by Ann B. Ross
“It is! It is! She’s come back for me!” He turned loose of my hand and began running for the house.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
WAIT! WATCH 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 th
at 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.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
LATER 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?”
