Hazel Marie helped by bringing up the pageant again, which was about all that was on her mind. As Lillian was getting ready to leave for home, Hazel Marie stopped her and said, "Lillian, we're thinking of asking Latisha to do a number in the pageant. Do you think she would?"

"Do what kinda number?" Lillian had just hung her apron in the pantry and was on her way out the door with an umbrella and a Winn-Dixie sack of leftovers.

"Oh, you know, a song or something. Mr. Sam says she can really sing."

"She think she can," Lillian said, smoothing the folds of her umbrella. "But I don't know, Miss Hazel Marie. Latisha, she got a mind of her own. No tellin' what she do, you put her out on a stage. That nice Miss Brickell what live next to our church, she been teachin' her some dancin' steps. An' all that chile been doin' is struttin' all over the house, sayin' she gonna be like Fantasia when she grow up."

"Who's Fantasia?" I asked.

Hazel Marie waved her hand. "Oh, you know, she won that show. Now, listen, Lillian. Would you ask her? See if she'd like to do it and not get too scared or anything."

Little Lloyd laughed. "You don't know Latisha, Mama, if you think she'd be scared. She'll do it. I know she will."

"Latisha never been scared of a thing in her life, but I ask her if that what you want." Lillian turned to face Hazel Marie. "I tell you somethin', though. You got to watch that chile like a hawk. No tellin' what she do, you give her a free hand."

"Well, why don't you bring her tomorrow? She can rehearse with us, and I'll see how she does."

"Uh-huh, I bring her, but you gonna have yo' hands full."

After Lillian left, Hazel Marie said, "I'm not sure Lillian was too thrilled about Latisha being on the program. I wouldn't want to do something she didn't like."

"She'd tell you if she didn't like it," I said, as sure of Lillian's responses as I was of my own. "It's just that the responsibility of that child weighs heavily on her, and she doesn't want her to disappoint you."

Sam put in his two cents then. "Latisha'll do fine, but I, for one, have had enough of the pageant for today. Hazel Marie, you'll have to excuse us, but Julia and I have some serious talking to do. Julia, upstairs, woman. I've got business with you, and I'm not going to be put off any longer."

"Uh-oh," Little Lloyd said, grinning at me. "You're in trouble now."

"Come on, Lloyd," Hazel Marie said, slapping her notes and lists down on the sideboard. "I've had enough pageant business today, too. Let's go in the living room and get comfortable. I haven't had a minute with you, and I want to hear all about your trip."

She put her arm around the boy as they started out of the kitchen. "I want you to start right from the minute you left town, and don't leave out a thing."

Sam looked at me and pointed to the back stairs. "Up there, where it's quiet."

I preceded him up the narrow stairs, dreading every step I made toward this momentous talk he was determined to have. I had never in my life understood women who tried to hold on to men who didn't want to be held. My attitude had always been: If he wants to go, then good-bye and good riddance. What kind of woman would want someone who didn't want her, anyway?

As I reached the top of the stairs, I realized to my dismay that I was that kind of woman. The thought of losing Sam made me weak in the knees, and it was all I could do to trudge down the hall to Deputy Bates's old room that was supposed to be Sam's new one.

The minute I walked in, I could tell that he'd not brought his suitcase from his house. The room was just as neat as the day he'd left on his trip. So there was another bleak sign that he was planning to leave my hearth and home.

"Come sit down, Julia," Sam said, taking his seat on the sofa under the windows that looked out over the back garden. "Let me tell you what I found out. Or, rather, what I didn't find out."

Suffering hot and cold flashes of panic, I made myself sit at one end of the sofa, trying not to break down in front of him. My hands were knotted in my lap, and I could hear my heart thudding in my breast.

Sam leaned over, an elbow on his knee with his chin in his hand, studying me intently. "First of all, Kincaid's gone and nobody knows where he is. We got at least one report that he's up in the hills of Kentucky, but it would be a fool's errand to look for him there." Sam stopped and rubbed his fingers across his mouth in a few seconds of silent contemplation. Maybe he was waiting for me to say something, but my throat was too dry to swallow, much less talk.

"But I'll tell you this, Julia, the Wedding Ring Chapel is even more upset than we are. They're having to track down all the couples that were married by him and break the news. Their business license is on the line, too."

"And well it should be," I mumbled, looking straight ahead, unable to bend for fear I would break in two.

"Yes, well, they're doing all they can to make amends. They've offered us a free deluxe wedding and another Dollywood honeymoon, including the special bridal suite, all on them." Sam glanced at me, but if he expected me to jump for joy at giving the chapel another chance to ruin my life, he was disappointed. "Somehow, I didn't think you'd be interested. Anyway, the town's Better Business Bureau is looking into the matter, as well." Sam sighed, then went on. "Of course, that doesn't help us, does it?"

"I guess not." I did a little sighing myself.

"And that church of Kincaid's-Sonny's investigators found out that it was only one unaffiliated congregation. It broke up several years ago, long before he showed up in Pigeon Forge." He put his hand on mine, but I still couldn't look at him. "The fact of the matter is, Julia, he was a self-proclaimed preacher, called, it seems, by the Holy Spirit, but who failed to notify the state of that calling." Sam took a deep breath of his own. "We might as well have been married by a stranger off the street, and I am just as sorry as I can be that it's turned out this way.

"Sonny's just as broken up over this as we are, and he's had to put up with it being spread all over the airwaves and in the newspapers. He's trying to make the best of it, but his lady friend's giving him a hard time-accusing him of tricking her into a sham marriage." Sam shook his head. "I feel sorry for him. He's just a country boy with more money and fame than he knows what to do with."

I couldn't muster up much sympathy for Sonny Sutton. If it hadn't been for his celebrity status, we wouldn't be facing a scandal of national proportions.

"Anyway," Sam went on, "I've hooked him up with Pickens, since there've been reports of Kincaid here in North Carolina, as well as in Tennessee and Kentucky. I swear," Sam said with some amusement, "the man's like Elvis-there've been sightings all over the place."

So I sat there, letting the silence lengthen as one thought after another ran through my head. What should I do? I could tell Sam what I knew, and watch him walk away, free as a bird to find another nest. Or I could let him go on thinking that we might be married, because as long as there was any question he'd act like we were married.

My mind cleared, as I deliberately put aside any qualms concerning proper conduct and moral rectitude. And honesty. I lifted my head and squared my shoulders. "Who knows about this?"

"Why, just you and me. And, of course, a lot of people in Tennessee and wherever there're people in the same boat we are. Why?"

"It's like you said at first, Sam. What people don't know won't hurt them."

He smiled. "I'm not sure I said that, but okay. What do you have in mind?"

"I have in mind keeping this to ourselves. As far as I'm concerned, we are married. And I know you've said that. Besides, after seven years, if we live that long, it won't matter one way or the other."

I thought he was going to laugh, but one hot stare from me sobered him considerably. "You're willing to be my common-law wife? I find that hard to believe, Julia."

"Well, believe it. That seems the simplest way to go about handling this mess. I know it goes against everything I've ever thought and said and believed, but . . ." I shrugged my shoulders and looked down at my lap, finding myself in the same hypocritical situation as all those who talk the talk, but who quickly change the rules when their own ox is being gored. I didn't like it, but what are you supposed to do when you want something so bad that the thought of losing it rips out your very soul? Besides, it wouldn't be like proclaiming to the world that we were flouting the proprieties. Unlike so many couples who live flagrantly in sin, we'd keep it to ourselves, and nobody'd ever know-if I could keep Aaron Kincaid quiet.

I said some of that to Sam, and watched as he slowly shook his head. "No, Julia, we're going to do this right, if we're going to do it."

If, he said if. I groaned inside, knowing that he was telling me he'd not only had second thoughts, but probably third and fourth ones, as well. And there was Etta Mae Wiggins, young and nubile, waiting in the wings to snatch him up.

Well, she wasn't going to get him. No, not as long as I had breath in my body to plead, beg, wheedle, and pile on the guilt. And I wasn't above doing it, either, although I never in my life thought I'd lower myself to cling to any man. But if it took courting him to keep him, I was going to learn to court with the best of them.

"Sam," I whispered, moving closer and molding myself to him. I wrapped my arms around him. "I want you to move downstairs with me."

"Well, Julia, my goodness," he said, surprised by my unexpected forwardness. "You're about to take my breath away."

"That's what you do to me," I said. "It's about time I did it to you."

We didn't take the trouble to speak again for a good long while, but then he put his hands on my arms and pulled them away. "No, this is not the way," Sam said. "Not that I don't want to take you up on it, but, Julia, I know you. It wouldn't be long before you'd be feeling guilty and ashamed. And then you'd start having regrets. No, no. Wait, now." He put his fingers on my mouth as I opened it to refute him. "It'd be only natural to be unhappy about living a lie. Of course, it wouldn't necessarily bother me, but I know it would you." Then his mouth curled up into a smile. "Besides, I'm afraid you wouldn't respect me in the morning."

"Oh, I would. I would."

Then, realizing that he was not only refusing my advances, but resorting to humor to do it, I unhanded myself from him and leaned back on the sofa, completely undone.

"Well, then," I said, feeling the tears spring up with the knowledge that he had rejected my most generously offered gift. "Well, then," I said again. "I guess that's it."

"Wait, now. Let's don't rush into anything. We need to think this through, because there's no real hurry. We may still find out that Kincaid is as qualified to marry people as Ledbetter himself. So, let's take a little time and give it some hard thought."

Oh, Lord, he wanted to think about it, and with that knife thrust to my heart, I knew I was on my own. If that wasn't a sign, I didn't know one when I saw it. Then I had a sudden, wrenching thought. Since we Presbyterians believe in predestination, what if all these signs meant that Sam and I had acted against what had been foreordained?

That sobered me considerably, but, I reminded myself, there was still the matter of free will. So, until I had irrefutable evidence to the contrary, I determined to exercise mine to the fullest extent.

"Well, then," I said again. "Will you do one little thing for me? Maybe two? While we're thinking it over, will you come back here? Just stay in the house until we decide?"

Pitiful, was what it was, and I never thought I'd see the day I'd beg a man to stay. But I didn't want to put up with the tongues, like Thurlow's, that would wag if he up and left me flat. Appearances matter, even if they hide a multitude of deceptions.

Sam put his arm around me. "Of course, I will, Julia, if that's what you want. What's number two?"

"Ashley Knowles. I want her to win that contest, Sam. She deserves to win. Not on looks, I admit, but on talent. I would be so grateful if you'd help her out."

He looked at me quizzically. "You want me to throw my vote?"

"Well, not exactly. Just be, well, more inclined toward her than the others. I know you're fair and honest, but sometimes it doesn't hurt to be swayed a little. It's truly in a good cause."

"I don't doubt it," he said, laughing. "Any time you're involved in a good cause, I can be pretty sure there's something else going on underneath. But you know I'll give her every consideration."

"That's all I ask." It wasn't, of course, but it was a start.

Chapter 37.

I slept, or tried to sleep, downstairs alone that night, comforting myself that at least Sam was under the same roof, if not under the same covers. How long that would last, I didn't know. Any day he could decide that he'd had enough of thinking it over, and say he was sorry for the inconvenience, but marriage to me was not all it was cracked up to be.

Then after that miserable night, I had to get up and face Hazel Marie's bubbling excitement about the beauty pageant that was practically upon us.

Lillian, I thought. I'll lay it all out for Lillian, and she'll have pity on me.

As I approached the kitchen that morning, I knew I'd have to continue to bear my sorrow alone. Latisha's piercing voice reached my hearing before I got through the dining room and pushed open the kitchen door.

"Great-Granny," she was saying, as I walked in, "I'm ready for that beauty contest anytime anybody else is. And I wish they'd hurry up. I ain't got all day to be waitin' around."

"Chile," Lillian said, "nobody worriet 'bout how long you waitin' around. Miss Hazel Marie be here soon as she get herself ready, so you jus' be patient an' mind yo' manners."

"Good morning, Latisha," I said, crossing the kitchen to get to the coffeepot. "My, you look nice this morning."

Latisha looked down at her white T-shirt, light blue shorts, and red tennie-pumps. Her head, with its braids and red beads, bobbed up after the survey. Then she said, "I know I do, but I'd look a whole lot nicer if Great-Granny'd let me wear my new Sunday school dress like I wanted to."

Lillian shook her head at the child. "You jus' gonna be practicin' today, an' I done tole you, you don't need to dress up for that. So, don't go on and on about it."

"Oh, yes," I said, pouring a lifesaving cup of coffee. "I hear you're going to be in the pageant."

"Yes, ma'am, I is. An' I'm plannin' on bein' the star of the show, 'cause that's what Miss Brickell tole me. She been teaching me how to dance, an' I'm real good at it."

Lillian turned bacon strips, and said, "An' I tole you they don't want you to do no dancin'. You s'posed to sing, an' not do nothin' else. Now, set yo'self down, 'cause these eggs be ready in a minute. Miss Julia, you mind she eat with you, if you can stand all that talkin'?"

"Of course, we'll eat together. Have a seat, Latisha, and keep me company."

"Yes, ma'am, but I'm not much comp'ny when I'm eatin'. Great-Granny won't let me talk when I get my mouth full."

"And she's right, too. Here, have a biscuit. Your great-granny makes the best in the world."

"I know she do. I eat 'em most every day. But when's that Miss Hazel Marie comin'? I need to get started on my beauty contest song, see which one she wants me to sing. I know about two hundred of 'em, an' pickin' the right one's gonna be a hellava job for somebody."

"Latisha!" Lillian nearly dropped a bowl of scrambled eggs. "You better watch what you say, little girl. You not too big for a whippin', an' that kinda talk gonna get you one."

The threat didn't turn a hair on Latisha's head. She buttered her biscuit and bit into it, as unconcerned as she could be. I hid a smile, as I busied myself with helping my plate and hers. Maybe Latisha had the right idea. Nothing ever seemed to bother her, for she had the greatest confidence in herself and what she could do. Threats, reprimands, and scoldings just rolled off her back, as she pursued her own aims with a single-minded persistence that I could only envy.

Well, and perhaps emulate, I thought. Latisha was never discouraged, never sidetracked by anybody telling her she couldn't have what she wanted. She just kept on and on, until everybody threw up their hands and gave in to her.

That's what I could do. I would wear Sam down the same way, although I'd do it with a little more finesse and tact. No demands, no pleading, just sweetness and light and pleasant persistence until he couldn't help but capitulate.

"Lillian," I ventured in a quiet voice, as if my question were of no great import, "has Sam come down yet?"

"Yessum, him an' Little Lloyd, they get up early an' taken a walk. He say he need to clear his head, but they oughtta be back pretty soon."

Before I could begin to fret over what Sam was clearing his head of, I heard Hazel Marie clattering down the stairs in those shoes-mules, she called them-that flopped on her heels as bad as Lillian's. Except Lillian wore hers down over time, and Hazel Marie bought hers that way.

She bounded into the kitchen, looking fresh and bright in a sleeveless yellow-and-white top over a pair of yellow trousers. Her hair was pulled back in a fat ponytail, and her eyes were sparkling with excitement, ready for another round of rehearsals.

She stopped short when she saw Latisha. "Why, there's my little star attraction. Are you all set to rehearse, Latisha?"

"I been ready, an' . . . Oh, looka there." Latisha leaned over the table and pointed out the window. "There's that big ole white-headed man headed this way. An' he got that Lloyd boy comin' in with him. I better let 'em in."

She scrambled off her chair and opened the back door as Sam and Little Lloyd returned from their walk. There was a flurry of greetings among the three of them, with Lillian telling Latisha to finish her breakfast, and me leaving my own to fix a plate for Sam.

"Lillian," I said, edging up to the stove, "Sam needs some warm eggs. Where's a pan I can use?"

"What you mean, where's a pan you can use? I don't need nobody helpin' me cook, an' you can't cook no how."

"Well, but I want to fix Sam's breakfast. That's what a wife does, you know."

"Not in this house, she don't. You go sit down an' do yo' own eatin'. 'Sides, you in my way." She shooed me away from the stove, and, knowing she was right, I retreated to the table. I heard her mumbling as I conceded the kitchen to her. "First James, now somebody else, wantin' to take my place. I 'bout had enough of it."

I slunk back to the table, realizing that I'd come close to hurting her feelings. That had certainly not been my intention, so I busied myself with pouring orange juice for Little Lloyd and coffee for Sam.

I stood beside Sam, letting one hand rest on his shoulder, while I straightened his silverware. I opened his napkin and spread it over his lap. He smiled up at me, while I added cream to his coffee. "That's the way you like it, isn't it?" I asked, giving him a warm smile in return.

"Perfect. How are you this morning, Julia?"

"I'm fine. A little tired, but these are busy days. Did you two have a nice walk?" I let my hand slide across his shoulders as I passed behind him to get to my chair. Then I scooted the chair a little closer so that our knees could touch under the table.