“Which means that the taxpayers will, while the board members take credit for it, right? And, Binkie, I wish that people would stop referring to fourteen- to eighteen-year-olds as children. Legally, I suppose they are, but some of them smoke and drink and take drugs and marry and drop out of school and get some girl pregnant and join the army and get in trouble—all of which, in my view, are adult activities.”
“Well, of course that’s what this group wants to prevent,” Binkie said.
“Wait just a minute,” I said, sitting straight up. “Don’t tell me that you agree with what they’re doing! Because if that’s the case I need another lawyer—one who’ll work for me, not against me.”
“Rest easy, Miss Julia,” Binkie said. “Yes, I agree that something should be done for the homeless, but, no, I don’t agree with the way they’re doing it.”
“Well,” I said, calming down a few degrees, “that’s my feeling, too. All right, Binkie, I’ll keep you on, but don’t let your tender heart get in the way of moving those people elsewhere.”
She smiled. “Don’t worry about that, and by the way, I’ve spoken to a real estate broker who knows the town. He tells me that if a group home of any kind—regardless of what it’s called—goes up right next door to the Pickenses, the value of their house will be reduced by twenty percent. That’s the bad news, but it’s another reason for me to do all I can to deter any kind of care facility next to them. I care about Hazel Marie and her family, too.
“And one last thing, Miss Julia,” Binkie went on, “don’t go public with any of this—you’ll never win the PR battle. Letters to the editor or speaking to a reporter to tell your side will just lay you open to public ridicule and shaming. I’ve heard a report that a group of churches—seven of the most prominent—are praying for this home. Even though not a fraction of the members of the churches know anything other than how wonderful it will be. Let’s us just stick to the law and continue what we’re doing without laying all our cards on the table.”
“Well, all right,” I reluctantly agreed. “But can’t I tell Madge Taylor and Pastor Rucker what I think? They keep after me to see their side, asking me to meet with them, and trying to talk me into agreeing with them. I’m not sure I can hold my peace under the circumstances.”
“Oh, sure, you can tell them whatever you want,” Binkie said with a grin, “and I think you should. Just don’t get into anything we’re planning to do legally and don’t let anybody quote you in the newpaper.”
“I wouldn’t do that anyway,” I said, recalling that a lady never has her name in the paper except for birth, wedding, and funeral announcements.
—
On my way home, I tried to remember everything Binkie had said, but, I declare, with DSS this and state regulations that, I wasn’t sure I had anything clearly in my head. One thing, however, had stuck and that was those seven prominent churches whose members were praying for damage to be inflicted on Hazel Marie and her family. It seemed to me that instead of praying for the ruination of a neighborhood and asking for volunteers to help them do it, the members of those churches should be urged to take a needy child into their own homes.
As soon as I got in the house, I hurried to the library and picked up the Bible—the one with the concordance—and looked up the word churches, and seeing the word seven following one of the references, I knew that it was the one I wanted. Pleased that my recollection was valid, I sat down and read the first three chapters of the Book of Revelation.
Words of warning, I thought as I closed the book and cogitated over what I had read, wondering if Madge and Pastor Rucker were familiar with the passage. It might, it seemed to me, be my Christian duty to remind those two of the harsh rebukes and doleful warnings handed out to another group of seven churches.
Then I picked up the little calculator that Sam kept on the desk and did some calculating. It’s a good thing I was sitting when the numbers came up because the sight of them made me sick at heart.
Chapter 17
“Miss Julia?” Lloyd walked into the library, drawing my attention away from the distressing number on the calculator.
“Come in, honey. How was school today?”
“Oh, okay.” He sat down opposite me and clasped his hands around a knee. “Uh, I’ve been thinking about what you asked me the other day. You know, about what I’d do if I didn’t have a home or a place to sleep?”
“Yes, I remember. And you gave a good answer to it.”
“No’m, I don’t think I did, because I hadn’t given it enough thought. But now I have, and I know what I’d do if I didn’t have your house or Mama’s house to live in. First of all, I wouldn’t let any government department know my business because they’d take over, and I guess they’d declare me a ward of the state, and I wouldn’t have any say-so at all. But the most important thing I’d have to do would be to finish high school, so I’d get a job after school and on the weekends. I’d get any kind of job I could find and ask that part or most of what I’d make would include a cot somewhere to sleep on.
“Like,” he went on, “I could ask Mrs. Allen next door if I could do her yard work year-round and maybe sleep in her pool house. Or I could ask Mr. Simmons if I could keep his store clean and stocked, and maybe sleep on a pallet in his storeroom. Or I could see if
