“We’ve always been friends, Julia, and always will be. And when you get over whatever problem you’ve dreamed up, we’ll be more than that.”
Well, it wasn’t the time to argue with him, which I would have to do sooner or later. As we walked through the dining room, I told him how and why Latisha had come to us, grateful for a neutral subject that kept my mind off a painful one.
As soon as we walked into the kitchen where Hazel Marie, Latisha, and Little Lloyd were having breakfast, Latisha turned her serious face to Sam. She pushed aside her cereal bowl and said, “Great-Granny, who that big ole white-headed man just come through the door?”
“Latisha!”
Lillian cried, throwing down a dish towel. “That no way to talk to Mr. Sam. I’m gonna take a switch to you, you don’t behave yo’self.”
The threat didn’t bother Latisha, as she continued to give Sam her solemn appraisal. “How you do, Mr. Sam.”
“I’m doing fine, Latisha. Under the circumstances, that is. How are you?”
“I’m doin’ fine, without no ’stances at all. Great-Granny, I sure do like these stewed apples. They the only kind I can eat. I haven’t had no normal apples in two whole years.”
Little Lloyd stared at her. “Two years? Why?”
She stuck her head up and stretched her lips in a grimace, revealing a snaggle-toothed mouth. “My teeth been comin’ out every day of my life, that’s why. I can’t get no grip on a apple, ’less they been stewed to death like these here.”
Hazel Marie covered her face with a napkin trying to choke back a laugh, while Little Lloyd regarded her with a bemused fascination. Even Sam seemed entranced by her, in spite of my having so recently broken his heart.
“I got eggs and bacon, Mr. Sam,” Lillian said. “Set down, if you can stand all that talkin’, an’ I bring it to you.”
“Thank you, Lillian. I’ll give your good cooking a try, though I’m not feeling too peckish today. Good morning, Hazel Marie. You’re looking well this morning.”
Hazel Marie smiled her thanks, and began pouring coffee for us. Sam and I sat at the table, while Latisha kept her eyes fastened on him. “I’m not feelin’ too peckish, myself,” she announced. “I had to sleep with Great-Granny last night, an’ she snored all night long.”
Lillian whirled around. “I did no such a thing. Girl, you better watch what you say.”
“Well, I didn’t mind listenin’ to that racket. I’ve stayed up all night long before. Take when Santy Claus come, I didn’t get a wink of sleep, watchin’ out for that big ole fat man.”
“Did you see him?” Little Lloyd asked.
“Naw, he slipped by me again, but I’m gonna catch him one of these days an’ I’m gonna jump out an’ yell ‘Ho-ho-ho’ at him an’ ast him where that dog I been asting for all these years.”
Sam said, “If you catch him, let me know. I need to ask him why I haven’t gotten what I want, either.”
For the first time that I’d seen, Latisha laughed out loud. “I know why you didn’t get what you want,” she said between giggles. “You have to set on his lap an’ you bigger’n he is. You’d mash him so flat he couldn’t crawl in that ole sled he rides around in.”
“Latisha,” Lillian said, “Santy Claus won’t come see you anytime, you don’t eat yo’ breakfast an’ leave Mr. Sam alone.”
“She’s fine, Lillian,” Sam said. “How’s school going, Lloyd?”
“Okay, I guess,” the boy said. “I’m in the beginners’ band now. I’m going to learn to play the trumpet, or maybe the saxophone, whichever the band director wants me to.”
“Play the drums!” Latisha cried, waving her spoon. “That’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna get me some drums and I’m gonna beat the hell outta them things.”
“Latisha!”
Lillian jumped a mile, dropping a pan with a clatter that almost drowned out our convulsed laughter. She jerked the child out of the chair and gave her a swat on the bottom. “You get yo’self up them stairs an’ stay there till you can talk like decent folk. Miss Julia,” Lillian went on, an anguished expression on her face, as Latisha scampered up the stairs, “I ’pologize for my great-gran’, she ain’t been raised right, but I gonna teach her better an’ you not gonna be shamed by her again.”
“Lillian, it’s all right,” I said. “I mean, the language isn’t, of course, but don’t distress yourself. She’ll learn. And we shouldn’t’ve laughed. It was . . .” I struggled to control myself, then wiping my eyes, I said, “It was just so unexpected coming from that little thing.”
N
We didn’t stay long at the table after Latisha’s banishment. Little Lloyd ran upstairs to get his book bag, while Hazel Marie prepared to drive him to school. I knew Sam was waiting to get me alone so we could hash out my reasons for turning him down. So I lingered, helping Lillian clear the table, not at all eager to be put on the spot about my unwavering decision.
On his way out the door, Little Lloyd whispered to me, “I found an old coloring book and some crayons for Latisha. She told me she didn’t know what she’d done wrong, but she now knew that her Great-Granny wasn’t going to put up with whatever it was.” Little Lloyd couldn’t help but laugh as he told this.
“It was good of you to give her something to play with,” I said, thinking again of how much Little Lloyd pleased me and how I needed to keep him safe from hurtful rumors. “And I hope you told her how unacceptable that word is. She’ll learn that lesson from you better than from Lillian, since she’s so taken with you.”
He grinned. “I don’t know about that, but I’ll try. She’s a smart little thing, and, boy, is she funny.”
I patted his back. “Have a good day at school, sweetie.” Then felt my heart wrench at saying the word that Sam had called me. There’d be no more of that, I reckoned, and looked across the room where he was waiting for me.
We walked to the living room, and I told myself to stick to my guns, regardless of how much I wanted to lean against him and hear him say that I was all he’d ever want.
But I never found out what he would’ve said for, just as he put his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eye, Lillian stuck her head around the kitchen door.
“ ’Scuse me,” she said, “but Mr. Pickens jus’ pullin’ in.”
As I stepped away from Sam, he blew out his breath and said, “Well, damn, as Latisha might say.” Then he pointed his finger in my face, and went on. “Now listen, woman, I don’t know what kind of bee you’ve got in your bonnet, but you haven’t heard the last from me.”
=
Chapter 9’
Mr. Pickens came in with his black eyes shining against his swarthy complexion, making him look like a maiden’s fevered dream after reading one of those Harlequin romances.
He and Sam spoke and shook hands, but it wasn’t long before Mr. Pickens asked for Hazel Marie, who was the reason he was there, as every one of us knew.
“She’s taking Little Lloyd to school,” I said, “and I think she has a meeting over at the church. She shouldn’t be long, though. Did she know you were coming?”
“No, I was over this way and thought I’d take a chance on seeing her. Mind if I wait?”
“Not at all. I expect Lillian could have some breakfast for you, too, if you haven’t eaten.”
“That sounds good,” he said. “I’m about to cave in, it’s been so long since I’ve had anything.”
I raised my eyebrows, figuring he’d already had at least one breakfast. Mr. Pickens was no slouch when it came to pulling up to a table.
“Come on, Sam,” he said. “Have some coffee with me.”
Sam didn’t look too happy about having a third party around, but he enjoyed Mr. Pickens’s company so he put off taking his leave. We all trooped to the kitchen where Mr. Pickens picked up where he left off the last time. He walked over to Lillian and rolled his eyes back as if he were about to swoon.
“I smelled your good cooking a mile away, Lillian,” he said, putting his arm around her waist. “And I knew you couldn’t wait for me to get here.”
“You a mess, Mr. Pickens,” she said, laughing at his carrying on.
While we were sitting at the table, I saw Latisha peek around the door from the back stairs. Before long, she’d edged out into the room, her attention focused on Mr. Pickens. I declare, every female I’d ever known was just naturally drawn to him.
“Great-Granny,” she said in that powerful voice, making Mr. Pickens swing around in his chair to see what it was emanating from. “Who that big ole black-headed man settin’ over there drinkin’ coffee like he b’long here?”
“Good God,” Mr. Pickens said. “Who is that?”
“That Latisha,” Lillian said with a resigned sigh, “who think she too big for her britches. Go on upstairs, girl.”
“No’m, I think I like to look at that black-headed man some more.”
Mr. Pickens grinned and said, “Well, come on over here and get a good look.”
Latisha walked right over and let him set her on his lap. Mr. Pickens did have a way with children, as well as with women.
“Who’s that you got there?” Mr. Pickens asked her, poking his finger at her doll.
“This here’s Luwanda Lou,” Latisha said. “But she don’t blink her eyes or say Mama or wet her underpants or do nothin’ but hang around me.”
“Well, if I don’t blink my eyes or say Mama or wet my underpants, can I hang around you, too?”
Latisha covered her mouth with her hand and giggled.
“Latisha,” Lillian said, “jump down from there, an’ let them folks do they own talkin’. You ’bout to wear me out.”
While this was going on, an idea began to form in my mind, and it had to do with Mr. Pickens and his private detecting skills. Although my previous employment of him had resulted in having him under foot all the time as he pursued Hazel Marie, I resolved to get him alone somewhere and make him another proposition. This was a case that needed a professional, if there ever was one.
It took some doing to get him alone, because Sam stayed on and on, and Hazel Marie didn’t return, and I thought Sam and Mr. Pickens were going to sit at the table until Lillian put lunch on it.
Finally, though, Sam gave it up, saying he had things to attend to. As I walked him to the door and out of Mr. Pickens’s hearing, he said, “Julia, I don’t know what kind of problem you’re having with marriage. But keep in mind that you’ve never been married to me, so you don’t know what you’re missing.”
“Oh, Sam,” I said, smiling in spite of myself. “I have so much on my mind right now. I just can’t take on another thing.”
“Good. That means you’re still up in the air. We’ll talk this out and, before you know it, you’re going to be the happiest and the luckiest woman in Abbotsville.”
I smiled as he left, then felt a heart-stopping sense of loss at the thought of letting him go. He was so good-hearted, so kind and decent, and so easy to get along with. Wesley Lloyd would’ve flown off the handle in a minute, if I’d even hinted that I didn’t want what he wanted.
With an effort of will, I pulled myself together and hurried back to the kitchen where Mr. Pickens still waited for Hazel Marie. I hoped to find him alone and, thank goodness, I did. Lillian was walking Latisha back up the stairs to get her dressed for the day.
“Mr. Pickens,” I whispered as I pulled out a chair and leaned close to him. “I have need of your services.”
His eyebrows went up and a smile played around under his mustache. “What services would that be, Miss Julia?”
“I want you to find out about a woman.”
“Well, you’ve come to the right man. That’s my specialty.”
I glared at him, letting him know that I was in no mood for frivolity. “Settle down, Mr. Pickens. This could hurt Hazel Marie and Little Lloyd.”
That straightened him up in a hurry, and I felt the sudden intensity of his black eyes. “Tell me.”
“There’s a woman, recently come to town, come
back
to town, that is, and there’re rumors going around about her. I want to find out if they’re true. Will you do it?”
“I need more to go on than that. Who is she? Where is she? And what does she have to do with Hazel Marie?”
I turned my face away, as I felt it burn with shame. “Well, to tell you the truth . . . I don’t think I can, it’s too mortifying.”
“One thing at a time, then,” he said, impressing me with his compassion for my distress. “What’s her name?”
“She’s a Mooney. That’s all I know.”
“What does she look like?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen her.”
“Where does she live?”
“The only thing I’ve heard is that she’s living in a trailer with a Mr. Dwayne Dooley, out on County Line Road where they’re making a Walk Where Jesus Walked religious theme park.”
Mr. Pickens’s eyebrows shot straight up. “A what?”
So I told him about Mr. Dooley and his plans to recreate the Holy Land on my twenty acres. Mr. Pickens just shook his head.
Then he frowned again and said, “Okay, you want the Mooney woman investigated. What about Dooley?” He smiled. “Mooney and Dooley, that’s a combination for you.”
“Don’t worry about him for now,” I said. “He may not even know what’s going on with her.”
“Right. So what
is
going on with her? What’s she got on Hazel Marie?”
“Nothing, as far as I know. It’s just that if the gossip gets back to Hazel Marie, it will just do her in. But, more than anything, I don’t want the sins of his father to be visited upon Little Lloyd’s head. He could be damaged for life. So, I want you to find out if the gossip is true, and, if it is, I want you to get rid of her.”
He reared back, then leaned in close. “You mean you want me to take her out?”
“Absolutely. Out of this county and out of this state.” Then as I realized that he was ragging on me, I said, “Mr. Pickens, this is serious, and I expect you to take it seriously. Of course I don’t want you to do away with her, I just want you to get her away from here.”
“Okay,” he said, “I got you. Now, here comes the hard part. Why?”
“Because,” I said, and bit my lip. I leaned my head on my hand, wondering how to put it to him. “Because everybody’s saying that she had a, well, an amicable relationship with my husband, which may or may not have produced a child. You know, like happened with Hazel Marie, and the woman’s neither confirming nor denying it. And it may be because she hopes to benefit in the same way Hazel Marie has.”