Miss Julia Delivers the Goods

by Ann B. Ross

  Bless his heart, he couldn’t believe his eyes at finding a mob of women ebbing and flowing on the porch and in the yard.

  “It’s all right, Lloyd,” I said, finally loosening my grip on Lillian’s arm and heading for the door, skirting the spill of gazpacho as I went. “These ladies have come to visit. Come in, everybody. Come in where it’s cool.” I grabbed Lloyd’s arm, swung him around and through the door with me. In a fierce whisper, I said, “Where’s your mother? Have you seen Mr. Pickens?”

  Unaccustomed to such abrupt treatment, his eyes got big and he whispered back, “I don’t know. I just got out of the shower. Is J.D. here?”

  “He’s supposed to be. Run back to your mother’s room and see if he’s there. He probably came in the back door. And, Lloyd,” I said, pulling him back as he started to dart off, “warn her of what’s going on out here.”

  Women in filmy afternoon dresses bearing gifts and food surged in behind us, talking and laughing in a party mood, now that tragedy had been averted. Lillian began to direct traffic around the dining room table. “You can put that tray right down here, Miz Stroud. I start gettin’ out plates an’ things.”

  “Run on, Lloyd,” I urged. “Your mother needs to get prepared for this.”

  “But, Miss Julia,” the boy said, frowning, “J.D. couldn’t get in the back. I made sure to lock all the doors before I got in the shower because Mama was taking a nap. Where could he be?”

  Well, that was the question wasn’t it? Where could he be? Had he changed his mind and gone back to Sam’s house? Was he even now making his escape?

  “Julia,” LuAnne said, walking up to us, “where’s Hazel Marie? I can’t wait for her to open my gift.”

  “Me, too,” Maggie Austen said, joining her. “But I just hate to hear that she’s moving. She is just the sweetest thing. I’m going to miss her.”

  There was nothing for it but to leave Mr. Pickens to his own conscience and go drag Hazel Marie out to face her public. How well she’d be able to do it, I didn’t know. She didn’t enjoy being the center of attention under the best of circumstances, and this circumstance certainly didn’t qualify as the best. For one thing, there would be a sea of sharp eyes watching her every move and reaction, and I wasn’t sure that a loose-fitting workout outfit would be an adequate disguise. Well, she’d just have to sit in a chair and not get up. I’d keep a present in her lap, one after the other, and maybe if she never presented herself in profile, we could bring it off.

  “I’ll see what’s keeping her,” I said. “She was taking a nap, but she’ll surely be awake by now. Lloyd, you run help Lillian, if you will.”

  “I thought you wanted me . . . ?” he said, slightly confused at my telling him one thing, then switching directions.

  “No, I better do it. She might need some help dressing, and I need to freshen up a little, myself. LuAnne, would you make sure everybody’s food is displayed right?” I tried to laugh a little, just to divert her. “This certainly is the easy way to have a party—having the guests bring all the food.”

  “It was Emma Sue’s idea,” LuAnne said with a sniff. “And frankly, I think it’s a little tacky, but don’t tell her I said so. If it was me having a party, though, I’d provide the food myself.”

  And frankly, I agreed with her, but I only nodded, then slipped through the crowd to the hall and hurried on to Hazel Marie’s room. The door was closed, just as I expected, but still I hesitated to knock. She would’ve heard all the commotion, so I knew she’d be trembling and cowering from the thought of facing guests. And she didn’t even know yet they’d come specifically to honor her.

  Well, the sooner the better, I thought, gave the door a sharp rap, opened it, and stepped in. I blinked in surprise and slammed the door behind me.

  “Mr. Pickens!” I cried, taken aback at the sight of him, as he was at the sight of me. “How’d you get in here?”

  He was in the far corner of the room half-turned in one lap of the pacing he’d obviously been doing. Hazel Marie in another elasticwaistbanded running suit—yellow, this time—huddled, knees up to her chin, on the bed, her face screwed up, looking ready to cry or to throw something.

  Mr. Pickens pointed at one of the back windows, the bottom half of which was thrown up, letting out the cool air, and lacking a screen. A sprinkle of glass glittered on the carpet. “The doors were locked,” he said with just a tinge of frustration. “And she wouldn’t let me in. Sorry I had to break a pane to unlock it, but one way or the other, I was coming in.” He glared at Hazel Marie, but it was a toss-up as to whether it was a glare of anger or of fondness. Probably a little of both.

  “He got stuck crawling in,” Hazel Marie said, then leaned her head on her knees. She may’ve been laughing, I wasn’t sure. “Serves him right, too.”

  “Well, look,” I said, feeling a little anger myself at Emma Sue for choosing such an inopportune time to throw a party. If ever Hazel Marie and Mr. Pickens were going to resolve their differences, now was the time. Instead, though, I had to interrupt their negotiations and set Hazel Marie up as the guest of honor. And put Mr. Pickens on hold and under observation until I could get them back together again.

  “Well, look,” I said again, “Emma Sue’s having a going-away party right out there in the living room. She’s brought everybody with her, and they’ve brought gifts and food and everything anybody would want if they’d happened to even think about moving away somewhere. And it’s all for you, Hazel Marie.”

  Her head snapped up off her knees and she looked at me in stark terror. “I can’t,” she said, breathing fast and stumbling over the words. “I just can’t. Oh, please, please, Miss Julia, don’t make me go out there.”

  Mr. Pickens strode over to the bed where she was crouched against the headboard. He held out his hand to her. “You don’t have to,” he said.

  Chapter 42

  She lifted her head, looking up at him bleary-eyed and expectant as if he were her last hope—which, in my opinion, he was—then took his hand and buried her face in his stomach. He clasped her with both arms and held on tight.

  As tender and heartwarming as the scene was, we didn’t have time for it. There was a party waiting to happen, and I needed to know Mr. Pickens’s intentions and Hazel Marie’s final state—married and respectable or single and out of town.

  “Well,” I said, doing a little hand-wringing as the sounds of the party grew louder and more insistent. “This is all very nice and I’m happy to see it, but what am I going to tell all those women out there? They’re expecting Hazel Marie to come out and unwrap presents so they can ooh and aah over them. I can’t just go out there and announce that she’s indisposed, because somebody like Emma Sue is likely to barge in here to pray over her. So what do I tell them?”

  “Tell them . . .” Mr. Pickens started and stopped as the door opened and Lloyd flew in.

  “Mama,” he started and stopped. “J.D.! Where’d you come from?”

  “Close the door,” I said, then did it myself and stood against it to prevent any further invasion. It’d be just like LuAnne to take it on herself to come see what was holding Hazel Marie up.

  Right at this moment, though, it was Mr. Pickens who was holding her up, for she had slid off the bed to her feet and was leaning against him.

  “Oh, you know,” Mr. Pickens said, his eyes sparkling at Lloyd, “I just pop up where you least expect me.”

  “I’ll say!” Lloyd said. “But, Mama, everybody’s asking where you are, and I don’t know what to tell them. Are you still sick?”

  “I don’t think so,” Hazel Marie murmured, her head against Mr. Pickens’s shoulder, a more decent place than where it had been. Then, apparently reconsidering her actions, she straightened up and tried unsuccessfully to push Mr. Pickens away. She wiped her teary face with the sleeve of her sweat suit, hiccupped, and said, “On second thought, I don’t feel all that good.”

  “Well,” the boy said, his eyes narrowing as he gazed at his mother and Mr.
Pickens, trying to figure out what was going on. “They’re getting pretty restless.”

  “Why don’t . . .” I began, then as a rap sounded on the door behind me, turned, and held it closed. “Who is it?”

  “It’s me,” Sam said. “Is everything all right?”

  I opened the door just enough to let him squeeze in and quickly closed it again.

  “Well, hey, J.D.,” he said with a surprised smile. “Hazel Marie, Lloyd, Julia. I thought the party was in the living room, but looks like there’s a better one back here.”

  “Hardly,” I said. “The party’s for Hazel Marie, but she doesn’t want to go, and Mr. Pickens says she doesn’t have to. And Lloyd doesn’t know what to do and neither do I. We’re just standing around waiting for somebody to decide something, which I wish they’d do before there’s an insurrection out there.” Then I added darkly. “You don’t know what Emma Sue Ledbetter is capable of.”

  “Anyway,” Sam said, handing Mr. Pickens a set of keys, “I moved your car. I just drove in from Asheville and saw it double-parked in the middle of the street with the keys still in it. I found a parking place around the corner.”

  Mr. Pickens, looking a little abashed at forgetting his own car, took the keys, then took matters in hand, even though they were both quite full of Hazel Marie at the moment. “You’ll have to handle the party, Miss Julia. Hazel Marie and I need to talk, and this is not the place to do it. We’re going to Sam’s house.”

  Lloyd flung out his arms in excitement. “How’re you gonna get there, J.D.? There’s ladies everywhere you look, just everywhere. They’re in the living room, in the dining room, in the kitchen, and more’re coming in the front door. They catch sight of Mama, you won’t ever get past ’em.”

  “He’s right,” Sam said. He grinned, enjoying the moment. “I wouldn’t recommend trying it.”

  “Oh, J.D.,” Hazel Marie moaned, giving up her independent stance to bury her face on his shoulder. “I just can’t face them. They’ll ask so many questions, and I’m not dressed or anything.”

  He leaned down and whispered something to her. She nodded, then looked at us, her face lit up like the dawn. “We’re going out the window,” she said.

  “Oh, no,” I said, immediately concerned about her taking such a risk in her condition. “Hazel Marie, you can’t. You might hurt yourself.”

  “No, she won’t,” Mr. Pickens said. “I moved a bench right under the window and we’ll step out on that. Besides, I won’t turn her loose.”

  “Oh, boy,” Lloyd said, running to the window. “I can’t wait to see this.”

  “Mr. Pickens, you do know . . .” I started, then cut my eyes at Lloyd who didn’t know. “I mean, you better be careful with her. She’s not been well.”

  “I know,” he said, leading Hazel Marie to the window. “Sam, give us hand here, if you will.”

  “How do you want to do this?” Sam asked, sticking his head out the window to check on the bench. “It’s not high off the ground, but getting out could be tricky.”

  “I’ll go first,” Mr. Pickens said, “then you help Hazel Marie out. I’ll be right there to catch her.”

  “You better catch her,” I warned, half under my breath.

  So he proceeded to exit the window, starting out headfirst, got halfway through, then decided there had to be a better way. He pulled himself back in, gave Hazel Marie a rueful smile, then with surprising agility he turned around and slid his feet backward through the window, ending up folded across the window sill, head and shoulders in the room and feet and bottom hanging outside. Then he slithered himself all the way through until his feet landed on the bench.

  “See?” he said, standing on the bench and looking straight through the window. “It’s not high. Come on, honey, I’ll be right here to catch you.”

  Hazel Marie needed no prodding. With the sounds of the party drifting in to us, she might’ve jumped out the window if he’d told her to. But I didn’t like the idea of such acrobatics at all, so I was pleased for the delay when Lloyd reminded her that she needed some shoes. He ran to the closet and came back with a pair of sneakers.

  While she put them on, I edged over to Sam. “Sam,” I whispered, “she can’t go out backward. She’ll mash those babies if she hangs over the sill the way he did.”

  Sam’s eyebrows shot up, as he realized that another form of egress was called for.

  “Okay, Hazel Marie,” he said, “why don’t you come over here and just sit in the window, facing us. Help steady her, Lloyd. Now, Hazel Marie, pull your legs up real tight and bend your head. Come on, Lloyd, let’s turn her around sideways. Easy now. Pickens, see if you can pull her on through.”

  That sounded like a plan, but it didn’t work for she got lodged half in and half out. I probably wasn’t much help, since I kept wringing my hands and warning that they had her folded up too tight.

  “Oh, my goodness,” Hazel Marie said, her voice muffled from being squeezed up like a pretzel. “I’m going to be stuck here forever.”

  “It’s okay, baby,” Mr. Pickens said. “We’ll figure it out. Sam, better try something else.”

  “Okay, let me think a minute,” Sam said, wiping his arm across his forehead. “Hazel Marie, we’re going to get you back inside. Help me turn her, Lloyd.”

  They got her out of the window, and let her stand for a minute to straighten out the kinks. Sam stuck his head out just as Mr. Pickens stuck his in, so there was a slight collision to deal with.

  Sam pulled back in, rubbing his head. “Let’s try this, Hazel Marie. We’ll lift you up so you can sit in the window, facing out. Now then, go ahead and stick your feet out the window and Pickens’ll steady you. Okay, now I want you to lean back against Lloyd and me. That’s it. Now lie back against us and make yourself as stiff as you can from the waist up. Keep your arms by your side, and we’ll slide you right through. Julia, come hold her head for us.”

  I did, but all I could think was, “Be careful. Be careful.” I probably said it a few dozen times, too.

  Just as we were all set, Hazel Marie, half in and half out, stopped us. “Wait, wait. Miss Julia, I want you to know I’m just doing this because of that party. It doesn’t mean one thing else, in spite of J.D. coming in here, acting all nice and sweet. He’s still got a lot to answer for. Don’t listen, Lloyd.”

  “I understand, Hazel Marie,” I said, although I didn’t. “Just do the best you can with him. Now hold real still.”

  We lifted her bottom up off the sill and slid her, stiff as a board, right through to Mr. Pickens. As he eased her to her feet on the bench, Lloyd’s face lit up with delight. “Cool!” he said. “Just like sliding a letter through a mail slot.”

  Mr. Pickens helped Hazel Marie off the bench, and the three of us watched as they hurried across the backyard toward Sam’s house. Just as they got to the gate that led to the sidewalk, I saw him reach for her. She slapped his hand away, which didn’t appear to bode well for whatever outcome he had in mind.

  “Well,” I said, turning back into the room as Sam and Lloyd, grinning, high-fived each other. “It’s a good thing Hazel Marie’s no bigger than she is. If this’d happened a little further along, she’d still be stuck halfway out.”

  Lloyd frowned at this, and I could’ve bitten my tongue off. “I mean,” I said, “that her appetite is picking up so well, that she’d soon be too big to get through the window.”

  He let it go—apparently—for he said, “That was slick, Mr. Sam. We did a good job.”

  “We sure did,” Sam said. “A good thing you were here to help. I thought for a minute there we’d have to call on Lillian, too. Now all we have to do is get a new pane and fix this window, and, Julia, all you have to do is explain to your lady friends why the guest of honor’s not coming to the party.”

  Chapter 43

  As the magnitude of the task hit me, I sank down in a chair and leaned my head on my hand. Looking piteously at Sam, I asked, “You wouldn’t consider telling them Hazel Mar
ie and I are both sick, would you?”

  He grinned and shook his head.

  “You could say I picked up her ailment, and we’re both in bed.” I sighed and began to rise from the chair. “Well, I guess not. Lloyd,” I went on, aware that the boy was taking all this in, “it’s not right to be untruthful, but sometimes you have to weigh telling a harmless, little story against hurting somebody’s feelings. And it would certainly hurt Mrs. Ledbetter’s feelings, and all the others out there if I told them your mother would rather sneak out a window with Mr. Pickens than come to a party with them.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, “I understand that. But I bet half those ladies would rather do what Mama did than go to a party, too.”

  Sam laughed. “He’s got something there, Julia.”

  Before I could answer, an insistent rapping started up on the door. “Julia!” Emma Sue called. “Are you in there? We need you and Hazel Marie out here.”

  “Oh, my,” I said, straightening my dress. “Well, I better think of something.”

  As soon as I opened the door and stepped out into the hall, Emma Sue pounced. “Where is she, Julia? We’re all waiting. You won’t believe the gifts!”

  “Well, Emma Sue, I’m afraid Hazel Marie isn’t here.” As Emma Sue’s mouth dropped open, I closed the door behind me so Lloyd wouldn’t hear any more of my storytelling.

  Before Emma Sue could respond, I hurriedly said, “She needed a few things from Target. You know, since she’s getting ready to move, so she ran over there. She should be back most anytime.”

  Emma Sue’s eyes narrowed. “I thought she was too weak to be driving.”

  “Well, yes, but Mr. Pickens took her. And,” I went on, warming to my subject, “I told him in no uncertain terms that he was not to let her do too much and that he was to make sure she didn’t tire herself out. He knows to get her home as soon as he can. Of course,” I said, changing my tune since I had no idea when Hazel Marie would be back, “they may stop for something to eat before coming home.”