Miss Julia Renews Her Vows

by Ann B. Ross

  “Etta Mae!” Francie’s commanding voice pierced the entire house. “What’re you doing? Come in here, I need you.”

  “I got to go,” Etta Mae said, worriedly looking over her shoulder.

  “I’ll see you at my house as soon as you get off,” I said, and left before more trouble descended on either of us.

  Backing the car off the curb where I’d left it, I drove carefully out of the grounds of Mountain Villas, coming to a stop beside the gatehouse at the exit.

  Beckoning to the elderly guard to approach my window, I said, “Nice day, isn’t it? I’m wondering, though, if you were on duty last Thursday.”

  “Well, let me see,” he said, his grizzled face screwed up with thought. “I ’spect I was, because I work five days a week an’ ain’t had a sick day yet.”

  “Do you keep a record of who comes and goes?”

  He grinned, revealing a few places that needed dental help. “No’m, too many in and out for that. The res’dents wouldn’t stand being stopped ev’ry time.” Then the light dawned on him. “Oh, you’re talkin’ ’bout that day when that lady got hurt. I don’t know nothin’ ’bout that. I already been asked by the cops, an’ I didn’t see nobody that ought not to of been here.”

  “Thank you, but I hope you’ll keep your eye out for strange people. There’s no telling who could slip in here and do a great deal of harm.”

  “Yes, ma’am, but I hear tell they already know who done it. That visitin’ nurse is who they aimin’ to catch red handed.”

  I stared at him, stupefied at what he’d said. And suddenly I had a different view of Francie’s reason for rehiring that particular visiting nurse. Far from being an advantage to Etta Mae in Lieutenant Peavey’s eyes, it could be a setup to trap her. I thanked the gatekeeper again and went on my way, so strung out with the dire possibilities that I could hardly wait to get home where I could do something about them. Would Lieutenant Peavey be that underhanded? Had he asked Francie to rehire Etta Mae just to catch her in the act?

  I was gasping for breath as I drove toward home, so anxious was I at the thought of the lieutenant and Francie Pitts in cahoots to railroad Etta Mae on another trumped-up charge.

  Chapter 28

  I thought of stopping at Binkie’s office and enlisting her help, but that would’ve taken too much time. Instead I went straight home, hurried inside and picked up the telephone without a word of greeting to Lillian, who turned to watch me as I sailed past.

  She started to say something, but I held up my hand as I dialed Etta Mae’s cell phone number.

  “Etta Mae?” I said as soon as she answered. “I just got home, and you won’t believe this, but Hazel Marie and Mr. Pickens are sitting here at the table. They’re already home.”

  Lillian’s mouth opened, but I frowned fiercely at her. “Yes,” I said into the phone, “we need you right away. Hazel Marie’s not feeling well, and we’re about to call Dr. Hargrove. She may be in trouble again, so you need to come right on over.”

  After listening for a moment, I went on, “Just tell Francie it’s an emergency, because it is.”

  I hung up, then turned to face the music. “Lillian,” I said before she could get started, “you don’t know the circumstances, so just listen before you lay into me.”

  When I told her what was going on, or rather what might have been cooked up between Francie and Lieutenant Peavey, she calmed down considerably, but not happily.

  “I still don’t see,” she said, “why you have to tell such a big story. What you gonna do when Miss Etta Mae get here an’ she see nobody else here?”

  “My first concern, Lillian,” I explained with as much patience as I could muster, “is to get her out of that house. I tried my best while I was there—before I knew what was going on—but she’s so loyal to her patients, I couldn’t budge her. But now that I know what Francie and the lieutenant are up to, well, it’s absolutely imperative to get Etta Mae away from their machinations. That’s why I had to tell a little story, because Hazel Marie needing her is the only reason she’d leave Francie.”

  “Well,” Lillian said, still unconvinced, “don’t look like Miss Etta Mae gonna ’preciate it when she see nobody here but us.”

  “Oh, but she will when I explain what those two have up their sleeves. They’re trying to trick her into committing another crime, and because she didn’t commit the first one, although somebody did, I wouldn’t put it past Francie to make sure that something else goes missing.”

  Lillian thought for a minute, frowning as she did so. “But it don’t look to me like that lieutenant do such a thing. Why, he a Christian man.”

  “When has that ever stopped anybody? Especially when actions can be justified as working for some good outcome? See, Lillian, I think Lieutenant Peavey is convinced that Etta Mae is guilty, but all he has to prove it is Francie’s nose, and that’s not good enough. He has to catch her doing something else so he can get a criminal off the street. That’s all he’s thinking about, but he doesn’t know what he’s dealing with in Francie Pitts.”

  “But Miss Etta Mae didn’t do nothin’ the first time. How they ’spect her to do something again?”

  “I guess because Lieutenant Peavey believes Francie and doesn’t believe Etta Mae. And it’s a fact that something happened to Francie—she has a bandage on her head to prove it—so somebody did something. But the thing of it is, Lillian, is that Francie is not telling the truth. It may be that she thinks she is, but she’s not. Now I, personally, don’t care for Etta Mae’s choice of perfume, but there’s no way in the world that it smells like collards. And that’s all that Francie’s basing her identification on. What she’s claiming could ruin Etta Mae’s whole life. And that,” I summed up with some satisfaction, “is the difference between a big story and the little ones I occasionally have to tell.”

  We both looked up at the sound of brakes screeching to a stop outside. Hearing Etta Mae’s footsteps pounding across the paved driveway, I stood up and headed for the door. Lillian beat me to it, swinging it open just as Etta Mae rushed in, breathless and ready to tend to Hazel Marie.

  “How is she?” Etta Mae gasped. “What’d the doctor say?”

  Lillian aimed a this-is-your-little-red-wagon look at me and gave me the floor. “Well,” I started, but didn’t get far because Etta Mae went right past me, heading for the bedroom.

  “Wait, Etta Mae,” I said. “She’s not in there. Come sit down and I’ll tell you.”

  Etta Mae turned around and started for the door. “Good, if she’s having trouble she needs to be in the hospital. I’ll go sit with her.”

  “No, wait. Wait just a minute, and let me talk to you.” I pulled out a chair for her, but she just stared at me.

  “Is it already too late?” she asked.

  “No, no. Nothing like that. Look, Etta Mae, I can explain. Hazel Marie’s not here. She’s still on her honeymoon, and as far as I know, she is perfectly fine.”

  “But . . .?”

  “I know, and I apologize. It’s just that I had to get you away from Francie, and that was the only way I knew to do it.”

  “You mean . . .?”

  “Yes, and I’m ashamed of myself for doing it, but when you hear my reason, you’ll understand.”

  “Least,” Lillian murmured, “you hope she do.”

  Etta Mae collapsed in the chair and put her hands over her face. “I thought, well, I thought she was in bad trouble. And I left Mrs. Delacorte crying and yelling and threatening me with jail, but Evelyn was there, so I just left. I thought Hazel Marie really needed me.”

  Lillian glowered at me. “See what you done? You in it now.”

  Ignoring her, I sat down beside Etta Mae and took her hand. “Let me tell you what the gatekeeper out at Mountain Villas said they were doing to you.”

  When I finished recounting what I suspected, I added, “It wouldn’t surprise me if Francie hadn’t intended to trap you in some way, Etta Mae. I mean, a woman who is a suspect in the dea
th of one of her husbands—and who knows what happened to all the others?—is capable of anything. I wanted you safe, here with us, and I knew the only reason you’d leave would be if Hazel Marie needed you. So I’m sorry for scaring you half to death, but we are expecting her and Mr. Pickens anytime now.”

  Etta Mae buried her face in her hands, then looked up at me. “I can’t believe anybody could be so mean as to set me up like that, but I guess it’s better not to give them a chance. Thank you, Miss Julia. I’ve never had anybody look after me like you do.”

  Lillian just shook her head, then walked around the counter into the kitchen area. She opened the oven door and said, “I ’spect a little apple pie go good right about now.”

  Etta Mae gave her a weak smile. “It sure smells good, but I’d better go on home and make some calls. Bills are piling up and I need to pay Binkie something, so I have to find work somewhere. Maybe as a temp till Hazel Marie gets back.”

  “You can find work right here, Etta Mae,” I said. “I’ll be happy to employ you.”

  She gave me a sad smile. “No’m, thank you anyway, but I can’t accept pay when I’m not really needed.”

  Lillian lifted the steaming pie out of the oven, set it on a rack to cool and carefully folded the dish towel she’d used to handle the hot pan. Then she walked deliberately back around the counter and stood by Etta Mae.

  “You needed here, Miss Etta Mae,” she said without a glance at me. “I didn’t want to say nothin’, but Miss Julia, she not doin’ too good. She been actin’ puny an’ run down all week, an’ it already put her in the bed for two whole days. I ’spect, if she jus’ hol’ her tongue and keep Mr. Sam in the dark a little while longer, she gonna be down again come this weekend all the way past Monday, ’cause she might give something to that Dr. Fowler, an’ she don’t wanta do that.” Lillian looked me straight in the eye. “You don’t, do you?”

  “Oh, certainly not,” I quickly said, realizing that my mouth had been hanging open throughout Lillian’s discourse. “So, see, Etta Mae,” I went on, recovering, “you have a job, looking after me. And it’ll work out perfectly, because you’ll be here to pick right up with Hazel Marie whenever they have a mind to come home.”

  “Well, I don’t know,” Etta Mae said, giving us both a serious look, wanting to believe she was needed but suspecting this was another setup, one done for her benefit. “I need the work, but frankly, Miss Julia, you don’t seem sick to me. At least not sick enough to need a private-duty nurse. It can get expensive, you know.”

  Before I could reassure her, Lillian said, “Oh, she sick, all right. You jus’ don’t know her like I do. I already tole Mr. Sam she need lookin’ after, an’ he hire you if she won’t. An’ don’t worry ’bout what it cost. If she don’t have the money, Mr. Sam do, but she got it.”

  Well, thank you, Lillian, I thought, but was pleased that she had not only arranged a job that Etta Mae could accept, but she’d also provided me with a reason to defer my confession to Sam.

  Chapter 29

  With that settled, we sent Etta Mae home to pack a few clothes for the live-in position that Lillian had arranged for her. How Mr. Pickens would take to the idea of his wife having a personal nurse around all the time I didn’t know and didn’t much care. I was having to juggle the needs of too many people as it was without having to worry about his.

  Of course, with Etta Mae here to see to Hazel Marie, Mr. Pickens might realize that he’d been released from husbandly duties and decide to take off on another out-of-town job. Hazel Marie wouldn’t be happy if he did, nor would Lloyd. But to tell the truth, the house was about to get crowded, so a short respite from Mr. Pickens’s ebullient presence might put us all in a better frame of mind.

  I brought myself up short, realizing that I was thinking ahead when I needed to concentrate on the here and now. And the here and now was full of Etta Mae’s troubles and my own with Dr. Fowler. Or more to the point, with Sam learning about my troubles with Dr. Fowler.

  Because I’d made a point to arrange a visit with Sam that afternoon, I knew he’d be expecting me. So, toward the end of the afternoon, I walked the four blocks between our houses, noticing as I went the red leaves of the dogwood trees along the way. They were among the first to turn—harbingers of our beautiful fall colors, although it was hot as blazes on the sidewalk.

  I strolled along, wondering what I could talk to Sam about now that Lillian had proposed that I might have to be sick again to justify the renewal of Etta Mae’s job. Of course, if Hazel Marie and Mr. Pickens were to come home over the weekend, I wouldn’t have to worry about keeping Etta Mae—she’d have her work cut out for her. She’d know that it wasn’t simply make-work.

  But if they didn’t get back, and in order to keep up the pretense to Etta Mae that I was unwell, I might have to have another bout of bed rest—something I wasn’t looking forward to. On the other hand, it did offer a reprieve from the confession I’d intended to make to Sam. I wasn’t sure that my logic made sense, but if I could keep avoiding Dr. Fowler long enough, even if it meant malingering, Emma Sue might be able to get rid of him.

  Then, with him gone for good, I wouldn’t have to tell Sam anything. A good wife does not trouble her husband unnecessarily, I assured myself, and felt quite virtuous for it.

  So what was I going to tell him today? Here I’d practically made an appointment to talk with him, and I had nothing to say. Well, I could say that I just wanted to go over again what we’d gone over a dozen times already, that is, Etta Mae, Francie Pitts, and Lieutenant Peavey. But I declare, we’d about talked that out. What else was there to say?

  Well, he didn’t know about the gatekeeper’s theory. I could tell him that and string out the possible consequences long enough to make my appointment worthwhile. Except I hadn’t known of that nefarious plan when I made the appointment.

  Maybe I could discuss Hazel Marie and the new babies with him, but we’d gone over all those ramifications many times before. I couldn’t think of anything new or worrisome enough to warrant a special consultation.

  My steps were slowing as I got within a block of Sam’s house, knowing that he would see right through me if I went in and began to ramble about things we’d already talked to death. Of course, I could tell him that I simply wanted his company, that I missed him during the day, and tell him that I craved time alone with him. Well, except for James, who’d have to be sent somewhere if I used that line.

  And, of course, I could simply ask Sam what he felt was missing in our marriage and what I could do to rectify the situation. Without seeking outside help, that is. I’d thought earlier about suggesting we renew our vows, but my word, we’d said them twice already. How many times would it take to satisfy a restless husband?

  Then it came to me—Evelyn! Of course and absolutely, she needed to be discussed. Who was she? What was her full name? Where did she live? Finding out about her was right up Sam’s alley. He knew how to track people, so it was the perfect reason to disrupt his work by paying a visit to his office. My steps picked up considerably now that I had a purpose and a perfectly legitimate reason to consult with him.

  This time, I strode across Sam’s broad front porch, intent on walking right inside. He was expecting me, so there was no need to ring the doorbell and wait to be admitted, even though I generally hesitated to barge in. So I reached for the screen door to open it and found it latched on the inside.

  Tapping my foot impatiently, I rang the doorbell, then heard James yelling from down the hall. “Hol’ your horses. I’m comin’.”

  “Why, Miss Julia,” he said, smiling broadly as he unlatched the door and held it open for me. “I didn’t know we have the pleasure of your comp’ny today. How you doin’?”

  “I’m fine,” I answered, “and hope you are, too. Sam’s expecting me, though I’m surprised he didn’t apprise you beforehand of my intended visit. And James, yelling down the hall to hold your horses is no way to greet guests.” For some reason, James brought out
the worst in me, but he hadn’t seen it all yet.

  I went right on setting him straight. “I want you to get out here and look at these windows. With the sun shining on them, you can see a dusty glaze on every one of them. They all need a good washing, so get a ladder and everything else you’ll need and start on the north side.”

  James’s smile fell away. “Right now?”

  “Yes. Put your hand to the plow and get to it. A task put off is a task undone.”

  “But Miss Julia, I washed them windows back in the spring, an’ I don’t never wash ’em but oncet a year.”

  “This year’s different. We’ve had a dry and dusty summer.”

  Before I could further encourage him, Sam opened his office door and looked out into the hall. “Sorry, I was on the phone. How are you, sweetheart? Come on in here. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  “Be careful on the ladder, James,” I said. “I’ll come and check your work before I leave.” Then, walking toward Sam, I felt my heart lift at his welcoming smile.

  We went into the large front room that now served as his office, and Sam closed the door behind us. “What was that all about?” he asked.

  “Oh, just putting James to work washing windows. He gets away with murder around here, Sam. Idle hands and all that, you know.”

  Sam laughed. “I know, but he keeps things halfway decent. Now, come sit down and tell me what’s on your mind. You’re feeling all right?”

  We sat together on the leather sofa as it crossed my mind that this was the time and place that I’d planned to make my confession and throw myself on his mercy. Thank goodness, I no longer had to do that.

  “I’m fine. But let me just catch you up with the morning’s developments first. I went out to Francie’s cottage at Mountain Villas because she came home from the hospital this morning. Now, don’t frown at me, Sam. I wanted to see how she was and also see if she’d changed her story again. And I wanted to see the crime scene, too.”