Lillian came in, but she didn't sit. She stood in front of me, wringing her hands, an anguished expression on her face.

"What in the world is wrong with you?" I asked. "Sit down and tell me."

She sidled toward the empty chair and sat gingerly on the edge of it. "I don't know if I ought to, an' I don't know if I oughtn't to, either."

"For goodness sakes, don't be like LuAnne Conover. She's the world's worst to bring up something only to back out of telling the whole of it. Whatever it is, we can deal with it."

"I don't know if we can or we can't." Lillian looked down at her hands in her lap. " 'Cause it not s'posed to be tole. Miz Conover, she be mad at me if I tell it, an' you be mad at me if I don't."

"Well," I said, sitting up straight, "if LuAnne has anything to do with it, you'd better tell me. I love her to death, Lillian-you know I do-but sometimes she doesn't have a lick of sense. What is it?"

"She make me promise not to tell, an' now I jus' worriet sick about it. I mean"-she stopped and twisted her hands again-"seein' how things not 'zactly how they oughta be 'tween you and Mr. Sam."

I popped up out of the chair and stood over her. "What's she saying about Sam and me? Has she found out what I'm trying to keep secret?"

"No'm, she don't know a thing, but she plannin' another secret, an' I don't 'spect you gonna like it."

Then she took a deep breath and plunged in. "She tell me I got to keep this secret on pain of death. That what she say, on pain of death. But I know you have my hide if she spring it on you, an' you find out I know about it an' don't tell it."

"Lillian," I said, as calmly as I could, "I appreciate your wanting to keep a secret that you've promised to keep. But if it has anything to do with me and Sam, you have a higher obligation to let me in on it."

"Yessum, I guess so. Well," she said with a great sigh, "Miz Conover, she say look like you an' Mr. Sam not gonna do the proper thing, what she say you oughtta do after runnin' off an' marryin' 'thout tellin' nobody. So she gonna do it for you."

I narrowed my eyes. "What's she going to do?"

"She gonna th'ow a big weddin' party for you an' Mr. Sam at that country club an' ast everybody in town. An' she say it gonna be the biggest do she ever done, an' she say you better not find out about it, 'cause she want it to be a surprise."

I collapsed into the chair, my limbs spraddled out and my eyes rolling back in my head. "Oh, Lord," I moaned. "Of all the things I don't want, it's a mockery of a wedding celebration." This was just one more thing I had to deal with, and all because of one rash decision. "Lillian, what am I going to do?"

Chapter 17.

Grasping the arms of the chair, I pulled myself to my feet, so rattled I could hardly bear it. Lillian, relieved at last of her burdensome secret, leaned back in her chair and watched as I began to pace the floor.

"A surprise party!" I cried. "How in the world did LuAnne come up with that idea? She never entertains on such a scale. It's just two tables of bridge or dinner parties for six, and that's it. Oh, Lord," I said, flinging out my arms and pivoting like I was on a runway. "Why did she have to pick me to change her entertaining habits on?"

"She real excited about it. She say she found a way to pay you back for all you done for her."

"I'm going to do something for her, all right. I'm going to wring her neck. Lillian," I said, swinging around to face her, "we've got to put a stop to it. Can you imagine celebrating a wedding that may not've been a wedding?"

"No'm. That why I thought I better tell you, so you not be shamed with all them people 'gratulatin' you, with you an' Mr. Sam bein' separated an' all."

"I'm glad you told me, Lillian, and don't you feel bad about it, either. I never liked surprises in the first place, and this one beats all. How did she think she could pull it off?"

"Well, that's why she tole me. Miz Conover, she say she an' Mr. Conover gonna invite you an' Mr. Sam to that country club for dinner, an' I'm s'posed to get you to dress up so you look real smart. An' all the guests gonna be there to surprise you. She plannin' dancin' an' toasts an' all like that. Like I say, she real excited about it, but she kinda mad, too."

"Mad? Why?"

" 'Cause you not doin' it yo'self. She say when people run off an' get married by theyselves, they always th'ow a big party to 'nounce it to they friends. She don't know why you bein' so lax 'bout doin' it."

"You didn't tell her, did you?"

"Oh, no'm, I don't tell her nothin'. I jus' say, Yessum, I do this' an' Yessum, I do that.' An' Miss Julia, she gonna invite me, too."

"Well, I should hope so. You're a part of any celebrating that's going to be done. But this one is not going to be done. Why, Lillian, think of the embarrassment if we have to get married again! And I mean, after the reception. It doesn't bear thinking about." I began pacing again, my mind filled with images of people laughing their heads off at us. I stopped then, and whirled around. "Does Hazel Marie know about this?"

"No'm, she don't know nothin'. Miz Conover, she say she don't trust nobody but me, an' the more that knows a secret, the less likely it stay a secret."

"She should know. She's never kept a secret in her life."

"What you gonna do, now you in this mess?"

"I'll tell you what I'm not going to do. I'm not going to be an unmarried guest of honor at a reception to honor my wedding. Let me think, Lillian. We've got to stop this in its tracks. When is this thing supposed to be?"

"Next Sat'dy night. She say she not gonna invite you too early, 'cause you might figure it out. But everybody else gonna get they invites."

"Well, she'll just have to uninvite them. Help me think, Lillian. We've got to do something."

"You an' Mr. Sam could go outta town."

"That's good. Yes, we could go out of town. Oh. No, we couldn't, not with all that construction going on, and the Pruitts needing an eye on them all the time. And Hazel Marie wanting me to help the contestants with their verbal presentations, though I'm going to put that off on Miss Wiggins. Think of something else, Lillian."

"You could get sick, maybe."

"That's a possibility, because I almost already am. My stomach is churning at the very thought."

"Maybe Mr. Sam get sick. If he have to take to his bed, Miz Conover can't celebrate no weddin' with jus' half of you."

"That's it, Lillian!" I cried, my face lighting up. "We can put it all on Sam. That way, I can help Hazel Marie and keep an eye on the carpenters, but be unable to accept LuAnne's invitation because of Sam. Oh, what a relief!"

"How you gonna get Mr. Sam to take sick on us? I think he be glad to celebrate yo' weddin', since he pretty sure y'all already married."

"You're right. I'll have to fix it so he'll be the one who can't go."

Lillian stood up, put her hands on her hips, and glared at me. "Don't tell me you gonna make Mr. Sam sick. That's no way to do, Miss Julia, an' nothin' gonna come outta my kitchen what make him th'ow up."

"No, no, Lillian. What do you think I am? I wouldn't do that to him. No, what I'm going to do is this." And I told her how I would make it impossible for LuAnne to hold a wedding reception for what looked to've been a nonwedding. "All I have to do is get him out of town."

And for that purpose, I took myself off to Sam's house, with Lillian calling after me to wait, since he'd be home for lunch any minute. But so would Hazel Marie, and the Pruitts would be marching through the kitchen, and there was no way that lunchtime would be conducive to handling a delicate negotiation like I had in mind.

Interrupting what I hoped was Sam's pursuit of a certain renegade preacher, I rapped on the screen door, then let myself into the front hall.

"Sam?"

"Come in, Julia," he said, standing to greet me. "Come on over here and give me a kiss."

"Kissing is not on my mind. But since it's on yours, I've come up with something that'll make it and everything else possible in the very near future."

"I'm all for it, whatever it is." Sam took my arm and led me to the leather sofa. We sat down together, he turned toward me, and I sitting precisely two feet away. I didn't want to risk inflaming him, since he stayed so close to the combustion point anyway.

"Well, Sam," I began, "I'm not happy with the way things are."

"I'm not, either." He ran his hand up and down my arm.

"I know you're not, and I appreciate your gentlemanly conduct in the face of it."

"I'm a gentleman only because you won't let me be anything else." His other arm slipped around my shoulders.

"Well," I said, looking down as the warm smell of him wafted over me. "Well, what I want to say is that I know you've got Binkie looking into it, and I know you've made a lot of phone calls, but I think we need to speed things up considerably."

"I certainly agree. And I may have something up my sleeve that'll do just that." By this time his head was next to mine, and I was only half listening.

But I managed to get said what I'd come there to say. "I think you should go to Tennessee and stay there until you get it settled."

He straightened up. "Exactly what I've been thinking."

"Now, I know Binkie's doing the best she can, but there's nothing like pursuing it in person. Just go on over there and look every official in the eye. Then you can track down that preacher and find out what we need to know. I think you ought to stay until there's absolutely no question, one way or another. Then we can do what needs to be done-or if nothing needs to be done, why, then, we can resume what we started out doing."

"I'm all for that, and the sooner I go, the sooner I'll be back. I'm thinking of leaving right away."

"Well, my goodness," I said, taken aback by his eagerness. "You don't have to be in that big of a hurry. I mean, I want you to get it done, but shouldn't you pave the way with some phone calls, and talk to Binkie again? I think you could leave any time next week, and plan to stay over the weekend at least. That would give you plenty of time."

Sam looked at me, a smile playing around his mouth. "What are you not telling me?"

See how well he knows me? I declare, I can't put anything over on him.

I heaved a big sigh and told him. "It's LuAnne. She's planning a big reception for us at the country club next Saturday night, and they're going to toast us and wish us a happy married life. And, Sam," I said, putting my hand on his chest, "I just can't bear to let that happen, in case we have to get married again. Everybody'll think it's the funniest thing they've ever heard. The only way to stop what's supposed to be a surprise-only Lillian told me about it, thank goodness-is for one of us to be sick or gone, and it can't be me, because Hazel Marie's busy with those beauty contestants and the house is torn up with closet construction. So it has to be you, and we can't have you getting sick, and, besides, Lillian'll be watching every bite you take. So the thing to do is have you gone, and LuAnne'll have to call the whole thing off."

"Julia," Sam said, shaking his head and looking at me with those smiling blue eyes. "I'd ask you to marry me, if we weren't already married. Which I'm convinced we are. Wait, now, I know you're not sure. But, honey, I just admire the way your mind works."

"It happens to be working overtime, right now. And don't change the subject. You have to be gone, so LuAnne can't have a party for us. And we can't let on that we know anything about it."

"She'll just reschedule for another time," Sam said, trying not to laugh. "Will I have to be gone then, too?"

"Not if you do what you're supposed to do. And when you get back, we'll know we're either already married or we'd better get that way fast. Then we can attend her party with a clear conscience. And keep in mind that there's a place for you downstairs."

"I'm halfway to Tennessee already, and I'll stay gone long enough to miss the party, if that's what you want. As it happens, I've got a little something in the works that might move faster if I'm there to push it along. In some of those phone calls you've taken me to task for, I've managed to get through to one of Sonny Sutton's people and-"

"Sonny Sutton! You actually talked to him?" I didn't know one country-western singer from another, but a star is a star.

"No, not yet. But he may want to talk to me. Seems he's not happy with his lawyer, and he thinks I might be more helpful. Since we're in the same boat, so to speak."

"That's all well and good, Sam, but we don't want the kind of publicity he's been getting. You stay out of camera range, if you get anywhere near him. Besides, I don't see what he can do that you can't do better yourself."

"Well, it may not amount to anything. But with all the people he has out looking for that preacher, he has a better chance of finding him than I do." Then he stopped to think something over. "Lloyd's out of school in a couple of days, isn't he? Think he'd like to go with me?"

"I'm sure he would. And with his mother so busy, it'd be a real treat for him." Then I stopped, wondering if the idea was all that wonderful. "But, Sam, you'll have to be careful and not let him know what you're up to. I don't want to confuse the child about married life any more than he already is. Would you believe he asked me why we're not sleeping in the same room?"

Sam smiled. "What'd you tell him?"

"I didn't tell him anything. We were interrupted by the Pruitts coming in to work. So, see, the sooner this matter's resolved, the fewer questions we'll have to answer."

Chapter 18.

It took all the inner strength I could muster to walk into church Sunday morning, knowing what I now knew. The four of us took our places in our regular pew. Hazel Marie and Little Lloyd slid in first, and I followed with Sam behind me. He was unaccustomed to sitting on our side of the center aisle, but he was proving pleasingly adaptable to the changes I was bringing to his life.

In those few weeks between our return from the wedding and before I learned of its doubtful legitimacy, I had taken great satisfaction in proceeding down the aisle on Sam's arm-man and wife, for all to see. So, on this Sunday, there was nothing to do but keep up the pretense in order to keep down the scandal. But I could pretend with the best of them, so I held my head high and smiled graciously at the two or three widow ladies who would've given their eyeteeth to be in my place.

Oh, but if they only knew.

I settled back in the pew, content to be close to Sam without having to worry about any untoward activity from him. As amorous as he was proving to be, even he wouldn't go beyond the bounds of decency in the sanctuary.

As I glanced through the bulletin to see Pastor Ledbetter's sermon topic, Hazel Marie reached across Little Lloyd to get my attention.

"LuAnne's waving at you," she whispered.

I looked across the aisle where LuAnne and Leonard Conover were sitting close to the front. She was indeed waving, her fingers wiggling over her shoulder and a gleeful expression on her face. She was mouthing something I couldn't make out, and if I hadn't known what she had up her sleeve, I'd have figured right then and there that she was about to rope me into something. I smiled at her, then studiously avoided her eyes, putting my mind firmly on the business at hand, which was the worship service. LuAnne was customarily sedate and composed in church. She took the service seriously, and I'd never known her to offer a word of criticism toward the pastor or his sermons. Something I couldn't say for myself, but then, I take pride in my ability to think. And Pastor Ledbetter knew it well. He knew I'd take him to task if he strayed into politics, like the time he dared tell us that he'd had word from the Lord on who we were to vote for. And the time he preached on certain domestic matters, when he told us that the Lord didn't want women in the workforce. What did the pastor think washing and ironing and cooking and cleaning and the myriad other housewifery duties constituted, if not work?

But would LuAnne openly disagree with him? No, she would not. Mainly because whatever he said went in one ear and out the other, never lingering long enough to give her any distress.

I glanced again at the bulletin and nearly passed out. The sermon text was from the Gospel of John, and the sermon topic was "A Wedding Celebration." The pastor prided himself on giving sermons that were relevant to current events without straying from the teachings of Scripture. And, indeed, he had an uncanny and often far-stretched ability to make Scripture fit whatever he had on his mind-which, this morning, seemed to be awfully close to what was on LuAnne's mind, and on mine.

I poked Sam and pointed to the printed topic, but he just nodded and smiled.

I struggled to my feet as the congregation rose when the choir started down the aisle, singing the processional. We joined our hesitant voices with their loud and tuneful ones. I normally enjoyed holding a hymnal with Sam while his warm baritone drowned out my quavering soprano, but that morning I could hardly mouth the words.

Trying to put the best face possible on what I was in for, I draped my arm across Little Lloyd's shoulders. For the moment at least, I had the two most important men in my life on either side. It crossed my mind that if Mr. Pickens would only soften his hard heart enough to darken the door of the church and take his place beside Hazel Marie, I'd have all my chickens under my wing. And while that unlikely occurrence ran through my mind, I dared to fantasize that Pastor Ledbetter would accept a call to another church. When you're dreaming of an ideal world, you might as well include everything.

After the usual presermon activities, Pastor Ledbetter assumed his position behind the podium. He made a remarkably authoritarian figure in his black robe with velvet inserts. A large man, anyway, with a voice amplified by a lapel microphone, he was a commanding presence in the pulpit.

To open his sermon, he read several verses concerning a certain wedding that took place in a town called Cana. I pulled a Bible from the rack on the back of the pew in front of us, and followed along as he read. We Presbyterians believe in making sure that we're getting a correct reading. Baptists do the same, only worse.

Then, with all the power vested in him, the pastor began his verse-by-verse explication.