by Ann B. Ross
Hearing from him what I had often thought, I leaned over a little farther and kissed his cheek.
—
Although Sam and I had both had previous marriages, neither of us had been blessed with children and, to tell the truth, I’d never felt shortchanged by the lack. I’d always figured that the Lord had known what He was doing and, sure enough, He had. If my marriage to Wesley Lloyd had produced a child or two, there might not have been room in my heart for his yard child. So, even though at first the sight of that little boy—he looked so much like Wesley Lloyd, you see—had turned my stomach and made me ill for weeks on end, I was finally able to see his bright mind, his generous soul, and his indomitable spirit, none of which had come from his father. Add to that the fact that Little Lloyd, as we’d called him, thought that I’d hung the sun and the moon. Who could resist such wide-eyed devotion?
As the phone rang again, Sam answered it while I returned to the sofa to await the final count. Paying no attention to the one-sided conversation, I let my mind wander to what we might be letting ourselves in for. It’s a fact that the best of friends can get on one another’s nerves when cooped up together for any length of time. Taken one at a time in short spurts, the company of friends can be not only tolerated, but actually enjoyed. But herd them all together in a cramped space for days on end, and we might be headed for trouble.
Mr. Pickens, for example, was one whose company I avoided when I could. I concede, however, that in the past he had always responded when I’d needed him, although he was too bullheaded to follow directions or accept suggestions even when offered with the best of intentions. But Sam thought the world of him and so did Lloyd, and deep down, I guess I did, too. He was a good man to have around in times of trouble, but he wasn’t what you’d call sociable. You didn’t just drop in on Mr. Pickens on a social call or for some inane chat about the state of the world. He was always waiting for your real reason for visiting to come to light, sitting there looking at you with those black eyes of his and seeing right through you, which, I suppose, is a good skill for a private detective to have. I just wished that he wouldn’t use it on me.
Anyway, living for two weeks in the same house with such mixed company as Sam was collecting would be interesting to say the least. We would all have to be on our best behavior or the consequences could be dire.
So, I, for one, determined to make the best of it by being pleasant, accommodating, and easy to please, regardless. And to that end, I began to plan a number of solitary walks on the beach, several lunches out, and numerous sightseeing trips to Charleston.
Chapter 3
The back door slammed and I heard Lloyd’s voice from the kitchen. “Hey, Miss Lillian. Is Mr. Sam home?”
After a few minutes of mumbled conversation with her, Lloyd came into the library wearing a green-striped polo shirt and tennis shorts, his skinny legs ending in sneakers large enough to resemble flippers. I automatically smiled as I always did—he was such a pleasure to have around. Although he would be beginning his second year as a high school student, he was still thin, freckled, and inches shorter than his contemporaries. He couldn’t help what he’d inherited from his father, but his great personality and generous heart were his own—nurtured, of course, by me.
“Hey, Miss Julia, Mr. Sam,” he said with a smile that brightened the room. “Mama says we might all be taking a trip to the beach. Is that right?”
“Yep, we just might,” Sam said. “What do you think of it?”
“What I think is count me in. They’re having a tennis tournament with some ranked players at the Isle of Palms next week, and I’d sure like to see some of the games.”
“Perfect,” Sam said. “That’s exactly where I’m looking to rent a house.”
I patted the sofa for him to sit beside me. “How’s your tennis going this summer?”
“Pretty good, I guess. I’ve really been working ’cause I’m going to challenge for the number two spot this year. My plan is to be number one my last two years.”
“I’m so proud of you for making the team at all, especially in your freshman year,” I said, getting a whiff of the sweaty, grassy aroma of an active boy as he sat beside me. “We enjoyed watching your matches.”
“Well,” he said with a wry smile, “I sure don’t intend to stay in the number four spot for long.” He twisted around on the sofa and faced Sam. “When will we be going, Mr. Sam? If we go, that is?”
Sam said, “I’m just waiting to see how many of us there’ll be before confirming a house. But I’m hoping we can leave this coming Sunday and stay until a day or two before school starts.”
“Wow, that would be super.” Turning to me with a grin, he said, “Miss Julia, is your bathing suit a one-piece or a two-piece?”
“Neither, I’ll have you know. Bathing suits aren’t on my agenda, nor is going in the ocean at all.” I declare, Lloyd seemed to be picking up Mr. Pickens’s propensity for teasing the unwary. “Besides, somebody has to be the designated lookout, watchman, or whatever, and that’ll be me.”
“Oh, come on, Julia,” Sam said, winking at Lloyd. “You’ll have to go in a little bit.”
“No,” I said firmly, “my days of cavorting around in the ocean in the kinds of bathing suits they sell nowadays are over. Not,” I added, “that they’d ever begun.”
Lloyd and Sam started laughing. “Cavorting?” Sam said. “Honey, I’d love to see you cavorting in the ocean.”
“Me, too,” Lloyd said, then stopped laughing long enough to ask, “What is cavorting, anyway? I mean, what do you do when you cavort?”
“Look it up,” I said, brushing back his sun-bleached hair. “I’m certainly not going to demonstrate. Now,” I went on, rising from the sofa, “since you two are in such a teasing mood, I’m going to go talk to Lillian.”
—
As soon as I stepped into the kitchen, Lillian turned and said, “Miss Julia?” just as I said, “Lillian?” We laughed at ourselves, as I pulled out a chair from the kitchen table.
“Come sit with me, Lillian. Sam has made a suggestion that I want to run by you.”
“Yes’m, an’ I got one, too.” She hung a washrag on the spigot and came to sit at the table. “See, Miss Julia, I been holdin’ off on tellin’ you ’cause I know you need me here. But if y’all don’t need me to go to that beach with you, then I can get it done without takin’ extra time off.”
“Get what done? Lillian, are you having a problem?”
“No more’n I been havin’, but the doctor, he say I got to go ahead an’ do it or I’m gonna get crippled, which I just about already am.”
I was stunned. “Crippled? Lillian, what in the world?”
“It’s this ole bunion what’s been botherin’ me for years, an’ he say it got to come off.” She stuck out her left foot for me to see, although I’d long known that every left-foot shoe she owned had a slit along the side of it. I’d never thought much of it since she also wore down the heels of both shoes, so that they became, more or less, like the currently popular flip-flops.
“Oh, for goodness’ sakes,” I said. “Of course you must have it done. You should’ve told me before it got so bad. Just what has your doctor told you?”
“Well, the doctor, he say he do it in Day Surgery, so I don’t have to stay in the hospital, but he say I might not wanta do much walkin’ for a day or two. Then he gonna put on what he call a walkin’ cask, so I can get around a little. But, Miss Julia, that won’t be no help with Latisha. With her around, I’d need me a runnin’ cask. That’s why I been waitin’ for school to start ’fore lettin’ him operate so she be outta the house most of the day.”
“Oh, Lillian, you should’ve told me. You could’ve already had it done. But that settles it. I’m not going to the beach. I’m going to stay right here and look after you and Latisha. Or, even better, we’ll send Latisha to the beach with Sam, and I’ll
be your nurse.”
“Miss Julia,” Lillian said, glancing away, “I don’t wanta hurt your feelin’s, but I jus’ as soon you go on to the beach an’ let Miss Bessie do my nursin’. She already say she bring some meals an’ help me get aroun’ for the first few days, an’ she try to keep her eye on Latisha, too. So I jus’ as soon have her help out, if it’s all the same to you.”
“Well, if that’s the case and if you’re sure, then here’s another proposition. You call the doctor and set up a time right away to have it done—the sooner the better, because I want to take you to the hospital. Then if you’ll have Miss Bessie to look in on you, Sam and I will take Latisha to the beach, and that will give you almost two weeks to get back on your feet. Literally.”
Lillian lowered her eyes, but I thought I saw the glint of tears. “I don’t know, Miss Julia. Latisha, she be a handful, an’ I hate for her to be actin’ up and ruinin’ ev’rybody’s vacation.”
“Listen,” I said, putting my hand on her arm. “It would be a pleasure to take Latisha to see the ocean for the first time, and she is always perfectly behaved when she’s here with us. Besides,” I went on with a smile, “who in the world would dream of acting up with Mr. J. D. Pickens and Sergeant Coleman Bates around?”
“Well, that be the truth,” Lillian said, a smile playing around her mouth. “Mr. Pickens, when he swivel them black eyes on you, you straighten up an’ fly right. Maybe they work on Latisha, too.”
“I have no doubt that they will. Even I watch my p’s and q’s around him. Okay, Lillian, it’s settled. Set up your appointment, pack Latisha’s things, and she’ll go to the beach while you recuperate from your bunionectomy. This is going to work out for everybody, and I’m going to tell Sam that he should have more bright ideas like this one.”
“Yes’m, ’cept I hope I don’t have to have no more operations when he have another one.”
—
On my way back to the library I met Lloyd on his way out. “I’m going home to start packing,” he said. “This is the best idea yet, and I can’t wait.”
“Well, hold on a minute,” I said. “I’ve just learned that Lillian has to have a bunion removed from her foot, so she’s going to have that done while we’re gone. That means we’ll be taking Latisha with us. Is that all right with you? She loves you to death, you know, and she’ll probably make every step you make the whole time.”
“Aw,” he said, grinning, “I don’t mind. She can chase balls while I hit ’em. Besides, I could give her some lessons, too. I’ll take an extra racket for her. Oh, and,” he went on as if he’d just thought of something, “Latisha can help me collect shells for Mama. She just bought a hot-glue gun for her crafts, and J.D. says it’s a worse menace in her hands than an Uzi.”
“Well, whatever,” I said, unsure of the reference. “But looking for shells will give Latisha something to do and keep her busy. I expect, though, she’ll want to tag after you wherever you go. So if it gets to be too much, let me know and we’ll find something for her to do. Maybe,” I said, thinking it through, “I could take her shopping for school clothes. That would be fun, wouldn’t it?”
“Maybe for her, but I’ll pass. But, Miss Julia, is Miss Lillian gonna be all right? I kinda hate to go off if she’s having an operation.”
“Yes, it worries me, too. I offered to stay and be her nurse, but for some reason she seems to prefer Miss Bessie—that’s a friend who lives down the street from her. I really can’t understand it, but, let’s face it, my cooking repertoire is quite limited, and Miss Bessie is an excellent cook.”
“I’m sure that’s it, Miss Julia,” Lloyd said. “I expect Lillian’s looking forward to some good eating. Besides, she’d probably rather have you looking after Latisha than serving her tuna-fish sandwiches every day.”
“Oh, you,” I said, smiling. “I can do better than that.” But, I mentally conceded, not a whole lot better. It behooved me to be content with Latisha-sitting and leave Lillian’s care in the hands of a better cook.
—
“Julia,” Sam said as I went back to the library and before I could tell him about Lillian, “do you realize how hard it can be to do something nice for some people? Both Pickens and Coleman are up in arms insisting that they contribute to the rental. And I don’t want them to. It’s my idea, and I want to do it. Yet they both say they won’t go if they can’t help. And all I wanted was to do something nice for them and their families.”
“Well, Sam, here’s a solution for that. You take care of the house and tell those two that they’re responsible for the food. Maybe they can each take everybody out one evening while we’re there. By the time they pay for eleven or twelve shrimp dinners, they’ll feel they’ve contributed plenty.”
Sam laughed. “And they can go grocery shopping to stock the kitchen for breakfast and lunch. Good idea, Julia, that’ll make them feel they’re pulling their weight, all right.”
With that settled, I told him about Lillian’s upcoming bunionectomy and how our trip to the beach would give her time to recuperate. “So,” I concluded, “Latisha is ours for the next couple of weeks. I just hope we’re not biting off more than we can chew.”
Chapter 4
Ever since Sam had mentioned asking Etta Mae Wiggins to go with us, I’d been going back and forth about it. It would be the perfect way to repay her in some small way for all she’d done for me. Besides, I enjoyed her company. On the other hand, though, I didn’t know how she’d feel being the only single woman among a group of couples. And I feared that it would be too easy to saddle her with babysitting, or, at least, that she would feel that looking after children was the reason she’d been asked.
But, finally, I decided to run the risks and ask her. I would just have to keep an eye out and see to it that she didn’t become the live-in nanny. Not, I assure you, that Hazel Marie and Binkie would deliberately take advantage of her, but then again, as willing to be helpful as Etta Mae was, it would be easy to do. I’d have to see that it didn’t happen.
So I called her. “Etta Mae? It’s Julia Murdoch. How are you?”
“Oh, Miss Julia!” she said, sounding just as happy as she usually did to hear from me. “I’m fine, but how are you? Is everything okay?”
The question saddened me in that it indicated that the only reason I would call would be if I needed something from her.
“Everything’s fine, Etta Mae. I just wanted to tell you that Sam and I, and a few others, are going to the beach for a couple of weeks, and we’d love for you to go with us. Would you be able to take time off from work? We’re leaving this Sunday, and I know it’s short notice, but that’s the way Sam does things. Would you like to go?”
“Would I like to go!” she exclaimed. “Oh, my goodness, yes. I’d love to go! Wait a minute, let me pull off to the side of the road. I’m in the car on my way to the next patient. Hold on a minute.”
Etta Mae was a licensed practical nurse or a nurse’s aide or a trained-on-the-job employee—I wasn’t sure which—of the Handy Home Helpers and made in-home visits to shut-ins and the elderly.
“There,” she said into the phone. “I’m parked now. Do you really mean it? You want me to go with you?”
“I certainly do mean it. Etta Mae, Sam is renting a huge house with enough room for an army. Hazel Marie and her family are going and so are Binkie and Coleman and their little girl. Oh, and Lloyd and Latisha, but Lillian has to have a bunion removed, so she won’t be going. Do you think you could put up with a crew like that?”
“Could I ever! And I could help, too. I mean, with the cooking and the children and whatever else you need.”
“No, Etta Mae, I’m not asking you for that. I’m asking you to go as our guest.”
“Your guest,” she said, almost in wonder. Then she heaved a deep sigh. “That’s about the nicest thing I’ve ever heard. But, Miss Julia, I can’t. I really appreciate
it, but I just can’t go.”
“You can’t get the time off?”
“Oh,” she said, somewhat ruefully, “I’d take the time if that’s all it was. No, you remember me telling you about Miss Irene Cassidy? Well, she died a few days ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, recalling the fragile diabetic patient who had so concerned Etta Mae with her promise to leave something to her in her will. “But why should that stop you?”
“Well, her funeral is at the end of next week—Friday, I think—and I feel I oughta go. Well, actually, I go to the funerals of all my patients. The ones that die, that is. They’re putting off the funeral until next week to give a relative time to get here. He’s overseas or something.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you, Etta Mae. I’m sure the family will appreciate your being there. But, listen, we’ll be staying for two weeks. So why don’t you plan to leave from the funeral and drive on down? That’ll give you more than a week to lie on the beach and eat all the seafood you want.”
She didn’t say anything for a few seconds, and I gave her time to think about it. “Would it be all right if I did that? I mean to come in the middle of your vacation?”
“Of course. By that time we’ll probably be sick of each other, so your charming self would be most welcome.”
She laughed. “Uh-huh, I bet.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t ask this,” I said, assuming that Etta Mae’s obligation to go to the funeral was because she was a beneficiary of her patient’s will. “But have you heard what Mrs. Cassidy left you in her will? I hope it was something lovely and something you have no qualms about accepting.”
