Miss Julia Stands Her Ground

by Ann B. Ross

  “Let me tell you something, Hazel Marie,” I said. “If what I think of you could be changed by what a stranger says, then I’d be a sorry friend to have. And another thing, the times you most feel like hiding away in a closet are exactly the times you ought to hold your head up high and stare down your detractors.

  “Now crank this thing up,” I said, shivering in my coat, “I’m about to freeze to death.”

  Chapter 41

  I make it a practice to give advice whenever I see that someone needs it, so I was pleased that my little pep talk seemed to put some steel in Hazel Marie’s backbone. She sat up, cranked the car, and peeled out of the driveway so fast that I had to grab the armrest.

  “You know where we’re going?” I asked.

  “Etta Mae told me where he works.”

  Her mouth was set in such a firm line that I wondered how she got the words out. I tried a few more conversational stabs, mentioning the number of cars on the road, Little Lloyd’s report card that would be coming out soon, and how cold it had gotten. But she wasn’t in the mood for chitchat, so I finally subsided, realizing that she had her mind set on one thing, and it wasn’t the state of the weather.

  Looking around and noting the turn she had made, since it had nearly snapped my head off, I said, “We’re going to Delmont?”

  “He works at the American Dollar store there.”

  “Well, I say. I’ve never been in one of those, but you see them all over. What does he do?”

  “Manager, I think.”

  I couldn’t get any more out of her, so I entertained myself by looking out the window. I was trying to keep a serene demeanor, but taking deep breaths and tapping my fingers on the armrest probably didn’t come across as the most unruffled indicators of my state of mind. I didn’t want to let on that I was torn up inside with fear of what Lonnie Whitmire was going to say and with worry of what she was going to do.

  “You know, Hazel Marie, it used to be that we had five-and-dimes everywhere you looked. But you don’t see them anymore. Now it’s just dollars and Penney’s.”

  I think she nodded, but I couldn’t be sure, because she whipped us into a parking lot that ran in front of a strip mall on the east side of Delmont. She pulled up in front of the American Dollar store, threw the car in park, and out the door she went. I had to hurry to keep up.

  Lord, the inside of the store was a wonder. It was long and narrow, with rows of shelving running the length of the store, and all the shelves and the floor under them were packed with every consumer item you could think of. And each one of them selling for a dollar? I’d have to come back some day when I had time to shop.

  Hazel Marie walked right up to the stout woman at the cash register, unheedful of the customers lined up to check out. “I need to see Lonnie Whitmire. Where is he?”

  The woman, who was moving as slow as Christmas in the first place, gave her a sullen glance but kept turning a garment around and around, looking for the sale price. “You’ll have to get in line.” She nodded at the three customers who were waiting.

  But Hazel Marie didn’t have standing in line in mind. “You could’ve told me what I want to know in the time it took to tell me to get in line. Now, get him out here or I’m going through this store like Sherman through Georgia.”

  The woman stopped her search and looked up, her face going slack. She stepped back from the counter and came up against the cash register. “I’m calling the police.”

  “Call them. I don’t care,” Hazel Marie said, slapping her hand on the counter. “Just get Lonnie out here, and we’ll see who needs the police.”

  “Mr. Whitmire,” the woman mumbled, correcting Hazel Marie. “He’s in the back. In the office. But he can’t be disturbed.”

  “Huh,” Hazel Marie said, with a switch of her shoulders. “We’ll just see about that.”

  She took off, heading down one of the aisles with me right behind her. There was so much merchandise stacked on the floor that we couldn’t walk abreast even if I’d been able to keep up with her. I declare, I’d never seen so much stuff crammed into one store. There were grocery items, toys, clothing on circular racks, cleaning supplies, grills, gardening tools, and I don’t know what all. And probably every last one of them made in China or Japan or Hong Kong, right there on display in the American Dollar store.

  Hazel Marie wasn’t interested in the merchandise. She headed straight for a door in the back with a sign saying Employees Only and pushed through it. I was two steps behind her, but we were brought up short by stacks of boxes and cartons waiting to be opened. Flattened boxes and packing materials littered the floor, at least what I could see of it, for the light was dim and the windows crusted with grime.

  Hazel Marie didn’t let any of that delay her. She began weaving in and out of the stacks of cartons until we saw an office cubicle enclosed with glass panels in the back corner. Inside it, Deacon Lonnie, with his shirt unbuttoned at the neck and his tie pulled down, sat behind a desk. He had his sleeves rolled up, and he was scratching his head with the hand that held a cigarette. Lord, if I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought it was Wesley Lloyd Springer sitting there.

  Hazel Marie took a bead on the man and threw the door open, slamming it back with such force that the whole office shook from the impact. Then she barreled in, startling Lonnie Whitmire so bad that he sprang from his chair, toppling it over and flipping the cigarette out of his hand and up in the air. He brushed frantically at his white shirt as the sparks flew.

  “Why, why,” he sputtered, snatching up the cigarette and burying it in an overflowing ashtray. “What’s the meaning of this? You can’t just come barging in here. . . .” Then recognition spread across his face, and he began backpedaling. “Why, Hazel Marie Puckett. Long time no see. Uh, what’re you doing here?”

  “You know what I’m doing here,” Hazel Marie said, her face scrunched up so bad that even I took a step back. She put her fists on his desk and leaned over it toward him. He stepped back until he was stopped by the wall.

  “Why, I don’t have any idea, but it, uh, sure is nice to see you again.” Lonnie Whitmire’s eyes were darting all around, looking for a way out. But he would’ve had to get past Hazel Marie first, and then me. And I was standing in the door.

  “You won’t think it’s so nice by the time I get through with you.” Hazel Marie shoved the desk, sending it closer to Mr. Whitmire. “I want to know what you’ve been telling that uncle of mine. What’ve you been saying about me?”

  “Why, Hazel Marie,” he said, shrugging his shoulders and turning his palms up, like he didn’t know what she was talking about. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But his face was red, and he couldn’t look her in the eye, so he certainly did.

  “Yes, you do, you lyin’ polecat.” Hazel Marie was so mad that spit was flying out of her mouth. Lonnie Whitmire cringed out of firing range. “So let’s hear it. Just tell me right now, right to my face, if you’ve got the nerve. Which you don’t. And you never did. You were always a sneak, Lonnie Whitmire, and that’s what you’ve been doing to me. Sneaking around and telling tales and lying about me and giving Uncle Vern another stick to beat me over the head with.”

  “Now, Hazel Marie, you know I wouldn’t do that,” Lonnie said, pleading innocence just as any tattletale will do. “You and me, we had us some good times once upon a time. You know we did.”

  “I don’t know any such thing!” Hazel Marie shoved the desk another inch or two. “I don’t know where you get off, thinking a couple of movies and a hamburger add up to some good times.”

  Hearing her confirm that she had been out with him, I sagged against the door.

  “Now, Hazel Marie,” he said, with just the hint of a smirk. “You know it was a little more than that.”

  “I don’t know any such thing! Now you listen to me, Lonnie Whitmire,” Hazel Marie told him, as she trembled so bad she had to hold onto the desk. “Whatever ideas you’ve put in my uncle’s head, you better ge
t them out, and get them out now. I’m not going to put up with it, and you can put that in your pipe and smoke it.”

  “But I didn’t . . .”

  “Yes, you did, too! There’s no where else he could’ve gotten it. And I don’t care if he misunderstood or if he made it out to be more than you said or what. It came from you, and you better get it straightened out. And I don’t mean maybe, either.”

  Hazel Marie straightened herself up, crossed her arms over her heaving bosom, and glared at him. Her hot anger seemed to dissipate, and her voice grew low and cold. “You don’t want to take me on, Lonnie, I promise you. I have powerful friends in this town, and one of them is standing right behind me.”

  I pulled my shoulders back, put a hard glint in my eye, and tried to look powerful.

  “Mrs. Julia Springer Murdoch,” Hazel Marie went on, “can buy and sell you and this store, too. And if you don’t put a cork in Vernon Puckett, you’re going to find out that I mean what I say.”

  “Why, sure, Hazel Marie,” Lonnie said, all too eager now to pacify her. “Sure, I’ll do that. It was just a little misunderstanding, that’s all it was. But I’ll set him straight, bet your boots, I will.” An appeasing grin spread across his face as he pulled out a handkerchief and patted his forehead. “Would you ladies like something to drink?”

  Hazel Marie snorted, but delicately. “I wouldn’t have a drink with you if you were the last man on earth. Come on, Miss Julia, I’ve had enough of this.”

  She charged toward the door, making me step lively to get out of her way. Then she whirled around and threw one last threat at him. “I’m watching you, Lonnie, and if you want to work in this store and live in this town, you’ll mind your own business.”

  She headed out through the stockroom and banged open the door into the store, with me right behind her and Lonnie right behind me. As she strode up an aisle, her arms swinging and her boots clomping with every step, Lonnie stopped and flung out the last word. “Fine, but you’re both crazy! I don’t care what that uncle of yours promises, it ain’t worth the aggravation!”

  Hazel Marie was halfway up the aisle and paid no attention. But I did, and I understood right then that Brother Vern had paid for Lonnie’s testimony. That’s called suborning perjury, if I’m not mistaken.

  And with that uplifting thought I hurried after Hazel Marie, all the while marveling at how she’d stood up for herself. She was marching up that aisle, holding her head so high that it brushed a blue stuffed animal off a shelf. She grabbed it and sent it winding with no thought of where it would land.

  I ducked and plowed on after her, but I had to pick up my pace right smartly to keep her in sight.

  Chapter 42

  “Oh, no!” Hazel Marie slammed on the brakes, bringing us to a jolting halt in the middle of Polk Street.

  “What? What?” I gasped, as the seat belt almost cut me in two.

  “Look, just look at that,” she said, easing off the brakes and pointing to the shiny silver Cadillac parked in front of our house.

  “Oh, my goodness. Keep going, Hazel Marie, and maybe he’ll leave. “

  “I can’t. Lloyd’ll be home from school any minute, and I don’t want him near Uncle Vern.”

  “You’re right. I didn’t think of that. Hazel Marie, we have got to get rid of him.” Scanning the driveway and the street, and seeing no familiar cars, I went on. “And wouldn’t you know that neither Sam nor Mr. Pickens is back, so it’s up to us.”

  “Up to me, you mean. He’s my problem, and I’m going to deal with it.” Then she shot me a frowning glance. “Why would J.D. be here?”

  “I called him, looking for you. And now he’s out trying to find you.”

  Her eyes rolled back in her head, a gesture I thought quite uncalled for under the circumstances.

  She pulled the car into the driveway and went tearing through the backdoor. By the time I got into the kitchen, all I saw was the door to the dining room still swinging from her passage.

  “What she fixin’ to do, Miss Julia?” Lillian said, wringing a dish towel.

  “There’s no telling, Lillian. She’s on a rampage, and I for one don’t want to get in her way. How long has Brother Vern been here?”

  “I don’t know. Not too long, but he say he stay ’til y’all get back.”

  “Why in the world did you let him in? I declare, Lillian, we could do without this.”

  “What you want me to do?” she demanded, turning up her hands and glaring at me. “He come right in soon as I open the door. Didn’t ast me nothin’. Jus’ walk right in, an’ say he come on the Lord’s business. How I gonna stop a man what workin’ for the Lord?”

  “Oh, Lillian, you know you can’t believe anything that man says. Brother Vern can’t tell the difference between the Lord’s work and his own. They’re one and the same to him.”

  I tiptoed to the door to the dining room, hoping to hear what Hazel Marie was saying to Brother Vern. Or him to her, whichever it was.

  “You better stop that,” Lillian said.

  “Hush. I just want to be available if I’m needed.” But I couldn’t hear a sound, so I straightened up and asked, “You haven’t heard from Sam?”

  “No’m, nor Mr. Pickens, neither. I wisht one of ’em come on back here. I don’t like that man in the house with jus’ us. He might do something.”

  “Oh, he won’t do anything, Lillian, but he could sure say something.”

  I shuddered at the thought of the words that Brother Vern could be saying to Hazel Marie, and at what those words could mean to Wesley Lloyd Springer, whose eternal rest might have to be temporarily disturbed.

  “Lillian,” I said, walking over to her so I could speak softly. “I want you to prepare yourself. We might have to do something so unheard-of that you won’t believe it.”

  “What?” she whispered, her eyes getting bigger.

  Then we both turned at the sound of a basketball bouncing in the driveway. “Little Lloyd’s home! Hurry, Lillian, get your coat and waylay him. Take him to the store. Tell him anything, just don’t let him come in. Here’s the keys to my car. Now hurry before he comes in.”

  She got her coat from the pantry, took my keys, and started for the door. “How long I got to keep him away from here?”

  “Until that car parked out front is gone. If you come back and it’s still there, remember something you forgot and go back to the store.”

  “Law,” she said, on her way out the door, “that mean I got to ’member to forget something.”

  I watched out the window as she spoke to Little Lloyd and saw him put away his ball. Then he threw his book bag in the backseat and climbed willingly into the car with her. Such an agreeable child, never a minute’s trouble. But, oh, how his problematical origin troubled me.

  When the car was out of earshot, I stood in the empty kitchen, listening as hard as I could, but there was no sound from the living room. I paced a few steps, wondering what to do.

  After about two paces, I could stand it no longer. I pushed through the door into the dining room and marched myself into the fray. Hazel Marie was going to get my help whether she liked it or not. Even though I’d seen her take on some pretty formidable people in my time, she was no match for Brother Vern.

  So I didn’t have any qualms about going forward, and it was a good thing I didn’t. As soon as I stepped into the living room, I could see that she needed all the help she could get. She was sitting bent over herself in one of the Victorian chairs, her face buried in her hands and sobbing. Brother Vern stood over her, murmuring on and on, so softly but insistently that as close as I was, I couldn’t make out what he was saying.

  The Oriental rug deadened my footsteps so that neither of them heard my approach. I stopped right behind Brother Vern, finally picking up what he was drilling into Hazel Marie’s head.

  “Girl, you know you sinned an’ you’re still sinnin’. You got to repent and confess, and do it so everbody hears and knows the kinda life you been leadin
’. You been away from God long enough, and what kinda mother does that make you? You’re an evil influence on that boy with your lyin’ and deceivin’ ways, livin’ all your life with first one man and then another, and if you want to make it right and undo all you’ve wrought, you’ll come clean, Hazel Marie.”

  It was remarkable to me, after having heard Brother Vern in full preaching mode when his voice could shake the rafters, to now hear this persistent drone, meant only for Hazel Marie to hear. And hear she was, for he had her so browbeaten and downtrodden, that she was all hunched over, her shoulders shaking and the tears flowing. In a matter of minutes the steel that had shored up her backbone enough to lay Lonnie Whitmire low had been taken right out of her by Brother Vern.

  “Repent and confess,” he went on, leaning closer to her. “Repent and confess, girl, that’s all you gotta do.”

  “Yessir,” she moaned between sobs. “I know I do, and I’m sorry. Sorry for everything.”

  “Sorry don’t cut it,” he said, as he put his hand on her head and mashed down on it. “You have to give up this easy life you got. That’s the wages of sin, and we all have to suffer the consequences. But you don’t have to worry about the boy, I’ll see he’s taken care of, and I won’t let you go without, either. It won’t be like you got it now, but it’ll be enough so you won’t have to go takin’ up with another man. Cause I’m tellin’ you, Hazel Marie, you got to put away fleshly thoughts and needs and all that wantin’ in your heart. They already got you in enough trouble. You ought to be thinkin’ of livin’ a life of scrimpin’ and savin’ and sacrificin’ from here on out to make up for the kinda life you been livin’.”