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Authors: Ann B. Ross
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cut it off when she saw the look I gave her. “And nobody did, believe me, they really didn’t. Or maybe they thought you knew and didn’t care. Ann Landers says the wife always knows, and everybody should MYOB.”
“My Lord,” I moaned, holding my head in my hands.
I heard the telephone ring and Lillian’s voice as she answered it. I didn’t want to talk to anybody, including LuAnne. But on she went.
“Julia, everybody’s upset over what you’re doing and, I have to tell you, they’re wondering if maybe you’re not thinking too clearly.
“Oh, I mean,” she said as I lifted my head and glared at her, “we all know you’ve been under a strain, what with Wesley Lloyd’s passing and all. It’s just been too much for you, and you need to sit back and let your friends take over for you. Leonard was saying just the other day that there are legal remedies.”
“Legal remedies? What are you talking about, LuAnne?”
“Why, all your problems, of course. Leonard sees this type of a problem every week or so, and the decisions he has to make just tear him up.”
I leaned my head back against the sofa and closed my eyes. “Have mercy,” I prayed just loud enough for LuAnne to hear, as well as the One addressed. If I were fool enough to let Leonard Conover make decisions for me, I’d need not only mercy but shock treatments, too.
“Now, Julia,” LuAnne went on, “I’m here to do anything I can for you. You just go up and lie down, and I’ll answer the door and keep a record for you. People are going to want to come by or call to see how you’re doing.”
“Nobody’s died here, LuAnne! And I don’t need to receive people who just want to satisfy their curiosity. I’m too busy tosee anybody anyway, so you can run on home and look after Leonard.”
“Well,” she said, and I could see her feelings were hurt. Too bad, because mine were, too. “I just thought you’d want a friend beside you in your time of trouble.”
“My time of trouble was all those years when Wesley Lloyd was gallivanting with that woman. I could’ve used a friend then, but I didn’t have a one in this town.”
“I can see you’re upset, Julia, and I don’t fault you for it.” She got up and stood by me, her hand on my shoulder. “I’m praying for you, and so is the whole prayer chain. I started it right before I came over here.”
“Thank you,” I whispered. What else could I say? The Presbyterian Women’s Prayer Chain transmitted news of sickness, accident, death, divorce, pregnancy, teenage problems, bankruptcy, and anything else you could name, and did it faster than a streak of summer lightning. Well, it was no more than I expected, having activated the prayer chain myself any number of times when I’d heard something that needed to be prayed over and passed on.
When LuAnne left, Lillian came into the living room where I still sat trying to collect myself.
“I made you some soup,” she said, setting a tray on my lap. “I’m feeding that little boy in the kitchen, then he gon’ help me peel apples for a pie. Eat somethin’ now. You gon’ need it, ’cause that was yo’ preacher callin’. He want to know can you walk over to the church. He want to counsel with you.”
“I guess I could use some counseling,” I said. “Thank you, Lillian. I’ll eat this and go on over there.”
I’d been a Christian all my life and a Presbyterian for most of it. The way I was raised and who I married hadn’t offered much choice in either matter. Not that I’d ever expected or wanted a choice. Still, neither Wesley Lloyd nor I had ever beenthe type of person who needed counseling. Now I found myself hoping that my preacher could comfort my hurting heart and help me accept the burden laid on me by Wesley Lloyd.
We’d had this preacher four, no, about five years now, and he’d settled in fairly well. Larry Ledbetter was his name; not Lawrence, but Larry. Have you ever noticed how many preachers and
“My Lord,” I moaned, holding my head in my hands.
I heard the telephone ring and Lillian’s voice as she answered it. I didn’t want to talk to anybody, including LuAnne. But on she went.
“Julia, everybody’s upset over what you’re doing and, I have to tell you, they’re wondering if maybe you’re not thinking too clearly.
“Oh, I mean,” she said as I lifted my head and glared at her, “we all know you’ve been under a strain, what with Wesley Lloyd’s passing and all. It’s just been too much for you, and you need to sit back and let your friends take over for you. Leonard was saying just the other day that there are legal remedies.”
“Legal remedies? What are you talking about, LuAnne?”
“Why, all your problems, of course. Leonard sees this type of a problem every week or so, and the decisions he has to make just tear him up.”
I leaned my head back against the sofa and closed my eyes. “Have mercy,” I prayed just loud enough for LuAnne to hear, as well as the One addressed. If I were fool enough to let Leonard Conover make decisions for me, I’d need not only mercy but shock treatments, too.
“Now, Julia,” LuAnne went on, “I’m here to do anything I can for you. You just go up and lie down, and I’ll answer the door and keep a record for you. People are going to want to come by or call to see how you’re doing.”
“Nobody’s died here, LuAnne! And I don’t need to receive people who just want to satisfy their curiosity. I’m too busy tosee anybody anyway, so you can run on home and look after Leonard.”
“Well,” she said, and I could see her feelings were hurt. Too bad, because mine were, too. “I just thought you’d want a friend beside you in your time of trouble.”
“My time of trouble was all those years when Wesley Lloyd was gallivanting with that woman. I could’ve used a friend then, but I didn’t have a one in this town.”
“I can see you’re upset, Julia, and I don’t fault you for it.” She got up and stood by me, her hand on my shoulder. “I’m praying for you, and so is the whole prayer chain. I started it right before I came over here.”
“Thank you,” I whispered. What else could I say? The Presbyterian Women’s Prayer Chain transmitted news of sickness, accident, death, divorce, pregnancy, teenage problems, bankruptcy, and anything else you could name, and did it faster than a streak of summer lightning. Well, it was no more than I expected, having activated the prayer chain myself any number of times when I’d heard something that needed to be prayed over and passed on.
When LuAnne left, Lillian came into the living room where I still sat trying to collect myself.
“I made you some soup,” she said, setting a tray on my lap. “I’m feeding that little boy in the kitchen, then he gon’ help me peel apples for a pie. Eat somethin’ now. You gon’ need it, ’cause that was yo’ preacher callin’. He want to know can you walk over to the church. He want to counsel with you.”
“I guess I could use some counseling,” I said. “Thank you, Lillian. I’ll eat this and go on over there.”
I’d been a Christian all my life and a Presbyterian for most of it. The way I was raised and who I married hadn’t offered much choice in either matter. Not that I’d ever expected or wanted a choice. Still, neither Wesley Lloyd nor I had ever beenthe type of person who needed counseling. Now I found myself hoping that my preacher could comfort my hurting heart and help me accept the burden laid on me by Wesley Lloyd.
We’d had this preacher four, no, about five years now, and he’d settled in fairly well. Larry Ledbetter was his name; not Lawrence, but Larry. Have you ever noticed how many preachers and
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