Miss Julia Renews Her Vows

by Ann B. Ross

  “Well, that’s interesting,” Sam said, “because I saw her, too, a little while ago. I’d just come out of the Skytop Hotel, where we’d had the Rotary meeting, and heard somebody calling, ‘Yoo-hoo, Sam! Sam Murdoch, is that you?’ I looked around, and there she was, sitting in the passenger seat of one of those old long Cadillacs. I walked over and spoke, and she told me she was waiting for her companion to pick up some things at the dry cleaner’s. Then she went into this long account of her troubles, but she didn’t say a word about your visit. Just that she’d heard that you’d been ill and she hoped I was managing all right because she knew how disheartening it was to have a sick spouse.”

  “I guess she does!” I said, infuriated that Francie had been discussing me with Sam. “She’s had enough of them. But I’m surprised she was out and about. She sure acted helpless enough this morning. But you won’t believe who she’d hired—Etta Mae! I tell you, Sam, it shook me to see her there and to learn that Francie had practically begged her to come to work for her. And at first I thought it was a good thing. I mean, surely, rehiring the very one she’s accused of attacking her would undermine the accusation she’s made, wouldn’t it?”

  Sam nodded. “I’d think it’d tear a few holes in it.”

  “That’s what I thought, although I did try to get Etta Mae to leave, reminding her that she’d promised to look after Hazel Marie. Well, anyway, we left it that Etta Mae would work on until Hazel Marie gets home, but you won’t believe what I learned from the gatekeeper as I was leaving.”

  “What?”

  So I told him. “Now, it looks to me, Sam, as if there’s mischief afoot, and it’s all been cooked up between Francie and Lieutenant Peavey.”

  “Well, I don’t know, Julia. That could be seen as entrapment, and I don’t believe Peavey would be involved in something like that. But I do think it’d be better if Etta Mae steered clear of Francie until this is settled. Let’s encourage her to find another job.”

  Quickly gathering myself to switch subjects before I let on about how I’d gotten Etta Mae out of Francie’s clutches, I said, “Oh, I agree, and I’m working on it. But listen, I’ve thought of something that we’ve all let slide. I think we ought to look into this Evelyn person. That’s what I really wanted to talk to you about, because it came to me sometime in the night that she’s the mystery person in all this. Who is she? Where is she from? And all that. So I want to know if you can find out about her.”

  Sam looked a little skeptical, but he said, “I guess I could try, but I’m sure the lieutenant has that information already.”

  “I expect he does, so it’s even more important that we have it, too.” I sat up and turned sideways to look at him. “You and Binkie could work together on it. She needs to know everything about everybody involved in that alleged attack. If it comes down to a criminal case, Sam . . . I mean, if Etta Mae’s formally charged, if that’s what you call it, then Binkie ought to have every smidgen of information she can get.”

  Not getting the enthusiasm I’d hoped for, I went on. “Look, Sam, at this point, there’re only three people we know about who’re involved: Etta Mae, Francie and this Evelyn. Now, even though I think it was somebody we don’t know—anybody can go in and out that gate—nonetheless, those three are all we have to work with. We know that Etta Mae is innocent, so that leaves the other two. Frankly, if there hadn’t been some kind of trauma to Francie’s head, I’d suspect there’d been no attack at all. But it was enough to keep her in the hospital for four days, so something happened. That leaves Evelyn, and we don’t know a thing about her.”

  “Well, there’s always the possibility that Francie simply fell when nobody was there, hit her head hard enough to knock her out and just assumed it was an attack. Have you thought about that?”

  That stopped me, because, like the lieutenant, I’d simply taken her word for it, especially because Francie had added a few flourishes, like hearing somebody clinking the bottles and jars on her dressing table and emitting a foul odor that lingered in her mind long enough to be associated with a helping of collards.

  “Why,” I said, in some wonder that I’d not given credence to that possibility before, “it could’ve happened that way, couldn’t it? And as I’ve always said, Francie has a way of dramatizing everything that happens to her. And being brutally accosted in her own home, robbed and strangled—of which, I remind you, there was no evidence—certainly makes a better story than tripping over your own feet and knocking yourself out. And, of course, she does have that gouty toe, so it makes sense that she wouldn’t be steady on her feet.”

  “I think we’ve solved it, Julia. That’s probably what happened, and absent any further evidence than Francie’s sense of smell, Lieutenant Peavey will think so, too.”

  “I hope you’re right,” I said, but not sure he was. “Just in case, though, will you look into Evelyn? For my own peace of mind if nothing else?”

  “Sure, I can do that. I’ll talk to Binkie and see what she already has, then ask around a little.”

  “Oh, thank you, Sam. Now,” I said, getting to my feet, “I better check on James, then I need to get on home.”

  Sam stood up, too, then put his arm around me. “Is that all you wanted to talk about? Isn’t there something else you want to tell me?”

  “Well, my goodness,” I said, forcing a smile while fear coursed through me that he’d guessed—or worse, known—my original intention. “I’ve said an awful lot. Wasn’t it enough?”

  “I thought you might’ve made a special trip over here to tell me you love me.”

  I laughed then, in great relief. “I do love you, Sam Murdoch, more than you know.” And that was the honest truth, if I’d ever told it.

  Chapter 30

  “Oh, by the way,” I said, turning back to Sam as we walked out onto the porch, “Hazel Marie and Mr. Pickens will be home any time now, so I’ve asked Etta Mae to come on over so she’ll be here when they get back.”

  Sam smiled indulgently. “You’re still looking after Etta Mae, aren’t you?”

  “I guess I am, but really, Sam, Hazel Marie may need more help than we can give her.”

  “I’m hoping she won’t need a professional nurse.”

  “Well, I am, too,” I said, “but Etta Mae’s not exactly a nurse. She’s more of a helping hand, a companion, you might say. I’m really concerned that Hazel Marie will start doing too much and get in trouble again. And because Etta Mae desperately needs a job, Lillian and I thought this would be a good way to put her to work and keep an eye on Hazel Marie at the same time. It’ll only be until this thing with Francie is settled and she can get her old job back.

  “And Sam,” I went on, avoiding his eyes as I lingered in the shade of the porch before heading home, “I don’t want to worry you, but the other night at Mildred’s—right when Dr. Fowler was talking—I had a bad turn. I thought I was going to be sick, but I never got sick, just a sickly kind of feeling. It may have been some leftover symptoms from the bug I had the first of the week. And actually, Emma Sue had a little spell, too. We were both down with whatever it was at the same time, you know. So anyway, that’s another reason I asked Etta Mae to stay over.”

  “I’m worried about you, Julia, and so is Lillian. She kind of hinted around that you’ve not been yourself lately. I wish you’d go on and see Dr. Hargrove.”

  “I’m going to. It’s time for my annual checkup, anyway, which Lillian’s been reminding me of. I’ll make an appointment for, maybe, Tuesday.” That was in case I had to be ill Monday night.

  Sam took my arm, saying sternly, “See that you do. And if you don’t, I’m going to put you in the car and take you myself.”

  James suddenly popped his head around the corner of the house, calling out, “I’ll take her, Mr. Sam, anytime you want me to.”

  Sam started laughing as I murmured, “Oh, for goodness’ sakes.” Then, in a louder voice, I said, “James, pay attention to what you’re doing. You fall off that ladder, and i
t won’t be me who’s going to the doctor.”

  I turned back to Sam. “Now everybody in town’s going to think I’m on my last legs. Make him keep on with the windows, Sam. Well, I better get on back in case Hazel Marie calls. She usually does about the time Lloyd gets home from school. Will you be coming soon?”

  “Not too much longer. I still have a few things to wrap up. But listen,” Sam said, thinking of something else, “you never did tell me how it went at Mildred’s last night. What did you think of Dr. Fowler?”

  “Oh, don’t ask,” I said, waving my hand as if the man were of no consequence. “He talked about the most inappropriate things, although Emma Sue kept whispering to me so much that I couldn’t hear half of them. But I’ll tell you, Sam, she is up in arms about him and his enriching sessions—now that she knows what enriching means. She wants the pastor to close him down, but on the other hand, she’s fascinated with what he’s teaching.” I smiled at him like a conspirator. “She got Helen Stroud to buy his books for her because she doesn’t want anybody to know she has them.”

  Sam smiled, too. “Emma Sue’s a caution, isn’t she? But if she’s so interested, why does she want to stop the sessions?”

  “Because the church is not the place for such talk, and I’m inclined to agree with her. The things he said, Sam, you wouldn’t believe. And what he recommended! My word, the man is out of his mind. I didn’t tell you, but Emma Sue and I left before he finished. It was just too much.”

  Sam laughed. “If that’s the case, I can’t wait till Monday. He didn’t get into details with us, so I have something to look forward to.”

  “Oh, you,” I said, trying to make light of what was heavy on my heart. “And if he does, you just keep in mind where you are: in the Lord’s house, listening to the most graphic and infelicitous discourse on his ideas of what a marriage should entail. And,” I said, drawing myself up in indignation, “he doesn’t even know what he’s talking about because he’s not married himself.”

  “Well,” Sam said, putting his arm around me, “maybe that’s why we ought to be there. To straighten him out, because we know all about it. Don’t we, sweetheart?”

  “Shh, Sam,” I cautioned, unable to keep from smiling, “James’ll hear you.”

  Sam laughed. “Maybe we’ll teach James something, too. Anyway, we’ll go together Monday night and find out whether Dr. Fred can tell us one thing we don’t already know.”

  “We’ll see.” I turned away and started down the steps. “Don’t work too late. Hazel Marie and Mr. Pickens may be coming in, and, of course, Etta Mae’ll be there.”

  That evening at the dinner table, there were only Sam, Lloyd, Etta Mae and myself. Hazel Marie had called earlier in the afternoon and, as I had expected, said they would stay at the Grove Park Inn until Sunday. I didn’t blame them. Why come home on a Friday when you could have the weekend for another massage or two?

  Etta Mae was noticeably subdued and anxious now that she’d committed herself to staying with us to look after a patient who was off gallivanting around. She’d had time to think about Lillian’s claim that I needed looking after, and she wasn’t buying it. At least not totally.

  When she’d come in that afternoon and gotten her bag unpacked in the sunroom, she’d tried to fulfill her duties by suggesting I lie down and take a nap.

  “You need to rest, Miss Julia,” she’d said. “You’re probably just run down and a little anemic. I’ll ask Lillian if she’ll fi x you some calf ’s liver for supper.”

  “Don’t you dare,” I told her. “I don’t need a special diet, and certainly not calf’s liver. Look, Etta Mae, there’s nothing wrong with me except that I have these little spells now and then. So when I have one, you can jump in and prescribe all you want to.” I was walking one of those fine lines again, juggling Etta Mae’s need for a justifiable salary, Lillian’s claim that I was puny, Sam’s expectation that I’d be going to an enriching session or to a doctor and my determination not to do either one without telling him why.

  Lillian had just come in to clear the table before serving dessert, and Etta Mae slid out of her chair to help her.

  “I’ll do it,” Lloyd said, jumping up with his own plate in hand. “You sit down, Etta Mae. Miss Julia doesn’t want guests to do anything.”

  “Well,” Etta Mae said, hesitating, “I don’t mind helping. I could scrape the plates and stack them. Wash ’em, too, if Miss Lillian wants me to.”

  “Both of you set back down,” Lillian commanded. “I don’t need no help, nor want it neither. You jus’ get in my way, though I thank you for the offer.”

  They sat, with Lloyd grinning and Etta Mae looking chastened for committing what might have been a social blunder.

  “Don’t worry, Etta Mae,” Lloyd said, leaning toward her and cutting his teasing eyes at Lillian. “She’ll put us to work sooner or later. She’ll work our fingers to the bone.”

  Lillian laughed as she picked up Sam’s plate. “I see them bony fingers where you been workin’.”

  Sam leaned back in his chair, smiling at the byplay. Then he sobered somewhat and said, “While we’re all here, I have something to say and I want you all to listen good.” He turned a serious look in my direction, then glanced at the others. “As you know, Julia wasn’t well earlier this week, and ever since she’s been having these little episodes. I’m worried about her, and I want us all to keep an eye on her.”

  “Sam—” I started but stopped as he held up his hand.

  “That’s why I’m here,” Etta Mae said, looking a little sprightlier as an immediate need for her services was confirmed. “Lillian’s worried about her, too. I’ll watch her, Mr. Sam, and keep on doing it even when Hazel Marie gets home.”

  “Good,” Sam said, laying his hand on my mine and looking me in the eye. “Now, Julia, you keep putting off seeing the doctor, but that has to stop. I’m making an appointment for you the first of the week. But the next little twinge you have, you are going right then. I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night, and I have to take you to the emergency room. We are going to find out what’s wrong.” He squeezed my hand, then looked around at the others. “I’m putting you all on notice. Keep your eye on her, and let me know anything that happens.”

  They all nodded, their faces sober and serious, taking to heart everything he’d said—even Lillian, who was the one who’d started it in the first place.

  Then Lillian had the nerve to glare at me as if she’d had nothing to do with worrying him to death. “You hear what he sayin’, don’t you?”

  I was the one who nodded this time, for what could I say? Either I was sick or I wasn’t. If I wasn’t, I’d be going to Dr. Fowler’s class, and if I was, I’d be going to Dr. Hargrove’s office. One would immediately recognize me as the woman on the green velvet love seat, and the other would have me on an examining table without a stitch of clothes on.

  Chapter 31

  Saturday morning, and another beautiful fall day as the sun turned the yellow leaves of the trees to gold. If I’d been into walking, I’d have gotten’ out and enjoyed it. That’s what Etta Mae was doing, only running instead of walking. But before she’d left on her run, she’d insisted that I sit still to have my vital signs checked.

  “We’re going to do this every morning and evening,” she said as she wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my arm. “And I’ll keep a record of it so we can chart your progress. Your doctor will be able to see, for instance, if your temp goes up in the afternoon. That could be the case, you know.”

  Then she’d gotten bossy enough to tell Lillian what I should eat and shouldn’t eat. And to add insult to injury, she’d asked me questions about my constitutionals. And wrote it all down! It was a great relief to see her put on her running shoes and leave the house.

  So, while hoping that Hazel Marie would soon be home and divert Etta Mae’s attention from me, I sat with Lillian at the kitchen table and talked with her. She’d come in for a little while, even though it was
a Saturday and I’d told her she didn’t need to.

  “I got to change them sheets on Miz Pickens’s bed,” Lillian said, “then I go on back home.”

  “Why, Lillian, you just changed them when they left, and nobody’s been in the bed since.”

  “Yes’m, but that bed been layin’ there gettin’ all musty smellin’. If they comin’ home tomorrow, they need clean sheets. ’Sides, Latisha wanted to come see Lloyd, an’ it easier to come to work than play playhouse with her all day.”

  I laughed. “Well, she’s well entertained now, with Sam taking both of them to the boat show. I just hope they don’t come home with one of those noisy motorboats.”

  “No’m, Mr. Sam won’t do that. Maybe one of them trollin’ boats, though, for when he fish.”

  “It’s a good thing he kept his house, then. He can just park it over there. I declare, Lillian, what with my car and Sam’s car and Hazel Marie’s and yours, and now Etta Mae’s, where’re we going to put Mr. Pickens’s?”

  She’d gotten up to head for Hazel Marie’s bedroom, but on her way out of the kitchen, she turned around. “I hate to say this, but I ’spect we don’t have to worry much about that. Mr. Pickens liable to be gone most of the time on one of his ’vestigatin’ jobs. An’ Miss Hazel Marie not gonna be too happy ’bout that.”

  “I know, and it worries me, too. Still, the man has to make a living. Just think of all the mouths he’ll have to feed.”

  She laughed and went on to the linen closet to select the sheets she wanted. And just as the door swung to behind her, the telephone rang.

  “Julia? Is that you?” Emma Sue Ledbetter asked, as if she’d expected somebody else to answer.

  “Yes, Emma Sue. How are you?”

  “Much, much better, I’m happy to say. I just had to tell you that I’ve done what we agreed had to be done.”

  My heart lifted. “You got rid of Dr. Fowler.”