I felt my face redden at being singled out—they were all watching me—and especially at being openly criticized by the preacher’s wife, who was not only half my age but unaware of her teetering position on the social ladder. Who did she think made possible that Prada bag in her lap?
“And, Julia,” Lorna McKenzie said, catching her breath as her words dripped with solicitude, “you don’t know how it hurts our efforts to provide a home for little boys when you are so vocal in your opposition. It’s really most unbecoming of you. You really should—”
“Is that what this is about?” I demanded, as a surge of anger swept through me. “To talk me into supporting that ill-advised and misplaced group home?” I got to my feet, turned to LuAnne, and said, “You said this was to be a time of prayer. But that was just a ruse to get me here, wasn’t it? Well, let me tell you—”
“Oh, no,” Diane Jarret said, an imploring note in her voice. “It’s about more than Madge’s efforts. We want to open your eyes to the need in this county. Why, Julia, did you know that we have almost two hundred children without a regular place to sleep at night? And, more than that, who don’t get a hot breakfast and have to be fed at school?”
“That’s right,” Lynette added, “and we don’t understand how you can turn your back on even the few that Madge is helping. It just breaks my heart to get into bed at night and think of all those children with no place to lay their heads.”
“Lynette,” I said, “you can play Lady Bountiful all you want, but you’d do well to show a little sense while you’re doing it. I happen to know that you have two guest rooms in your house that are empty about three hundred and fifty nights of the year.
“Now,” I went on, “if any of you are actually interested in praying, I suggest you stop with the personal attacks and get started.”
“Oh, no,” Lynette said again, not knowing when to stop. “We’re not attacking you personally, Miss Julia. At least, I’m not. I just want to counsel with you—”
“If you want to counsel anybody, Lynette,” I snapped, “then get a degree. And to the rest of you—get the beams out of your own eyes before criticizing anybody else. And futhermore, some of you,” I said, turning to stare at Madge and thinking of my Mohawk carpet, “would do well to tend to the problems in your own homes because—”
“Please don’t be upset,” Mary Nell Warner said, rudely interrupting me. Rounding on her, I noted that her tightly set hair had had a recent blueing. It didn’t do one thing for her. “We care for you, Julia,” she said quickly, holding out her hand to stop me, “and we hate seeing you so dead set against a home for those so much in need. You are well known in town, and your attitude is turning others against us. We just want to reason with you and admonish you in the name of the Lord, as Scripture tells us to do when a brother—or a sister—goes astray.”
Waves of anger washed up in my soul, and if I ever needed prayer, I needed it then. “Let me ask you something, Mary Nell,” I said, glaring at her. “If you’re so concerned about homeless teenagers, why aren’t you fostering a teenage boy in your own home?”
“Oh, I couldn’t do that,” she said, drawing back. “I’m a widow, and, well, it wouldn’t look right.”
“Believe me, Mary Nell,” I said, hardly knowing what I was saying by this time, “no one would think a thing of it.”
“Well, and here’s something else,” Madge said in a strident tone. “Even if you couldn’t bring yourself to help us, it seems like you could’ve kept it to yourself. Instead you’ve done nothing but talk about us and work against us and stir up others to question our motives. And I know you did it—especially that tea you had—on purpose just to hurt us, but it wasn’t us that you hurt. It was the children. We’re well aware that some of the neighbors are unhappy, but you need to understand that what we’re doing is for the greater good. By putting your personal friends before needy children, you’re doing a disservice to the whole community.”
“Well, Madge,” I said, turning to her because if anyone was the ringleader, she fit the bill. “If you’d opened that house in an area where it was permitted, you’d have had no problem from me. But when you ignore the laws and act as if they don’t apply to you, what can you expect?” Then, with a sudden upsurge of confidence and a good bit of self-righteousness, I said, “Thank you all for thinking that I have enough influence in this town to affect the outcome of your efforts. I didn’t know that I was succeeding in getting that group home moved from its untenable location.
“However,” I went on, trembling inside but determined to have my say, “I do admit that your stated intent to have a prayer time was an excellent one, yet so far I’ve not seen or heard anybody praying. So if this is the way you plan to run that group home—”
“Foster home,” Madge said firmly.
“Foster, my foot! All you’re doing is warehousing boys and paying someone to do what none of you will do yourselves. Not a one of you would take a needy child into your own home—which, I remind you, I have done—so don’t sit there criticizing me and feeling all self-righteous about it.”
LuAnne, looking stricken by now, said, “Don’t be mad, Julia. We just—”
“About time you chimed in, LuAnne,” I said, turning toward her. “Where’s all that prayer you used to get
