LuAnne's eyes began to smoulder as she squinched them at me. "Who ever heard of anybody retiring to Tennessee? I have a feeling I'm missing something here."

She hefted herself to her feet and loomed over me. "And you know what I think it is? I think you're so stuck up that you don't want to be seen with me and Leonard, or any of your friends. You're so proud of yourself for finally catching Sam that you think you're too good for us."

"LuAnne!" I scrambled off the sofa and did a little looming of my own. "I'll have you know I am not stuck up! And as far as catching Sam, why, he's the one who did the chasing. And the catching. And it took him a number of years to do it, too!"

"All right, then answer me this. Why haven't you had a reception for your friends to celebrate your wedding? Even Pastor Ledbetter's noticed that failing, and you know it's the decent thing to do, after running off who knows where to get married. And, furthermore, where're the wedding announcements? They should've been in the mail as soon as you got back from that tacky honeymoon at Dollywood. And no thanks to you for that announcement in the newspaper. I happen to know that the community news editor had to call you to confirm it." She paused to get a breath, then lit into me again. "You've not done one thing, Julia, and it's either because you're too stiff-necked to care about the proprieties, which is totally unlike you, or you're ashamed of yourself or of Sam or of something."

I drew myself up. "I am not ashamed of anything, and certainly not of Sam."

"Well, that's the way you're acting. You've completely cut yourself off from your friends, and the only time you and Sam are ever seen together is in church. And you're out of there before the last amen is sung. I'll tell you, there's something real fishy about your behavior, and if I didn't know you better, I'd think you were trying to hide something really bad."

"Why, LuAnne," I gasped, trying to laugh as I clutched the back of my Victorian chair. "What a thing to say! Have you ever, ever known me to go beyond the bounds of decency and proper conduct?"

LuAnne narrowed her eyes and studied me with an intensity that I could barely tolerate. I dropped my eyes. "Come to think of it," she said, "I have."

My mind was going a hundred miles an hour, trying to think of a rebuttal. "Well," I stammered, "not in matters of morality, you haven't."

"There's always a first time. And you're certainly acting like something's wrong. In fact, you haven't been married a solid month and here Sam has taken off to do interviews? Don't make me laugh, Julia. Newlyweds don't separate like that."

She stopped, her eyes got wider, and her mouth dropped open. "Is that it?" she whispered. "Have y'all separated already?"

"No!"

"It's all right, Julia," she said, immediately sympathetic. "You can confide in me. I won't tell anybody. Being married is a hard row to hoe, and I ought to know if anybody does."

Lord, yes, being married to Leonard Conover would be a burden to anybody. But I said, with a barely suppressed sigh of exasperation, "LuAnne, let me say this so you won't misunderstand. Sam didn't leave because of a disagreement or any other reason, except for some work he has to do. And it's perfectly all right with me for him to be away for a few days. We don't have to be constantly underfoot to have a good marriage. In fact, I think a little breathing room now and then is not at all a bad thing." I had to hold myself together while I said it, for LuAnne was right. A new husband leaving his bride so soon after getting her didn't exactly indicate a state of conjugal bliss. But I'd about had my fill of being separated in ways she knew not of, and hoped with all my heart that Sam would return with proof of our right to be one flesh again.

"That may be," she said. "But you haven't been married long enough to need any breathing room. So, call him and tell him to get back here by Saturday. I want to do something special for you, Julia. And I want the whole town to know that Leonard and I are happy that you and Sam are finally married. Everybody goes to the club on Saturday night, and they'll see you there. It's a good way to announce your new status as a couple. Even though you ought to make a formal announcement, and you know it. So get Sam back here."

I knew she was struggling to keep her plans for a formal reception secret, as she tried to talk me into accepting a dinner invitation. I sympathized with her, for I'd been in similar situations, of saying one thing while hiding another, too many times before.

"I can't, LuAnne," I said, searching as hard as I could to find a reasonable excuse. "I'm not even sure where he'll be. He's got Little Lloyd with him, and they may stop off to see the sights."

"The sights! What's more important, the sights or my party!? I mean, my dinner invitation? I tell you, Julia, this is more than I can take, even from you, who's never been known to honor anybody's wishes but your own!"

"I resent that, LuAnne. You know I do for others all the time. How could you say such a thing?"

"Easy! I just said it, and I'm leaving." She stomped to the door and flung it open. "Now I've got to go home and make ten dozen phone calls, canceling all my plans. Because, and I might as well tell you since it's all off, but everybody who is anybody has been invited. And now they have to be uninvited. And all because of you, Julia Springer!"

As she glared at me, waiting for a response, I stood riveted to the floor. Julia Springer, she'd called me.

But she wasn't through. "You know what I think, Julia? I think you're doing exactly what you've criticized other people for doing. For all I know, you're just living together, because you want Sam, but you don't want him to get his hands on Wesley Lloyd's estate. You just want to have your cake and eat it, too. That's what I think!"

The windows rattled when she slammed the door.

I couldn't move, just stood there listening to her stomp off the porch. Before I could get my breath good, though, she retraced her steps and flung the door open again. She walked right up to me.

"Tell me one thing, Julia, and I'll leave you alone. Just where did you and Sam get married?"

"We, uh, well, we eloped."

"I know that, but where did you elope to?"

I tried, but I couldn't get a word out of my mouth. And she bored in like a prosecutor. "You had your honeymoon at Dollywood, didn't you? You didn't make a secret of that, because Hazel Marie and Lillian and everybody went, too. So, is that where you got married? Is it? And did you get married where Sonny Sutton did? Because if you did, I don't see either you or Sam moving into a hotel room, which is what Sonny had the moral fiber to do. And I guess that goes to show, doesn't it?"

She turned on her heel and flew out the door again, slamming it so hard I hoped the hinges would hold. I was so stunned at her lucky guess that I stood trembling in the wake of her passage.

LuAnne didn't know, I reminded myself. She was only reaching for anything to get back at me for spoiling her party plans. Even though I'd never been a Methodist, I took her stab in the dark as one more sign that I'd started on a backslide somewhere.

Chapter 21.

Another loud crash from upstairs shook me out of my shocked state, as the Pruitts, uncle and nephew, wreaked closet-building havoc. I had half a mind to go up there and give them their walking papers, but once a crew of carpenters starts a job in your house you're pretty much stuck with them until they're through. And the job always takes longer and is more complicated than they let on before they start.

I gathered myself and sighed in resignation, acknowledging with a sinking heart that I had to put up with them for the duration, as well as with the possibility that LuAnne would share her suspicions on the state of my marriage with everybody she met. All I could hope for was that people would laugh her off. With my reputation, surely no one would believe her, since LuAnne was known for exaggerating everything she passed on. Most people didn't give her stories the time of day.

Of course that didn't prevent them from being passed on to somebody else.

"Lillian," I said, heading for the one person I always turned to in time of trouble. I pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen, just so tired of putting up a good front, only to have it so easily penetrated by LuAnne's wild speculations. "Lillian, I think it's all falling apart."

"Yessum, it sound like it. Them mens be comin' through the ceiling, next thing you know."

"That's not it." I fell into a chair at the kitchen table and covered my face with my hands.

Lillian immediately walked over and stared down at me. "What's the matter with you?"

"I'm sick, Lillian. Just sick. I try my best to do the right thing, and whichever way I turn, it turns out to be wrong."

"What you talkin' 'bout? You need a dose of something? Or you jus' missin' Mr. Sam an' Little Lloyd?"

I nodded my head, then shook it. "No, I mean, yes. Of course I am. But that's not the main thing. It's LuAnne Conover." I uncovered my face and looked up at her. "She guessed, Lillian! She guessed we're not married, just like Sonny Sutton's not, and she knows Sam is living here!"

"Oh, Jesus!" Lillian's hands went up in the air; then she leaned over the table. "I don't know no Sonny Sutton. Who you talkin' about?"

"He's a country singer or something. And he didn't get married the same way we didn't, and it's in all the papers and magazines. And LuAnne put two and two together."

"Well, I 'spect you didn't 'firm it up for her."

"Didn't what? Oh, no, I didn't confirm it. I was too shocked to say anything. And she didn't give me a chance. She flung it at me, said, from the way I'm acting, she thinks we're not married. Then she left. Slammed the door, too."

"She don't know nothin', Miss Julia. She jus' tryin' to get yo' goat for upsettin' her party plans, jus' th'owin' out anything she think of."

"I know, but she was so mad. There's no telling what she'll do, who she'll tell it to, and you know what gossip is like. She may say, I think,' but the next person'll tell it like it's the gospel truth."

"Maybe when Mr. Sam call, you tell him to come on back home. That put a stop to it."

"I can't, Lillian," I wailed. "Not until he finds out for sure. If he comes straight back, why, we'll still be up in the air, and we'll have to go to that reception and have everybody congratulate us on something that may not even be."

"Yessum, you pretty much up against it, any which way you do. But Miz Conover, she won't go talkin' 'bout something she jus' think. When she get through callin' all them guests, sayin' they won't be no party, she be over her mad, an' she be over here 'pologizin' to you."

Hazel Marie came breezing through the swinging door, heading for the refrigerator. "Hey, everybody. Who's apologizing to who, and for what?" She stuck her head in the refrigerator and looked around. "Lillian, can I help fix lunch? I'm about to starve."

"You might as well come over here and listen to this," I told her. "Lunch is going to be delayed."

She straightened up and closed the refrigerator door. As she slid into a chair at the table, she gave me a searching look. "You look like you've lost your best friend."

So I went through it all again, and she was properly concerned about the threat that LuAnne posed to my carefully constructed marital arrangement and to my peace of mind.

"And, Hazel Marie," I said, "she is so taken with that singing sensation, that it didn't take her any time to jump from his predicament to ours."

Hazel Marie bit her lip, then put her hand on my arm. "You've just got to be above it all, if she does talk about it. Besides, not even LuAnne would spread such a thing with no proof whatsoever."

"But you know," I said, "when she calls people to cancel the party, she's going to say how upset she is, and go into a lot of detail about how I've spoiled everything. She'll never admit that it's her fault for not making sure the guests of honor could be there. She's brought it all on herself, but a lot of good that does me."

"Everybody loves LuAnne," Hazel Marie said, "but everybody knows how she is, too. They're not going to pay any attention to what she says."

"Well, but," I said, "it's a fact that I haven't formally announced our marriage, and I haven't had a reception, and Sam and I've kept pretty much to ourselves. And now that Sam's gone off, that doesn't look good, either. She even jumped to the conclusion that we'd separated, of all things. When people think of everything I've done, or not done, it'll just add fuel to the fire."

"Law," Lillian said, "it do look bad, don't it?"

"You need to eat something," Hazel Marie said, recommending Lillian's cure for every ailment. "Let's have lunch, and you'll feel better. And Etta Mae and the contestants're coming over to talk about the talent category. I'm going to keep you so busy, you won't have time to think about anything else."

Hazel Marie was wrong. I had plenty of time to think about LuAnne's tendency to tell everything she knew and a lot of what she didn't. Yet the contestants did provide some distraction, for I was amazed at the confidence they displayed about their individual talents. Not a one exhibited any trepidation about being in the spotlight before an audience of hundreds, to say nothing of three judges.

"Let's go around the room," Hazel Marie said, as the girls took their places in my living room. "I want each of you to say what your talent is, and be specific. Don't just say you're going to sing. I need to know what you'll be singing and what kind of backup you'll need. Melanie, you go first."

Miss First Watch, Little Lloyd's early favorite, leaned forward eagerly. "Well, I've taken dance for twelve years, so I'm going to do an original interpretation of Johnny Cash's Ring of Fire.' I'll be using scarves and silver rings and things like that." She sat back and smiled confidently. "Oh, and I'll have my own CD, so all I'll need is a way to play it."

"Uh, okay," Hazel Marie said, but she didn't seem too impressed with Miss Easley's talent. "That's good. Shandra, what's your talent?"

YoShandra Washington said, "Baton twirling. I was the head majorette with the school band, and I've kept in practice. I've not decided on my music, but I'll bring my own CD, too. Maybe When the Saints Go Marching In,' or something like that."

Etta Mae Wiggins spoke up like she knew what was involved with baton twirling. "If she's going to use fire, Hazel Marie, we need to check with the fire marshal. We'll be in an auditorium, not on a football field."

"Oh, I'm going to use fire," Miss Washington said. "And there won't be a problem. I've done it before."

"Are you sure?" Hazel Marie was frowning even more.

"Sure, I'm sure. It might be dangerous for some people, but I know how to handle it."

Miss Easley spoke up again. "I may use fire, too, on my rings. All I need is a little more practice, and there won't be any danger."

You see what I mean by self-confidence? These girls had more than their share of it. If it'd been up to me, I'd have struck off baton twirling and ring dancing to begin with. I'd never looked on either as a talent. An ability, maybe, but not an inborn talent. But nobody was asking me, so I kept quiet.

"Ashley?" Hazel Marie looked over at the one whose stringy hair covered her face. "What's your talent, hon?"

"The guitar, I guess," she said, then ducked her head, letting her hair fall around her face. The girl was so shy, it was painful to watch her. "I guess I'll need a microphone."

"Oh, we'll have a microphone," Hazel Marie said, "so don't worry about that. Will you sing, too?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so."

"Okay, great." Hazel Marie made a note, then looked up. "Bethany, what about you?"

"I'm going to play the piano, so I'll need one on the stage, and of course a microphone next to it. My music teacher is helping me decide what piece to play, but it'll be something by Yanni. You know, a classical piece."

"Good, we're getting a good range of talent here." Hazel Marie turned to Miss Peavey. "Heather?"

Lieutenant Peavey's daughter sat with her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. "I guess I'll be singing. But I'd sure like my dad to do a duet with me. We're real good together."

Hazel Marie looked at Etta Mae. "We can't do that, can we?"

Miss Wiggins shook her head. "Sorry, but this has to be individual talent. Can you do a solo?"

Miss Peavey shrugged. "Sure. I'll probably do a Faith Hill number, or a Shania Twain. Something a little bit on the country side." Then she laughed. "Anyway, if we let my dad sing, he'd win the whole contest."

Well, hardly, but he'd certainly win the talent competition. Lieutenant Peavey had a beautifully clear tenor voice, and had proved it at Binkie and Coleman's wedding. If his daughter had anything close to his talent, she'd do all right.

Hazel Marie consulted her notes. "Tasha, what's your talent?"

"Well," she said with cool assurance, "I've had a hard time deciding. I could do a dance or a gymnastics routine or model some of my own fashion designs, but I'm going to do something that'll show two of my talents at the same time. I write poetry and I'm a good public speaker. So I'm going to do a recitation of a poem I've written. You see," she went on, "this is an opportunity for me to witness for Jesus, and that's what my poem is about. It's called The Wreck on Interstate 85,' and it's about what can happen on prom night. I'll do it with a lot emotion and graceful hand gestures, and the music I'll have in the background will make it heartrending."

Both Hazel Marie and Etta Mae were frowning by this time, but it was Etta Mae who said, "You sure you want to do that for a beauty pageant?"

Miss McKenzie drew herself up. "Why, I certainly am. We're supposed to witness wherever and whenever we can. But I guess if you haven't been saved, you wouldn't understand that."

That comment didn't go over so well with the other girls, and certainly not with Miss Wiggins.

"We're trying to help you here, Tasha," Miss Wiggins said as calmly as she could manage, but I noticed two bright spots of color in her cheeks. "For your own sake, I'd suggest you show another of your many talents. The judges may not like something that deliberately plays on the emotions."

Tasha McKenzie looked off at the ceiling and smiled. "We know we'll be persecuted for our beliefs."

I wanted to get up and shake the girl till her teeth rattled. But Miss Wiggins just glared at her; then she shrugged as a smile played around her mouth. "So be it then, if that's what you want."

Chapter 22.