After his little quip fell flat, the mayor pushed on. “I just want to add my two cents’ worth to what Curtis has said, and urge you to support the Walk Where Jesus Walked Theme Park. It will be a fine addition to our fine town, but—you may not believe this—there’re some in this town who are dead set against it. They’re talking it down, saying it’ll bring in riffraff and increase the crime rate and I don’t know what all. Now, I ask you, would you call Christians who want to walk where Jesus walked
riffraff?
No, you would not. Do you think good Christian folk would be involved in a crime wave? Of course not. I’m here to ask you to throw your support behind these people who are going to make Abbotsville the Christian center of our fair state. Why, just think of it. Pretty soon, we’ll have more hotels and motels, more restaurants, more gift shops, and more everything.” By this time, the mayor’s face was glowing as brightly as Emma Sue’s, as he envisioned the economic stimulus the WWJW folks were going to give Abbotsville.
“Now, ladies,” he went on, “when it comes time to vote, and the primary is coming up soon, I want you to remember which candidate honors the Lord and supports those who honor him.” He stopped and smiled his vote-getting grin. “That’s me, in case you don’t know. And the one who would like to shut these good people down is my worthy opponent. Keep that in mind when you pull that lever.”
Right that minute, I decided I’d cast my vote for the service manager of the Chevrolet dealership. No way in the world would I vote for a politician who stirred politics, money, and religion together. Give unto Caesar, I always say, but my religion is none of Caesar’s business.
As we took our leave, the mayor and the moneyman stood beside Emma Sue at the door, giving each of us a last push toward supporting what they had their hearts set on. And making it clear that if you didn’t agree with them, something was wrong with you.
“Miz Springer,” the mayor said, taking my hand in both of his, “I hope I can count on your vote.”
“You can certainly count on my voting,” I said and moved on.
Mr. Maxwell also took my hand and thanked me for all I’d done for the community and for the church. Emma Sue must’ve told him something about each one of us, because he didn’t know me from Adam. Then he surprised me even more.
“I understand that you have been a great friend to my dear sister in the Lord,” he said, and put his hand most familiarly on Emma Sue’s shoulder. Then he took her hand and raised it to his mouth. He kissed it as she gazed at him in a state of rapture. “She and I are working together to get the WWJW park off the ground, and I hope we can count on your help, too.”
“I’ll think about it,” I said, grabbed Hazel Marie’s arm and got us out of there.
“Hazel Marie,” I gasped as soon as we were in the car. “What is going on with Emma Sue? Did you see how she fawned over that man, and how he was buttering her up?”
“I sure did, but I just don’t see the attraction. I mean, he’s a dinky little thing, isn’t he?”
“His looks aren’t the point,” I said. “She’s a married woman, and married to a man of God. What’s she doing hanging on another man? Lord, does Pastor Ledbetter know what she’s doing?”
Then I answered myself. “I’ll bet he doesn’t. He may have changed his mind about those WW-whatever folks now that Mr. Maxwell has somewhat elevated them, but he can’t know how Emma Sue’s behaving. I can hardly believe it, myself, and, I’ll tell you this, I do not appreciate being roped in under the pretext of a social affair to hear a plea for my money and my vote.”
Hazel Marie turned the key in the ignition. “What I can’t understand is why she’s let herself go so bad. She looked good when I made her up, you know she did. Now, she’s right back where she was before Velma got hold of her.”
I bit my lip as Hazel Marie pumped the gas. “I expect it’s all that holy talk she’s hearing from Mr. Maxwell that’s made her go bare-faced again. Anything to please him, although I don’t know how it could, especially seeing all the artificial improvements he’s made on himself.” As Hazel Marie pulled away from the curb, I said, “Hazel Marie, I’m worried about Emma Sue. She could be losing her mind and, if she’s not careful, she’s going to lose her reputation, too.”
=
Chapter 17’
By the time we got home, I’d worked myself up into a state of consternation, and it wasn’t helped one bit by the letter waiting in the mailbox.
“Look at this, Hazel Marie,” I said, waving the offending form letter at her. “It’s from the pastor, praising that little man we just met and, would you believe, urging us to support that crew out there on my property.”
“Really?” she said, as unbelieving as I was. “I thought you said he didn’t think much of them.”
“I did, and he didn’t. At least
then,
he didn’t. But that was before that slick Curtis Maxwell hit town and put dollar signs in the pastor’s eyes. That’s what wealth will do, Hazel Marie, to the unsuspecting. It can give you more undue influence than you ought to have. But, listen, he can’t know how taken Emma Sue is with Mr. Maxwell. It just doesn’t stand to reason that he’d approve of that.”
“Well, we could’ve been mistaken.” Hazel Marie frowned as she always did when she was trying to figure something out. “I mean, maybe Emma Sue was just excited about having guests, and Mr. Maxwell, in particular.”
“Didn’t you see how she looked at him? And how he held her hands? And
kissed
one of them? Why, Hazel Marie, he put his hand on her shoulder in such a familiar fashion that I nearly lost my breath right there in front of them.”
“I know,” Hazel Marie said, “but he’s a man of the world and, according to my magazines, those kinds of people do a lot of kissing and holding hands with each other. And it doesn’t mean a thing. The only problem I see is that Emma Sue may think it does.”
“Oh, my word,” I said, sinking down into a chair. “The poor woman has been taken for granted so long she can’t see what that man is up to.”
“What’s he up to?”
“Well, I don’t know, Hazel Marie, except it can’t be anything good. First off, his whole business is based on something I thought was illegal and, second, he’s hooked up with that WW-whatever group, and you know they’re a fringe element. I mean, what is a man of means doing with the likes of them?”
Hazel Marie had no answer, nor had I. But I knew someone who might.
“I’ve got to talk to Sam,” I said.
“Sam,” I said as soon as he answered his phone, “I need to talk to you.”
“Good, because I need to talk to you, too. Want me to come over?”
I thought for a second, then told him I’d come over there. “Latisha’ll be home from kindergarten any minute, and we won’t have a minute’s peace when she gets here. I’ll see you in a little while.”
I told Lillian and Hazel Marie where I was going, then had to listen to Lillian reminding me that I’d had no lunch, which I knew better than she did.
When I got to Sam’s house, he took me right back to the dining table where James, who managed Sam’s house almost as well as Lillian managed mine, had laid out soup and sandwiches for both of us.
“Sit, Julia,” Sam said. “We’ll eat, then we’ll talk. I have a lot on my mind.”
“So do I, and it won’t wait. I can’t eat until I tell you, but I’ll tell Lillian you offered me lunch. It’ll relieve her mind considerably.”
“Nothing can be as important as what I want to talk about,” Sam said, “which is you and me. Julia, you’re about to drive me around the bend. You won’t even discuss why we shouldn’t get married. If you’d give me a reason, I’d have something to work with.”
I sighed and selected a sandwich. Nothing was going to do but taking up his concerns first. “Number one,” I said, thinking that James made an excellent tuna fish sandwich. “I don’t see why you want to risk messing up our friendship with marriage. You have James who does everything that a wife would normally do—cooking and cleaning and looking after your house.”
“No offense, Julia,” Sam said, smiling so that it was hard to take any. “But if I wanted a wife for those things, I’d be looking elsewhere.”
“Why, Sam Murdoch, I’ll have you know a woman doesn’t have to do those things herself, she just has to see that they get done. And that’s what I do. But James doesn’t need any supervision. He does fine all on his own.”
“Ah, Julia,” Sam said, leaning over the table toward me, “there’re a few things that James can’t do. Snuggle up on a cold winter night, for one thing. And he could never in this world entertain me like you do. No,” he said, shaking his head, “I’ve given it serious consideration, but James is just not up to the job.”
“Now you’re teasing me.”
“I can’t help it,” he said with a grin. “It’s so easy to do.”
“Well, save it, because I have some troubling matters to discuss. And they could have severe consequences.” Of course, I had a much greater worry on my mind than what I intended to tell him, but I kept it to myself. Instead, I went on to tell him about Curtis Maxwell and how he was the unadvertised patron of the theme park. Then, I told him about Emma Sue and how she’d just glowed—in spite of being completely un-made-up—every time the man looked at her, to say nothing of when he laid hands on her.
“And, what’s worse,” I said, getting the pastor’s letter from my purse, “is that her husband has had a change of heart and is asking the church to get behind that group, too.”
“I know,” Sam said. “I got the same letter, and it surprises me that he’d support anything out of the denominational mainstream. It’s not like him, even though he’s pretty much at odds with the General Assembly half the time.”
“But, Sam, that’s what’s so strange. The pastor told me straight out that he was leery of Dwayne Dooley and what he’s doing. Now, when this Mr. Maxwell shows up in his jet plane, he’s all of a sudden for it. And worse than that, his wife is acting like she’s infatuated with the man.”
I leaned my head on my hand, just overwhelmed with the thought of wheels within wheels, everything connecting to everything else and no way to stop any of it. And Sam was sitting there not looking anywhere near as up in arms as I was.
“Listen to me, Sam. You’re not getting the seriousness of this. It all started with the preacher’s secretary, who’s been out cavorting with the mayor, but actually she has her eye on the preacher, whose wife is throwing herself at a stranger, who is putting up the money for that fly-by-night outfit, which is now a hot political topic, which the preacher first talked down but is now talking up, and Hazel Marie wants to move in with Mr. Pickens, who’s too busy—but thank goodness, he’s doing his job—so Little Lloyd won’t be like Tony Allen, who’s turned himself into a woman, which sounds like the tragedy his mother thinks it is, but in fact is a pure
godsend
for me.”
“Whoa,” Sam said. “Run that by me again.”
I waved my hand in dismissal, realizing that I’d almost let my most secret concern out of the bag. As much as I longed to confide in Sam, it was just too humiliating to reveal more of Wesley Lloyd’s dissolute behavior to this good man who would feel sorry for me. I wasn’t sure exactly what I wanted from Sam, but it most assuredly was not his pity.
“Let’s take one thing at a time,” Sam said. “First of all, is Ledbetter aware of Emma Sue’s interest in Maxwell? Or his interest in her?”
“I don’t know what he knows, but,” I said, frowning, “I wonder if he encouraged her to play up to that man. The sanctuary does need a new roof, you know.”
“Julia,” Sam said, his eyes sparkling, “your mind is a constant source of amazement to me.”
“What in the world do you mean?”
“I mean that what you’re suggesting is that the pastor is throwing his wife at Maxwell.”
“I’m doing no such thing!”
“Okay, maybe that’s too strong. But tell me this, did anybody else notice what was going on between Maxwell and Emma Sue?”
“Hazel Marie did, but I didn’t ask anybody else. Not wanting to start any rumors, you know. But, Sam, I don’t know how they could help but notice. Those two were all over each other, and flagrantly, too. And the thing that worries me, is that Emma Sue is so literal that she would take at face value whatever the man said or did. Which, according to Hazel Marie, is just the way those jet-setters act without meaning anything at all.” I put down my half-eaten sandwich.
“Well,” Sam said with a smile, “Hazel Marie would certainly know.”
I ignored that comment, because he didn’t know the magazines Hazel Marie read. “If you ask me, Curtis Maxwell is leading Emma Sue down the primrose path, which could lead to her losing her reputation, her testimony, and her husband. And, I’m here to tell you, our church will not stand for a divorced pastor. Now, do you see why I’m so exercised by this?
“And furthermore,” I went on, “the mayor, of all people, was there and he thinks the theme park is the best thing to happen to this town since he got elected. Oh, and I forgot to tell you. Norma Cantrell was there, helping Emma Sue. The mayor completely ignored her, and she ignored him. Now, doesn’t that tell you something?”
“Wait a minute, Julia,” Sam said, laughing in spite of the gravity of the situation. “You suspect Emma Sue and Maxwell because they looked at each other, and you suspect Norma and Beebee because they didn’t?”
I waved my hand. “You don’t understand these things, Sam. Courting can be done both ways.”
“Well, now, that is a surprise. Hmmm, let me see. I’ve tried all the obvious things. Maybe I ought to try the silent treatment, like Norma and the mayor. You’re right, Julia, I don’t understand these things, but all I want to understand is you.”
I smiled in spite of myself. “I wish you luck, Sam, if that’s what you want, because half the time I don’t understand myself. Now, look,” I said, putting my hand on his arm, which he immediately covered with his other hand, “we need to do something about this. I think you ought to talk to the pastor and find out why he’s changed his mind about that theme park. And find out if he knows Emma Sue is making a spectacle of herself. And if he knows that he’s getting the church caught up on one side of a political race, because I don’t think a preacher ought to be meddling in politics, and it offends me for anybody to tell me how to vote, I don’t care what the issues are. But I’m off the subject. I want to know why the pastor’s up to his neck is this unlikely enterprise.”