Miss Julia Knows a Thing or Two

by Ann B. Ross

“They pullin’ somebody out, Miss Julia,” Lillian said, her face pressed against the window. “I b’lieve it might be Miss Mildred. It sure look like her on that stretcher.”

  “Let me see.” I took Lillian’s place at the window and found that she’d had a clearer view through the branches. I watched as men maneuvered a heavily laden stretcher out of the ambulance and onto the ground. “I think you’re right. That has to be Mildred, coming home in style. Penelope,” I went on as I turned to her, “I do believe your grandmother has come home. Isn’t that exciting?”

  She looked up at me with those big, black eyes, then, without a word, slid off the chair and left the kitchen for the library.

  “Oh, me, Lillian,” I said, “what do we do now?”

  “Only one thing to do,” Lillian said, turning to go after the child. “We make us some cookies.”

  * * *

  —

  While Lillian distracted Penelope with cookie dough in the kitchen, the hours passed as I sat stewing in the library. Why hadn’t Mildred let me know she was coming home? What was I to do with her grandchild—take her home immediately or keep her until Mildred deigned to summon her home? And where was Sam? How long did breakfast last at the Bluebird? Then I switched back to Penelope, wondering what to do with the child.

  She was no problem for any of us, certainly not to me. In fact, she’d fit into our daily routine easily and she’d been a pleasure to have around. We would miss her when she returned to Mildred, but when would that be? It wasn’t that I wanted rid of her. It was the principle of the thing—the feeling of being used and of being taken for granted.

  If Mildred had called to announce her homecoming, if she’d said she still felt unwell and asked me to keep Penelope another day or two, I would’ve quickly agreed and thought nothing more of it. But for Mildred to assume that I was always available for her convenience did not sit well with me. No one likes to be taken advantage of, yet on the other hand I found that I would be reluctant to let Penelope go. I knew the child would grieve in that big, lonely house where everything and everybody revolved around its owner. I hated the thought of sending Penelope back, even while I fumed at Mildred’s assumption that I, too, revolved around her needs.

  When Sam finally came in, I waited to unload my concerns on him until after lunch and after we’d sampled the cookies and after Penelope was in Latisha’s bed, taking a nap.

  Sam had assured me over our cookies that the Dollar Store had definitely bought an eight-acre parcel of land on Springer Road. That was good news to me, not only because that meant they were out of the running for The Handy Home Helpers, but because it couldn’t hurt the value of the Hillandale Trailer Park to have the area become commercialized.

  We discussed the future possibilities for a while until I could no longer hold in my present concerns.

  “I know I’m sounding unsympathetic, Sam,” I said, faintly fearful that he would think the less of me for feeling used. “But the least Mildred could do—in fact, what any thoughtful person would do—would be to ask me to keep Penelope. And I would gladly do it, you know I would.”

  He nodded. “I know you would. But here’s something you could do—why don’t you take the situation in hand yourself? I mean, why don’t you call her and tell her that we want to keep Penelope until she—Mildred, I mean—is feeling better? That way you won’t feel used. It would be your decision, not something that you’d been roped into doing.”

  I thought about his suggestion, then I smiled. “And we’d get to keep Penelope a little longer, but on our terms. I think that’s the answer.” I reached over for his hand. “How did you get so wise?”

  He clasped my hand and grinned. “Oh, I don’t know. Just born that way, I guess.”

  * * *

  —

  A little later Sam brought down the boxes of Christmas decorations from the attic, and Lillian, Penelope, and I carried them on down to the living room. That tired me out so much that I announced we should wait for Latisha before beginning to open them.

  “Besides,” I said, “we need a tree before we strew everything all over the floor. Sam, you have a good eye for Christmas trees. Why don’t you and Honey go pick one out for us?”

  “Today?” he said, raising his eyebrows.

  “Yes, it’s as good a time as any. And why don’t you see if Lloyd can go with you? You’ll need help getting it off the car anyway, and the tree will probably need trimming, too.”

  “I still think it’s a little early,” he said, and if I didn’t know that he wasn’t the grumbling kind, I would’ve thought that was what he was doing. “We could end up with a few bare branches by the time it gets here.”

  “We’ll water it,” I said, determined to entrance Penelope with Christmas preparations even if the holiday had been a month away. “Just get a full, well-shaped one at least nine or ten feet tall.”

  “As early as it is, we may not find any trees anywhere, much less the perfect one. Well, Penelope,” he said, taking her hand, “we may be on a fool’s errand, but we’ll have a good time anyway.” So off the two of them went with Sam wondering whether to go first to Lowe’s or to a garden center.

  It wasn’t all that early. Many people put up their trees weeks beforehand, but to my mind that wasn’t the point. The point was to give that somber little girl something exciting to think about.

  They had barely pulled out of the driveway when Lillian called me to the kitchen. I found her peering through the side window again.

  “Come quick,” she said, waving me over, “an’ see what you think about this.”

  “What is it?” I started toward the window, then stopped with a sudden awareness of how inquisitive we had become, especially about the comings and goings next door. “Lillian, we have got to stop keeping tabs on the Allens. Do you realize how often we’ve been spying on them? Prying into what they’re doing? It’s really most unbecoming, and we’ll get a reputation for being nosy neighbors before we know it.”

  “Yes’m, I know it, but you got to see this. Hurry, ’fore she goes inside.”

  She? Could it be Tonya? With an inward lurch and all concerns of nosiness suddenly gone, I hurried to Lillian’s side to peer through the window toward Mildred’s house. Just in time, I caught sight of the flip of a white skirt—and it being the dead of winter, too—before the door closed behind her.

  Chapter 37

  “Was that Tonya?” I whispered, forgetting that Penelope wasn’t around to hear me. “I mean,” I said in a normal speaking voice, “was it Tonya?”

  “Not ’less she’s taken to wearing white stockin’s,” Lillian said.

  “Well, they were quite the in-thing a while back, but I can’t imagine Californians wearing anything out of fashion.”

  “No’m, or a little white hat on her head, either.”

  “What?” I turned to stare at Lillian. “White dress, stockings, and hat—that wasn’t Tonya. Lillian, it was a nurse, and probably one with a bachelor’s degree on top of her nursing degree.” I sighed and left the window. “Leave it to Mildred to have the best of everything whether she needs it or not.”

  “I bet she’s a nursemaid for Honey,” Lillian said.

  “And if I were a betting woman, I’d take you up on that. No, mark my words, that woman has been hired to take care of Mildred. And Grady Peeples is hired to take care of Horace, while Ida Lee takes care of the house. So where does that little girl fit in? Nowhere, and she’s the one who really needs taking care of.”

  Well, it wasn’t any of my business what Mildred did or whom she hired or why she hired them. Except in a way, it was, because I was one of those who were providing services. I declare, I didn’t want to feel used, but when I analyzed my feelings, I realized that I was more aggrieved on Penelope’s behalf than on my own. And that made me feel better.

  While waiting for Sam and Penelope to get back with the tree
, I went three times to the phone, and each time failed to pick it up and call Mildred. She should’ve called me, and if her excuse was that she was too ill, why then had she left the hospital?

  The fact of the matter was that I was working myself up into a state of agitation again until I recalled Sam’s advice. That gave me the impetus I needed, and I dialed Mildred’s number, expecting Ida Lee to answer it.

  Instead, it was Mildred herself. “Julia!” she said as if I’d been missing for a week. “I was hoping you’d call. How are you? When you didn’t come see me this morning in the hospital, I was afraid you were sick. How is everybody?”

  “Everybody, including your granddaughter, is fine,” I said, more than slightly offended that she had put me on the defensive. “And I didn’t come to the hospital this morning because I was busy doing what you’d asked me to do. But that’s neither here nor there. How are you?”

  “Oh, don’t ask,” she said with a deep sigh. “I’m not well at all, but I checked myself out of the hospital because they were doing nothing for me. But thank goodness I redid that room for Penelope so close to mine. It’s perfect for having a registered nurse live in until I have the strength to make the trip to Duke next week.”

  Quickly taking the opening to do as Sam had advised, I said, “Then you must let us keep Penelope. There’s really no need to move her to your house, then back here when you leave for Duke. It’s easier for her just to stay.”

  There was a moment of silence while she considered my proposal. “Are you sure?” she asked somewhat hesitantly or perhaps hopefully. “I don’t know how long they’ll keep me at Duke. I don’t want to take advantage, but it would really be a help to know that she’s in good hands.”

  “Then consider it settled,” I said firmly, knowing that I could no longer feel used since I’d done this to myself. Somewhat surprisingly, though, I felt quite good about it.

  “Thank you, Julia,” Mildred said. “You are a good friend, but I ask you, where is LuAnne? And Helen? To say nothing of Emma Sue? Not one soul has been to see me. Except you, of course, but you’d think friends would visit friends when they’re in the hospital, wouldn’t you?”

  “Well, actually, I’ve not seen anybody for ages,” I said, trying to excuse their absences. “But LuAnne works full time, and Helen has her hands full with Thurlow. And who knows what Emma Sue is up to—saving the world, probably. But maybe you weren’t in the hospital long enough for the word to get around.” I paused to think for a second, then asked, “Did you see Ernest Sitton while you were there? He was a patient on the same floor.”

  “Really? You know, I thought I saw him go past my door, but I wasn’t sure who it was. What’s wrong with him?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “He wasn’t forthcoming when I saw him in the hall. In fact, he was a little tetchy on the subject.”

  “Oh, Julia, forgive me,” Mildred said with a little groan. “Here’s Inez with my sleep medication. I’ll have to hang up, but do come over soon and meet my Florence Nightingale. She is the answer to a sick woman’s prayer.”

  It was much too late in the day for a social call, especially with darkness falling so early, so I told her that I would see her the following day and bring Penelope with me. Besides, Sam had just driven in with a huge tree roped to the top of his car and both front and back seats filled with helpers.

  I had to laugh because Sam was always thinking, and he’d thought ahead enough to have gone by and picked up not only Lloyd but Mr. Pickens, as well, to help with the tree.

  “Law,” Lillian said as she saw the four of them get out of the tree-laden car, “we better start movin’ furniture ’fore they bring that thing in.”

  Lloyd and Penelope came in to help us rearrange furniture in the living room so the tree could be put in the front window alcove. As always it was a pleasure to see Lloyd, except these days he seemed to have become more muscular and maybe an inch or two taller. He was growing up and, thank goodness, looking less and less like his father, Wesley Lloyd Springer. In fact, he had about him an air of easy competence and self-assurance, the lack of which Wesley Lloyd had covered with bluster. I could only credit Mr. Pickens with setting an example, although there were many of his former habits that I devoutly hoped Lloyd would never emulate.

  Maybe, I thought as Lloyd took charge of clearing the way for the tree, proximity counted for more than genes in some cases.

  Sam and Mr. Pickens unroped the tree from the top of the car and quickly trimmed the trunk to fit into the tree stand. In minutes, it was in front of the windows with the top barely grazing the ceiling. The two of them turned the tree a little this way, then a little of that, until Lillian and I decided which was the best side. Penelope watched wide-eyed as Lloyd crawled on his hands and knees to pour water in the stand and to get the tree skirt arranged around it.

  “I hope you know,” Mr. Pickens said, “that this means I’ll have to put ours up any day now. Sam, you’re setting a bad example.”

  Sam laughed. “Just call me when you’re ready.”

  Lillian offered around the cookies she and Penelope had baked, giving Penelope credit for being a number-one cookie maker.

  “She can bake cookies for me any time at all,” Lloyd said, taking a second one. “These are good.” Penelope edged toward Lillian, but didn’t hide the smile that lit up her face.

  With that, I decided to string the lights on the tree then and there and not wait until we could trim the whole tree. As Sam took Mr. Pickens and Lloyd home, Lillian and I, with Penelope’s help, got out the several strings of lights and plugged them in to weed out the dead bulbs. After screwing in replacements, we strung out the lines to unsnarl them. I don’t care how carefully we put them away when Christmas is over, they somehow get tangled up during the summer.

  Penelope was entranced with the lights, especially as we wound the lines around the tree, then adjusted them to make sure that the bulbs were evenly placed. She gasped and clapped her hands when Lillian turned off the lamps in the living room so that the tree glowed in the dark.

  It was always a magical moment for me, as well. I put my arm around the child’s shoulders. “We’ll hang the ornaments on it tomorrow morning,” I said, “and I’m so glad that you’re here to help.”

  * * *

  —

  I did something that Saturday morning that caused Lillian to roll her eyes and shake her head in anticipation of an impending disaster. But I didn’t care. I was no longer obsessed with having everything just right—the doing had become more important than the outcome.

  “Sam,” I said as we finished the pancakes that Lillian had prepared, “thank you for skipping the Bluebird this morning and deigning to have breakfast with us.” I glanced from Penelope to Latisha, then went on. “I should visit Mildred this morning, so I want to leave the tree decorating in your hands. You have two excellent helpers who will do the hanging while you sit back and point out the empty spots. Then, when they’ve hung ornaments as high as they can reach, you can take over and they’ll point out the empty spots for you.

  “And, oh my goodness,” I said, “I almost forgot. You must put the tinsel around the tree first, Sam, and make sure the swags are evenly placed. And, Lillian, you’re the overseer of them all. I expect to see a fully and beautifully decorated tree when I get back.”

  The little girls looked ready to begin, exchanging grins of anticipation, while Sam tried to look woebegone at being given a decorating job.

  “Hey, everybody!” Lloyd sang out as he opened the kitchen door and came in. “Nobody’s cooking at my house so I decided to come over.”

  My heart lifted as it always did when Lloyd came over and I smiled at him. “Did you walk in this cold weather?” I asked, knowing that he wasn’t yet old enough to drive alone.

  “No’m, rode my bike,” he said, grinning. “When you’re hungry enough, the cold doesn’t matter.”

/>   “Lloyd!” Latisha yelled. “You wanta help us? We’re the tree decorators. You can help if you want to.”

  Lillian said, “Set on down at the table, honey. I’ll have you a stack of pancakes in two minutes.”

  “I can always count on you, Miss Lillian.” Lloyd divested himself of his heavy coat and knit cap and sat down beside Penelope. Although she had not added words of welcome, she glowed when he chose to sit beside her. He just naturally seemed to recognize her need to feel special, especially to a big boy.

  When they’d finished eating, they got up and went en masse and noisily to the living room. I noticed that Lloyd took Penelope’s hand as she skipped to keep up with him. Smiling, I took my coat from the pantry to make my call on Mildred.

  “Miss Julia,” Lillian said, nodding toward the sound of retreating footsteps, “I hope you know what you’re doin’. No tellin’ what that tree gonna look like.”

  “I’m not a bit worried,” I said, pulling on my coat. “In fact, I don’t care if it’s not even close to perfect. It’ll be beautiful to them—well, maybe not to Sam because he has a good eye—but he knows, as you and I do, what’s important.”

  Chapter 38

  Telling myself that I would not make this an everyday habit, I trudged across the lawn to Mildred’s front porch and rang the doorbell. In fact, after having a few second thoughts about leaving the tree trimming in untried hands, I had almost decided not to make a visit this morning at all.

  “But just this once,” I’d said to Lillian. “She’ll expect me since she’s just home from the hospital—on her own orders, I might add.”

  “Well, take these to her,” Lillian said, handing me a small package of cookies. “That’s all that’s left from what Honey made yesterday.”

  “Hm-m, yes. Good thinking, Lillian, maybe they’ll remind her that she has a granddaughter.”