Page 21 of Junie
Chapter Twenty-One
The house is anarchy painted proper. Bess, Junie, Auntie, and even Muh rush around the house all afternoon, out of sight of the white folks in the hopes of masking their lack of preparation. Junie finishes her work in the bedrooms before chopping onions until her fingers and eyes burn in the cookhouse. Caleb stays in the stables all afternoon, tending the horses, which is her only relief.
She forgets the forks, misfolds the linen napkins, and nearly drops a plate of eggs during their dinner setup before Bess banishes her to stand by the wall, out of the way. Junie jumps when Mrs. McQueen walks into the room, thankful that the mistress is too consumed with her wine to notice.
Men’s boots click on the hardwood floors. Mr. Taylor arrives, a grin stretching across his whole face as he greets them all and takes his seat at the table. Caleb follows, and suddenly Junie’s chest feels too small to contain her heartbeat. She stares at Old Toadface to look at anything but the delicate shadows underneath Caleb’s cheekbones, defined in the half-light of the dining room candles.
She tries all her usual tricks; counting chandelier crystals, tallying disagreeable comments, even reciting poetry in her head, but nothing takes her mind away from fantasizing. She imagines this room, emptied of all the details that make it the McQueens’ but left with all its finery. Vacant of the white folks, left with only Caleb. She isn’t in her maid’s uniform anymore, nor one of the stiff cages Violet is forced into, but instead in a flowing white dress. Caleb isn’t in his uniform, either, instead wearing the simple clothes he would wear each night for their readings in the field. He would pull out her chair, as no one has ever done for her before, and they’d sit surrounded by candlelight, eating all their bodies can hold and laughing in the glowing warmth. Caleb would then play her music on the piano all night. Junie imagines the way she would lean lazily over the piano until he would lift his hands off the keys, take her face into his palms, and gently press his mouth to hers until…
“Junie!” Bess says, pinching her. Junie jumps.
“Miss Violet and Miss Taylor are out of wine. Pour more before they start noticing.”
Their conversation is dull. Mr. Taylor inquires after the master, and the mistress makes elaborate excuses. He details the last several months of business, while Miss Taylor talks of the latest concert she’s seen. Violet’s gown shines under the candelabra. Her sloping shoulders, full bust, and fiery red hair are all on display for the guests. Junie winces at Violet’s enraptured expression. She’s certain that Mr. Taylor included all this information in his letters, so why the performance?
“You’re awful jolly today, Beau,” Miss Taylor says, taking a sip of her wine. The curiosity in her voice piques Junie’s attention.
“Ain’t a man allowed to be jolly when he’s in such great company?” he says, looking toward Violet. Violet flashes her demure grin.
“I’ve known you long enough to see you’re jolly for a reason. Now, spit it out!” Miss Taylor adds. Mrs. McQueen reddens at Miss Taylor’s diction.
“Well,” Mr. Taylor says with a laugh. “I was thinking I would wait until the master of the house arrived for my news.”
“I hate to say we aren’t quite sure when Mr. McQueen will return, and there’s no good in waiting,” she says, flashing a look at Violet. Junie’s shoulders tense. She cuts a quick look at Bess, whose rolled-in lips tell Junie Bess is just as nervous as she is.
“Well, if I have your blessing, then,” Mr. Taylor says with a cordial nod. He reaches into his jacket pocket.
Junie watches the white women’s eyes flick to one another.
A crisp, cream envelope slides out of his pocket, sliced at its seam.
Not a ring box. Junie’s shoulders settle.
“As you know, we’ve just been with our uncle Mr. Henry Taylor, of the Holly Falls plantation in Selma. Before we left, he informed me that he’s decided to spend Christmas at his home in Montgomery, and has invited us to stay for the annual Yule Ball.”
“Oh!” Mrs. McQueen says, raising her octave to hide her disappointment. “Well, that’s just lovely for you and your sister.”
“So you’ll be leaving us, then? So soon?” Violet says.
“See, that’s just the thing, Miss McQueen. You’ve been invited, as well. And, if your mother obliges, it would be my honor to be your escort. Miss McQueen can bring her girl along, too, of course.”
Violet screams, throwing her hands to her mouth, and tumbling her fork in the process. A gasp escapes Junie’s lips before she can hold it in.
“A ball? That’s capital! Junebug, ain’t that capital!” Violet says, whipping around to face her. “Oh, Mother, can I go? Please can I go?”
“That is awfully kind of Mr. Taylor and his uncle, but you need to consult your father. That’s what would be appropriate.”
“But he ain’t even here!”
“Violet,” Mrs. McQueen says. “I encourage you not to speak out of turn in front of our guests.”
“That makes proper sense, Mrs. McQueen, and I’d hate to impose. My sister and I will have to be off in two days’ time, per our uncle’s orders, but if Mr. McQueen happens to arrive before then to give his consent, we’d be more than happy to take Violet along.”
Violet beams at Mr. Taylor.
“I am very honored to have been invited, please pass that on to your uncle and aunt.” She takes her teacup into her hand, raising it to take a sip. Junie catches a barely perceptible shake in Violet’s hand, which makes the spoon in her porcelain mug clink against the side. She sees Violet’s hand crunch into a fist under the table.
A trip to Montgomery with the Taylors? Junie’s never been that far away from home before. Her chest tightens again, and her eyes fall on Caleb. Her mouth goes dry. He’ll surely travel to Montgomery, too.
Save the white folks, they’d be alone.
—
That night after violet’s parlor performance, Junie rushes to fix Violet’s room. She strips the bed before tucking the clean sheet under the mattress. The corners are a disaster, but they will have to do.
The door bursts open in a flourish of laughter as Violet and Miss Taylor walk in. Junie freezes with the dirty sheets clutched to her chest.
“Junebug! How’d you beat me here?” Violet says. There is an edge to her friendly tone. Junie smiles and curtsies toward the women. What’s Miss Taylor doing here?
“I was just preparing your things, Miss McQueen.”
“Oh, you don’t gotta call me that, Miss Taylor doesn’t care.”
Junie looks at Miss Taylor and forces a smile.
“Violet’s let me know you’re a good friend,” Miss Taylor says. “I hope we can be friends, as well.”
“If you’d like, Miss Taylor,” Junie answers.
“Bea, please. You can call me Bea, at least here.”
A chill travels up her spine. What has Violet told her?
“Anyway, Junie, Bea’s come to help me with my French translation,” Violet says, lowering herself into her chair and taking off her shoes. “You know that novel I was talking about at dinner, the one Mother had a fit over? Well, it seems I misunderstood quite a bit, and thank goodness Bea is willing to help me improve. We’ll be a while I bet, so you can go on!”
“You sure you don’t need me to get you ready?” Junie clutches the sheets tighter.
“No,” she insists, waving Junie away. “I’m a big girl, I can get myself into my nightdress just fine. Have a night to yourself.”
“See Caleb, too, while you’re at it,” Miss Taylor says. She breaks into a laugh and covers her mouth. Junie’s cheeks go hot.
“Who is Caleb again?” Violet says.
“He’s my brother’s man, you remember, he played that nice song on the piano last time we were here,” Miss Taylor says, raising her eyebrows. “And, if my instinct is right, I think he might have a petit coup de coeur with your Junie here!”
Junie begs the hardwood floors to turn into quicksand. Violet, mouth agape, turns toward Junie.
“Junie! You never told me about no Caleb.”
“I mean, I don’t believe, I—I don’t think—” Her tongue is mush in her mouth.
“Oh shoot, we’ve embarrassed Junie now, Bea,” Violet says. “I’m sorry, Junebug, I didn’t mean to. I just got all excited for you, is all.”
“We promise to give you some peace the rest of the evening, Junie,” Miss Taylor adds.
“Yes, go on, get away from our foolishness!”
Junie musters a nod and walks toward the door. Violet rushes to her bookshelf, searching through the rows with Miss Taylor to find the right copy. It is a routine she has maintained with Violet countless nights before, and watching Violet look for a book to read with someone else makes Junie want to push Miss Taylor out of the room.
She leans back on the closed door, willing her body to stop shaking. What in Sam Hill has Caleb said that would make Miss Taylor think there’s something between them?
She has to ask Caleb, for his sake as much as her own.