Miss Julia Meets Her Match, page 27
Thunder rolled in the distance, but nobody paid any attention to the threatening sound. Every eye in the place was glued to the woman before us. If I could’ve moved from the paralysis that gripped my limbs, I would’ve left right then and there.
=Chapter 37’
Stretching her long, white neck, Monique threw her head back and stared at the top of the tent. “Lord,” she prayed, her hands lifted high in supplication, “free me from the burden and the wages of sin, and make me whole again. Work on these good people, Oh, Lord, so that they will look with compassion upon this poor, prodigal daughter set back down in their midst. May they find it in their hearts to forgive the wrongs I perpetrated on so many, who didn’t even know I was alive.”
Then she bowed her head, swinging her shoulders so that the cape fluttered around her. She stood that way for a few seconds, while the rest of us waited out this dramatic moment. My breath was coming in little gasps, hardly daring to think what this woman would say next. One minute I wanted to snatch up Little Lloyd and run out of the place, and the next I was telling myself that surely she wouldn’t give chapter and verse of her unabridged book of life.
I glanced over at Little Lloyd to see how much attention he was paying, and was reassured when I saw him whispering with Latisha. I felt no call to admonish them as I would have done in a normal church service.
Monique finally got through praying, and began to testify.
“Like the Samaritan woman with all the husbands,” she began, “I took what did not belong to me. Mrs. Allen,” she said, lifting her head and peering out into the audience. “Mildred, I think of you as my sister in the Lord, I ask you now to forgive me for my trespass against you.”
Everybody turned to stare at Mildred, whose face registered nothing but astonishment and embarrassment for being singled out in such a way. She turned this way and that, trying to see if there were another Mildred Allen who was being put on the spot. Tonya, sitting beside her, gaped in equal astonishment, while Horace on the other side of Mildred shrunk down in his seat, his hand covering his face. Calvin just looked confused, probably wondering what kind of family he’d gotten himself into.
People all over the auditorium looked at one another, whispered together and shrugged shoulders in wonderment at Monique’s words. Then, in the ensuing silence, she went on to make her meaning perfectly clear. “I once—no, several times—knew your husband, Mildred, in what is called the biblical sense, but there was nothing spiritual about it. The guilt now weighs heavily on me, and I beg you to lift it off with your forgiveness. And there were others . . .”
Every eye there was fastened on Monique, as her words rang out in the open-mouthed, breath-holding silence. I felt every drop of pity for her drain away, while the full meaning of her words sunk in.
“I don’t want you to think,” Monique went on, “that I limited myself to those who belonged to faithful wives. Dwayne,” she said, turning to Mr. Dooley who gave her a weak, but encouraging, smile, “while I’m going good, I might as well get it all said. You were thrilled when Curtis offered to finance your dream, but you don’t know why he did. He did it because he wanted me, and I wanted to keep the money rolling in. But Curtis,” she said, rounding on Mr. Maxwell, who was sitting behind her. His face reddened and his eyes darted from side to side, looking for a way out. “Not enough has been rolling in, so I’ve had to make a different arrangement.”
Even as I wondered where that left Dwayne Dooley, a piercing scream cut through the heavy air, raising the hair on the back of my head. Norma Cantrell came out of her chair and, pushing her way across those sitting in adjoining seats, she scrambled toward the aisle, screaming, “You promised me! You promised me!” Emma Sue swiveled around, staring at Norma, her face lighting up as Norma publicly acknowledged the focus of her interest, which most assuredly was not the pastor.
Mr. Maxwell came to his feet and began to edge toward stage left.
“The Holy Spirit is working now,” Monique cried out in wonder, as she leaned closer to the microphone to be heard over the stir she was causing. “I can feel him here among us.”
Something certainly was working among us, but I wouldn’t’ve bet on how holy it was.
But Monique was swept away with the power of her testimony, letting it pour out with no heed to the agitated murmuring of her audience. “There were others whose marriage vows I trampled upon,” she said, raising her voice over the disturbance Norma was creating as she headed for the stage. “Mrs. Richard Stroud, Helen, your husband was weak and I used that against him. Forgive me, I beg of you. Mrs. Amy Broughton, Mrs. Mayor Beebee, Mrs. Wesley Lloyd . . .”
Lightning flashed, throwing the surrounding trees in bright relief, as I sprang to my feet and clapped my hands over Little Lloyd’s ears. Thunder crashed above our heads, as a sudden downpour of rain drummed on the tent canvas. I crushed the child to me, almost smothering him in my effort to block out that wretched woman’s words.
As the full import of Monique’s confession took hold, the audience became more and more agitated. People came out of their seats, as tumults broke out in first one place, then the other. Someone threw a chair, another crashed into a pole, loosening the support of the whole tent. The rain-filled canvas dumped a cascade of water over everybody on the right side. I heard a shriek from Mildred and saw Helen deck her husband with her pocketbook.
By this time, Norma had bulled her way up onto the stage, brushing against the podium as Monique grabbed the teetering microphone. Mr. Maxwell jumped off the back of the stage, heading for the hills with Norma, screaming like a banshee, right on his heels. Gladys Beebee lifted her skirts and leapt onto the stage. She pushed Mr. Dooley out of her way and went straight for the mayor. He cringed away from her, his arms held protectively around his head, as she slammed him over and over with her umbrella. The preachers on the stage scattered in various directions, losing every ounce of dignity they’d ever had trying to get out of the line of fire.
Mr. Dooley grabbed the microphone from Monique, causing an awful screech in the sound system. He yelled at the top of his voice. “People! People! Please, this is a testimony! A sister, convicted of sin and standing before you asking forgiveness. Everybody! Let’s sing a hymn of praise.” He swung around to the band and waved his hand to get them started. “ ‘Leaning on the Everlasting Arms,’ ” he yelled, announcing the selection as loudly as he could. The band commenced blaring forth as he lifted his voice in a crowd-calming effort: “Leaning, leaning, safe and secure from all alarms . . .”
But nobody was listening, much less singing. The audience erupted from one end to the other, as even those wives who’d not been named cut loose with threats and questions and accusations. Fights and screams were breaking out all over the place. All I could do in the midst of the uproar was hold Little Lloyd close and pray that he’d not put two and two together and come up with a footloose father. Sam was beside me, his arms shielding us from flying objects, urging a quick retreat. Hazel Marie sat in shocked silence, her face as white as a sheet. Lillian was aghast, her eyes wide and her mouth open. Over the rising din, I heard Latisha say, “I don’t like this place, Great-Granny. It don’t look like a theme park to me.”
In a flurry of motion, Mr. Pickens suddenly appeared in the row behind us. He leaned over, took Little Lloyd from me and lifted him over the seat. With the boy clinging to him, Mr. Pickens touched Hazel Marie’s shoulder and said, “Come on, sweetheart. I’m getting you out of here.”
She climbed over the seat and fell against him, so glad to see him that she hugged him and the boy in his arms. The three of them pushed their way to the aisle and the last I saw of them, they were halfway to the exit.
“Let’s go, Julia,” Sam said, with one arm around me, and the other reaching out to Lillian. People everywhere pushed and shoved and shouted over the racket the band was making. Mr. Dooley had given up on leading a congregational hymn, for the alarms just kept on piling up.
We got to the aisle, but it was so full of the seething crowd that we were stopped cold. In the meantime, Mr. Dooley and Monique, herself, had come down into the audience, trying to bring some semblance of decorum back to the proceedings. Things had gotten far out of hand, as old scores were being settled in the midst of legitimate marital discord. I could hear the two of them yelling for quiet, and at one point, Mr. Dooley shouted out to the band, “Stop that infernal racket!” Which didn’t speak highly of his spiritual state.
The turbulent crowd squashed me against Sam and somebody stepped on my foot. I made my discomfort known by lashing out with my pocketbook, freeing up a little space around us. Sam leaned down and picked up Latisha and I grabbed Lillian’s hand and pulled her out into the aisle.
“Stay together now,” Sam yelled out, and we began to push through the churning mass before us. At one point, I was able to look back at the stage. Pastor Ledbetter, who’d not retreated from the fray like the other preachers, had Emma Sue locked in a most unministerial embrace. In all the years he’d occupied our pulpit, it was the first time I’d seen him treat her in any way other than in a formally condescending manner. In fact, as you may remember, I’d often wondered how they’d managed to produce the offspring they had, and this glimpse of them clasped together in a public forum satisfied my curiosity.
With Sam herding us all together, we finally gained the path leading from the tent. I searched the crush of people around me, looking for Little Lloyd and Hazel Marie, but I couldn’t see them. Hoping that Mr. Pickens had gotten them safely away, I clung to Sam’s arm to maintain my balance as we were pushed and shoved and jostled along on the muddy track.
The rain had slacked off, although sprinkles from the sky and the trees continued to fall around us. Yet, hardly any unbrellas were unfurled. Some, like ours, had been left behind, and others had so many ribs broken from their use as weapons that they wouldn’t open.
We all rushed out, rudely knocking into each other as we slipped and slid in the mud. There was no speaking, no greetings, no rehashing of the recent shameful events, as we ducked our heads and hurried away from the scene of such a decidedly unsanctified service.
Nobody, not us nor any of those who brushed past, was interested in the various half-built structures that were intended to carry our minds back into another time and place. Instead of walking where Jesus walked, we were running where Jesus would’ve never set foot—unless it was to take a whip to the money-changers as he’d done once before.
I almost stumbled when my shoe got stuck in a particularly soupy spot, and had to hold on to Sam while Lillian helped me regain my footing. That was about the last straw, for I was so full of fury over that woman’s lurid confession that I could hardly see straight. And running through the fury was the fearful certainty that Little Lloyd had understood exactly what Monique meant when she listed his father among her conquests.
Why in the world had I allowed that child to come to this place? After all my plans and strategems to protect him, I’d marched right into the lion’s den and brought him with me.
Just as I thought I’d have to sit down and cry with the futility of it all, I felt someone tug at my sleeve. Turning around, I came face to face with Monique Mooney, herself. It was all I could do to get my breath.
“Mrs. Springer,” she said in that husky voice, causing people to stop and stare, “It looks as if you and I will have to complete our arrangements on our own.” While I tried to find my voice, she looked around at the spectators. “We’d do better to find a more private spot.” Then she smiled at me. “Perhaps you’ll give me a ride to town afterward, since Mr. Pickens seems to have flown the coop.”
I stared at the woman, stunned at her boldness and lack of sound judgment. If she’d had any sense at all, she wouldn’t have come within ten miles of me.
I opened and closed my mouth several times, trying to work up the effort to speak. Finally I was able to. “Let me explain something to you, Miss Mooney. Our arrangements just got completed in there!” I flung my hand back toward the tent. “That so-called testimony of yours did nothing but broadcast exactly what I wanted to stay dead and buried. The idea! Dredging up things better left unknown and unsaid. And for that matter, undone!”
“My testimony was important,” she said, lifting her head in defiance. “I was led by the Lord to give it.”
“Well, maybe he’ll give you a ride to town. I certainly won’t.” I opened my pocketbook and extracted the check made out to her. “See this?” I waved it in front of her. “It’s going right back where it came from.” I stuffed the check back into my pocketbook and snapped it closed, as Monique’s mouth fell open.
Lillian edged in close, mumbling behind me, “We better go on home now, Miss Julia.”
I shook her off and leaned in on Monique. Through gritted teeth, I said, “You were supposed to keep your mouth shut and leave.”
Sam put a hand on my arm, but I paid no attention, so steamed up that I wanted to lash out even harder. From the looks of her, Monique was just beginning to understand that she’d lost her ticket out of town and anywhere else she wanted to go. She pulled herself together and stared down her nose at me. If she could’ve breathed out the fire that reddened her face, I would’ve been fried to a crisp right then and there.
Her eyes began to take on a peculiar glitter, and very deliberately she widened, then closed them. Turning ever so slightly toward Sam, she arched her neck so that her face was right under his. Then she opened her eyes in a slow, soulful manner so that she was gazing fully into his.
Sam’s eyebrows went up, as he took a step backward. Latisha, still in his arms, pointed at Monique and said, “That black-headed lady got something wrong with her. She looking like this.” Latisha pulled down her mouth and squinched up her eyes, mimicking Monique’s moony-eyed expression.
Sam, ever the gentleman, turned away to hide his amusement. I thought at first that he was entertained by Latisha, but when his laughing eyes found mine, I knew it was Monique he found so funny.
I smiled in return, feeling something cold and hard inside begin thaw and shrink. Monique, and her like, had no power over a rock-solid man. She could turn her face up to his and give him all the come-hither looks she could muster, and he’d stay steadfast and true. Right at that minute, I knew I could trust him to keep his head and any vows he made, regardless of the temptations strewn in his path.
But Monique was so confident of her own charms that she’d not noticed how flat they’d fallen. She shifted her gaze back to me, while a knowing smile lifted one corner of her mouth.
I gasped, shocked to my soul, for the shameless trollop was letting me know that she was still proud of, and willing to prove, her ability to beguile any man within range.
In spite of the trust I was now willing to put in Sam’s fidelity, I lost every bit of control I’d ever had. “You wicked woman!” I shrieked, barely aware of the avid faces that surrounded us. “Do you know what you’ve done? Do you know who you’ve damaged? Of course you don’t. All you thought about was your own wretched sins and trotting them out for us to see. Or to admire. Was that it?”
I stopped for breath, preparing myself to tell her that she could have Wesley Lloyd if, considering his present state, she still wanted him. But I was unceremoniously pushed back.
Mildred Allen barreled in front of me, breathing hard and panting with the effort. “Stand aside, Julia,” she said. She leaned right into Monique’s face and said, “You dare humiliate me! Well, let me tell you something, confession may be good for the soul, and you may feel better for telling everything you know. But, believe me, nobody else does.”
Then she hauled off and slapped the fire out of Monique, rocking her back on her heels.
Then Mildred turned away and, head held high, left with a parting shot. “Now at least, I feel better.”
As Mildred stomped off, Tonya threw me a concerned glance and hurried after her. “Manners, Mother, manners,” she cautioned, as she caught up with her mother and put an arm around her.
=Chapter 38’
I was never so glad to see anything in my life as I was to see Sam’s car and climb into it. The rain began to come down harder, and all over the parking lot people were diving into cars, slamming doors, and turning on lights. Motors roared to life and wheels churned up clots of mud, splattering it over fenders and anyone passing.
“We’ll wait till it clears out,” Sam said, turning to make sure that Lillian and Latisha were safely in the back seat with the doors closed. He smiled at Latisha. “You okay, little girl?”
“Yessir, I’m fine. I think I had a pretty good time, seeing something I never seen before.”
“Nobody ever seen nothin’ like that,” Lillian said, mopping the rain from her face. “That the world’s worst tent meetin’, I do believe.”
“Well,” Latisha said, sounding put out with the world, “don’t look like I’m ever gonna get to a real theme park.”
“Yes, you will, Latisha,” Sam said, looking at her through the rearview mirror. “You’ve started me thinking. Let me look into it, and find one we’ll all enjoy.”
“Count me out,” I mumbled, as I leaned against the window and huddled up in my sweater, just so heartsick about the events that had just transpired that I could hardly stand it.
Sam put his hand on my arm and said in his quiet and comforting way, “Julia, it’s all right.”
“No, it’s not. I’ve never let my temper get away with me like that. I guess I made a spectacle of myself.” I gave him a weak smile, as he patted my arm. “At least I didn’t slap her like Mildred did. But, believe me, I wanted to.”
“I tell you one thing,” Lillian said, “if they’s ever a woman need slappin’, that one did.”
