by Ross, Ann B
“Yes, and on my best cutwork linen cloth. I called Mary Alice yesterday to tell Binkie she’d better get over here and pick them up. She needs to get started on her thank-you notes right away. Six months is all a bride has to write them, you know, and even that’s too long, to my way of thinking.”
Hazel Marie frowned, and I remembered she’d been reading Amy Vanderbilt’s etiquette book, dreaming no doubt about her own wedding. If she ever had one.
“The correct thing, I believe,” she said, “is for Binkie to send them all back. If there’s no wedding at all, I mean. Maybe we ought to offer to help her. It’ll be a big job.”
“I’ll do no such thing,” I said. “What I aim to do is load them up in the car and dump them in her office. Let her suffer the embarrassment of returning every gift to every giver and try to explain herself to each one. Maybe that’ll give her a taste of her own medicine.” I don’t believe in taking vengeance into my own hands, but Binkie had to shoulder the consequences of her failure to observe the accepted social customs. Like not getting married when you say you’re going to.
Hazel Marie nodded with some hesitation, then gazed off into the far corner of the room. After some little silence, she said, “You think Binkie and Coleman would want to come to the party, even if they’re not getting married?”
Chapter 18
That hardly warranted an answer, but I said, “We can at least let them know that we’ll be ready even if they’re not. Maybe they’ll decide to go through with it for appearances’ sake alone. There’re worse reasons for getting married, in my opinion. Now, Little Lloyd,” I went on, turning my attention to him, “if you’ve finished your supper, why don’t you run upstairs and get ready for bed?”
“But, Miss Julia,” he said, “it’s not bedtime yet. It’s still light outside.”
“So it is,” I said, taking note of the yellowish light in the yard as the wind picked up and a spatter of rain hit the windows. Thunder rolled in the distance. “Well, homework then, but if you’ve finished that, you can watch television if the lightning’s not too close. And speaking of that, if it rains Saturday, that’ll be the last straw. Run along now; your mother and I have some things to discuss.”
“Oh, I get it.” He folded his napkin and placed it beside his plate and grinned at me. “You don’t want me to hear what y’all say. Okay, I can take a hint.”
That got a smile from Hazel Marie and a laugh from Lillian. “You little rascal,” I said, smiling in spite of myself, “you can read me like a book. But this is talk for grown-ups. Your time’ll come soon enough.”
When he left, I turned to Hazel Marie and said, “This is hard for me to talk about, but I’m going to do it anyway. Tell her, Lillian.”
“Why you want me to do it?” Lillian came to the table and I motioned for her to sit down.
“Because you’re the one who noticed it first. Although, sooner or later, I would have, too.”
“Sooner or later, ever’body will,” she said, drawing the chair close to the table. “Won’t be no surprise in that. Well, Miss Hazel Marie,” she went on, propping an arm on the table, “fact is, Miss Binkie, I think she pregnant.”
“What!” Hazel Marie reared back in her chair, as astounded as I had been.
“Wait a minute, Lillian,” I said. “You told me she is, not that you think she is. Now, which is it? We need to know for sure, since it’ll make all the difference in the world as to what we do.”
“I’m pretty sure,” Lillian said, nodding her head. “I nearly always can tell. It come to me when I seen her eyes an’ hear her runnin’ to th’ow up like she done.”
“Oh, my goodness,” Hazel Marie said, properly disturbed, as I’d hoped she’d be. “Then she and Coleman have to get married. It is Coleman’s, isn’t it?”
“Hazel Marie!” I cried. “Don’t ask such a thing! Of course it’s Coleman’s. Let’s don’t make this any worse than it is. The question is, how’re we going to get them married?”
“Does Coleman know?” Hazel Marie asked.
“I’m figuring he doesn’t, or he’d be doing more than moving back here acting like a beaten child.”
“I don’t know, Miss Julia.” Hazel Marie was getting that far-off look in her eyes again. “Binkie’s got a mind of her own. But I’ll tell you this, she’s got a hard row to hoe if she tries to manage by herself. I know what I’m talking about, if you don’t mind me bringing it up.”
“That’s exactly what I hoped you’d do,” I said. “I think you ought to talk to her, tell her what she’s letting herself in for, raising a child without a husband. Tell her about the looks and the stares and the whispers, all that you had to put up with. Maybe you can talk some sense into her.”
“You don’t think . . . ?” Hazel Marie started, then stopped as her eyes began to fill. “No, she wouldn’t do that. Surely she wouldn’t.”
“Do what?”
“You know, . . . not have the baby,” she whispered, as the tears overflowed.
“Oh, Lord!” I cried, jumping up from my chair. “I hadn’t thought of that! Oh, no, she wouldn’t! Would she? Lillian, we can’t let that happen. Hazel Marie, what’re we going to do? We have to get them married. There’s no two ways about it.”
I paced the floor, so agitated at the thought of what Binkie might do that I couldn’t get myself together. I certainly supported a woman’s right to choose, but to my mind the time to choose was before, not after the fact.
“I have to talk to her. And to him,” I said, although I didn’t know what I could say to either. “Something has to be done. I’ve a good mind to go over to Binkie’s right now and set her straight.”
“You better leave Miss Binkie alone,” Lillian declared. “What I say is you oughtta sleep on whatever you plannin’ to do, ’cause you might make it worse, jumpin’ in like you do sometimes.”
“I don’t see how it could get any worse.” I sighed, sinking into a chair. “But you’re right. Let’s all sleep on it. Although I doubt I’ll close my eyes all night long.” I went to the window and peered out at the pounding rain. “I hope they’ve covered that half-finished building over there. Not that I care if it washes away, but it’d be a lot of people’s money down the drain.”
* * *
I went upstairs feeling bruised and battered, so undone with what the day had wrought. Before getting in bed, though, I called Sam to lean a little on his shoulder and share the burden I carried. I don’t believe in passing on gossip, but Binkie’s condition was hardly gossip and Sam could be trusted with it. He was a lawyer after all, even though retired, and lawyers as a general rule know how to keep secrets.
“Help me, Sam,” I said. “We have to get them married before they ruin their lives.”
He sighed and said, “Julia, more lives have been ruined by getting married than by not getting married. You have to let them decide what’s best, then accept what they decide. Give them some time to work it out.”
“I don’t have the time to give!” I said. “Saturday’s almost here, Sam, and the wedding’s all set. If they miss that, they could just go on as they are forever. What I’m saying is, this is the perfect opportunity to make them go through with it.”
“No, Julia, you don’t want to do that. Making them get married is not the way to go.”
“I don’t see why not,” I said. “A lot of marriages begin like that for a lot of different reasons. And some of them work out. At this point, I just want them married so that child will have some legitimacy. Don’t you think that’s enough reason for them to get married?”
“I’ll have to think about that. Times have changed, you know; it’s a different world today.”
“Not to me, it isn’t. Now, look, Sam, I want you to talk to Coleman. Tell him what’s at stake here. Between the two of us, we ought to be able to get them back together.”
“What if they don’t want to get back together? What if their differences over Dixon have uncovered something more basic in the way they feel
toward each other?”
“I don’t believe that for a minute,” I told him. “I agree that there’s something more going on than disagreeing over Dixon, but with a child on the way, they’ll just have to overlook whatever it is and do the right thing.”
After cautioning me again about interfering in the lives of other people, Sam told me to get a good night’s sleep and he’d be over in the morning to talk about it again.
I tried to sleep, but even with the drumming of rain on the roof, I couldn’t get comfortable, tossing and turning until I had to get up and remake the bed. Instead of crawling back in, though, I sat by the window, watching the rain glittering in the light of the streetlamps, and studied the problem. Even though Coleman had moved back in, we’d seen neither hide nor hair of him, not even at mealtime, which he wasn’t prone to miss. So he was avoiding us by working long hours, then coming in after we were in bed, and leaving before we got up. I didn’t know how he was functioning on so little sleep, but it was a settled fact that he was doing all he could do to keep from facing any of us, namely me.
Well, I could fix that.
I wrapped my robe around me and crept down the stairs, so as not to wake anybody else. This was going to be between me and Coleman. I took a seat at the kitchen table right by the back door where Coleman always came in. I left the lights off, except for the outside light at the back door that always stayed on.
I don’t know how long I sat there in the dark, listening as the rain beat against the windows. I must’ve dozed off a few times, jerking awake at the least little sound until I had a crick in my neck. Finally, I heard his car turn into the drive and that brought me fully alert. I heard Coleman splash to the door and up onto the stoop, his key ring jingling softly. My eyes were adjusted to the filtered light that leaked in from the streetlamps, so when he pushed open the door, I could see his outline as he entered the kitchen. The creak of his duty belt announced his arrival, as did his tired sigh as he carefully pushed the door closed. He’d always been considerate that way, not wanting to wake the whole house with his comings and goings.
I saw his shape lean on the kitchen counter for a few minutes, thinking he was alone. I hesitated before speaking, not wanting to peel him off the ceiling if I startled him too bad.
“Coleman,” I said as softly as I could.
“Huh?” He straightened abruptly and whirled around. “Who’s that?”
“Don’t shoot. It’s just me.”
“Miss Julia? What’re you doing sitting there in the dark?”
“Waiting for you. Sit down, Coleman, I want to talk to you. And you need to talk to me.”
I wasn’t sure he was going to do it. He stood by the counter for a few seconds, as if he were considering just walking on upstairs or maybe out to the car and driving away. But I’d counted on his good manners, and sure enough, he felt for a chair and pulled it away from the table.
Then he turned back and pulled off a paper towel from the roll on the counter. Mopping at his hair and wiping down his arms with it, he said, “Let me get the lights on.”
“No, leave them off, and come sit down. What I have to say is better said in the dark. At least, it is for me. I might not be able to talk about it with the lights on. Coleman, you know I’m not one to interfere in other people’s business, but there’s something you need to know. About Binkie.”
I was able to make him out in the shadows of the room, as he sat heavily in the chair. His broad shoulders slumped in what looked like more sadness than I could bear. If I’d had any hesitation at all before this, I knew then that I was right to take a hand in matters.
He propped his elbow on the table and leaned his head on his hand. “Okay,” he said with a deep sigh. “Let’s hear it.”
Chapter 19
“There’s something about Binkie I don’t think you know. And you need to, whether she’s seen fit to tell you or not.”
He didn’t reply at first, just sat there in the dark waiting, I guessed, for more bad news. I wished I could make out the expression on his face before I went on, but all I could see was his head turned down as he looked at the table.
Then he said, “Did she tell you?”
“No. Lillian did.”
“Lillian? How does she know?”
“Lillian knows a lot of things, believe me. Anyway, the thing is, do you know?”
“What’re we talking about?”
“We’re talking about the fact that Lillian says that Binkie’s expecting a baby. Now wait,” I hurried on, “I know this is a shock to you, and I’m sorry to be the one to tell you. But now you can see how important it is for you and Binkie to get over your differences about Dixon Hightower and get yourselves married as soon as you can. Like, on Saturday.”
“You’ve lost me here, Miss Julia. What’s Dixon got to do with anything?”
“Well, I don’t know! It’s beyond me to understand how the two of you have let that thieving rascal come between you. It doesn’t make sense to me.”
“To me, either. Is that what Binkie said?”
“Yes, it is. But, Coleman, let’s not get off on Dixon. You don’t seem to understand what I’m telling you. Binkie’s pregnant. I can’t be any clearer than that, and you have to do something about it.”
He smeared his hand down his face, then leaned back in his chair. “I know she is, Miss Julia. That’s why we decided to get married in such a hurry.”
“Well, thay Lord,” I said, stunned that he’d known all along, yet had let things come to such a pass. “Then what’s the problem? Why in the world have you called it off?”
He was quiet for so long that I wasn’t sure he was going to answer me. I declare, getting a man to talk about personal matters was like pulling teeth.
Finally, in a rasping voice, he said, “Binkie changed her mind. We went to the pastor’s counseling session the other night, which wasn’t the smartest thing we’ve ever done. He gave us a compatibility test that made Binkie roll her eyes. I thought she was going to walk out when he started telling us about a wife’s obligations to her husband, and how the husband has authority over the wife. And how the purpose of marriage was for each couple to have three children—two to replace the parents and one to replenish the earth. Whatever that means. I knew that wasn’t going over too well and, sure enough, on the way home, she said she just wasn’t cut out to be anybody’s wife. And that having a baby was no reason for either of us to feel we had to marry.” He gave a short, harsh laugh that sounded like it hurt his throat. “As if that was the only reason I . . . well, she said she didn’t want me to feel obligated to marry her, to have a shotgun wedding just to live up to old-fashioned and outdated conventions. She said that a woman could manage just as well without a husband. And nothing I say makes any difference. . . .” He trailed off with a world of pain in his voice.
It was my turn to remain silent. I was stunned that an expectant mother wouldn’t jump at the chance to marry her baby’s father. Especially this father, who was as fine a man as ever walked the face of the earth.
“Coleman,” I finally managed to get out. “I don’t know what to say. I could just wring Pastor Petree’s neck, but Binkie should know better than to listen to him.” I stopped, trying to understand this younger generation that seemed willing to throw out the baby with the bathwater, which I guessed was a bad choice of words in the present situation. Some old-fashioned notions needed throwing out, but not all of them. I recalled hearing Wesley Lloyd rant and rave about overeducated young women who got too big for their britches, demanding high salaries and benefits and so on. He’d go on a tear about a woman’s proper role in life and, according to him, that role was not in positions of authority in business or in the church. And Pastor Ledbetter confirmed his views from the pulpit. To hear either of them tell it, a woman was made to be dependent on her father, then on her husband, and woe be to any woman who stepped out of line.
I was confused in my own mind. I certainly did not agree with Wesley Lloyd’s views
, or with the pastor’s, especially after learning of Wesley Lloyd’s extramarital escapades. Learning what he’d done had put a damper on everything else he’d pronounced as gospel.
But I couldn’t go so far as to agree with Binkie that a woman could do it all by herself, especially if she had a choice in the matter, which Binkie certainly did. And especially now that she was in such a delicate condition.
“Let me get this straight,” I said. “You want to marry her, but she doesn’t want you to feel obligated just because people expect it of you both. Is that right?”
I saw his head nod in the gloom of the kitchen. “That’s about it.”
“Well, that’s the most wrongheaded thing I’ve ever heard, and I’m not going to stand for it. Coleman, you get after her and don’t leave her alone. It’s all well and good to draw up into yourself, but not in this case. What you have to do is tell her that she promised to marry you on Saturday and that you’re holding her to it, and it doesn’t matter a hill of beans what other people think. First thing this morning as soon as it’s daylight, I want you to start sending her flowers. Send them every hour on the hour till her office is overflowing. Put a sweet note on every one. Call her, tell her you love her, and tell her you’re going to be standing in front of the arch in my living room come Saturday at four o’clock sharp. In the meantime, I’ll be talking to her, too, and telling her that nobody takes the pastor’s views on marriage seriously—just look at how many women run the households in town. And between us we’ll get that little unborn child some legitimate parents. And have the wedding that I’ve made all the arrangements for.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” he said, sounding so hopeless that I could’ve shaken him.
