“A good cause? What do you call a good cause, that purple shag carpeting and purple walls?” Harold notices that Juanita’s thigh is just a speck closer to his foot and he is trying to figure out if she moved closer or if he accidentally moved closer to her.
“It’s not purple and it wasn’t shag,” Kate says, her face so red now that she looks like a lobster. Harold loves to see her get that way as much as Granner loves to see it. “The walls are a lovely pale lavender and the rug is thick wool lavender, slightly darker than the walls. It’s beautiful.”
“Finest carpet you can get,” Ernie says. “It looks royal.”
“Sounds a little bad to me,” Granner says. “Back when I was an active member, we had pretty wooden floors with light gold carpet down the aisle.”
“But think about it,” Kate says, and she wonders for a second why she’s even trying to explain anything to these people. “So many of the brides like to use pastel colors and the lavender will be perfect.”
“Unless a bride should choose red for her color,” Juanita says.
“What?” Kate whirls around.
“I said unless a bride should pick red or some shade of orange.”
“Well, I can’t imagine anybody choosing those colors in the first place.”
“I can’t imagine anybody choosing purple for a church,” Granner says and shakes her head. “I reckon Jesus wouldn’t like it.”
“I was on the committee that chose the colors!” Kate says. “And how would you know what Jesus would or would not like?”
“Maybe they shouldn’t have chose you to be on the committee to choose that choice,” Harold says. “Maybe Jesus should have had his say.”
“Don’t be sacrilegious, Harold Weeks,” Granner says. “You don’t even go to church, so that gives you double bad trouble for making up Jesus jokes.”
“No it don’t, cause if Jesus knows everything then Jesus knows that I ain’t meaning any harm by laughing at him, and he also knows that it’s out of love all these years that I stayed at home on Sunday mornings.” He stares at Juanita and she stares straight back at him. It looks like she’s about to smile at him, and the thought of their Sunday mornings way back must have got her excited cause she’s got goose flesh up on her thighs. “And if Jesus knows everything, then he knows that purple ain’t no color for a church and the Virgin Islands ain’t no place for a preacher.”
“That’s your opinion, Harold,” Kate says.
“And Jesus’ opinion. He just now told it to me.”
“I mean it, Harold. I want you to get off of my porch with that kind of talk. Go right out there in the yard to get struck, but don’t ask for it right here on my porch.” Granner’s arms are waving now, lifted straight up, and she’s whispering something.
“Is she serious?” Sam Swett whispers to Corky, or he thinks he is whispering. He can’t tell now that he’s almost done with that third drink that Harold mixed.
“What do you mean?” Granner asks. “You should be serious. You may be one of those people that don’t believe in anything. Are you?”
“It’s called an atheist, mother,” Kate says, and Granner cannot help but think that she wishes Kate had been a schoolteacher so that she could have gotten paid for making so many corrections. “And I’m sure he’s not one. I’m certain …” Kate stops abruptly when the phone rings and she jumps up and runs inside with Ernie right on her heels.
“They painted the walls to match Ernie’s pants,” Harold hoots. Juanita’s thigh is almost within kicking distance.
“I bet it’s the baby!” Patricia gets up and dashes right behind Kate and Ernie. She wants so much to be accepted that it makes Juanita ache inside her heart. It aggravates the shit out of her as well.
“It ain’t the baby on the phone, that’s for sure,” Harold screams.
“Are you one of those?” Granner leans forward toward Sam Swett and clenches her teeth together. She gives Sam the creeps. He shakes his head. “Then what are you?”
“Granner, it doesn’t matter,” Corky says, but Granner cuts her off immediately.
“Tell me,” she says.
“I’m not sure.” He shakes his head, squeezes Corky’s hand, that warm little hand that he would like to fit inside his mouth right this minute. “I grew up going to a Presbyterian church.”
“Believing that everything was lined out for you, huh?” Granner starts rocking again. “Mm mm, that’s bad business, thinking that everything is planned out for you by God, cause then people take to doing whatever they durn well please and think that God will reach down here and set them straight when they need it. Just like the way that Catholics go around and can do all the bad stuff that they want to do as long as they go and sit there in front of that box where the preacher stays and tell him about it. They tell that preacher now, not the Lord. Don’t you know that that preacher could ruin every soul he knows if he should up and lose his mind and tell all he’s heard?” It makes Granner rock that much faster, the madder she gets. Religion is something that can get Granner all riled up, especially when it’s the wrong religions that she’s discussing. She’s a Baptist through and through, and these days even they make her mad, that preacher acting about as uppity as Kate and Ernie, and probably not a one of them interested in a thing other than padding their pockets. Granner ain’t about to set foot in a place that’s so filled to the brim with hypocrites, and it hurts her so to think of little Corky going to that very church hoping to be a part of it all, when they ain’t about to let her considering she’s not got the cash flow. “Is that what you think? You think you can walk around and do as you please and then God’ll fix things his own way, that maybe you’ve been as low as a snake and God up and puts you in the White House, or maybe you’ve been so good and fine and God up and makes you kill a person. Is that what you think?”
“No, no.” He shakes his head, but that old woman still won’t back off, even though there’s all kinds of laughing and screaming inside, she won’t back off.
“That’s what happened to Corky’s Mama, tell him Corky.”
“Maybe some other time, Granner.” Corky stands up when she sees Kate running to the door. “Here comes Kate.”
“You can’t wait too late, son,” Granner says. “I’ll tell you about Corky’s Mama.”
“It’s a boy!” Kate squeals, and Ernie rushes out right behind her and wraps his arms around her waist. It’s times like this when he knows why he married Kate.
“Congratulations!” Juanita screams. “How’s Rose?”
“Fine!” Ernie comes over and hugs Juanita tightly and then looks at her, those clear blue eyes of hers watering a little with the excitement. Some day he’s going to thank her for mopping his Mama’s floor, apologize for twisting her nipple that time. “Thanks for asking, Juanita.”
“Hey, don’t choke her,” Harold says, and puts a hand on Ernie’s shoulder, pulls him away. Juanita is staring at him, so he has to do something so she won’t see that he didn’t want Ernie Stubbs touching her flesh. He sticks out his hand. “Congratulations, there.” Harold nods his head toward Juanita. “Couldn’t let you choke her, gonna do that myself.” He laughs but so does Juanita. It sounded like something he would have said when they were still together. “I’m going to do it right after the divorce,” he adds, and Juanita stops dead in her tracks right in the middle of a laugh. Harold goes over and drapes one arm around Kate. She starts to move away from him but then gives him a quick hug. He smells awful, but after all, he is her brother, no matter how different they may be.
“Baby ain’t deformed or anything, is it?” Granner asks, and Kate gets that exasperated look all over again. Granner has a way with words; she can make everybody get quiet as a mouse in the midst of a commotion.
“He’s healthy, perfectly healthy,” Ernie says, and shakes Granner’s hand. Ernie is out of his skull at this point. He picks up Petie Rose and cuddles her like she might be a baby. “Just like Petie!”
“What’s his name?” C
orky asks.
“Buck Robert Lee,” Granner says, but Kate shakes her head.
“They haven’t named him yet,” Ernie says. “Right, Petie?”
“His name is Tom! I want a new Tom!” Petie squirms out of her grandfather’s arms and runs back inside to watch some more cartoons.
“We’ve got to run now,” Kate says. “Thank God, that’s over. Mother, do you mind if Petie stays with you until Pete gets home?”
“You reckon somebody as old and helpless, worn out, used up and crazy as me can look after a young one?”
“She won’t be a bit of trouble.” Kate gives Granner a brisk kiss on the cheek. “Happy birthday.”
“Thank you.” Granner looks at Kate real hard. She never can tell if Kate is really being nice or putting on. “And thank you for my gifts. That cologne smells real nice, that Tigress.”
“Harold gave you that,” Kate snaps, and then softens a little. “You remember.”
“Yes, I remember.” Granner looks at Sam Swett. “I remember that I was fixing to tell you about Corky’s Mama.”
“Not now, Granner,” Corky says, and watches that police car coming down the street. She knows even from that distance that it’s Bob Bobbin’s car. God knows he rides by her building often enough. “Oh no, look who’s coming.”
“Who?” Kate asks and they all look down the street where Bob is slowing at the corner. He doesn’t even stop at the stop sign, runs right through it and then stops in front of Granner’s house.
“Bob Bobbin,” Corky says and grabs Sam’s hand.
“Well, I know we’re leaving now,” Kate says and takes Ernie’s arm, but he is frozen now, watching Janie Morris hop out of that car.
“Hi, Mr. Stubbs!” Janie waves and walks up slowly. “I sure do like where you live. Bob rode me by.”
“Ernie, who on earth is that?” Kate clutches his arm tighter.
“You must be Mrs. Stubbs.” Janie Morris sticks her hand out in front of Kate, those silvery nails flashing. “I’m your husband’s protégée.”
“You’re what?” Kate stares at Ernie, her mouth dropped slightly. “Do you mean to tell me that this is that secretary you hired?” Kate looks her up and down. Imagine, spectator pumps with a short culotte skirt and a tee shin. Ernie had told her that he had hired an attractive, bright girl, one that would be an asset to the business. She has on enough eye shadow for everyone in Marshboro.
“Mr. Stubbs, please, I know that you know about who I stay with sometimes, but please don’t fire me because of it. I’m a hard worker, you know that I am.” Janie Morris grabs hold of the sleeve of Ernie’s shirt. “I’ve shown you what I can do.” She tilts her head to one side and stares at him. This is blackmail.
“I told her you weren’t too pleased about her nigra boyfriend,” Bob says and shakes his head.
“I tell you, Tommy didn’t do it!” Here come those tears again. It makes Bob want to sing that song. It makes Bob want to take his billy stick and hit that crazy boy with Corky square in the head. “You’ve got to help me, Mr. Stubbs.” Janie rushes up and wraps her arms around Ernie’s waist, presses her face against his chest.
“How dare you!” Kate gasps and steps back. Ernie is just standing there like a fool, his arms held out to the sides, his chin lifted like he doesn’t want to touch her.
“I’ve got to go,” Ernie says.
“I’d like to know what’s going on.” Granner gets up from her chair and walks up to Bob. “I thought I told you that I’d call if I needed a police.”
“I’ve come to get Harold,” Bob says and looks over at Harold. “You’ve got to go down and see the suspect.”
“What?” Harold blinks several times to get Bob into focus and he feels Juanita’s hand back on his brogan now, just where he wanted it. “What man?”
“The murderer,” Kate screams, still staring at Ernie who has not moved an inch away from that slutty looking woman. “The murderer that this woman lives with.”
“Let me get this straight.” Granner turns away from Bob and looks at Janie Morris. “You live with a nigra and this nigra is the one that Harold saw kill that man.” Granner shakes her head. “Ain’t that something, and what did you say that you are of Ernie’s? Something other than secretary.”
“She’s his protégée,” Bob says. “That’s French.” He looks at Corky but she rolls her eyes and looks away.
“I don’t know what that is,” Granner says. “Ain’t gonna try to say it either, or Kate there will correct me. Kate used to be a secretary but she was never one of those that I know of.”
“You were a secretary?” Janie Morris finally lets go of Ernie and steps back, stares at Kate Stubbs. “Why, that’s hard to believe.”
“Well, I wasn’t one for long!”
“Mr. Stubbs took you away from all of that, huh?” she asks, and Kate puffs up her chest and cheeks. It makes Harold laugh, makes him think that she might cut loose and blow away like a balloon set loose.
“I took them both away from it all, and now what do you think but that they want to put me away.” Granner rocks faster.
“Oh my,” Janie Morris gasps. “Can I have some of that cake? I’m starving.”
“May I!” Kate says through gritted teeth.
“Help your damn self,” Harold says. He’d like another drink right now, but he hates to move his foot away from Juanita. How does Bobbin know he’s got the man? It gives Harold a rush all of a sudden. The man that killed Charles could be a woman, could be Chinese, could be anywhere. “Hey Sam, how bout going and getting me and you another drink?” Sam looks back at him, his eyes glazed all over again. That boy just can’t drink worth a damn.
“I’ll do it.” Corky stands up and Sam Swett suddenly realizes that she is going to go inside, that she is going to leave him out here with all of these people. He can’t let that happen. He jumps up, weaves a little, grabs hold of Bob Bobbin who pushes him away.
“You’re drunk, Harold,” Bob says, and watches Corky prance right inside and let the door slam after that boy has squeezed in past her. “You can’t go down to the station that way.”
“I can’t go down to the station.” Harold shakes his head and then slumps forward, his face cupped in his hands. He had almost forgotten it all, had almost forgotten Maggie’s face.
“What is it?” Juanita creeps forward, puts her hand on Harold’s back and he doesn’t even jerk away.
“Come on, Kate,” Ernie says.
“Not until I find out what’s going on!” Kate sits back down in the swing and pulls Ernie with her. “What did she mean, protégée? All you needed was someone to type a little!”
“Harold?” Juanita shakes his shoulder, but he just rolls his head back and forth in his hands. Corky comes out carrying a drink and stands beside Harold’s chair. Sam Swett stands behind her, his hands on her shoulders, his face pressed into the nape of her neck. It is cool there.
“Really, Harold, it’s the only way that we can convict the man.” Bob cannot take his eyes off of Corky letting that boy nuzzle up to her like a pony.
“I can’t tell you anything.” Harold looks up, his eyes red, runs his hand through his hair. He knocks his cap off and doesn’t even pick it up. Juanita bends over to get it and then holds it. “I didn’t see anybody coming out of the store. I don’t know who killed Charles.”
“You lied!” Ernie Stubbs stands up.
“I had to say something. I sure as hell didn’t think they’d go and pick up somebody.”
“Where were you?” Kate asks, and everyone is staring at Harold now. Patricia is staring straight through him, it seems, and he can’t hardly stand it.
“I was passed out in the back room.” Harold looks around, looks everyone of them in the eye with that. He is completely sober. He has never felt so sober in his whole life.
“But you said,” Sam Swett lifts his head off of Corky’s back and stares at Harold. He sees two Harolds.
“Well, then what about him?” Bob points to Sam S
wett, then walks over and pulls him away from Corky, pins him up against the porch post.
“He came in after I had already found Charles.”
“Where were you before you went in that store?” Bob shakes him and he feels sick all over again. He had been feeling so good, too.
“He was outside throwing up,” Harold says. “Kid was drunk as a skunk. We both were and that’s why I made that up.”
“Let him go, Bob.” Corky squeezes in between Bob and Sam. Bob has never been this close to her before, and he’d like to press in closer and closer, except that every-body and their brother is watching. “Now!” she says and he lets go. Sam slumps down along the banister and sits on the floor. Corky squats right down beside him and rubs his head. It makes Bob sick.
“I knew Tommy wouldn’t do such a thing!” Janie Morris hugs Ernie and then hugs Kate. Kate has smelled enough Tigress for one day and she pushes her away.
“He could still have done it,” Bob says. “Somebody drank that T. J. Swann—unless he did.” Bob points at Sam.
“He didn’t. I smelled his breath.” Harold looks up at Juanita, suddenly feels angry about it all. “I reckon you’re enjoying this, all of you, old drunk Harold telling a lie to the cops because old drunk Harold was scared.” He stares over at Ernie and Kate. “That’s something else for you to be ashamed of, all of you, scared to death that somebody will hear that Harold Weeks gets drunk and goes to the Quik Pik in the wee hours.” He looks over at Patricia, who is now sitting on the railing facing the street as though none of this is happening. “Give Patricia over there one more reason for hating her Daddy, give Juanita here one more reason to screw around.”
“Shut up!” Patricia screams. “I am ashamed of you! I do hate you!” Before Patricia can scream another time, Juanita is over there and has slapped her in the face. Juanita draws back her hand and watches Patricia, whose eyes are flashing like she hates Juanita more than anything on this earth. Patricia looks at Kate as if Kate might offer some help, but Kate doesn’t even look at her. Juanita wants to hug her now, to say that she’s sorry, but Patricia has run into the house and slammed the door.
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