Miss Julia To The Rescue Part 26

"Well, you just watch out, and whatever you do, don't take Hazel Marie and the babies to any church he recommends. Mr. Pickens," I went on urgently, "he goes to snake-handling services or, if he doesn't, he sends people to them."

Mr. Pickens started laughing, but stopped short when he saw my face. "Sorry, Miss Julia. I did hear something about that. The story I got was that you and Etta Mae went to the wrong church. He feels bad about it, but he didn't do it on purpose. He's planning to leave for home this afternoon-if he can tear himself away from Etta Mae-and when he gets there, he's gonna make you an honorary resident of Mill Run to make up for the mistake."

My back got as stiff as a board at the thought. That was another honor I could do without.

"But what I want to know," Mr. Pickens went on, as he motioned to me to come close, "when you went to that church, were you moved to pick up a rattlesnake or a cottonmouth?"

I jumped back like I'd been bitten. "Neither one! How could you ask such a thing?" Of course, I soon realized he was teasing me, but I planned to check under the bed before crawling into it every night until Sam got back. Then he could do the checking.

"Julia," Mildred said when I answered the phone, "you know what a time I have getting a member to lead the discussions at the book club? Well, I just had someone volunteer, and she volunteered not only to lead the discussion, but to select the book, too."

"That must be a relief for you," I said. Mildred was president of our book club for the year, and it'd been like pulling teeth to get a discussion leader for each month. Everybody loved the club, but n.o.body wanted to lead it. "Who's the brave soul?"

"Well," Mildred said after a slight hesitation. "It's not a member, but she wants to be. How would you feel about Agnes Whitman joining us? She's offered to take the next couple of months because she wants to do that bestselling book everybody talked about, but none of us wanted to read. You know, the one about a dragon tattoo? Agnes says she has a unique perspective that she'd like to share with us."

I'll just bet she would, I thought but remained speechless for so long that Mildred asked, "Julia? You still there?"

"Just considering the ramifications, Mildred," I finally managed to say. "And I've just finished considering them. All I can say is that I've never said a word against anyone who wanted to join us, and I'm not going to now. But if you let that woman in, I'm resigning. And if you want to know why, I'll tell you whenever you have time to listen."

"Come on over," she said, with a low chuckle. "I can't wait to hear."

Monday morning, and the hordes descended before Lillian and I had finished breakfast. The brickmasons arrived first, immediately putting up scaffolding to continue, brick by brick, building my big fat Williamsburg chimney. Next came the paperhanger, who had to maneuver his cutting table up the stairs to Hazel Marie's old bedroom. I followed him up to make sure he had the slightly blush linen paper I'd selected, and not some garish stripe or floral that belonged on someone else's wall.

"You'll have this finished today, won't you?" I asked, after rea.s.suring myself that the rolls of paper were the correct ones.

He adjusted a strap on his white overalls and shook his head. "Maybe tomorrow."

"No, Mr. Bailey. That won't do at all. My husband returns tomorrow from a trip abroad and this room has to be finished. Now look," I went on as he began shaking his head again, "there's no design on this paper, so you don't have to match anything. Just cut it to the right length and put it up. Surely you can do that in a day."

"Have to work overtime."

"Yes, I'm familiar with time and a half. It'll start at five o'clock if you'll stay until it's finished."

"Four's my usual quittin' time."

"Four, then."

For the first time he nodded. I nodded back and left him to it.

By that time, the carpenters had arrived and were beginning to put the finis.h.i.+ng touches on the beautiful paneling in the new library downstairs. As I walked down the hall to speak to them, I could hear country music from the radio that seemed to be one of the essential tools of their trade.

Before I got there, Tucker Caldwell came flouncing through the front door in all his summer glory: a blue seersucker suit, yellow bow tie and a third gold stud, but this one was on the side of his nose. It was all I could do to keep from rolling my eyes, but I pretended not to notice. Why else do people do such things but to draw attention to themselves? So if he expected me to express shock, he was going to be disappointed. I'd seen worse over the weekend.

I followed him and stood by the door of the new library, observing as Tucker went over some of the finer points of installing the Adam mantel that had come with the paneling. I hoped they'd do it right, for the paneling had come from a very old house that had to give way for a Walmart Supercenter in an Alabama town, and it had cost me an arm and a leg.

Tucker had done no more than nod in my direction when he first came in, but soon he walked over and edged me toward the living room, both of us stumbling over the rolled-up rug in the hall.

"Uh, Mrs. Murdoch," he began, his eyes flitting around, "I have bad news for you." Then he rushed on before I could respond. "You'll have to do without Adam Waites from now on. He, ah, well, apparently, he's been through some sort of crisis as a result of working for Agnes-she can be quite demanding, you know. Anyway, I didn't get all the particulars, but his father called me last night to say that Adam would not be working for some time to come." Tucker took out a handkerchief and rubbed his nose, then winced as if he'd forgotten the new stud.

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said, although I wasn't surprised that Adam was in no shape to work. "Of course, he'd about completed my project, but I expect he's left Agnes high and dry." I smiled as sympathetically as I could manage.

"Actually, she's not taking it well, especially because she thought Adam was making great strides toward a new spiritual breakthrough. She hates to lose a true seeker."

I held my tongue, although I wanted to point out that Agnes had apparently gained him, if the gold studs dotting his face were any indication. But as we all know, some people are never satisfied with what they have.

"And even worse," Tucker went on with a flick of his eyes at me, "Mr. Waites said that Adam is moving away. He'll be attending an evangelical Bible inst.i.tute somewhere in east Texas." Tucker twisted his mouth. "Studying for the ministry, if you can believe it."

"Oh, I can believe it. It sounds to me as if he's found what he was seeking, no thanks to Agnes or, I must say, to you, either. You might take note, Mr. Caldwell, that when you start messing with spiritual matters, you might be doing the Lord's work without realizing it."

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 s.h.i.+ver. "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 a.n.a.logies 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 companions.h.i.+p 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.

Also by Ann B. Ross.

Miss Julia Rocks the Cradle.

Miss Julia Renews Her Vows Miss Julia Delivers the Goods.

Miss Julia Paints the Town.

Miss Julia Strikes Back.

Miss Julia Stands Her Ground Miss Julia's School of Beauty.

Miss Julia Meets Her Match.

Miss Julia Hits the Road.

Miss Julia Throws a Wedding.

Miss Julia Takes Over.

Miss Julia Speaks Her Mind.