Miss Julia to the Rescue (44 page)

It was late when I finally got to bed that night, crawling thankfully between the sheets on the bed that was now upstairs in the new bedroom. Mr. Bailey, the paperhanger, had indeed finished in one day—one long day, that is. And because I was in the mood to pay time and a half, I offered the same terms to the carpentry crew to move the bedroom furniture up to Hazel Marie’s old room.

That cleared out the living room and got the king-sized mattress off the dining room table, making the redone bedroom fit for occupancy. Of course, the coverlet and curtains were not finished, so I’d had to tack up sheets over the windows.

But that didn’t matter. I lay in bed, almost too excited to sleep. Sam would be there with me the very next night. I’d meet him at the airport and bring him home to see his new office, still stacked with boxes, our new library with the Williamsburg chimney, still only half done, and our new bedroom, not quite finished, but sleepable and usable. I could hardly wait.

And would I tell him all that had happened while he’d been away? Yes, this time I would, but gradually—a little bit at a time—over the next few days so as not to distress him. As images of the strange people and practices I’d run into over the past several days
ran through my mind, I recalled a conversation I’d had with Lloyd the evening before. He’d just told me of the living arrangements he’d decided on, which I must say were a balm to my soul. With his family’s approval, he would live with them on weekends and holidays and with Sam and me during the school weeks because, he said, “Your house is four blocks closer to school.” Any reason at all was good enough for me.

So anyway, we had been sitting on the front porch, watching lightning bugs flit around the yard, when I suddenly had an enlightened moment. “Lloyd, do you remember that snake-handling church I told you about—the one we went to in West Virginia?”

“Yes’m,” he’d said with a shiver. “Don’t remind me.”

“Well, it seems to me that that’s one end of a string of beliefs, while those body decorators or desecrators, depending on your point of view, are at the other end. But both extremes have something in common—they’re looking for something beyond themselves, and they’re doing it through pain of one kind or another. Snakebite and possible death for one, and mutilation and possible infection for the other. But when you get right down to it, there’s not a nickel’s worth of difference between them.”

Lloyd said, “I never thought of it like that.” He’d stretched out his skinny legs and watched a flock of night birds as they flew over the roof. “ ’Course I’ve never given much thought to either one.”

“Neither have I, and except for having both extremes thrown in my face during the last several days, I guess I never would’ve. But it’s remarkable how far some people will go to avoid a church service done decently and in order.”

Sam would appreciate such an insight. He enjoyed finding parallels and analogies and such like in ordinary things. Besides, my having drawn such a meaningful conclusion would impress him and likely distract him from certain questionable actions on my part.

And when it was all said and done, we would settle down to
enjoy our remodeled home together, and the long summer days would be filled with the pleasure we found in each other as well as with friends and easy talk and warm companionship and lemonade on the porch and Lloyd going in and out most every day. I could picture us reading together on winter evenings in the new library, then glancing at each other in perfect accord before banking the fire below our lovely Adam mantel and walking up to the new bedroom, now so perfectly appropriate for Sam and me.

Oh, and before I forget, I’m still a member of the book club.