LuAnne Conover came flying out of a shop in her usual hurry, digging deep in her pocketbook and hardly looking where she was going. She glanced to the side, saw me, and pulled up short.

"Julia! I didn't expect to see you. What're you doing downtown?"

"Errands, LuAnne. Just first thing and another. Besides, it's a nice morning for a walk. What brings you to town?"

"Well," she said, leaning in close and darting her eyes around, "don't tell anybody, but I just had my hair done in this new shop." She pointed at the door she'd just exited. "You like it?" Meaning her hair, which she patted with her hand.

"It looks very nice. But you know Velma's going to hear about it, sooner or later. Especially if you don't go back to her."

"I'll tell you the truth, Julia. I am tired of Velma's same-old, same-old. She never wants to do anything new, even when I go through magazines and show her the styles I want to try. She always says my hair won't work that way. Well, you never know until you try, do you? But she won't even do that. I think she doesn't know how, that's what I think."

"That may be so," I said, thinking to myself that I appreciated not being made a guinea pig for every new style that came along. I like to know what I'm getting when I put my head in somebody else's hands. "Well, I must be on my way, and I know you have things to do, too. Good to see you, LuAnne."

"Wait, Julia, don't go yet. I wanted to tell you what I just saw, speaking of magazines. See, I was under the dryer, and you know I don't buy these things, but that was all they had to read. So, I was just leafing through this Country Weekly, and guess what happened to Sonny Sutton!"

"Who?"

"Oh, you know." She flapped her hand at me. "He's the Singing Sensation from San Antone. That's in Texas, but he's everywhere now. Of course, I don't listen to country-western stations, but you can't help but read or see something about him in everything you pick up. In fact," she went on, getting a studious look on her face, "Leonard was watching the news not too long ago, and even Dan Rather mentioned him."

Since we were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, causing people to walk around us, I sidled closer to the building. LuAnne sidled right along with me.

"So," she continued, "when I saw his picture in Country Weekly, well, I had to read it. And he is really good-looking. I mean, in a rugged, outdoorsy kind of way, if you like that kind of thing. Black hat, he always wears that, with little silver things on the band, and a denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and this real big buckle on his belt. I think an old girlfriend gave him that, and he always wears it. In remembrance, you know. And real tight jeans." She stopped and giggled. "That may be why he sings so high."

"LuAnne!"

"Oh, I'm just teasing. Anyway, I've got to go. Good to see you, Julia."

"Wait a minute. Is that what you wanted to tell me? That you saw his picture in a magazine?"

"Oh, for goodness sakes, that's just like me to start something and not finish it. No, what I wanted to tell you is he and his new girlfriend got married a couple of weeks ago. They flew down to Pigeon Forge and had a quickie wedding in one of those chapels they have over there. You know, so they could have a private ceremony, away from their fans and all the reporters in Nashville. That's where he lives now. Anyway, all I could think of was that you could've had a double wedding, if you and Sam had run into him."

I didn't say a word, hoping she'd not pursue the subject. I'd kept my silence about the details of my and Sam's wedding, not wanting to advertise the unlikely setting. All anybody knew was that we'd left town and eloped, which had been enough to be the lead topic of any number of dinner party conversations. On the other hand, we'd made no secret of our Dollywood honeymoon, since it had turned into a family outing.

I started to move off down the sidewalk, and she edged along with me, taking up where she'd left off. "Anyway, the big story was not the wedding, but the breakup. Seems the preacher who did the ceremony wasn't ordained or something. I didn't understand it, but here the new couple has been living together and all, and I know these big celebrities do that all the time, but Sonny Sutton's a Christian man, and he didn't hesitate a minute-not wanting to besmirch his reputation and create any more of a scandal than he already had, you know. So he up and moved out on his wife, or whatever she was by that time, and went to a hotel until they get their legal status rectified. I feel so sorry for them. Just think of it-they went to all the trouble of getting married, only to find out they're not married. Can you believe that?"

Well, no, I couldn't. My head had begun to spin, and my knees were trembling so bad I had to lean against the wall of the Artisan jewelry store. I was having a hard time swallowing, and had to put my hand to my throat to get my breath. Surely, I thought, as my mind swirled, Sam and I had not had the same preacher as Sonny Sutton and his bride, or ex-bride. There'd been wedding chapels on practically every corner in Pigeon Forge. How likely was it that we'd gone to the same one?

LuAnne, unmindful of my reaction, chattered on. "On the other hand, it is funny when you think about it. I mean, with all the places they could've gone to, how on earth did they end up there? Serves them right for sneaking off from their fans."

She stopped and peered closely at me. "Are you all right, Julia? You look like you're having a spell or something. You want me to drive you home? I can run get the car."

"No, don't do that," I managed to get out in a reasonable facsimile of my normal voice. I took a deep breath and pulled myself together. "I'm all right, really. Thank you for your concern-it was just a little dizziness. It's passed now, and walking in the fresh air will do me good."

"Well, okay, if you're sure." She suddenly swung aside and headed into Baston's Bakery. "I've got to get some dinner rolls. You take care, Julia."

I stood there after the door closed behind her, trembling all over as the impact of her words hit me again. Fearful of fainting dead away right there on Main Street, which would make the "Emergency Calls" column in the newspaper, I carefully proceeded toward the Sure-Save drugstore. Feeling that I was moving in slow motion, I pushed through the door and headed toward the magazine display.

I scanned the garish covers, looking for the one LuAnne had spoken of. My head spun again, as I realized that Sonny Sutton's picture, complete with black hat and big belt buckle, was on more than half a dozen. Which one would give me the details I needed? Trying to get my bearings and steady my limbs, I read the glaring headlines: SONNY SINGS A SAD SONG! SONNY MARRIED-NOT! SONNY'S NOT MARRIED, HE'S MAD!

Looking around to see if my interest in fan magazines was being observed, I quickly snatched up one that featured a wedding chapel in a yellow box below Sonny's picture. I gathered all my considerable reserves and marched up to the cash register, determined to stare down anyone who questioned my choice of reading material.

I dug out a five-dollar bill from my pocketbook and put it on the counter in front of a bored-looking cashier. "I'm buying this for my friend, Hazel Marie Puckett, who enjoys keeping up with country music stars."

The cashier was a young woman with a spikey hairdo, a gold stud in her lip, and a wad of gum in her mouth. I mustered up the courage to look her square in the face, daring her to make a comment about my purchase.

I needn't have worried. She didn't even look up, just made change, put the magazine in a paper bag, and pushed it toward me. "Come back'n' see us," she said, and went back to work on her chewing gum.

I clutched the bagged magazine to my chest and headed out, my head held as high as I could get it. Hurrying on down the sidewalk, I nodded to people I knew and to some I didn't. I put purpose in my stride, not wanting to be sidetracked by anyone with nothing to do but make inane conversation about the weather. Even though I made myself appear resolute and purposeful, I was a quivering mess of shock and confusion inside, fearful of what I was going to read if I ever got to the privacy of the gazebo.

"How do, Miz Springer, or should I say Miz Murdoch?" The voice stopped me in my tracks. What kind of greeting was that? Was my marital status being questioned already?

I turned to see Mr. Harris, generally called Red for obvious reasons, although his hair was now more white than anything else. He raised his hat to me, then settled it back on his head. He wore a rumpled suit and a tie that had seen better days. Red Harris had a law practice of sorts, but as long as he'd been at it, he'd never made much more than a bare living from it. Most people attributed that fact to drink, though I'd never personally seen him take one.

"It's Mrs. Murdoch, of course," I said, watching closely for any hint of a smirk or of a knowing glint in his eyes. "And I'm doing fine, as I hope you are."

"I got no complaints," he said, as we stood in the middle of the sidewalk as if both of us had all the time in the world. "How's married life treatin' you?"

"Quite well," I returned, fearing that he was leading up to the subject clutched to my bosom. Realizing how thin the paper bag was and fearing he could read through it, I quickly tucked the package under my arm. "If it wasn't, I wouldn't be in it. Now I bid you good morning. I've just picked up something for Hazel Marie, and I must get it to her."

I took myself off as fast as I could, leaving him with his hat raised again. Lord, that was a close call. What else did he have to do, but read whatever was printed and comment on it?

Crossing another street, I gained the courthouse grounds and headed for the gazebo. Thank goodness, it was empty. After carefully scouting my surroundings, I collapsed on the bench and slid the magazine out of its bag.

I quickly read the lead article, but was hardly the wiser when I finished. It seemed that the attorney general of Tennessee was looking into the qualifications of people who ran what he called "fly-by-night marriage mills," one of which Sonny Sutton and his erstwhile bride had patronized. He and Maylynn Simmons had undergone a wedding ceremony suspiciously similar to the one Sam and I'd had, in which we'd said our vows before a white-suited preacher. The article went on to quote the attorney general, who said, "There may be couples, like Sonny and Maylynn, who went through a marriage ceremony in good faith, but who may not be legitimately married."

Lord, the blood drained from my face, and I felt as if I was about to faint dead away.

It was Sam's fault. That's all there was to it. As soon as he caught me at a weak moment, when I agreed to marry him, he'd been bound and determined to give me no chance to change my mind. He struck while the iron was hot, so to speak. So, nothing would do, but we had to hurry across the state line and be married before the sun came up. If that didn't qualify as a quickie wedding just like Sonny Sutton's, I didn't know what did. And here, I had lived with Sam and conjugated with him, and walked around in public with him, and I might not be his wife at all. We could be breaking the law, right and left.

He would have to answer for this.

Chapter 8.

My mouth tight with anxiety, I closed the magazine and slid it into the paper bag. Then I stood up carefully, making sure I was steady on my feet, as I readied myself to do battle with Sam.

Then a frightening apparition, that had seemingly sprung out of the azaleas, set me back on my heels, startling me so that I gasped in alarm. Just as quickly, though, I recognized the visitor, and had to sit down abruptly. Of all the people in the world I didn't want to see, it was Pastor Larry Ledbetter. Yet, there he was, smiling in pleasant surprise at seeing me. He walked right into the gazebo and took a seat, as if he didn't have a sermon or a Bible study lesson to prepare anytime soon.

"What a surprise, Pastor," I said, shoving the magazine sack under my pocketbook. I clasped my hands together, so he wouldn't see the state they were in. "I declare, I didn't expect to run into you here."

"Nor I you, Miss Julia." He stretched his legs out, as if he planned to stay a while. "But I'll take this opportunity to ask your opinion on the serenity garden we're planning for the coutyard between the sanctuary and the Sunday school building. I've been told that this new garden here is well designed, so I thought some of their ideas might work for us." He twisted his head around, checking out the decorative ceiling above us. "I like this gazebo, don't you? Something like it would be a nice addition to our garden."

"Yes, it would, and I'm glad to see you taking an interest." I couldn't help but make a little jab, since he spent most of his time holed up in his office. "Gardening is quite a healthful occupation."

I gathered my things, preparatory to leaving, hoping I'd get away before he brought up the fact that Sam and I had left him out of our marriage arrangements. A decision that, after learning of the perilous state of affairs we were now in, I heartily regretted having made.

The pastor shifted himself on the bench, glanced my way, and I knew I was in for it. "You know, Miss Julia, I've been meaning to come by and extend my warmest wishes to you and Sam on your nuptials. You must accept my apologies for being so lax. I wanted to let you get settled in first, but I guess the Lord had other plans, since he's brought us together this morning."

Surely, the Lord wasn't so unthinking as to arrange this meeting just when I was in no shape to deal with the pastor's hurt feelings. But I had to put the best face on it, and try to make amends.

"Well, Pastor, I want to explain why we-"

"No, no," he said, holding up his hand. "No explanations are necessary." He plastered on a too-hearty smile as evidence that he didn't mind two of his most faithful church members hightailing it somewhere else to get married. "I understand how these things happen."

I was glad he did, because I didn't, especially after reading what had happened to a certain celebrity of country music fame. That thought jolted me again, for the last thing I wanted was for the pastor to learn what I now knew, and what I was so anxious to put before Sam.

"My goodness, look at the time!" I jumped up and started out of the gazebo. "Do come by to see us, Pastor, anytime. And give my regards to Emma Sue."

He got to his feet and mentioned something about blessing our marriage, however precipitous it had been. I pretended I didn't hear him and took off for Sam's house without looking back.

I was out of breath by the time I climbed the porch steps, not only from the pace I'd set in getting there, but also from the head of steam I'd built up on the way.

"Sam!" I called as I opened the screen door and let myself into the hall. "Where are you?"

"In here, Julia," he called from his study. "Come on in."

He was rising from his desk chair as I entered the room, as courteous as ever. His desk was strewn with notes and ledgers and law books and old photographs, but I hardly gave them a glance. Sam was going to have to put aside ancient history and turn his hands to current events, and I didn't mean maybe.

"I'm glad to see you," he said, reaching for me. "I do better work when my lady-wife is around."

I turned away from him and took a seat in a leather chair across the room. "I may not be your wife, Sam, and if I'm not, I'm certainly no lady, taking into account what we've been up to."

He got the kind of quizzical look on his face, moderated by the beginnings of a smile, which often appeared when I made some pronouncement he hadn't thought was coming. "I believe you are my wife, or else my dreams have been mighty realistic. What's got you so upset, Julia?"

"Have you seen this?" I asked, my mouth so tight I could hardly get the words out. I held up the magazine with its gaudy cover.

He leaned against the desk, smiling. "No, I don't believe I have."

"Well, just read it." I turned a few pages and pointed to the offending article. "Look at this."

He took it, read it, and his smile widened. "This doesn't concern us, Julia. You've gotten yourself all worked up over nothing."

I jumped to my feet. "Don't patronize me, Sam Murdoch! I may be worked up, but it's not about nothing. Don't you see? We may not be legally married and . . ." I glanced at the door to see if James was around, and lowered my voice to a hiss. "We've engaged in marital acts."

"We sure have," he heartily agreed. "And I, for one, enjoyed them and intend to keep on enjoying them."

I rolled my eyes back into my head. He was not taking this with the seriousness it deserved. "Forget about what we've enjoyed," I said. "What we've done was certainly done in good faith, but that doesn't matter a hill of beans when it comes to the legal system. And you should know that better than I do. What are we going to do, Sam?" I threw out my hands, and almost dropped my pocketbook. "You know what the Bible says about what we've been doing, don't you?"

"No, I don't believe I do," he said, and the twinkle in his eyes infuriated me even more. "Give me chapter and verse."

"I can't, exactly, but it concerns fornication!" Then I clamped my hand over my mouth for saying such a thing out loud.

"Lord, Julia, you're about to get me stirred up with that kind of talk." Then, seeing that teasing was getting him nowhere, he changed his tune. "Look, I don't think this affects us. I admit it sounds like the same chapel we went to, but there're dozens of them over there. And each one has four or five ministers to cover twenty-four hours, seven days a week. They couldn't all be questionable. It's just gotten blown out of proportion because of this singer."

"Are you sure?" I asked, reaching for the magazine. "Let me read it again."

I did, but it gave me little comfort. "Look, Sam. It mentions the candle stands and the drive-up window. Everything!" I slung the magazine aside and threw back my head. "My Lord, we could've gone our merry way for years, thinking we were man and wife, and all we'd be is man and woman, living in sin."

"Julia, Julia," Sam said, putting his arms around me. "Calm down, now. Do you think I'd let this go by without looking into it? I had to tease you a little, but I have every intention of making sure that everything is legal and aboveboard. I want you to put it out of your mind, while I make some calls. Then I'm going to reassure you that we are married so tightly that only the Grim Reaper can separate us. And maybe not even then."

"Oh, Sam," I said, leaning my head against his chest, "I hope you can. I couldn't live with myself, much less with you, if we're not legal. This all serves me right for not wanting to be married by Pastor Ledbetter. I may not like him, but he'd never set us on a course that had any question about it."

"Don't start having regrets, sweetheart. I liked the way we did it. It was fun and exciting, something you've had too little of, and that's what I wanted to give you. Now, let's just go on the way we are, and in a few days, after I've checked with some officials in Tennessee, we'll look back on this and laugh."

"I truly hope so, but, right now, it's not anywhere near laughable. How long do you think it'll take till we know for sure?"

"Not long. I'll get our marriage certificate out of the lockbox at the bank, and get the minister's name from it. Then I'll start making some calls."

"Good. I feel better already, knowing you're working on it. Now, Sam," I said, stepping back from him, "until we know for certain, we have to live accordingly."

"Oh?" he said, frowning. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"I mean that I can't live as your wife until I'm sure I am your wife. And you shouldn't want me to."

"I don't know, Julia," he said, shaking his head. "That's an awful lot to ask. Wait, wait, now, don't get mad. I can't help but tease you. I'll do whatever you want-you know that-but I don't have any doubt that we're firmly and legally married, and I'd hate to miss out on any of the benefits, even if it's only for a day or two."

"All the more reason for you to expedite this investigation with every means at your disposal. And as soon as you confirm that we're married, I'll welcome you back."

His eyebrows shot straight up. "You're really kicking me out? Julia, good grief, woman. Don't tell me I have to move everything back to this house, live here by myself, and start courting you all over again."

"Well," I said, studying the problem, "that would be noticeable, wouldn't it? I mean, we'd have so many questions to answer, and no telling what the pastor would say if we let it be known that we've been significant others, not a married couple. He might not even marry us, if we needed to do it again. No, let's keep on the way we are with you living in my house, just not sleeping in my bed. We'll do something with Hazel Marie's clothes and put you upstairs in Coleman's old room."

"Julia, I'm going to give you my best legal advice: You are overreacting."

"No, I'm not. I'm just making sure that you don't fiddle around with this. If you want back in my bed, then you better get a move on and get this resolved."

"I'm going to the bank right now." He laughed as he guided me out of the room with a hand on my back. "Who would've thought that I'd get my woman, then lose her before a month is up?"

Chapter 9.

"Don't move me out yet, Julia," Sam said, as he pulled to the curb at my house to let me out. "Hold off till I get the phone number of the chapel. I'll call them and-"

"Why, Sam, don't do that. They're not about to admit to being unqualified. They wouldn't have the job of marrying people if they told on themselves."