Miss Julia Stands Her Ground by Ann B. Ross Page B

directory, counting the number of women and men who were church members, and eligible, therefore, to vote in the upcoming election.
    When we finished, I looked at him with a merry glint in my eye. “No wonder the pastor is pulling his hair out. Women outnumbermen by almost two to one. If they all vote for me, why, I’d be an elder without needing a recount.”
    Then, as the threat posed by Vernon Puckett rushed to the forefront, I closed my eyes and sighed. “Oh, Sam,” I said, leaning my head back as the directory slid off my lap, “I can’t let myself get all exercised over this. I already have my hands full with Brother Vern. Besides, why in the world would I want to give up an evening or two every month to sit around arguing with a bunch of old men?”
    â€œEspecially when you could sit around here arguing with one old man?”
    I opened one eye and smiled at him. “And we don’t have to put up with the pastor like the session does.” I sat up straight then with another heavy sigh. “This elder business has come up at the most inopportune time. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t at all mind becoming a thorn in the pastor’s side. But I don’t see how I can, what with all the upset and turmoil Brother Vern’s bringing down on us.”
    â€œDon’t completely discount it, Julia,” Sam said. “Give it some serious thought before you turn it down. Apparently a lot of people want you on the session, which means they think you’ll give them a voice in what goes on.”
    â€œOh, they’d have a voice, all right, if I did it. But not everybody in the church would like hearing it. Well,” I said, rising, “I don’t have to make a decision today. And, who knows, you might fix Brother Vern’s little red wagon in the next day or two, and I’ll be ready to take on something else.”
    I began to gather the newspapers together, stacking them for the recycling bin. “Tell me the truth, Sam,” I said, stopping with a pile in my arms. “You do think you can put that matter to rest, don’t you?”
    â€œIt depends, Julia,” he said, getting up to stand beside me.
    â€œOh, don’t say that! I don’t want to hear it if you’re having doubts.”
    â€œAll I’m saying is, we don’t know what Puckett has up hissleeve. Until we know that, I can’t promise it’ll all be behind us in a few days.” Sam took the papers from me. “Here, let me do that. Have you said anything to Hazel Marie?”
    â€œI can’t get her alone long enough to tell her anything. But in the morning I’m going to do it if I have to tie her down. She has to be prepared for the rumors and gossip that could undo everything I’ve done for her.”
    â€œWell, don’t say too much,” Sam said, turning me toward the kitchen. “But do tell her I’m keeping an eye on him.”
    â€œI will, and I know that’ll give her comfort. I declare, Sam, I get so indignant when I think of how some people just live for the latest gossip. You’d think they had better things to do.”
    Sam pushed open the kitchen door. “Let’s not start worrying before we have to. And to get your mind off of it, I’m going to fix you my special Sunday evening omelet.”
    Well, who was I to refuse such an offer? Having never before seen a man busy himself in a kitchen, my mood was considerably lightened. Even so, I was still stewing over the thought of the avid gossipers who would lick their lips at anything new and sensational they heard about Hazel Marie. Or me.
    Gossip has been the bane of my existence, and I just had no use for those who indulged in it.
    As Sam beat a number of eggs in a bowl, I began to set the table. Then, remembering the news that Hazel Marie had told me, I said, “Oh, Sam, I forgot to tell you. Guess what Hazel Marie said she heard about Dub and Clara