by Ann B. Ross
My eyes popped open. “A stabilizing influence for what?”
“For young couples in the church. Seems it’s to be an enrichment course mainly for them.”
“Spiritual enrichment?”
“No.” Sam let a second or so pass, as my eyes began to close. “Marriage enrichment.”
I sat straight up in bed. “Marriage enrichment? Marriage counseling? Is that what it is? Sam, how could you? I don’t want to be counseled about anything, especially our marriage. What does Pastor Ledbetter know about it, anyway? He’s no expert. All you have to do is look at Emma Sue to know that.”
Sam drew me back down beside him. “We’re not going to be counseled, Julia. If anything, we’ll be there to help counsel the others. Give them the benefit of our experiences. Besides, Ledbetter won’t be the counselor. He’s got somebody lined up who knows what he’s doing. A Christian psychologist, he said.”
“That does not reassure me,” I said, lying stiff beside him. “I don’t trust psychologists as far as I can throw them, and anybody who has to tack his Christianity onto his occupation is somebody to stay away from. ‘Go into thy closet and pray in secret,’ or something like that. But don’t advertise it just to get clients. I mean, you don’t go to a Christian barber, do you, expecting to get a better haircut?”
I could sense Sam smiling in the dark. “I agree with you, sweetheart, but let’s humor him. We haven’t done much in the church lately, and I thought this would be easy enough. We can drop out anytime you want to.”
“What about now?”
Sam laughed. “Look at it this way. We might pick up a few pearls that would help Hazel Marie and Pickens. Of course, the sessions would be ideal for them, but it’s a little early along to be suggesting it.”
The possibility of helping them get a good start in their marriage put a different light on it, and I relaxed, thinking I could take notes on salient points and pass them on to Hazel Marie. I wouldn’t dream of attempting to counsel Mr. Pickens, even from a safe remove.
I turned over and scrooched down, ready for sleep. “Well, okay, but I’m taking it one Monday at a time. You might end up going by yourself and see what kind of model that would be.”
Sam laughed and put his arm across my waist. “I’ll risk it.”
Chapter 6
As I walked down the stairs the next morning, I heard a chorus of voices and laughter coming from the kitchen. I glanced at my watch, thinking I was running late. But no, if anything I was a little early, but obviously others were already up and stirring.
Pushing through the kitchen door, I saw Mr. Pickens, Lloyd, Latisha and Lillian filling plates, looking for backpacks, laughing and carrying on as if they were in Grand Central Station.
“Hey, Miss Lady,” Latisha sang out. “I’m gonna go to school today, ’cause I had to go to a wedding yesterday an’ couldn’t make that ole school bus.”
“Good morning, Latisha. I’m sorry you missed the first day of school, but we were glad to have you with us. Aren’t you in the first grade this year?”
“No’m, I’m goin’ in that ole kindygarden, an’ it don’t matter if I miss a day or two, ’cause I already know everything they gonna say, anyhow.”
Lloyd laughed and helped her pour milk on her cereal. “Just wait, Latisha. Next year, you’re gonna blow that first-grade teacher away.”
“Miss Julia,” Lillian said, “you want eggs this morning?”
I nodded and drew a chair out from the table. Mr. Pickens came over with a heaping plateful and sat beside me.
“Sam not up?” he asked.
“He’ll be down in a minute.” I cast a careful eye in his direction, trying to read his expression to determine just what, if anything, had taken place during his wedding night. “How’s Hazel Marie this morning?” I asked, then could’ve bitten my tongue off. Knowing him, he’d put the worst possible spin on my question.
And he did. He looked up at me from under those black eyebrows, grinned, and said, “Blooming like a rose. I think married life agrees with her. It sure does with me.”
I rose from my chair like it had a spring in it. “Here, Lillian, let me take that.” Meeting her halfway across the kitchen, I practically snatched a platter of scrambled eggs from her.
Hazel Marie, in another sweat outfit, came in then from the back hall at the same time that Sam entered from the dining room, their appearances adding to the noise level but relieving me of responding to Mr. Pickens. The man was beyond belief, giving me that smug, self-satisfied grin of his, as if all Hazel Marie had needed was him.
From the looks of her, though, he may’ve been right, for she did seem more at peace than I’d seen her in a long time. Her eyes were clear and her complexion had lost the blotches that all that crying had etched on her face. Mr. Pickens gave her a kiss as she sat down beside him, then they whispered together for a few minutes, a rudeness that I overlooked given the circumstances.
“Well, I’m on my way,” Mr. Pickens said, getting up from the table. “Come on, kids, I’ll drop you off at school.”
He shook Sam’s hand, thanked him again for all his help, then came around the table to me. “Look after her for me, Miss Julia. I’ll be back sometime Friday.”
He picked up his suitcase and hanging bag, which had been in the corner, kissed Hazel Marie again and herded the two children out. As he, Lloyd and Latisha left, the kitchen began to return to its peaceful state. I smiled at Sam, poured coffee for him and gave thanks in my heart for what was looking like a good beginning to Hazel Marie’s marriage. Except, of course, for the fact that the groom had left after one day of it.
“Miss Julia?” Hazel Marie said, as she took another piece of toast. “I have got to go shopping and find something I can wear besides these sweat suits. I’m so afraid somebody’ll see me, though, before they know I’m married. I’ll really need some for next week, because J.D.’s made reservations for us at the Grove Park Inn. Will that be all right? I mean, to leave Lloyd with you?”
“Of course it will, and I’m glad to hear it. At least it’ll be a semblance of a honeymoon for you, but are you sure you ought to go out of town? Dr. Hargrove wants you close by, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, ma’am, but that’s why we’re just going to Asheville. And I have an appointment Thursday morning, so I’ll make sure it’s all right.”
“Why, that’s perfect, Hazel Marie. That’s the day I’m having the luncheon, and you need to be somewhere else, anyway. Why don’t you go to the doctor’s, then go on over to Asheville and do your shopping? By the time you get back, everybody will know and you won’t have to slip around and hide anymore.” That seemed the perfect solution, until I stopped and thought about it. “No, that won’t do. You can’t be driving off by yourself and walk all over that mall alone. You haven’t been out of bed that long. What if something were to happen?”
“I’ll take you, Hazel Marie,” Sam said. “If the doctor says it’s okay, we can leave from his office and go right on over. To tell the truth, I’ve been thinking of going to the mall anyway. They’ve opened a new Reel and Gun store, and I want to see what they have. While you’re trying on maternity clothes, I can be trying out a new rod. Would that work?”
Hazel Marie smiled. “That would work just fine.”
I declare, Hazel Marie almost ran me ragged all that day and the next. I don’t know what had happened on her wedding night, but some kind of energizing change had come over her. Her appetite picked up considerably and she couldn’t sit still for two minutes. Always had to be up and doing, wandering around the house, asking Lillian what she could do to help, making out lists for her shopping trip and wondering when she could go to Velma’s.
“Velma!” I cried as soon as she mentioned the woman’s name. “I have got to invite Velma to the luncheon. I’ll call her right now.”
“You’re inviting Velma?” Hazel Marie asked in wonder. “You’ve never had her before, have you?”
“I’ve had her for large events, but ne
ver anything as intimate as this. But Hazel Marie, if we want to get the word out that you’re a settled married lady, who better to tell than the hairdresser to the stars?”
Hazel Marie laughed, looking and sounding like her old self, with the exception of a few extra pounds and a couple more inches around her waist. “I expect you’re right about that. But what will LuAnne think? Or Mildred, even? You know how particular they are about appropriate guest lists.”
“I know, but they’ll just have to put up with it. Besides, it’s already a mixed group, because I’m not having this luncheon for entertainment purposes. I have serious business on my mind.”
“Who all are you having?”
“Well, let me see. LuAnne and Mildred, of course. And Emma Sue and Helen Stroud. Oh, and Tonya Allen, Tina Doland and, you’ll like this, Hazel Marie, Etta Mae Wiggins. Margaret Hargrove and Binkie. And now, Velma. That’s a good group, don’t you think?”
Well, no, she didn’t. She stared at me, her eyes slowly filling up. “You’re going to tell all of them? I don’t think I can stand it, Miss Julia.”
“Now, wait, please don’t get upset. We agreed that this is the best way to do it. When they leave here, all they’re going to know is that you and Mr. Pickens have been married since back in the summer and that now you’re expecting twins. And I’m going to tell them that we didn’t announce it earlier because you came down with some kind of flu and we were afraid you’d lose the babies. They’ll understand that nobody announces anything under those circumstances.”
“Won’t they think it’s funny that I’m not here?”
“I’ll just tell them the truth. I’ll say that you’re a little embarrassed that you got pregnant so fast and, besides, you had a doctor’s appointment. What could be more truthful than that?
“And listen, Hazel Marie, I’ve covered all the bases. Emma Sue, Mildred and LuAnne will take care of everybody in the Presbyterian church. Tina Doland will spread the word among the Baptists, and Etta Mae will do the same all over Delmont. Margaret Hargrove will tell the Medical Auxiliary, Binkie’ll take care of the legal community and she’ll tell Coleman, who’ll pass it along to all the law officers, and Velma will tell everybody who puts a foot inside her shop.” I stopped and thought for a minute. “I need an Episcopalian and a Methodist. Think, Hazel Marie. Who else can I invite?”
“Velma’s a Methodist, I think.”
“Oh good. That’ll take care of them, then.”
“Who’s Tonya going to tell? She’s about stopped going to church, hasn’t she?”
“Well, who can blame her?” I said, thinking of Mildred’s lovely daughter, who not so long ago was a delightful, if slightly unstable, young man, a transformation that many in the First Presbyterian Church of Abbotsville couldn’t seem to come to grips with. “I think she spends most of her time in New York. Probably feels more at home there, where she’s not so unique. Anyway, can you think of anybody else I should ask?”
“Well, counting you, there’ll only be eleven at the table, so you need one more. What about Miss Mattie Freeman? Didn’t she used to be a Methodist?”
“Yes, she was, until she got mad about something and moved to the Episcopal church. So she’ll cover them, and I might be nipping something in the bud at the same time. After she fell that time on our front steps and had to be taken to the emergency room, I was afraid she might sue us. But she wouldn’t dare after accepting a luncheon invitation. Besides, she wasn’t hurt and it wasn’t our fault anyway.”
“You know, Miss Julia,” Hazel Marie mused, “I just keep learning how to do social things all the time. I mean, you have to be so careful about who you invite and why you invite them and who sits by who, and all kinds of things. It’s so involved, I don’t think I’ll ever learn it.”
I reached over and patted her knee. “Of course you will. One of these days, you’ll have your own home and be doing your own entertaining. And that reminds me, Hazel Marie, we need to order you some calling cards. Nobody uses them anymore, except to enclose with gifts, but they’re nice to have. And some informals, too. You’ll use them a lot for thank-you notes and such.” One must do what one can to make the best of adverse circumstances, and having engraved stationery would elevate Hazel Marie’s current circumstances.
With the luncheon plans finalized, I hurried off to phone the rest of the invitees, apologizing to each one for the lateness of the invitations but promising a stupendous announcement that they wouldn’t want to miss. With a promise like that held tantalizingly before them, I would have a full table, each one eager for the latest news.
After hanging up the phone from the last call, I sat for a few minutes going over my mental notes for the luncheon. Then I called the Flower Basket for a centerpiece to be delivered early Thursday morning. That was it, then. Everything was well in hand, unless Dr. Hargrove told Hazel Marie she couldn’t go shopping. If that turned out to be the case, Sam was to entertain her until the luncheon was over—take her to his house, have James give them lunch, take her for a ride, anything to keep her out of the house while the representative ladies of the town learned of her new status.
Counseling! The thought sprang suddenly and full blown into my mind, rushing into the space that the problem of Hazel Marie had so recently occupied. Marriage counseling! A cold shudder ran down my back.
Why had Sam agreed to attend and, even worse, promised the pastor to take me with him? Was it his gentle way of letting me know that something was missing in our marriage? Was he unhappy? Regretting his choice of me? And, I asked myself, why shouldn’t he regret it? He’d known from the first that Hazel Marie and Lloyd were part of the package, but now Mr. Pickens and two infants were being added to the mix. Maybe they all were more than he wanted to take on. He’d lived alone for so long after his first wife passed, his days quiet and orderly, and now the poor man could hardly move without stepping on somebody. Maybe he was seeing these counseling sessions as a way not to enrich but to enlighten, so that I’d learn how I was ignoring his need for a harmonious life.
I closed my eyes and bowed my head, overcome with the thought of baring our souls and the intimacies of our marriage to a perfect stranger, regardless of his qualifications, Christian or otherwise, much less sharing our experiences in front of younger couples who’d snicker at the idea of elderly marital congress. I couldn’t bear the thought.
But I had to bear this one because there was no getting around it: Sam wanted us to go into marriage counseling. If he felt the need of some kind of enrichment, then that meant he also felt that something was lacking.
Well, I said to myself, so be it. I’d try it, but as I’d told him, the minute we stopped being role models and became subjects, I was hightailing it out. If he didn’t have the courage to tell me to my face what was wrong, I didn’t intend to hang around to hear it in front of a dozen other people.
Chapter 7
Thursday was a clear but nippy fall day, perfect weather to reach into the winter closet for a wool suit. Sam and Hazel Marie left about ten-thirty for her appointment with the doctor, after which they planned, with the doctor’s approval, to go on to the large mall in Asheville. Hazel Marie was noticeably agitated, knowing what would take place around the table in her absence.
“Put it out of your mind, Hazel Marie,” I told her as they headed for the door. “By the time you get home, the word will be on the street and you won’t have to hide anymore. Just don’t tire yourself out shopping. Sam,” I said, turning to him, “don’t leave her in that maternity shop for hours. Make her stop and rest now and then. She ought to have a glass of orange juice by midafternoon, too.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said as they both laughed at me for being a mother hen. “We’ll be fine, Julia. Come on, Hazel Marie, let’s get out of here before the ladies descend on us.”
And descend they did, almost all of them appearing at the same time, talking and laughing as they called out greetings and swarmed into my living room. I noticed a few raised eyebrows a
s they eyed one another, wondering, I assumed, about my choice of luncheon guests. It wasn’t long, though, before a few began to ask about Hazel Marie, why she wasn’t there, was she still sick and so on. Wanting to put those concerns to rest, I merely said she hated to miss seeing them, but she had a conflict.
As they mingled and caught up with one another, I realized that everyone was there except Etta Mae Wiggins. Her lateness was holding up everything because I’d told Lillian not to prepare anything to serve before the luncheon. My plan had been to rush them to the table, let them eat, make my announcement, then get them out the door as quickly as possible.
So where could she be? It wasn’t like Etta Mae to be late, especially because she’d been so excited to be included in a do at my house. Glancing at my watch, I hurried to the kitchen just in time to see Lillian hang up the phone.
“That was that nice Miss Etta Mae, callin’ from her car. She say she got held up by a patient, but she on her way. She say don’t wait on her—she be here in ten minutes.”
“Well, of course we will wait for her, but Miss Mattie Freeman’s stomach is growling, so she better hurry.”
Finally, Etta Mae came rushing in as I held the door for her. A pungent, though not unpleasant, aroma of flora and fruit wafted in with her and settled around both of us when she drew up short to catch her breath. With hair flying and face red and flustered, she began apologizing all over the place as she explained about some patient she couldn’t leave until a sitter got there, but finally she just did. I assured her that it was perfectly all right, although it wasn’t. Still, the poor thing was so upset that her hands were trembling as she put her huge tote bag on a side table.
After introducing her to those who didn’t know her, I began herding them toward the table, hoping to get my announcement over and done with because by that time I was wondering if another way wouldn’t have been better. I had no idea what other way there could’ve been, so I took myself in hand and got ready to do what I had to do.
