Miss Julia Speaks Her Mind

by Ann B. Ross

  “It’s not what it seems, Pastor. Please, it’s just a mix-up.” I folded my arms protectively across my chest, bringing to mind the pink paper pinned to the inside of my dress.

  “Knock, knock, anybody home?” Sam stuck his head in the door. He looked around the room and said, “Looks like you’re busy, Julia. I’ll come back later.”

  He turned to leave, but I called him back. “Don’t go, Sam, I need you here.” If I had to be relieved of responsibility for myself, I wanted Sam to see that it was done right.

  “That’d be a change,” he said with a wry smile, but his eyes were traveling around the room taking in the unlikely group gathered there. Hazel Marie he didn’t know, and he hadn’t met Brother Vern or Dr. Fowler, but I saw him make some quick associations. I wanted to go stand beside him, but I was afraid of what I might do and what Pastor Ledbetter would think of it.

  Sam raised his eyebrows as he noticed the gun in Deputy Bates’s hand. “Trouble?”

  “More noise than anything,” Deputy Bates said, laying the gun on the mantel. But he didn’t move away from it. “Now, folks. Let’s get some things straightened out, and I don’t want everybody talking at once. Miss Lillian, you first. Did you kidnap that boy?”

  “Nossir, I did not.” She sat up straight and smoothed out her apron. She trusted Deputy Bates, knowing he’d hear her out and not jump to conclusions. “That Brother Vern got this baby away from Miss Julia under false pretensions, claiming he’d take him to his mama, but ’stead of that, he taken him off an’ put him on teevee, an’ then we find out he let Jerome beat up on this pore little thing here.” She looked up at Hazel Marie. Then dabbing at her eyes, she went on, “An’ knocked out her teef too. That man a menace to decent folk.”

  “Menace!” Brother Vern shouted, jumping out of his chair again. Deputy Bates tapped his shoulder, and Brother Vern sat back down. But he didn’t stop talking. “I’ll tell you who’s a menace. It’s all these women running wild, interfering with the Lord’s work! Hazel Marie’s been living in sin for lo these many years and borne its fruit, which all I’m trying to do is look after. His daddy would’ve wanted somebody responsible in charge, an’ that ain’t her!” The words poured from his mouth like the sweat from his forehead. Brother Vern was mortally exercised.

  “And now,” he shouted, “here’s this woman, a black woman and kitchen help at that, who walked right into my studio while I was on the air and put that child right back into this den of iniquity! And that’s what this place looks like to me!”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Pastor Ledbetter said, looking at Brother Vern with something close to approval. “And, Brother, you don’t know the half of it.”

  I grasped the back of a chair to keep from falling. Lord, I prayed, don’t let him tell. Please don’t let him tell.

  “Just a minute, here,” Binkie said. “Let’s take one thing at a time. It seems to me that the kidnapping charge is moot. Here’s the child; there’s his mother. Where’s the kidnapping?”

  “But,” Brother Vern said, “she took him from me.”

  “But you took him from me,” I managed to say.

  “But he’s my child,” Hazel Marie chimed in. “And I left him in Miz Springer’s care, not his, and he has no right to claim him or raise a fuss when I got him back.”

  “Kidnapping’s not going to stick,” Binkie said with all the authority of Wake Forest Law School behind her. “What do you think, Sam?”

  “I think you’re right. The boy’s where he belongs.”

  “Well. Well,” Brother Vern blustered, “well, what about the reward? Miz Springer, you offered a sizable reward and I think I have a claim to it. If it wasn’t for me, this child’d still be hid away somewhere.”

  “I think you have a point, Reverend Puckett,” Pastor Ledbetter said, astounding us all. Even Brother Vern was stunned to have such an unlikely defender. “Miss Julia made a rash promise against good advice, and it seems to me she ought to make it good. She’s been doing too many rash things lately, and has to accept the consequences of her actions. If, that is, she is able to understand them.”

  “Just a minute, here,” Sam broke in. “Before you go off halfcocked, what reward are you talking about?”

  “Yeah,” Binkie said.

  Pastor Ledbetter silenced Brother Vern with a take-charge look. “Miss Julia offered a twenty-five-thousand-dollar reward for the recovery of this kidnapped child. I was witness to it, and so was Dr. Fowler, just as we were also witnesses to something even more astonishing. I think you have to honor it, Miss Julia.”

  “But—”

  “There was no kidnapping,” Binkie said, cutting me off. “No kidnapping, no reward.”

  “There’s something we’re all overlooking here,” Dr. Fowler said, proving that he could speak as well as write. I braced myself for his contribution. “Now, I realize that I’m an outsider and not familiar with all that’s gone on, but it seems to me we need the answer to one important question.”

  “What’s that?” Binkie demanded, squinting her eyes at him.

  “Well, my understanding is that the child was taken from somewhere in another town, but now he’s found right here. This woman”—he pointed at Lillian—“admits to having him. But the question is, how did she get him? Did she walk? Did she drive? Did she have help?”

  Hazel Marie and Little Lloyd looked at me. Lord, where was Dr. Fowler going with this?

  “Miss Julia,” Lillian wailed.

  “That’s right,” Brother Vern cried. “Somebody was driving that car! Everybody agreed that somebody else drove the car.” He turned to me and narrowed his eyes. “Was that somebody you, Miz Springer? Were you a party to kidnapping?”

  Binkie said, “Don’t answer that.”

  Sam said, “There was no kidnapping, so it doesn’t matter who drove what.”

  “But there was a conspiracy to kidnap,” Pastor Ledbetter said. “Then add to that all the aimless driving around the county, plans to turn this fine house into a dog kennel, bizarre answers to common questions, apparent lying to the police, attempting to buy narcotics, getting involved with people she doesn’t know and taking them in like members of the family, promising to give away twenty-five thousand dollars to a virtual stranger, and certain intractable behavior that would repulse you all if I told you of it. Well, you can see how it begins to stack up. None of you is doing Miss Julia a favor by ignoring these clear changes in her personality. She needs help, and if it takes a court case to get it for her, then so be it. At least I and her church family care enough to prevent any harm coming to her. We mean to take care of her, since it’s abundantly clear she can’t take care of herself.”

  “Clear as a bell,” Dr. Fowler said. “As I will so testify.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  MY HEAD SWIVELED from Sam to Binkie, waiting for one of them to say the accusations were ridiculous. Sam frowned, deep in thought, and Binkie chewed her thumbnail.

  “Can they do that?” I asked.

  “They’d have to prove it,” Sam said hesitantly, as if wondering what I’d done that he didn’t know about.

  “Which they’d have a hard time doing,” Binkie added.

  “That depends,” Dr. Fowler said. “It depends on what they’re trying to prove. If it’s a criminal charge, yes, it would be hard to prove. But Brother Vern’s testimony, added to that of so many others, including mine and her pastor’s, could well make a case for diminished capacity.”

  Binkie turned on him, her hair swinging in her face. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Dr. Fred Fowler, certified clinical psychologist.” He stood a little straighter as he said it. “And I’ve been retained by the session of the First Presbyterian Church to look into this matter.”

  “Good grief!” Binkie said, throwing up her hands.

  Sam’s eyes rolled back in his head worse than I’d ever seen. Hazel Marie tightened her arm around Lillian’s shoulders, and Pastor Ledbetter sat back with his hands clasped over his
abdomen, composed and content. Brother Vern’s black eyes ranged avidly over us all, watching for any other unexpected advantage.

  “Now, Mrs. Springer,” Dr. Fowler went on, his voice as soft as if he were gentling a wild woman. “We don’t want you to be concerned. No one’s going to hurt you, I promise. And no one is going to reveal any embarrassing details as long as you allow us to help you. Everything’s going to be just fine. All we’re concerned about is your welfare. I suggest you let me admit you to my infirmary for a few tests. And you can have a well-deserved rest at the same time.”

  “Sam?” I said, beginning to realize that they really could have me committed to some linoleum-floored, Lysol-smelling dormitory for the demented, doomed to the droning of game shows and Jenny Jones for the rest of my life.

  “You know we’ll take care of you, Miss Julia,” Pastor Ledbetter said. “I’ve already begun the process, because I know Mr. Springer would want us to look after you.”

  “What they talkin’ about?” Lillian asked, her eyes big with the fear that was beginning to well up in me.

  “Binkie?” I said, turning to her.

  “I’m thinking, I’m thinking,” she said, pacing back and forth. “The problem is, the big problem is…Sam, you see what I mean?”

  “Yeah, the clerk of court.”

  “The clerk of court?” I gasped as my soul dropped down to my feet. “You mean Leonard? Leonard Conover?”

  “That’s right,” Sam said. “Leonard Conover’s the one who’d handle this, the one who’d have the final disposition of their application. And the one who’d appoint a guardian. But hang on, Julia, we’re not without a few resources of our own.”

  “Don’t be too sure,” Pastor Ledbetter said. “You may not be aware of the details of Miss Julia’s recent erratic behavior.”

  I looked at his confident expression and at the gleam in the peculiar eyes of Dr. Fowler, and I knew they were prepared to ruin my life forever. I pictured a line of my friends and neighbors testifying in open court about the changes they’d seen in me. I pictured Dr. Fowler describing that episode in the bridal parlor, and I pictured Leonard Conover, who thought the sun rose and set on Pastor Ledbetter, deciding my fate. I felt a tremor run through my body. Men, religious men, had been making decisions for me all my life, telling me not to worry, do what I tell you, I know what’s best for you, what you want is not important. And I’d let them, always assuming that they were right, that they knew more than I did, that it was my place to agree and go along, even as the icy knife of resentment cut wider and deeper into my heart. While I smiled and kept on smiling. Only since Wesley Lloyd’s passing had I felt like a real person. So, yes, Pastor Ledbetter was right; I had changed. I was different from what I’d always been. Now I said what I was thinking instead of packing it down inside. Now I did what I wanted to do instead of what I was told to do. Now I followed my own inclinations instead of waiting for instructions. I’d discovered that I was neither a child nor a half-wit, and I’d refused to be treated as either. I was a grown woman.

  No wonder they thought I was crazy.

  Yet I also knew that without Wesley Lloyd’s money, there wouldn’t be this concern for my welfare, even if I threw myself at every man in town. If I’d been as broke as Hazel Marie, they might bring me a few casseroles and a box of dusting powder at Christmas, but they wouldn’t be trying to put me in a two-hundred-dollar-a-day nursing home. That money had given me a freedom I’d never known, and now it was about to bind me up worse than Wesley Lloyd ever had.

  My hands shook as I reached up and began to unbutton the bodice of my dress.

  Brother Vern drew in a sibilant breath, while Dr. Fowler and Pastor Ledbetter began to back away. Pastor Ledbetter’s face paled, his mouth dropping open, as if he feared I’d choose him as my next victim.

  “Don’t,” he gasped. “Fred, do something.”

  But Fred ducked his head and sidled toward the door. He wasn’t about to tangle with me again.

  I unbuttoned the second button. Sam and Binkie looked shocked, but no more than Lillian and Deputy Bates.

  Hazel Marie was the only one who moved. She walked over and stood in front of me, shielding me from them. She placed both her hands on mine.

  “Oh, honey,” she said, so softly I could barely hear her. “Don’t do this. Let’s me and you go upstairs.”

  My bones went weak on me as her poor, battered face swam out of focus through the tears that flooded my eyes. I’d never before in my life been called a sweet name by somebody who really meant it.

  “It’s all right,” I whispered to her. “It’s really all right.”

  We looked at each other a long second, then she nodded and took her hands from mine. But she stayed in front of me while I continued to unbutton my bodice. I reached inside and unpinned the pink paper. When I had it out, Hazel Marie rebuttoned my dress for me and stepped to my side.

  “Here, Sam,” I said, holding the paper out to him. “This should go to you. I expect it’ll change a few things.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  SAM WALKED OVER and took the paper from me. He unfolded it, read it, and looked at me with what might’ve been a gleam of admiration in his eyes. It might’ve been pity, though, I couldn’t tell which. Everybody watched as Sam looked down and read it again, shaking his head and pursing his mouth in thought. Hazel Marie slid her arm around my waist, and I was grateful for the support since I was feeling a bit wobbly. Everybody in the room was aware that the flimsy piece of pink paper was of great import. Only Sam and I knew how great.

  Binkie said, “What is it?”

  “It’s a holographic will,” Sam said.

  “A holy what?” Hazel Marie asked.

  “A handwritten will.” He held it out to Binkie to read. “Wesley Lloyd Springer wrote it the night he died, according to the date. And it does change things. A good many things.”

  “What do it say?” Lillian asked, picking up on the charged atmosphere and misinterpreting it. “What time Mr. Springer write that thing, befo’ he passed or after?”

  “Before, Miss Lillian,” Binkie assured her, “before. Probably sometime that day.”

  “Read it out loud, Binkie,” I said, “so everybody’ll know.”

  “Here, Sam,” she said, handing the paper to him. “It’s your place to read it.” She went over and stood by Deputy Bates.

  “What it says,” Sam began, “is that Mr. Springer left his entire estate to his son, Little Lloyd here.”

  Dead silence as everyone looked at the boy. Except me, who was still trying to control the trembling as I waited to feel their pity directed my way.

  “What!” Pastor Ledbetter was the first to find his voice. “Why, that can’t be! Can he do that? Is that thing legal?”

  “As legal as it can get,” Sam said. “I can attest to the signature.”

  “I don’t believe it! Miss Julia, I…you, we have to do something, fight it, take it to court, something!”

  “Forget it, Pastor,” Binkie said, standing under Deputy Bates’s arm, which was stretched out across the mantel. “That will’s as solid as a rock, much to Miss Julia’s sorrow, I’m sure.”

  As Pastor Ledbetter looked for help from Dr. Fowler, who had none to offer, Brother Vern approached Sam. “Spell that out for me if you will, Brother.”

  “It simply means that the boy inherits his father’s estate when he reaches maturity.”

  “Everything?”

  “That’s what it says.”

  “The Lord be praised! Child,” he said, turning a benevolent face toward Little Lloyd, “you have been blessed beyond belief and, undoubtedly, your family with you. Hazel Marie, you gonna need help raisin’ this boy. It’s a great responsibility, but I’m here to help every step of the way.”

  Hazel Marie had not moved from my side. She looked from Sam to Brother Vern, and back to Sam again.

  “You mean,” she said, “Wesley Lloyd left everything to Junior when he gets grown?”

  “
Yes,” Sam said, “but it also means that he, and you, will be taken care of financially from now on.”

  Hazel Marie was trembling worse than I was by this time. She put her hand up to cover her mouth. “I don’t understand,” she said.

  “It means, Hazel Marie,” I said, “that you won’t have to crack a lick at a snake ever again.”

  She crumpled against me, both hands covering her face as she sobbed. “Oh, Miz Springer, that’s just not right.”

  “Of course it’s right,” I told her, patting her back. “Sam wouldn’t make such a mistake.”

  “No, I mean it’s not fair. You were his legal wife, can he do this?”

  “Mama?” Little Lloyd came to us, his face wrinkled with worry to see his mother crying. “What’s the matter, Mama? What’s going to happen to us?”

  “Not a thing, Little Lloyd,” I said. “All your troubles are over, and your mama is crying from happiness. You don’t have to worry where you’re going to live or what you’re going to do from now on. In fact, you can live right here, if you want to.” I patted Hazel Marie’s back with one hand and put my other arm around Little Lloyd’s shoulders, trying to comfort them in their joy.

  “Right here?” Little Lloyd’s face glowed at the thought. “With you? And Miss Lillian? Mama, hear that? Miz Springer wants us to live here with her.”

  “Oh, child.” I sighed, thinking my heart might break.

  I glanced at Lillian, who had thrown her head back against her chair. Her eyes were closed and her mouth moved in what I hoped was fervent prayer for us all. Me, especially, because I was the one who needed it.

  “Miss Julia,” Pastor Ledbetter said, “I am so sorry.” He dropped into a chair and leaned his elbows on his knees. Then he wiped his face with both hands, frowning and slowly shaking his head. “Nobody could’ve foreseen such an outcome. You don’t suppose,” he said, looking hopefully at Dr. Fowler, “that we could help Miss Julia break this new will?”

  “Unlikely,” he snapped, as if he were fed up with the whole situation, “if it’s as authentic as it appears to be. Besides, if we supported her in breaking it, how would it appear to the court if you then made application to have her declared incompetent?”