JU03 - Miss Julia Throws a Wedding

by Ann B. Ross

  “Stop that, Coleman. You have to have a positive attitude. You’ve got to show her how excited and happy you are to be marrying her. If you act like it’s all hopeless, she’ll figure it is, too. No, you’ve got to let her know that you’re counting on her promise to marry you. Because, frankly, Coleman, women in her condition are known to have moods, so you just have to be understanding.”

  “I don’t know, Miss Julia. Doing all that might turn her off even more.”

  “What you’re doing now isn’t helping, is it?”

  I saw a flash of his teeth as he either smiled or grimaced. “I guess not.”

  “Then try my way and see what happens. Now, I want you to go on upstairs and get a good night’s sleep. What’s left of it, anyway. And then I want you to get up in the morning, determined to do everything you can to show her what she’ll be missing if she lets you go.”

  “Well, she did say that I could see the baby and help with raising it. And she said that maybe in a year or so, if we still felt the same way, we might think about getting married. After it was clear to everybody that we weren’t being forced into it.”

  “Good Lord,” I said, throwing up my hands. “Binkie’s the most mixed-up person I know. But that shows she doesn’t want to lose you, which means she loves you. Oh, Coleman,” I went on, struck with a sudden thought. “The license! Do you have one? Both of you have to sign for it, don’t you?”

  “We did that early on Monday,” he said, rubbing his hand across his face. “Before she had second thoughts. I have it, though a whole lot of good it’ll do now.”

  “You just hold on to it. You’re going to be using it,” I said with more assurance than I felt. “Wave that thing in her face, and remind her that you have proof of her promise.”

  “I guess I can try it,” he said with a weak laugh. “Probably won’t change her mind, but nothing else has, either. When she gets an idea in her head, well, you know her, Miss Julia.” He got up and pushed his chair under the table. “I’d better get on to bed.”

  “Yes, you do that. And, Coleman, I’m glad we had this little talk. I think it’s done you a world of good. You sleep well and we’ll see what tomorrow brings.”

  “Good night, then.” He started toward the back stairs, his shoulders still slumped, in spite of all my efforts.

  “Coleman,” I said, as he was almost out of the room. “Come back a minute. There’s something I want to ask you that’s been worrying me.”

  He turned back to face me, but didn’t come any closer. I figured he’d had about enough of my questions and probably my advice. But this was important.

  “Why haven’t you given her an engagement ring?”

  He shook his head and gave another little laugh. “She didn’t want one. Said it was too conventional, and that I didn’t need to spend money on what was just a symbol.” He paused, then went on in a lower tone. “She said that we loved each other too much to need a reminder that we’d promised to get married. Kinda ironic now, I guess.”

  I got up from my chair and said, “Listen to me, Coleman. Every girl wants a ring whether she says she does or not. I mean, what’s she going to show her friends if she doesn’t have a ring? And you’re going to get her one. I want you to go this very morning and buy the biggest and best ring you can afford, and if you can’t afford it, I’ll loan you the money.”

  He thought about it for a minute. “What if she won’t take it?”

  “I’m betting that she will. Especially if you give it to her in the most romantic way you can think of. Believe me, Coleman, romance can melt any woman’s heart.” I knew what I was talking about, because I’d never had any.

  “Well, I guess I don’t have anything to lose by trying it. But, you know she’s not the romantic type.”

  “Go to bed, Coleman, and take this thought with you: every woman in the world is the romantic type.”

  Chapter 20

  I got up the next morning, tired and dragging. Sitting up half the night, telling a man how to woo his lady love, had taken the starch out of me. But the loss of sleep was in a good cause, and there were so many last-minute things to attend to that I had an extra cup of coffee and started in on them. The fact that the rain was over and the day bright and clear helped considerably. And as far as I was concerned, that was enough bad weather until after the wedding.

  I told Lillian and Hazel Marie the upshot of my late-night advisory session with Coleman, and they both agreed that I’d hit on just the right approach to changing Binkie’s mind.

  “You know what I think?” I said, as Lillian washed the breakfast dishes and Hazel Marie combed Little Lloyd’s hair. “I think Dixon Hightower was just Binkie’s excuse. I think it was Pastor Petree who turned Binkie off. I get turned off just by looking at him.”

  “Run and get your books, Lloyd,” Hazel Marie said. “It’s about time to leave for school. Just a couple more days and you’ll be out for the summer.” She gave him a light tap on the bottom as he turned to leave.

  “About time, too,” he said, pushing through the kitchen door. “I can’t wait.”

  “Miss Julia,” Hazel Marie said, with a wicked grin. “Every time I think of Pastor Petree counseling Binkie and Coleman on the intimacies of marriage I get tickled. And I bet Binkie couldn’t keep a straight face.”

  “I wish she had laughed instead of taking to heart whatever he said. You know, Hazel Marie, even if Coleman’s romantic campaign works and she decides to go through with it, there may not be enough time to get in all the counseling sessions, which, after the results of the first one, might not be a bad thing. But what if Pastor Petree refuses to marry them, and they’re both left at the altar?”

  “Oh,” she said, “would he do that?”

  “He could. He’s so rigid he can hardly bend enough to sit down. We could be left in the lurch with a bride and groom and no preacher.”

  Lillian untied her apron and folded it. “No, we wouldn’t. Miss Mattie Mae Morgan can bring the Reverend Morris Abernathy with her, and he’d marry ’em up without no questions ast. ’Course he a ebony person, too.”

  “That doesn’t enter into it, Lillian,” I said. “The main thing is to get them legally married, I don’t care who does it. Why don’t you give him a call and put him on standby, just in case?”

  Little Lloyd came back into the kitchen, carrying his book bag and frowning to beat the band. “I can’t find my Game Boy again. Has anybody seen it?”

  “No, sugar,” Hazel Marie said as she looked for the car keys. “But you shouldn’t be taking it to school anyway. It’ll turn up sooner or later.”

  “Not if that ole Dixon Hightower has it,” the boy said. Then as the implication set in, his eyes got wider. “That means he’s been in our house! Oh, no, what’re we going to do?”

  It took the three of us to reassure the child that Dixon had not been wandering through the house while we slept. At least, I didn’t think he had. But just in case, I determined to buy a Game Boy replacement before Little Lloyd got home, so he wouldn’t worry himself to death.

  After Hazel Marie returned from taking Little Lloyd to school, we all pitched in to straighten and clean and move furniture around as we prepared for either a party or a wedding, whichever it turned out to be. The florist dropped by, which meant that I had to drop what I was doing to go over everything with her again. The doorbell rang, the telephone rang, visitors came by to offer help and to leave gifts, but mostly to see what was going on. Lillian gave the baseboards in the living room and the dining room a last dusting, while Hazel Marie polished the banisters, and I sprayed the prisms on the chandelier with some of that self-cleaning stuff that sure beat taking each one off and washing it in ammonia water.

  Late in the morning, Sam came by to see if he could help, giving us a good excuse to take a break. I told him about the romantic campaign we’d set Coleman on, and our plans to have a party instead of a wedding if the campaign failed to win Binkie over.

  “Is that what it takes, Juli
a?” he asked, cutting his eyes at me. “I mean, to make a woman change her mind? Maybe I should take some lessons, especially if it works.” Then he leaned over and put his hand on my arm. “But don’t be too disappointed if it doesn’t.”

  “I have to try, Sam. And so does Coleman. He can’t lose any more than he already has, so he might as well go all out.”

  “Can’t argue with that. Now let me get to that rug you want rolled up.”

  As he went to the living room, an ear-shattering crash and the sound of men’s voices came from outside. I realized that I’d been hearing big truck motors and squeaking brakes for some little while.

  “What in the world is that?” I said, getting up and going to the door.

  Hazel Marie and Lillian followed me out into the yard, where we stood dumbfounded at the sight across the street. Two huge dump trucks, blocking most of the street, were parked beside that half-built building, and men, yelling to each other and wielding tools, stood on top of the building, scraping up and throwing down into the truck beds the roofing material that’d been so recently put on.

  “Reckon they’re tearing it down?” Hazel Marie asked as she gazed up, shielding her eyes with her hand.

  “It sho’ look like it,” Lillian said. “They takin’ the roof off and it hardly been on.”

  “This just beats all,” I said, watching as black asphalt roofing material slammed down into the trucks, leaving bits and pieces floating in the air and drifting across the street and into my yard. “They’re polluting the whole neighborhood with that mess, to say nothing of the noise they’re making.”

  Just then, a few of the men saw Hazel Marie standing there in her shorts and skimpy shirt, and you know what happens when a certain type of construction worker sees a pretty woman. They couldn’t restrain themselves, even in my presence, and catcalls and whistles joined with the general level of noise.

  “Get in the house, Hazel Marie,” I said, “before one of them falls off the roof. Although it wouldn’t be any more than he’d deserve. Come on, Lillian, I’m going to put a stop to this.”

  As we went back into the kitchen, a particularly large clump of roofing material slammed into a truck bed, clanging against the metal as it hit. Sam poked his head in the kitchen door. “What the devil is that racket?”

  “Just one more thing to add to the troubles of this day,” I told him. “They’re over there, ripping off the roof of that brand-new Family Life Center. And here we are, just a couple of days from Binkie and Coleman’s wedding or whatever, and there’ll be cars trying to park with those trucks blocking the street, and a mess all over my yard and front porch. I’m calling Pastor Petree and putting a stop to it.”

  I reached for the telephone, but Sam said, “Wait a minute, Julia. You don’t still have your heart set on a wedding, do you?”

  “I certainly do. Those two belong together, and I’m not going to let them ruin their lives. I’ve decided that since Binkie has not seen fit to formally notify me of a cancellation, I’m going to keep on with my plans. Whether Binkie and Coleman show up or not.” Then I added: “Maybe it’ll bring them to their senses when they see that everybody’s expecting a wedding.”

  “Julia . . . ,” Sam began, then backed off. “I just don’t want you to be disappointed if it doesn’t work out. But go ahead and call Petree. See what’s wrong with that new roof we just spent twenty thousand dollars to put on.”

  When I dialed the church office, I got Norma Cantrell, of course. “I need to speak to Pastor Petree right this minute,” I told her, “and don’t put me off.”

  “Why, Miss Julia,” she said with an unbecoming degree of satisfaction, “this is his sermon preparation time, and he can’t be disturbed. I’ll be glad to take a message.”

  “Sam,” I said, covering the phone and turning to him. “We need a complete employee overhaul in that church. No one is ever available for people in need.” Then uncovering the phone, I said to Norma, “I’m not about to leave a message and wait forever for him to get back to me. He’s as slow as molasses, and this is urgent. Put me through to Pastor Petree right now before I come over there.”

  I’d have to remember that threat, for she quickly got Lance Petree on the line. I let him know in no uncertain terms that I wanted that work on the roof brought to a halt. “You know we’re having a wedding over here this weekend, Pastor,” I told him. “How could you let them create such a mess all up and down the street like they’re doing? And why do they need to be doing it at all? That roof was just put on.”

  “It’s the flashing,” he said, “or something that maybe wasn’t installed right. We had major leaks with that rainstorm last night, Miss Julia. Rainwater ran down the side of the building, just soaking the bricks. Part of the roof has to be replaced before the whole building is damaged.”

  “Leaks!” I cried. “Do you know what the church paid for that roof? I hope to goodness we’re not going to have to pay double for a new one. But, listen to me now, you go and tell those men to put a tarp over everything and leave it until after the wedding. And tell them they better clean up their mess before they leave.”

  “Well, I don’t know that I can do that, Miss Julia,” he said, making me want to shake some gumption into him. “Pastor Ledbetter wanted it done by the time he gets back next week, so I don’t think I ought to stop them. You know how hard it is to get workers on the job.”

  “I knew it! I knew he arranged to have the work done while he was gone so he wouldn’t be subjected to the mess. Now listen, Pastor Petree, I don’t care what Pastor Ledbetter wants. I’m going to call every deacon and elder in the church, and let me tell you that many of them are invited to this wedding. And when they see what I’m having to put up with, well, they’re going to be giving you some contradictory orders, believe you me.”

  I was steaming by the time I hung up the phone, but before I could let off some of it, Lillian said, “Miss Julia, who the head deacon at yo’ church?”

  “Lillian, you smart thing! Why didn’t I think of that. Of course, Mildred Allen’s husband is. I’ll call and invite them to the wedding right now, then we’ll get something done!”

  “A little late to be inviting, Julia, don’t you think?” Sam said with that little smile he saves for me when I do something he’s not sure of. “And what if there’s no wedding to invite them to?”

  “I’m not worrying about that now,” I said, “and Mildred Allen’ll be so glad to hear from me she won’t care how late she’s invited.”

  That proved to be the case, especially since I apologized all over myself, telling her that my list with her name on it had fallen behind a chair and that there were several others on the list who were also getting late calls. And she warmed my heart when she expressed outrage over what was taking place across the street. “Well, we’ll just see about that,” she said when I told her what Pastor Petree’d said. “I’ll have Herb go right over there and make them stop. And see that they clean up the street and your yard, too. A wedding’s too important to be interfered with like that.”

  I hung up the phone, thinking that I’d always liked Mildred Allen.

  “Julia,” Sam said, “I’m going to leave you with it. I left a message inviting Coleman to come have supper with me tonight. I don’t expect he’ll want to see all the long faces around here, if Binkie’s still holding out.”

  “That’s thoughtful of you, Sam, but you can just uninvite him. He has things to do that don’t involve going to somebody’s house for supper. He needs to keep after Binkie, not leave her alone to dream up some more modern claptrap like she’s been doing.”

  “Maybe you’re right. Far be it from me to interfere with the course of true love, and when you come right down to it, it’s not my business to counsel him. Look how poorly I’ve done in the romance department.” And with a smile that both wrenched and lifted up my heart, he took his leave.

  Hazel Marie and I finished our cleaning and polishing, then made sandwiches for lunch. We spread pimento ch
eese on bread slices, with her occasionally commenting on the futility of the work we’d done on the house. Well, what she said was: “I just hope the wedding guests appreciate what we’ve done, even if we don’t have a wedding.”

  “Well, it need cleanin’ anyway,” Lillian said, trying to encourage us, but failing, as far as I was concerned.

  When the mailman came by, I was surprised to find a scented envelope addressed to me. And taken aback to find the drawing of a kitten chasing a butterfly on the notepaper inside. Completely inappropriate for anyone but a child, so why wasn’t I surprised that it was from Etta Mae Wiggins, reminding me of the troubles at the trailer park? I declare, the woman was going to drive me crazy.

  I pursed my mouth and stuffed the note in my pocket. I had too many other things on my mind to worry with her now. Besides, if she intended to document her complaints in writing, she should’ve used a better grade of stationery. What she’d used certainly wouldn’t hold up in court.

  By late afternoon, the house was quiet; the workers across the street had taken their trucks and left, Hazel Marie had picked up Little Lloyd from school, and I was in his room looking over his homework while he played with his Game Boy. I’d bought it to replace the one he thought Dixon had taken, and he’d not known the difference.

  I heard Lillian plodding up the stairs, surprising me since she usually called us to supper from the foot of them.

  “Miss Julia,” she said, sticking her head around the half-closed door, “you looked at that fam’ly building lately?”

  “Not any more than I can help,” I said, glancing up from Little Lloyd’s geography paper. “Why?”

  “You better get up from there and look at it. Somethin’ hap’ning over there.”

  Chapter 21

  “What is it?” I got up and started down the stairs, with Little Lloyd right behind me.

  “They’s people over there,” she said worriedly, “an’ I don’t know what they doin’.”