by Ann B. Ross
“I’m not moving them,” I said firmly, “and I’m not selling. And I really don’t want to hear any more about it.”
“You’re just being stubborn,” he said, which fired me up because I was fed up with name-calling.
I opened my mouth to tell him off, but he went right on. “Why wouldn’t you want to help improve and enhance that area of the county? Delmont needs a nice business like we’d put up. Lots of job opportunities, you know. You don’t want to be known as somebody who’d stand in the way of progress.”
I was on my feet before I knew it. “Progress! I’m so tired of hearing about progress I can’t see straight. It’s just another word for change, and I’ve had my fill of it. Every time I turn around, somebody is wanting to tear down, cut down, and pour concrete all over everything. I keep telling Rodney, and now I’ll tell you—that piece of land is not big enough for a cemetery and I wish you’d both get your minds off of it.”
Thurlow didn’t turn a hair, just leisurely stood up and watched as I paced and poured out what I had to say. Ignoring my outburst against progress, he centered in on the land itself. “Rodney told me you’re going by an old plat, and you ought to know that the old ones always underestimate. Didn’t have the equipment they have nowadays. You just wait till we get it resurveyed, then we’ll talk again.” He made a move toward the door, while I wondered what it would take for any of them to understand that my property was out of bounds.
“Well, think of this, Thurlow,” I said, pushing down the anger in order to appeal to his business sense. “Say I lost my head and sold that land to you and Rodney. And say that you put a few million dollars into buildings and cutting down trees and digging up stumps and strewing grass seed. And let’s say you had a backhoe just sitting out there on all that grassy expanse just waiting to start digging graves, and let’s say that the state cemetery commission showed up and surveyed it again and told you you didn’t have thirty acres and you’d have to close down. Just where would you be then? I’ll tell you where—you’d be out of a lot of money and saddled with twenty-nine acres of grass—just right for an expanded mobile home park.”
Thurlow hooked a thumb in the waist of his pants and smiled. “That’s when having a friend in the state senate comes in handy. With all that expenditure on the line, no senator would hesitate to come to the aid of a small businessman like Rodney. There’d be a bill on the floor in no time flat making a one-time exception to the law. And there is such a thing as eminent domain, you know. Think about what would be best for the local economy: a tract of land doing nobody any good, or a new business with job openings.”
“Well,” I said, infuriated by his cool assumption that he could have anything he wanted and if it wasn’t legal, he could make it so. “And what if your friend in the senate, Jimmy Ray Mooney, loses the election? What if somebody who is not in your pocket is the next senator?”
“Hah!” he said, delighted at the thought of getting the better of me. “Never happen. I took your advice, madam, and made sizable contributions to both candidates. Just remember this—I never make a move without covering all the bases.”
And, leaving me open-mouthed, he walked to the door and left.
Chapter 39
I kept pacing long after Thurlow was gone. I was so edgy and impatient for Sam to get home that I could hardly stand it. I knew—I knew—that Sam could never be bought, but I also knew that senators and representatives were constantly being appealed to by constituents who needed or just wanted special exemptions. And many times those exemptions were granted by a beneficent lawmaker who then got his picture in the paper. So I didn’t doubt that Thurlow could get done whatever he wanted done, maybe even without having made any campaign contributions at all.
I finally sat down, worn to a frazzle by all the steps I’d taken. But why was I so agitated? We would never know if the requirements of the state cemetery commission could be overruled. Sam would never be asked to interfere on behalf of Rodney or Thurlow, and neither would Jimmy Ray, because it would never come to that point. What belonged to me was going to stay that way, regardless of what Rodney wanted or what Thurlow expected.
Although to tell the truth, I was about tired of hearing about it and could almost wish it was off my hands. So why not, I suddenly asked myself, keep the trailer park as it was and parcel off the rest of it as building lots? All I’d need would be one home built on a nice acre lot with a few other lots staked out, then no elected official would have the nerve to appropriate it in favor of a cemetery. The whole tract would forever be out of Rodney’s reach, in spite of having Thurlow’s dubious help.
Yet why should I have to do that? It was already out of their reach, although neither of them seemed to understand the word no. In spite of their thickness, though, I had every intention to keep saying it until it finally penetrated.
Just imagine, I thought, Sam and I could’ve been sailing down the Rhine instead of being stuck at home and pestered day and night by the likes of Rodney and Thurlow, to say nothing of Trixie. Too bad that Sam had to get involved in politics—we could’ve been long gone and far away.
Then I had to laugh. I knew why we weren’t on the Rhine, and I knew who’d been the one to turn it down. But if, a few months back, I’d been able to look into the future and see what the summer would bring upon us, I might’ve jumped at the chance to dangle my feet in that river.
Hearing Sam’s car turn into the drive, I hopped up and hurried to meet him. He didn’t get through the door good until I had my arms around him and my head on his chest.
“Hey, hey,” he said softly, even as he responded by holding me close. “What is this?”
“Oh, Sam, I’m so glad you’re home. Seems you’ve been gone the whole day.”
“Just the afternoon,” he reminded me. “But it’s worth being gone to have a welcome like this.” Then he held me back from his chest so he could look at me. “Has something happened? What’s wrong?”
“Oh,” I said airily, trying to pass off my warm welcome as a normal response to his arrival. “Nothing’s wrong, particularly. I’ve just had visitors all afternoon, so I didn’t get the nap I was counting on. The coffee’s ready to perk, so why don’t you go on to the library and I’ll be there in a few minutes. You’re probably tired.”
“Yeah, pretty much so. But I’m glad Pickens and Lloyd wanted to go with me. I enjoyed having them. That Lloyd is something else. He caught everybody at the door when it was over and made sure they had a brochure and a Murdoch pin to leave with.”
—
After preparing the coffee tray, I took it to the library where Sam was resting with his feet up. I’d already calmed down by that time, telling myself that he had enough on his mind without my adding more on top of what he was already dealing with. I was, therefore, determined to let him talk about the afternoon, his plans for the next few days, and the campaign in general. Too often I was so full of what was going on with me that I didn’t give him a chance to say what was on his mind. A good wife makes time to listen, advise, and comfort, which is what I do. Most of the time.
I poured coffee for him, added some cream and stirred it, then put it on the table beside his chair. Then I prepared my cup, sat down near him, opened my mouth to ask how the meeting went, and said, “You won’t believe who all came to see me today. First it was Trixie telling me she expected to inherit my estate and asking me to go ahead and give her that tract of land that Rodney wants, just so Rodney won’t want to see other people. And then”—I stopped, took a breath, and went on—”then Thurlow showed up telling me I’m standing in the way of progress and economic growth, and when I told him that land wasn’t large enough for Rodney’s purpose, he as much as told me that he’d paid off both you and Jimmy Ray—just to cover all the bases—so whoever is elected will have a special law passed that will allow grave sites on land that doesn’t meet the specifications. And I know you wouldn’t do that, woul
d you? And Trixie called me selfish because I told her I wouldn’t give it to her and that she wasn’t in my will in the first place, and Thurlow called me stubborn because I won’t sell it to Rodney. So you see, you’ve been presumed corrupt, and I’ve been called uncharitable names, and I’m just waiting for Rodney to add his two cents’ worth.” I lifted the cup to my mouth, then stopped before drinking and turned back to Sam. “Did you have a good meeting? Who all was there?”
“Forget the meeting,” Sam said, putting his feet on the floor and beginning to rise. “Enough is enough. I’m putting a stop to this.”
“Wait. Where’re you going?”
“To call Trixie and tell her I’m coming over for a sit-down, heart-to-heart talk. And when I get through, she’s going to know what a real makeover is—it’s called an attitude change. Then I’m calling Thurlow to tell him to back off, and if he thinks he’s got a senator in his pocket he better hope Jimmy Ray wins. He won’t have this one.”
I didn’t think I’d ever seen Sam so angry. I knew I hadn’t, for in fact I’d rarely seen him angry at all. Sam was generally a live-and-let-live, kindhearted man, but Trixie had been so presumptuous and Thurlow so arrogant that they were more than he could take with his usual equanimity.
“Wait, Sam,” I said, putting my hand on his arm. “Let’s think about this. Trixie’s going to think me selfish regardless of what you say, and she’ll think it even more so when my will is read. Nothing you say or do will change that. She’s to be pitied for assuming that having that land will hold Rodney for long. And as for Thurlow, he’ll get his comeuppance sooner or later. Let him go on thinking he has both you and Jimmy Ray bought and paid for, and let him go on paying you both with contributions. He’ll learn quickly enough when you refuse to do what he wants.”
“Yes, but I don’t like them calling you names. Not even a little bit.”
“I know. I don’t like it either, but sticks and stones, as they say. It’d be better to just bide our time, let them think what they want to think, and go on about our business. The only thing that would change their minds is if I sell that land to Rodney, or I give it to Trixie, and I’m not going to do either one. Because if I did, mark my words, it wouldn’t be long until they wanted something else from me or from you, and we’d be right back where we started.”
Sam’s shoulders slumped in resignation. “You’re right. Nothing I say will do any good, but it’d sure make me feel better.” He smiled then, and I knew he’d regained his composure. “You sure you don’t want me to tell ’em off?”
I smiled back. “To tell the truth, I’d love it. But right now, it’s just not expedient, especially since time is on our side. Let’s just rise above the fray. Come on, sit back down and let me rub your back.” I drew him to the sofa and eased down beside him. “The doctor told you to get plenty of rest, but you’re constantly on the go. I worry about you, Sam. It hasn’t been that long since your surgery.”
“I’m all right. I hardly know I had surgery by now.” He turned sideways so I could massage the back of his neck. “I still think, though, that Trixie would benefit from a good talking-to.”
“She needs several, but I sometimes think that all she understands is either yes or no. Maybe that’s all she’s ever heard, but as long as she’s with Hazel Marie, I don’t want to rock the boat. Except for this afternoon with me, she’s been behaving herself, and I’m just hoping it’ll last through the luncheon tomorrow. It upsets my stomach to think of eating chicken salad with her glowering at me across the table. And,” I said, returning to my argument, “think of this. If you did talk to her, she’d likely throw one of her fits and Mr. Pickens would throw her out. Then she’d be back over here with us.”
“That clinches it then,” Sam said, giving me an over-the-shoulder smile. “No talking-to, at least for now.”
Chapter 40
“Etta Mae,” I said, calling her the next morning before she went to work. “Sorry to call so early, but I wanted to catch you before you left in case you see Rodney Pace wandering around out there again. I didn’t want to bring it up at the luncheon, but you’ll be there, won’t you?”
“Oh, hey, Miss Julia,” she said, almost too cheerily for the hour. “Yes, I’m working half a day, but I’ll be there. I have a few minutes now, though. What’s he gonna be doing? You want me to watch him?”
“No, no need for that, I don’t think. I’ve given him permission to survey the property, so he’ll be bringing some men out. Probably not until the day after tomorrow, though. I wanted you to know so you wouldn’t be worried.”
There was a long silence on the phone. Then in a dull voice she said, “You’re selling it.”
“No, I am not. All I’m doing is letting him survey it so he’ll have to accept the fact that the land is not adequate for his purpose. That way, he’ll have to look elsewhere, and Trixie can’t blame me. I don’t know why I even care about that, though, because you won’t believe what he put her up to doing.” And I went on to tell her of Trixie’s expectation of my imminent demise and the resultant distribution—even predistribution—of my assets as she’d revealed to me the afternoon before.
Etta Mae gasped. “You don’t mean it! I’ve never heard of such nerve in my life. I hope you told her off good.”
“I think I made it fairly plain,” I said, somewhat wryly. “She was most unhappy when she left. Called me selfish for not giving it to her.”
“What! You, selfish? Miss Julia, you are a saint. I can’t believe anybody would call you selfish. Why, you’re the most generous person I know.”
Of course, I reveled in her words. They were like a balm in Gilead to my soul, but then I felt ashamed of myself. There I was, telling something better kept to myself, just to elicit the response she’d given.
“Thank you, Etta Mae, but I’ve considered the source and haven’t let it bother me. But that’s why I’m letting Rodney spend his money on a futile survey. An accurate plat will settle the matter, once and for all.”
“But, Miss Julia, what if the survey proves Mr. Pace is right? I wouldn’t want to stand in your way, none of us do. I mean, all of us out here would understand if you decide to sell. We might not like it, but,” she tried to laugh, “but we know that things happen. So if you want to sell it, we’ll find someplace to live.”
“But, see, Etta Mae, another survey won’t prove him right. I knew the surveyor of that plat I showed you, and if he said twenty-nine and nine-tenths, that’s what it is. And even if it’s more than that, I promise you, I wouldn’t sell it for all the gold in Fort Knox.”
Well, I thought to myself, maybe for all the stored gold that’s supposed to be there, I would. Just think what I could do with it. I could move all the residents of the trailer park out at my expense, find them a better location, maybe a real park with a playground for the children, maybe even build a house for Etta Mae and get her out of that cramped single-wide, and . . . I almost laughed. When you admit one impossibility into your mind, that’s when all the other impossible dreams begin.
“Um,” Etta Mae said, “I don’t think we’re on the gold standard anymore.”
“Well, whatever,” I said, laughing a little to cheer her up. “How about for all the tea in China? Here’s the thing, Etta Mae, the property’s not for sale at any price, and it’s not going to be. But if you happen to see Rodney out there, I’d appreciate knowing about it.”
“Sure, I can do that. He won’t be trespassing if you’ve given him permission, so I guess you don’t want me to call the cops.”
“No, just ignore him. But when he’s finished with the survey, he’s done. Those signs will stay up, and he’d do well to take heed from then on out. I’ve about had my fill of Rodney’s big plans.”
—
I was still sitting at the kitchen table having a second cup of coffee while waiting for Lillian to finish with the dishes and join me. I was eager to tell
her about Trixie and Thurlow, then to hear her vigorously deny that they’d been accurate in their assessment of me. She’d been unusually quiet as she’d prepared breakfast, but when Lloyd joined us, he made up for our lack of conversation. He told Lillian that he’d come for breakfast because her biscuits were better than James’s, and that had made her laugh. “I could’ve tole you that,” she’d said, but soon grew quiet again, barely rising to any of our compliments on the meal.
Sam and Lloyd left soon afterward, heading out to tack up more campaign posters, and still I sat waiting.
“Lillian, you’re going to scrub the top off that counter. Get some coffee and come sit down.” If she didn’t soon finish, it would be time for me to get ready for Hazel Marie’s luncheon.
“Yes’m, I jus’ got a lot on my mind.”
“All the more reason to sit and talk for a while.”
Finally she poured her coffee and brought the cup to the table, then sat down with a sigh. “Miss Julia, I want to ast if you would pray for Miz Abernathy, the reverend’s wife. She not doin’ too good.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, and I was. I didn’t know the reverend’s wife but I knew him, and hated to hear of any trouble he might be having. “Is she sick?”
“Yes’m, been sick for a long time, but she goin’ down fast now. Pore ole reverend, he lookin’ like he been run over.”
“I certainly will pray for her, and for him, too. And for you, too, Lillian. I know you think a lot of them both.”
“Yes’m, thank you. We been gettin’ together at their house ev’ry night raisin’ up prayers. The reverend, he tell us that the Lord answers ev’ry prayer what’s put up—it’ll be either yes, no, or wait a while. But it lookin’ like this be one of them no times.”
“I am so sorry.” I reached out to put my hand on her arm, but drew back when the phone rang. “Stay right there. I’ll get it. In fact, why don’t you go on home? Leave Latisha with her sitter awhile longer, so you can get some rest.”
