JU03 - Miss Julia Throws a Wedding

by Ann B. Ross

  “Well,” I said to the empty kitchen, propping my hands on my hips. “Maybe everything that could be done hasn’t been done yet. So I guess I’d better get to it.”

  Chapter 28

  “Hey, Miss Julia,” Hazel Marie said as she came in from the yard. She blinked her eyes in the light of the kitchen, a little smile on her face. I noticed that her mouth looked soft and smeary, but decided not to dwell on it. “Somebody called J.D. on his cell phone and he had to leave. We thought you’d already gone upstairs, so he said to say good night for him.”

  “Very polite of him, I’m sure,” I said. “But I wish he’d stayed. Hazel Marie, that crowd out there has grown by leaps and bounds, and now the Asheville television station has sent a van to put it on the news. And the more I think about it, the more it worries me. As if I didn’t have enough to worry about already. I’ll tell you this, I don’t want to see my house or my church, including that nightmare of a Family Life Center, on the news for everybody to stare at.”

  “Well, my goodness,” Hazel Marie said, going to the kitchen window to look out. “Wonder which reporter they sent? I like Kenny Kane, wonder if it’s him?”

  “I don’t care who it is. Don’t get carried away with television personalities, Hazel Marie. Now, listen,” I went on, “not only do we have a problem with Binkie and whether or not she’s going to be here tomorrow, we have a problem with Coleman. He’s decided he doesn’t want to risk being embarrassed if Binkie doesn’t show. He’s thinking of staying away himself.”

  “Oh, no,” Hazel Marie cried, turning to me with a stricken face. “He can’t do that! Oh, Miss Julia, they’re dropping away like flies!”

  “I know, I know,” I said, my hand at my throat. “But we haven’t dropped away and we’re certainly not giving up. Now, Hazel Marie, first things first. We have to straighten out that problem outside. It’s turning into a public nuisance.

  “I checked with Coleman a few minutes ago, and would you believe he’s on duty when his on-again, off-again wedding’s less than twenty-four hours away? Anyway, he said those people milling around out there are on some kind of religious vigil, which was news to me. Well,” I said after a pause, “I guess it’s news to everybody, or they wouldn’t be putting it on the air.”

  Hazel Marie craned her neck trying to see out the side window. “I’d kinda like to go out there. I’ve never seen a television camera in action.”

  “I’d recommend against it,” I said, reaching for my purse. “Little Lloyd’s upstairs, and I’m going over to Binkie’s again.”

  She turned around, surprised. “Why, Miss Julia, it’s after ten o’clock! You can’t be going over there now.”

  “I don’t see why not. Hazel Marie,” I said, pressing my hand against my forehead. “I have to talk to her again before Coleman gets over there. If he tells her he’s going to bow out, then there’ll be no hope at all. And I can’t just stand by and let that happen. According to Coleman, she’s still thinking about it, so if there’s anything I can do, I have to do it.”

  “I guess so,” she said, “but I hope you have better luck than I did.” She reached for a sweater that was hanging behind the door. “Better take this; it’s gotten cool out there.”

  I stopped. “When did you talk to her?”

  “I called her after you said I could tell her better than anyone how hard it is to raise a child alone. She just said that our situations weren’t at all alike, since, with her job, she wouldn’t be without resources the way I was.”

  I gasped at Binkie’s effrontery. “Finances aren’t the only consideration in raising a child, doesn’t she know that?”

  “I tried to tell her, but you know, Miss Julia, I think Binkie thinks she can do anything she sets her mind on.”

  “Yes, but she’s past due for a comeuppance. If it wasn’t for that unborn child, I’d just sit back and let her learn her lesson. But I can’t, so I’m going over there again.” I started for the door. “No telling when I’ll be back. Be sure and lock up before you go to bed.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t go by yourself. Let me get Little Lloyd and we’ll go with you.”

  “No,” I said, holding up my hand. “No, I can manage better by myself. I’m going to let Binkie have it in no uncertain terms, and neither you nor that child need to witness the knockdown, drag-out that it’ll probably turn into. She’s either going to marry her baby’s father tomorrow or . . . or, I don’t know what.”

  Little Lloyd, in his pajamas and robe, pushed through the kitchen door. His wet hair was slicked down, except for the cowlick that had dried enough to spring up. “They’ve got a spotlight out there now!” he said, his eyes as round as his glasses. “And a whole bunch of people everywhere.”

  “Well,” I said, walking out on the back stoop. “They’d better get out of my way. I’m heading out.”

  But when I got to the side yard, I was brought up short by the mass of people on the sidewalk and the street. To say nothing of the television van that blocked my driveway as pretty as you please. The spotlight that Little Lloyd had mentioned was focused on the side of the Family Life Center, making me blink in the glare. The camera light swept across the crowd, and then centered on the blond reporter as she interviewed a member of the congregation, if that’s what it was.

  “Hazel Marie!” I called. “I’m going to need some help getting out of here.”

  When she walked out into the yard, Little Lloyd trailing along behind her, I pointed and said, “Would you look at that? The television van’s blocking the driveway! If that’s not the most inconsiderate thing I’ve ever seen, I don’t know what is. And illegal, too, if I’m not mistaken.”

  Little Lloyd said, “I’ll go ask them to move it.” And off he went down the driveway in his pajamas, bedroom slippers and robe. Hazel Marie followed him halfway, while I stood by the car, fuming at the hindrance to my mission.

  I saw the child go up to the cameraman and point toward the van. An action that brought no response, so Little Lloyd walked over to the one operating the spotlight. I could see the man shrug his shoulders and shake his head.

  By that time, I’d joined Hazel Marie nearer the end of the driveway.

  “They didn’t send Kenny,” Hazel Marie said with a twinge of disappointment. “It’s Tiffany Hill reporting. She’s all right, but I like him better.”

  I couldn’t tell a nickel’s worth of difference, except for the obvious, between one announcer and another, so I didn’t express a preference.

  As we watched and waited for the van to move, Little Lloyd came running back to us.

  Catching his breath, he said, “They said they’d be through in a little while, but they can’t interrupt a live broadcast right now. They said you’ll have to wait.”

  “Wait!” I demanded. “Who do they think they are, telling me to wait? Hazel Marie, where’d Mr. Pickens go? Can we get him back here? Go call the sheriff, Little Lloyd. I am not going to put up with such high-handed arrogance.”

  “I was hoping J.D. might still be here,” Hazel Marie said, standing on her tiptoes. “He left in a hurry through the back gate, but I thought he might’ve stopped and investigated this. He’s so curious, you know.”

  “Oh, my goodness.” I moaned. “I’ve got to get out of here before Coleman talks to Binkie. What’re we going to do, Hazel Marie? It might be that I could say just the right thing that would change Binkie’s mind, and here I am, thwarted from saying it!”

  I began marching toward the center of the action, determined to have that van moved and moved immediately.

  “Wait,” Hazel Marie said, plucking at my sleeve. “It’s television. You can’t just walk into a broadcast.”

  “I most certainly can. There’s not a thing sacred about television.”

  And I walked up to the cameraman and said, “You’ll have to move that van. It’s blocking my driveway.”

  He didn’t even have the courtesy to look at me, just kept his eye pinned to his shoulder-held camera that was aim
ed at the talking blonde, who was lit up like she was on a stage. “Sorry, ma’am,” he said. “Can’t do it now, we’re taping.”

  “Well, you can just untape! This is an emergency, and I have to get my car out.”

  The man who was operating the spotlight and managing the wires and cables came over. “Lady,” he said, “you’re going to have to stay out of the way. We’re taping some crowd and background shots, then we’ll do a live feed for the eleven o’clock news. We’ll move the van then.” He grasped my arm, almost lifting me off the ground, and walked me firmly away, all without a by-your-leave.

  I was speechless with outrage. But before I could react, Hazel Marie was on him like a wildcat. “Get your hands off her! Don’t you dare push her around like that!” Then she pointed down at my asphalt driveway where we were all standing. “You are on private property, and in danger of imminent arrest!”

  My word, Hazel Marie, I thought, you are certainly well-spoken.

  The man stepped back onto the sidewalk, off private property. Then he said, “We can’t move the van until Tiffany gets through.” He cocked his head toward the blonde, who was smiling and talking into a microphone and pointing behind her at the crowd and at the brick wall of the Family Life building. And all the while never taking her eyes away from the camera that was focused on her like the star reporter she was.

  “And when will that be?” Hazel Marie demanded, her hands clenched in fists by her sides.

  “Tiffany doesn’t like to be cut short,” he said, not the least perturbed that we were for all intents and purposes prevented from leaving our own home. “It’s up to her and the director. Not you,” he said, pointing at me, then at Hazel Marie, “or you. We’ll film as long as it takes.”

  “We’ll just see about that,” Hazel Marie said, turning on her heel and heading toward the house. I’d seen that look on her face a time or two before, and I knew it boded ill for whoever got in her way.

  Just then, Little Lloyd came running from the house, slamming the screen door behind him. He dashed up to us, his bathrobe flapping around his knees. I’d been so taken up with the rudeness of those who work in television I’d not noticed that the child had been gone.

  “Mama!” he said, gasping and almost out of breath. “Miss Julia! I called Coleman and he’s coming, and they’re sending some more squad cars, too.”

  “Well, thank goodness,” I said. “That was quick thinking, Little Lloyd.” Then, seeing Hazel Marie stomping on toward the house, I called, “Hazel Marie, wait. Where’re you going?”

  She didn’t answer, so the boy and I followed her, stopping halfway as we saw her squat down by the side of the house.

  “What’s she doing?” Little Lloyd asked, peering into the shadows where his mother now stood with a coil of hose in her hands.

  “I have no idea,” I said, as perplexed as he was. “Oh, my Lord,” I gasped as Hazel Marie strode past us, dragging the hose that we watered the lawn with behind her. “Hazel Marie?”

  “Stand back, Miss Julia,” she said, her back straight and her eyes glaring at the obstacle in front of her.

  “Mama?” Little Lloyd said as he started toward her.

  “Hazel Marie?” I said again, and started with him, but she was not to be deterred.

  Those television people, now that we’d been put in our place, were intent on the business at hand and didn’t see Hazel Marie take aim and twist the nozzle. A stream of water spurted out full force. We’d always had good water pressure, and it didn’t fail her now.

  Her first poorly aimed shot went into and through the open windows of the van and out the other side. She got their attention, though, for the beam of the spotlight went wild, veering this way and that up and down the street. One man jumped from the back of the van, cursing something awful, and the crowd turned as one to see what the trouble was. The man doing the directing ran toward Hazel Marie, his mouth open in a yell and his arms outstretched to grab her. She turned the hose into his face, backing him off as he sputtered and gasped at the sudden influx. And all the while, Tiffany, the television personality, continued to broadcast, her eyes wide with the thrill of breaking news. The light of the camera swiveled back and forth between her and the wild woman with the hose.

  Hazel Marie stepped to the side and, taking deliberate aim, yelled, “Tiffany’s finished!” Then she soaked the reporter to a fare-thee-well, not stopping until the woman’s hair was plastered to her head and her clothes were sopping wet.

  And still the shoulder-held camera kept filming, turning first to Hazel Marie and then back to the saturated Tiffany.

  Tiffany, with water dripping off her, screamed, “Turn that damn camera off!” And finally all the lights went off, and we were left with only a streetlight and the glow of candles still held by the mesmerized crowd.

  Hazel Marie flung the hose down and stomped back to us. With a satisfied grin, she said, “You’ll be able to get out now, Miss Julia.”

  Then three squad cars, their roof lights flashing blue and red, turned the corner. One blast of a siren cleared the way, and they pulled up and stopped beside the television van. Coleman and two other deputies stepped out, as the television crew, minus Tiffany who had ducked inside the van, ran to them, waving their arms, pointing at us and lodging their complaints.

  “I don’t know, Hazel Marie,” I said, noting that now there were four vehicles impeding my passage. “I may be stuck for good. But as long as Coleman’s here, he can’t be at Binkie’s, can he?” Then, trying not to laugh, I said, “I declare, Hazel Marie, you certainly know how to wrap up a broadcast.”

  Chapter 29

  Coleman and the two deputies who’d come with him calmly listened to the indignant, arm-waving director, while the cameraman stood aside with a bemused expression on his face. Gradually the tension lessened, especially when Tiffany asserted from inside the van that there was “no way in hell” she would go in front of a camera in the shape she was in. The men began gathering up their cables and wires, and placing them in the van.

  When they slammed the back door of the van and climbed into the front seat, Little Lloyd said, “Bet those seats’re squishy.”

  Hazel Marie and I smiled at each other as we watched one of the deputies direct the van through the crowd and send it on its way.

  “I guess I could go on to Binkie’s now,” I said. “But since Coleman’s here, I’ll wait and try to talk him out of giving up on her. And I want to find out why this strange gathering was worth putting on television.”

  By that time, Coleman and the deputies were moving among the crowd, shaking hands and talking with several people they seemed to know.

  As we stood to the side of the milling crowd and watched, Hazel Marie said, “Something’s drawing these people here. I mean, there’s got to be some reason why it’s right by our house. And it’s not like any kind of religious vigil I’ve ever heard of.”

  I nodded as I squinched my eyes at the crowd. “I’ve never seen some of these people before. Wonder where they came from?”

  Little Lloyd said, “I saw some out-of-state license plates on the cars parked down the street. Some from Virginia and Tennessee, even.”

  “My word,” I said, marveling at anybody who’d drive so far to stand around on a sidewalk. “Look over there on the other side, Hazel Marie. Isn’t that the Riley family? And there’s Bud Wilkins, too. And have you ever seen so many candles? It’s like a Christmas Eve service. You know, if it’s religious and it has candles, it’s got to be something with Catholic overtones. Maybe that’s why we don’t know anything about it.”

  “But why would anybody want to celebrate anything on Polk Street?” Hazel Marie said, frowning and casting worried glances toward the candlelit gathering. “Oh, look. I think that’s Norma Cantrell across the street. Well, there’re too many heads in the way. I’m not sure.”

  “Well, it wouldn’t surprise me,” I said. “She has to check out everything in town. You think we can get through to her? She’d know, if
anybody would.”

  Hazel Marie said, “I don’t think we ought to try it. Too many people between us.”

  Little Lloyd, who seemed entranced by the street meeting, said, “Let’s just ask somebody here.”

  “Lord, child,” I said. “I don’t know anybody nearby to ask.”

  “I don’t mind asking a stranger,” he said.

  I raised my eyebrows at Hazel Marie, wondering if she thought we’d be disrupting a religious service, even though I hadn’t seen a preacher anywhere.

  She shrugged and said, “We could try. Maybe we’d learn what’s brought them here. And if they’re going to leave before the wedding guests start coming.”

  “Don’t mention the wedding to me, Hazel Marie,” I said. “I’m so wrought up about it now I can hardly stand it. All right, let’s see if we can find out what’s going on. But keep an eye on Coleman; I don’t want him getting to Binkie before I do.”

  “Look,” Little Lloyd said, pointing toward a man in a short-sleeved shirt. “There’s Señor Acosta again. Let’s ask him.” And he headed into the crowd.

  Looking back at us, he went on. “Remember? I know his son from school. Angel.”

  “What?” I asked, as Hazel Marie and I frowned at each other.

  “Angel. That’s his son’s name,” Little Lloyd said.

  “My word,” I said under my breath. “They must be a religious family.”

  Hazel Marie and I cautiously followed Little Lloyd, not wanting to get too close but not wanting to lose sight of him, either.

  As we approached the gathering, Hazel Marie giggled nervously and took my arm. “I hope they won’t get mad at us for asking what they’re doing.”

  “They won’t get mad, Mama,” Little Lloyd said, walking fearlessly into the crowd. “We just have to be respectful, like we’d be in church.”

  “Huh,” I said. “I could be a lot more respectful if this kind of carrying-on wasn’t practically in my front yard.”