by Ann B. Ross
“Yes, well, we’ll bring in something for supper, or maybe we’ll all go somewhere. So don’t worry about what to fix.”
“I wadn’t aimin’ to,” she said, dumping the ice tray into the sink. “Oncet I get this kitchen clean, I don’t want nobody messin’ it up again.”
I walked back to stand beside the counter. “Lillian, when you finish here, why don’t you take off early and go home. You must have a million things to do to get ready for tomorrow. You got a new dress, didn’t you?”
She wrung out a dishcloth and smiled, her gold tooth flashing in her mouth. “I got the prettiest dress in town. I know Miss Binkie’s colors, and I wanted to match up with ’em. My dress is hot pink satin, an’ I got a matchin’ hat, a little tiny thing with a veil on it.”
“It sounds lovely.” I leaned against the counter and bowed my head. “Oh, Lillian, I don’t know how I’m going to get through it all.”
“I know what you mean, an’ my heart ’bout to break, too. If Miss Binkie don’t marry Coleman, we gonna have to watch that pore man suffer every livin’ day.” Tears stood in Lillian’s eyes. Then she gave the dishcloth a final wring and said, “If I didn’t love Miss Binkie like my own chile, I’d say it jus’ downright cussedness what make her do such a thing.”
My sentiments, exactly.
Chapter 25
Realizing that I hadn’t heard Raymond’s lawn mower for some little while, I went outside to see how he was coming along. I found him in the front yard, standing by the crape myrtle with a pair of pruning shears in his hand. Instead of using them, though, he was gazing across the street at the Family Life Center.
“Raymond,” I said, startling him so that he looked straight at me. “Have you finished the backyard?”
“Sí.” He bobbed his head and immediately started snipping a boxwood beneath the crape myrtle.
“Good. The front shouldn’t take you long. If you need to move those potted plants the florist put out, go ahead and do it. Just put them back where she had them.” I paused, looking around to see what else needed to be done. “Maybe give everything a good watering, and be sure all the weeds’re pulled. Little Lloyd made a good start on that the other day. You know, Raymond, a row of annuals along the foundation shrubs would look good, wouldn’t it? Impatiens would be nice, don’t you think? I should’ve thought of them earlier in the week, but if the nursery has some in full bloom, would you have time to plant them for me today?”
Raymond was such an agreeable man, nodding and saying Sí to everything I suggested. It was a pleasure doing business with him, even though his eyes kept sliding away toward the building that was the bane of my existence.
“Well, carry on,” I said, going back into the house to call the nursery for an urgent delivery.
Little Lloyd was finishing his lunch, so he overheard me place my order with the nurseryman. He immediately volunteered to help Raymond set them out.
“I better help Ramón,” he said. “Show me where you want them, Miss Julia, so we’ll be sure to get them right.”
“I’ve already told him.”
“Yessum, I know, but tell me, too.”
I did and, leaving them to it, wandered through the downstairs rooms, checking for last-minute things to do. Harriet had placed the arch of greenery in front of the fireplace with tall multibranched candlestands on each side. She’d also placed white wicker plant stands in the corners of the room, waiting for the arrangements she’d put on them the next morning.
The dining room table was shining with lemon polish and the glow of silver serving pieces. I straightened the row of linen napkins and moved a tray an inch to the left, imagining how it would look with the centerpiece that I’d told Harriet had to be spectacular. I was trying to keep my mind occupied so I wouldn’t worry about there not being anything to celebrate, come the next day.
By the time Raymond and Little Lloyd finished planting a row of white impatiens in front of the boxwoods, I had to say the yard looked festive enough to change Binkie’s mind if anything could. After thanking Raymond and paying him for his good work, I walked across the street and spoke to the man I assumed to be the foreman of the construction site. He was the only one standing around watching the others work, so it was a good guess.
“Sir, I want you to know that we’re hoping to have a wedding tomorrow right across the street. You can see how hard we’ve worked on the yard, so I’d appreciate it if you’d have your men clean off the sidewalk over here before you leave today. And furthermore, if you have any brick dust or sawdust or any other kind of dust to spew out into the neighborhood, please defer it until Monday. It’ll be bad enough then, but it just won’t be acceptable today.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, looking at me from under his baseball cap, which he’d not had the courtesy to remove. “That young pastor’s already asked us to do that.”
“What a pleasant surprise. I didn’t think he’d remember to speak to you. Well, thank you in advance for cleaning up the mess you’ve made over here.”
Going back across the street, I noted that the cars and pickups, which we’d had so many of that morning, had eased off to a trickle. I hoped it stayed that way.
As the day was wearing on, I discussed with Hazel Marie and Little Lloyd where we should go for supper. Eating out was not a favorite of mine, but if we disturbed Lillian’s kitchen by trying to cook, she wouldn’t be fit to live with. Little Lloyd wanted to go to some pizza parlor that was so noisy it interfered with digestion, and Hazel Marie suggested Hal’s Barbeque House. My choice was the S & P cafeteria, where we could each get what we wanted except, as Little Lloyd pointed out, pizza and barbecue.
While we were trying to decide where to go, the doorbell rang, announcing Emma Sue Ledbetter, laden with a casserole, salad and rolls.
“My famous dessert is in the car,” she said. “I’ll bring it in as soon as I deposit these in your kitchen.” And she zipped past me, bearing her gifts, while I rolled my eyes at the thought of her famous dessert. A dump cake, the name of which put me off considerably, consisting of any number of cans of fruit and boxes of cake mix dumped into a Pyrex dish, stirred and baked.
“You didn’t have to do this, Emma Sue,” I said, following her back to the kitchen. It burned me up, knowing that she’d brought supper to make me feel guilty for jumping on her about those blasted bumper stickers. Unbeknownst to her, though, I didn’t feel the least twinge. “We were planning to go out.”
“No, no, you don’t want to do that. I know you’re all terribly busy getting ready for what I know will be the sweetest wedding, and you won’t have time to cook. Now, this is a chicken and rice casserole, made with Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup, and this is a congealed salad with sour cream between the layers. You won’t believe what I made my dump cake with this time.”
“Don’t tell me, Emma Sue,” I said, feeling queasy already. I never liked to know what made up the food I was eating. “Let it be a surprise. A nice surprise, I’m sure. You are so thoughtful to do this, but I wish you hadn’t.” I knew that Hazel Marie and Little Lloyd were going to wish the same.
“Of course I should’ve,” she said, as she took tinfoil off her dishes. “You might want to run this casserole in the oven for a few minutes. Now let me go get the dessert.”
“I’ll walk out with you and get it. I know you’re busy, too.”
We walked out to her car, and she handed me the dish. “A little ice cream on top just sets this off,” she said. “Oh, Julia, I’m so looking forward to the wedding. I just wish Larry were here to be a part of it. You know,” she went on, lowering her voice, “I wasn’t sure I ought to attend. I had to pray long and hard about it, but the Lord told me it would send the wrong message if I stayed away.”
“Well, I’m glad He gave you permission to come. But you know, Emma Sue, times have changed, and you don’t always have to stay home when your husband’s out of town. A lot of wives attend things by themselves these days.”
“Oh, I do
n’t mind that. It’s just that, well, I’m sure you know why those two young people are in such a rush to marry.” She gave me a knowing look that made me step back a pace. “And when I heard, I really thought you should’ve stayed out of it and let them sneak off to marry without any fanfare like they’re getting. I hope you’ll forgive me for thinking you were wrong to put on a big show; I really had to wrestle with the Lord about you. But then He pointed out to me that some people just haven’t progressed as far on their spiritual journey as others have. But don’t you worry, you’re at the top of my prayer list, because you know I love you in the Lord, Julia.” She put her hand on my arm and patted it to confirm her words. “And as far as Binkie and her deputy are concerned, I’ve come to see that as long as two people are doing the right thing, we shouldn’t judge when they do it.”
“Judge not, Emma Sue. I expect you know the rest of it.”
“Well, I worried about putting my stamp of approval on such a hurry-up wedding, which I would do if I attended. You know, under the circumstances.”
“Just what circumstances are you talking about?” Although, with a sinking heart, I thought I knew.
She leaned close to me and hissed, “Binkie’s, well, you know, expecting. That’s what I’m talking about.”
Oh, Lord, I thought, wishing He’d speak to me. Since no word came from on high, I had to muddle through by myself. “I think you’re jumping to conclusions again, Emma Sue,” I managed to get out, hoping my face didn’t show my sinking feelings. “Where in the world did you hear such a thing?” Then with a gasp and sudden understanding: “Not . . . the prayer chain? Don’t tell me it’s making the rounds on the prayer chain.”
She smiled. “Well, Julia, what’s the prayer chain for but to share our concerns for people in trouble?”
“Who started it?” I demanded.
“You know that young Creasman couple that just joined the church? Well, she’s expecting and she saw Binkie at Dr. Crawford’s office, and all he does is deliver babies.”
“And I don’t suppose,” I said, “that the Creasman woman is a member of the prayer chain?”
“It’s good to get new members involved in church activities as soon as we can, you know that, Julia. But I would’ve suspected it when I heard that Binkie had to run out of court, during a trial, too, to throw up.” A small frown appeared on Emma Sue’s face, then she went on. “You know that I don’t like to talk about people, but everybody but you knows it, which is just as well, since you wouldn’t be throwing this big shindig if you did. Nobody’s blaming you, even though we Christians do have to draw the line somewhere and be careful that we don’t celebrate sin.”
“Emma Sue,” I said, just about done in by what she was saying. “I think it’s a shame to go around carrying stories about people you hardly know, and that’s the main reason I wanted off the prayer chain. It does nothing but pass along rumors, half of them not even close to the truth, and I resent all the talk about Binkie. She’s a good girl.”
“Well, we’ll see, won’t we? Now, I’ve got to be going; I still have to put the hem in the dress I’m making for tomorrow. I really got behind because I had to make that trip to the Winn-Dixie for the communion wine.”
“Welch’s grape juice, Emma Sue.”
“You know what I mean. Anyway, it’s locked in the car trunk, so you-know-who can’t get at it.” She slid into the car, saying, as she reached for the door, “I know the Lord’ll bless you for what you’re doing, Julia.”
“I’m sure, Emma Sue,” I said tiredly. “Thank you for bringing us supper. I’m sure we’ll enjoy every bite.” I stood there and watched her drive off, just sick at heart that Binkie’s condition was known to the town. And I got sicker at the thought that even though Emma Sue might be willing to overlook a late wedding, she wouldn’t be so forgiving if there was no wedding at all.
Chapter 26
Trying to ignore the shuffle of feet along the sidewalk as people began to gather for another night vigil, I turned to gaze at my house. A late afternoon in June, a soft light from the setting sun, the smell of freshly cut grass and the glow of white impatiens under the boxwoods, the swept brick walkway lined with potted pink azaleas, and the blessed relief of silence from the building across the street—my heart should have been swelling with pleasure on this wedding eve. My house was clean and shining, ready for guests, and the long-desired culmination of Binkie and Coleman’s romance.
Instead, I slowly trudged into the house, taking little joy in the preparations we’d made.
It didn’t help my state of mind to find Hazel Marie and Little Lloyd less than thrilled at the thought of eating Emma Sue’s supper.
“Oh, no!” Little Lloyd wailed. “I wanted to go out.”
Hazel Marie stood gazing at the chicken and rice casserole on the kitchen table. Then she said, “I bet that’s been frozen a solid month. I know she makes several at a time to have something on hand for covered-dish suppers at the church. It probably has freezer burn.”
Little Lloyd then suggested that we dump it all in the sink, turn on the disposal and go out, as we’d planned to do.
My heart wasn’t in anything. I so wanted to tell Hazel Marie that the news was out and being broadcast, but I couldn’t with Little Lloyd there to hear it, too.
Just as they were seriously considering scraping Emma Sue’s efforts down the drain, Mr. Pickens called to see if he could drop by. After that, not another word was said about going out to eat. In fact, Hazel Marie busied herself with setting the table with an extra place for him, chattering away with her excitement.
“It’s a good thing we hadn’t already left,” she said. “We’d’ve missed him, and he’s been so busy I hardly ever get to see him. Now, Lloyd, don’t be disappointed; we’ll get pizza maybe Sunday night. Oh, I hope J.D.’ll like this casserole. But he will, I’m sure of it. He’ll eat anything.” Then she laughed, her hand over her mouth. “A good thing, too, since I’m hardly the best cook in the world.”
Mr. Pickens came in with his usual air of energy and good spirits. He hugged Hazel Marie and gave her a big smack, right in front of me and the child. Then he hugged Little Lloyd, asked how he liked being out of school and promised to go hiking with him as soon as he finished Dixon Hightower’s case.
“That rascal’s staying one step ahead of the sheriff’s department,” Mr. Pickens said. Then with a rueful shake of his head, he admitted, “And me.”
“That’s certainly hard to believe,” I said.
He rounded on me, throwing out his arms and saying, “Hey, darlin’. How ’bout a hug?”
“Behave yourself, Mr. Pickens,” I said, stepping back out of hugging vicinity. “Now, let’s sit down and eat.”
“Miss Julia,” Mr. Pickens said, as he pulled out my chair. I was glad to see Little Lloyd follow his lead and pull out his mother’s chair. “I know you’re a woman of some means,” Mr. Pickens went on. “But I didn’t know you had half the county on your payroll.”
“What are you talking about?”
“That crowd out there in front of your house.” He glanced at me with those black eyes, a smile at the corners of his mouth.
“Well, Mr. Pickens,” I said, trying to give back as good as I was getting. “I’ll have you know that after engaging you last winter, I’ve had my fill of the employment business.”
He threw his head back and laughed. Then he said, “Sure enough, though, why’re they out there? I almost couldn’t get through.”
“We don’t know,” Little Lloyd said. “Mama won’t let me go out there, but I wish you’d asked them.”
“In too much of a hurry to see my three favorite people,” Mr. Pickens said, with a wink at Hazel Marie.
Hazel Marie smiled at him and said, “We’ve been too busy to look into it, but we think they’re admiring Pastor Ledbetter’s new building.”
“Admiring’s not the word,” I said. “Dumbfounded at it, more likely. Little Lloyd, pass Mr. Pickens the butter.”
&nb
sp; I picked at the food, put off by Hazel Marie’s observation that it had been frozen so long, but Mr. Pickens made a considerable dent in it. Hazel Marie was right; he’d eat anything.
As he took his third helping of the casserole, Mr. Pickens said, “Would anybody object to turning on the TV? I’d like to get the news.”
Well, I did object, since mealtime ought to be filled with pleasant conversation without the intrusion of wrecks and wars, and first one thing and another of unsavory happenings that weren’t fit to listen to while you’re trying to eat. I held my peace, though, so taken up with the burden of my worries that I couldn’t hold a pleasant conversation if I had to.
I reached over and turned on the television set on the counter and switched it to the Asheville station. As soon as the station stopped advertising itself, we saw that the lead story was Dixon Hightower again. The major news was that he’d not been found. Mr. Pickens grunted.
“We have late-breaking news,” one of the local anchors said with a rush of excitement, as we all turned toward the set. “The Briar Creek House of God in Abbot County has just reported the theft of a box of raffle tickets that were to be sold for a new Silverado pickup, donated by Junior Willard Chevrolet in Abbotsville. We spoke with Pastor Harold Hobbs by telephone, and he told us that any number of bingo prizes in the form of gift certificates, donated by local businesses, are also missing. We wanted to bring you a live report from Pastor Hobbs, but we’re having audio difficulties. Tiffany,” he said, turning to his co-anchor, “can you tell us more about this latest development?”
“Yes, I can, Kenny.” The smiling co-anchor turned from him to face the camera. Then she cut off the smile and frowned at the seriousness of the situation. “Pastor Hobbs reported that no locks or windows in the church were broken, which means, and I quote, ‘We have a good idea who the culprit is. And I want him to know that all our members’re praying for the return of our valuable raffle tickets and bingo prizes.’ Unquote. Back to you, Kenny.”