Chapter 46

“Latisha!” Lillian sprang across the room, took Latisha by the arm, and said, “Hush that up! What you mean yellin’ like that? You wake up them babies an’ scare everybody to death. What’s wrong with you?”

“But, but, Granny, I left my pocketbook at Mr. Sam’s house. Miss Lady’s house, too. An’ I need it!” Tears flooded down Latisha’s face as she sobbed and gasped for breath.

“We goin’ back over there tomorrow. You can get it then.”

“No, Granny,” Latisha said, shaking her head, “that won’t do. I need it now.”

“Well,” Lillian said, firmly, “it’ll have to do, ’cause I’m too tired to be drivin’ all over creation tonight. We goin’ home an’ you goin’ straight to bed.”

Latisha put her head in her lap and sobbed piteously, pleading with Lillian to take her back to our house. But Lillian’s face was set in stone, and I had no doubt that her surgically altered foot was bothering her as well. She was of no mind to limp out to the car and make an unnecessary trip just to retrieve a little red plastic pocketbook.

“I’ll take her,” I said, getting to my feet. “Besides, I need to move around a little. Sam will be awhile, I’m sure. So I’ll run Latisha over to the house and we’ll be back before he’s through. You sit down and rest, Lillian, and let me do this.”

Lillian tried to discourage me, and I had to put up with a chorus of “Let me,” and “I’ll do it” from Binkie and Hazel Marie. But I’d had my fill of sitting around waiting for the men to decide who would cruise the parking lots of the Holiday Inn, the Quality Inn, the Motel 6, and Stewart’s Rooms for Rent.

“Come on, Latisha,” I said, taking her hand. “We’ll take Mr. Sam’s car and be back in a few minutes. You remember where you left your pocketbook?”

“Yes, ma’am, I think I do.” Latisha sniffed wetly and wiped her face with her arm. “And, Granny, I promise I won’t never forget it again.”

“They Lord,” Lillian said with a roll of her eyes, as she gave in and sank onto a chair. “I sure do thank you, Miss Julia, an, Latisha, you better thank her, too.”

“I will,” Latisha said with another loud sniff, “jus’ as soon as I get my pocketbook.”

Glancing in through the study door, I saw the men bent over the desk, intently studying a county map, marking the locations of hotels, motels, and inns, and deciding who would go where. I dangled my key chain, which also held Sam’s electronic key, so he would know I was leaving, and mouthed, “I’ll be back.”

Night, helped by the cloud cover, had fallen by the time we walked out onto the porch. And James was still sitting on guard, his empty plate beside his chair.

“Y’all goin’ home already?” he asked, blinking alertly, but I thought he’d been dozing.

“We’ll be right back,” I told him, as Latisha and I carefully maneuvered the steps to the walk.

Sam’s car was bigger than mine, so I had to adjust the seat before starting the engine. Looking back at Latisha in the backseat, she seemed twice as far away as when she was in my car.

“Will you go in with me?” she asked, sounding small and uncertain.

“Yes, of course.”

“Good, ’cause I don’t like goin’ in a dark house by myself.”

“I don’t, either. But we’ll switch on the lights as soon as we get there.”

“Uh-huh, ’cept we got to get in ’fore we can switch ’em on.”

I smiled at her quickness. “We’ll just have to watch out for each other. Here we are,” I said as I pulled into our drive and parked behind my car. I turned off the engine, unbuckled my seat belt, then watched as the headlights went off, wondering why in the world we hadn’t left a few lights on, the yard lights especially. The night was as black as pitch.

Holding hands, we stumbled to the back door, which took an eternity to unlock, doing it by feel rather than by sight. Reaching inside as soon as it opened, I felt for the switches on the wall, flooding the kitchen with light.

Latisha edged past me as I turned the deadbolt on the door. She dashed across the room, yelling, “There it is! Right where I left it!”

And, sure enough, there the little red purse hung by its shoulder strap from the back of the chair, right where she’d left it. And right where she’d also left her new shell design, piles of mostly broken shells, and Hazel Marie’s hot-glue gun.

Latisha slipped the strap over her head and one arm, then sat down and unsnapped the clasp. She began rummaging through the fully packed pocketbook, checking, I supposed, that all was as it should be. Although who would’ve disturbed anything with all of us away for the past few hours, I didn’t know.

Noticing the blinking light on the answering machine, I punched the button to hear the message. “Julia!” LuAnne’s voice sounded so stricken that it unnerved me. “I have to talk to you. Call me! Please call me as soon as you get home. This is just awful!”

Fearful, as I’d been so many times before, that some tragic event had occurred, I turned to Latisha. “Honey, I’m going to run up to the bedroom and return this call.” As well as to use the bathroom, which I didn’t mention. “We’ll be ready to go back in just a few minutes.”

She nodded, busily pulling out a few things from her pocketbook, making sure everything was there. Making my way upstairs, turning on a few lights as I went, I felt my nerves thrumming away at the distress I’d heard in LuAnne’s voice. What could’ve happened? What had she done?

After relieving myself—the most urgent calling—I dialed LuAnne’s number from the phone beside our bed.

“LuAnne? It’s Julia, what—”

“Oh, Julia, thank goodness you’re home. I just needed to talk to somebody, because I can’t take this anymore. Nothing’s working right. I can’t find an apartment that I like or can afford. And I’m all packed up with nowhere to go, and Leonard just goes on about his business like I don’t even exist! And now I’m having second thoughts, because you know, in spite of everything, I do love him.”

I knew no such thing. But, as I listened to her begin to cry, I did know that I’d had enough of listening, commiserating, and sympathizing—none of which had done any good. Her cries for help had always drawn me in, while she’d done nothing to help herself. Duped again, I thought, as I recalled the fright I’d felt at the distress in her voice. My shoulder felt permanently damp from all the times she’d cried on it, and all of a sudden, I’d had enough.

“Get hold of yourself, LuAnne!” I stormed. “I am not going to listen to you moan and groan about Leonard another minute. Either live with him or get rid of him—I don’t care which—but I’ve had enough of it. And another thing—”

A long, piercing shriek from downstairs ripped through the house, sending a sudden shock through my system. Latisha! I slammed the phone down and ran, nearly breaking my neck on the dim stairs.