet seemed to glow, and, for the first time, I could see the benefit of basking in the sun. If I could find a way to put the rest of myself in the shade, I determined to let the sun have its way with my lower limbs. Perhaps then they would at least look clothed.

  The whole crew gradually collected in the living room, some carrying beach towels, some with sun hats, others with buckets and shovels for the children, some with bottles of suntan lotion, Coleman with a Styrofoam container filled with snacks and drinks, and every last one of them in various stages of dress. Or rather, undress. I declare, bare male chests seemed much larger than they did when shirt covered. I tried not to look—staring is so rude—at all the uncovered skin, male and female alike. Binkie and Hazel Marie were showing uncommonly wide expanses of it.

  Sam, I have to say, held up well when compared to the younger men. Not that I was comparing, but when three half-naked men are right in front of one’s eyes, well, one can hardly help but size them up.

  The children, also clad in the briefest of clothing, could hardly contain themselves, so eager were they to get to the beach. Mr. Pickens snatched up the twins, their little ruffle-clad bottoms tucked under his arms. Yelling up two flights of stairs, he called, “Lloyd! Come on, bud! I’m surrounded by women down here.”

  “I think we’ve got everything,” Hazel Marie said, calmly looking around. “Miss Julia, are you and Mr. Sam coming?”

  We were still sitting on stools at the island finishing our second cups of coffee. “I’ll walk down in a little while,” I said. “I want to check on LuAnne first.”

  “Coleman?” Sam said, getting his attention. “There’s supposed to be a couple of large unbrellas downstairs if you want them.”

  “Oh, we do,” Binkie said. “They’ll be shade for the children. I don’t want anybody getting sunburned on the first day.”

  Latisha had been noticeably quiet, although she’d been milling around with the children as they waited for their minders to unlatch the screen door. Somebody had given her a bright blue bucket which she was holding close as she glanced several times out toward the ocean—with, I thought, anticipation but perhaps with a little apprehension, as well.

  “Latisha,” I said, motioning for her to walk over to me. “Are you looking forward to going in the ocean, honey? It’ll be a lot of fun.”

  “No, ma’am, not for me it won’t,” she said as seriously as I’d ever seen her. “They’s things in that ocean that I don’t wanta see. I might wade a little bit, but Miss Hazel Marie told me that that ole beach is just covered with shells, so I’m gonna get me some. She wants some, too, so we might look for ’em together.”

  “What a good idea! When I come down, I’ll help, too. We can walk down the beach picking up shells and putting them in your bucket. Then when we come back to the house, we’ll call your great-granny and see how she’s doing.”

  “Okay, ’cause I could use some help. I’m plannin’ to take me home a whole bunch of shells so Great-Granny can have some souvenirs of my beach trip.”

  Mr. Pickens looked around and began counting heads. “Okay, everybody, let’s go. Stay together now.”

  And off they went with Lloyd bringing up the rear. He’d raced down the stairs at the last minute, waved at Sam and me, and headed out.

  “Oh, Sam,” I said as we watched them walk in a line over the dunes, Coleman and Mr. Pickens carrying the little ones, “I wonder if Lillian’s surgery is over. I’ve a good mind to call her. You think she’ll be home?”

  Sam looked at his watch. “She’s probably still in Day Surgery. I’d wait till after lunch. She’ll be home by then.”

  I nodded, feeling that I should’ve been with her, but now that our multifamily vacation seemed to have gotten off to such a good start, I was also glad to be where I was. Everybody was in a happy, expectant mood, patient with the children, helpful with each other, and glad to be there. Then I remembered LuAnne.

  Sliding off the stool, I said, “Let’s go to the beach, Sam. I want to go before the sun gets too high.”

  “You want to see if LuAnne wants to go?”

  I shook my head. “No, if she can sleep with all the noise we’ve made this morning, she probably needs it. Besides, I don’t want to hover. I told her before we left home that everybody was on their own, doing whatever they want to do.”

  “Let’s go then. Don’t forget your sunglasses—you’ll need ’em.”

  —

  I must say that the beach was glorious, its white sand stretching from north to south as far as the eye could see, the waves breaking in a rush of whitecaps close to the shore, suntanned bodies dotted here and there, and the breeze playing havoc with my hair.

  We found Hazel Marie and the little ones clustered under the open umbrellas, while Binkie and Coleman were out beyond the breakers. I saw two more familiar heads bobbing up and down with the waves—Mr. Pickens and Lloyd. Latisha was crouched down a safe distance from the encroaching waves, searching, I supposed, for shells.

  “I’m going in with J.D. when they get back,” Hazel Marie said. She brushed sand off Julie’s back, then stuck a tiny shovel in her hand, saying, “See what you can dig up.”

  While Sam headed out into the ocean, I sat down in the shade and looked toward the sea. “Hazel Marie, are they too far out?”

  She looked up, squinting in the glare off the water as she shaded her eyes with her hand. “No, J.D. said the tide’s coming in so it’s shallow for a long way out.”

  I took off my sandals, stuck my feet with their purple toenails out in the sun, and commented on the view. “Those waves look awfully big way out there.”

  “Yes,” Hazel Marie said, “they’re big, rolling one
s, aren’t they? J.D. says it’s because there’s a tropical storm down south.”

  “A storm? You mean a hurricane?”

  “Could be, but it’s a long way off. He says it’d have to pick up a lot of steam to reach us while we’re here.”

  “Well, a storm anywhere is certainly worrisome,” I said, somewhat disturbed by the thought. “Sam promised to check the Weather Channel every day, and he’s not said a word about it.”

  Hazel Marie smiled. “Probably because it’s not a threat to us.”

  “Not yet, anyway,” I mumbled, then rose with some effort. “I think I’ll take a walk with Latisha.”

  Latisha was eager for a change of scene. “I’ve already picked this place clean,” she said, rattling the shells in her bucket. “I thought there’d be piles of shells everywhere, but, my gracious, you have to look for ’em. An’ they’re all tee-ninesy little ones. It’ll take a million to do what I want to do.”

  Deciding it was better not to ask what she wanted to do, I took her hand and we began walking along the edge of the water, splashing through the foam as the waves came in. Latisha, saying that she needed her some sunglasses, pounced on every shell she saw. It didn’t seem to matter what size, shape, or condition they were in, she picked up every one she saw. Her bucket was already more than half full.

  “What’re you going to do when you fill your bucket?” I asked, watching as she put another shell in it.

  “I been thinkin’ about that, an’ I’m gonna empty this thing in a grocery sack every day, then come back down here and fill ’er up again.”

  “Good thinking,” I said, smiling at her enthusiasm and relieved that it didn’t extend to going in the water. “Well, let’s turn back. It’ll be time for lunch soon.”

  “That’s what I’m countin’ on,” she said.

  And by that time, I realized, so was I.

  Chapter 14

  After lunch, I took Latisha into the front bedroom, closed the door against the coming and going, the noise and confusion on the other side, and called Lillian.

  Half expecting Miss Bessie to answer, I was pleased to hear Lillian’s voice, subdued though it was.

  “Lillian!” I exclaimed. “How are you? How did the surgery go? Are you feeling all right?”

  “Hey, Miss Julia, how’s Latisha doin’? She behavin’ herself?”

  “Latisha is just fine. She’s right here and she wants to speak to you.” Handing the phone to Latisha, I said, “Here, honey, tell your granny what you’ve been doing.”

  “Hey, Great-Granny,” Latisha said, looking off into the distance as if she could see Lillian on the ceiling. “You oughta see this big ole ocean. Lloyd says it stretches all the way to China or somewhere.”

  Silence on Latisha’s end.

  “Yes’m, we eatin’ pretty good.”

  More silence.

  “No’m, I don’t have a chance to bother nobody. Lloyd say he’s gonna wear me out chasin’ them ole tennis balls. Then I’ll get in some time pickin’ up shells, an’ first thing you know, it’ll be time to eat supper and then go to bed. And that’s about it.”

  More silence.

  “Yes’m, I will. Uh-huh, she right here.” Latisha thrust the phone at me, saying, “She want to talk to you, an’ I want some of that ice cream Coleman got for us.” And off she went.

  “Lillian?” I said into the phone. “Now tell me how you’re feeling and how the surgery went.”

  “Well, Miss Julia,” Lillian said, “I tell you what’s a fact. I’m just settin’ here ’bout to cry.”

  “What? Why? What’s wrong, Lillian? Are you in pain? Didn’t the doctor give you something? Call him. Call him right now or get Miss Bessie to call him. She’s there with you, isn’t she? Oh, Lillian, I can’t stand it if you’re not being looked after.” I knew I should’ve stayed home.

  “No’m, nothin’ like that. I got some pain medicine for when I need it. No, I’m ’bout to cry ’cause I’m so happy that ole bunion’s gone, an’ on top of that, the Reverend Abernathy, he bring two big, strappin’ deacons over here totin’ in a big ole reclinin’ chair that lays down and sets up and lifts my feet up an’ keeps ’em up, just like the doctor tole me to. The onliest thing wrong is the doctor say I have to stay off my feet for a whole week. Then he gonna look at it an’ maybe put on a walkin’ cask, so I don’t know how much work I can do for a while.”

  “That doesn’t matter. You just get yourself well and take as long as you need to do it. And don’t you worry about Latisha. She is perfectly behaved in every way. Now is there anything you need?”

  “No’m, I don’t need a thing. I’m just half layin’ here in this big ole chair, feelin’ like the Queen of Sheba. Miss Bessie, she in there cookin’ turnip greens and cornbread for supper, so everything’s jus’ fine. An’ best of all, that ole bunion won’t be botherin’ me no more.”

  After a few more reassurances from each of us—about her well-being from Lillian and about Latisha’s from me—we hung up with a promise to talk again soon.

  —

  Walks to the beach, sandwiches for lunch, naps for the little ones—and for a few older ones as well—was pretty much the way the next day or so went, broken only by evening trips to seafood restaurants. Otherwise, I was occupied with sweeping sand out of the house, hanging up wet bathing suits, applying Noxzema to several sunburned shoulders, finding plastic bags for Latisha’s ever-increasing collection of shells, and occasionally just sitting on the front porch with LuAnne while the children napped.

  Lloyd, taking Latisha with him, routinely walked to the tennis courts where they soon discovered that they could buy pizza slices for lunch. Latisha came back every day sated with pizza and worn to a frazzle from the tennis lessons that Lloyd put her through. She took a short nap in the afternoon but was always ready to accompany the others to the beach where she collected shells until time to go out for dinner.

  One evening Hazel Marie and Binkie decided that we should eat in so the children, who’d become a little cranky, could get to bed early. Using huge pots, they boiled fresh shrimp and corn on the cob, then, after draining the pots, dumped everything on the large newspaper-covered table, which was soon piled high with shrimp shells. Coleman concocted a perfectly spiced cocktail sauce and Mr. Pickens made a salad, while Sam filled glasses with ice and tea. It was eye-opening for me to see how easily the men adapted to kitchen work.

  And every day, the sky grew hazier and the waves grew larger.

  “Sam?” I said one afternoon as the house quieted for nap time. “Are you watching the Weather Channel?”

  “I’m on it,” he said. “And that tropical depression has grown big enough to get a name and a category. Marty is on the verge of a catagory two designation. But, Julia, let’s not worry about it. They’re showing six different paths it could take, and only one would adversely affect us. It could go across Cuba and end up in Texas, or it could make landfall on Florida and go up into Georgia and Alabama. Or, more likely, it’ll veer off to the northeast and stay miles from us. We might get a day or two of rain, but that’d be about it.”

  “I hope you’re right, though I’d hate for it to be raining when Etta Mae gets here.”

  “It won’t be,” Sam said, though how he could be so sure was beyond me. Then he went on. “Have you figured out the sleeping arrangements? She’ll be here Friday evening, won’t she?”

  “Or Saturday morning if she lets herself get caught up with the reception after the funeral. I’ll call her tonight and make sure she’s coming. And as far as sleeping arrangements are concerned, there’re two full-sized beds in LuAnne’s room so that’s the obvious place.”

  “Hmm,” Sam said. “Think that’ll work?”

  I sighed. “It’ll have to. LuAnne knows that Etta Mae is coming, and she can count beds as well as I can. But,” I said with another sigh, “I’d better confirm it b
efore Etta Mae gets here. And if LuAnne pitches a fit about losing her privacy, I guess I’ll have to put Etta Mae on the third floor with Lloyd. Although that’s not such a good idea, so he’ll have to sleep downstairs on a sofa. My goodness,” I went on, “I thought I had it all worked out, and I did until LuAnne decided to come.”

  “How’s she doing, anyway?”

  “Actually, quite well. She’s gone to the beach every day, and now she’s shopping with Binkie and Hazel Marie. And, more important, she hasn’t been sitting around bemoaning her fate.”

  “Maybe she’s coming to terms with the situation.”

  “Whatever that means,” I said with a sideways glance at him. “I can’t imagine that she’d just live with it and let it keep going on, though that’s what Leonard seems to expect her to do.” I shuddered at the thought.

  “Well,” Sam said, “seems there’re depths to Leonard that we’ve never suspected. He’s the last man I would’ve expected to get himself in a situation like this.”

  I managed a wry smile. “LuAnne would certainly agree with you. As do I.” I sat up as little heads began to appear one after the other over the dunes with Coleman and Mr. Pickens bringing up the rear. “Here they come. I better put out some snacks. They’ll be starving.”

  Latisha was running ahead of the others and, as she reached the steps to the porch, began yelling at the top of her voice, “Miss Lady! Miss Lady! Look what I found!”

  I met her at the screen door and opened it for her. “What is it? A real pretty shell?”

  “Better than that by a long shot. I found some money! Can you believe they’s money you can just pick up an’ take home ’cause it don’t belong to nobody? Look here, see? Lloyd told me what it is, an’ that’s what I’m gonna be lookin’ for from now on. No need spendin’ my time lookin’ for shells that’s not worth a red cent.”