"You okay?" he asked.

"I was writing down some memories Momma shares with me when she's lucid, and all the things folks told me about Aunt Gert today. I didn't realize I'd been sitting cross-legged solo - ng - " I answered.

"Well, I brought the potato salad recipe and a six-pack of Coke. Want to sit on the swing and have a cold soda pop? I'll tell you why I wore a suit to church today if you'll tell me why you came," he said.

That was enough temptation to take me out the front door and to the porch swing. He popped open a Coke and handed it to me.

"Well?" I asked.

He grinned. "Impatient, aren't you?"

"You said you'd tell me. It must be something important. No one died, and you weren't the preacher, so why did you wear a suit?"

He tipped his own Coke up and took a long swig before he began. "On the anniversary of my granny's death, I always pay my respects by putting flowers on her grave. Roses because she liked them and never could get them to grow in our yard. So she gets a dozen roses on that day. Other times I just put out whatever I think is pretty. And I wear a suit to church that week in her honor. It's crazy, but that's why."

"I don't think it's crazy. I think it's sweet. I'll have to remember to keep flowers on Gert's grave."

"Now I'm pretty and sweet," he groaned.

"Billy Lee, you are sweet and sensitive, and those are qualities every woman looks for in a man. Why the devil aren't you married?"

"I can run fast."

We both laughed.

"Seriously," I said.

"It's complicated," he said.

I pressed on. "Haven't found the right woman?"

"Maybe the right woman but at the wrong time. Can't seem to get the two done at the same time."

"Fair enough"

"So tell me now, why were you at my church? What happened?" he asked.

I told him the story. "I'm really mad at him. That is my car."

"Give him the car. You don't need it. Use Gert's, or buy another one. Don't hang on to the past"

"Pretty, sweet, and wise. You'd better run really fast, feller," I said.

He downed the rest of his Coke. "Guess I'd best get on over to my place. I've got a couple more things to do before bedtime."

"Thanks for the Coke, the recipe, and the company," I said. -- -- - - - - -- - - - - - -

He smiled and waved as he disappeared through the hedge.

I sat in the swing for an hour while God and Lucifer had a battle. I have to admit, Momma would have been ashamed at the one I championed. Or maybe not. She might have been right out there in the dark helping me pour coals of fire upon my ex-husband's sorry, cheating head. I don't know if Lucifer won the battle or if God got tired of arguing with me and him and just let us have our way. I may still have to answer for what I did that night, but I'll go to my grave with a smile because of it.

I opened two cans of sardines and smeared a healthy dose of the oil on the underside of the mats on the back floorboards. One sardine found a new home in the glove compartment. Another one fit perfectly in the CD drawer. A nice film of Vaseline shined the driver's seat, giving the leather a brand-new glow. In case he brought Miss Charity along, I greased up the passenger's seat too.

I thought of her marrying Drew and got an instant visual of the two of them leaving the church in my car. So I rustled through the recycling bin outside for soda cans thrown in there by the men who'd worked on the house. I took down the clothesline and tied the cans in bunches of three to about fifty feet of rope. It took almost an hour to poke holes in those cans and tie them to the rope, and I had to lie on my back to find a part of the vehicle to attach the rope to, but I got the job done. -- -- --- - - --- - --- -

I found shoe polish under the sink in the kitchen and with it painted two perfect hearts on the windshield, so if Charity came with him, their faces would be framed as they drove through town. I used two rolls of toilet paper like crepe-paper streamers coming off the radio antenna, tucking the ends loosely into the back doors. The final touch was writing Just Hitched in black shoe polish on the white trunk lid in a lovely scroll, with a cute little heart dotting the i in Hitched.

If Drew didn't come to get the car, I'd have it towed and sitting in his front yard when he got home the next day. Aunt Gert's little thirty-year-old blue Ford Maverick-still in perfect condition, garage-kept, and rarely driven-would do fine for me. It had a stick shift, and I might jackrabbit it around getting used to driving it, but I'd get the hang of it again. Hey, I wasn't "poor Trudy, bless her heart" anymore. I was a force to be reckoned with, and if folks didn't believe me, they could crawl inside that white Chevrolet.

The next morning at seven thirty I carried my coffee to the porch, sat down in the swing, and waited. At a quarter to eight, Drew, Charity, and Georgia pulled up in the driveway beside my car. Drew and Charity got out of the backseat, and Georgia drove away in Drew's Lincoln.

Drew stared at the decorated car waiting for him. "You are certifiably crazy."

"She's not crazy! She's a certifiable witch," Charity said. "I can't ride in that thing."

"Keys are in it. You could walk back to town, Charity, but you'll ruin those cute little high heels." I watched as he helped her into the slick passenger's seat. I couldn't hear every word, but from the expression on her face and the way she threw her hands around, she wasn't happy about the way the Vaseline felt on her bare legs below her skintight miniskirt.

"You are crazy!" she screamed out the window when the aroma of eau de sardines hit her nose.

I held my coffee cup up in a toast to her.

Drew quite literally slid into the driver's seat, and the words that came from his mouth would have set a tropical rain forest on fire. He slammed the door, started up the engine, and quickly rolled down all four windows. Charity was gagging. Guess she didn't like sardines.

Vengeance had been very sweet and left no aftertaste of guilt. I giggled like a second-grade schoolgirl as they drove away.

"Guess you and God served up some retribution," Billy Lee said from the yard.

"Pretty childish, wasn't it?" I said.

"A whole lot childish but worth it, if it did one of those exorcism things on your heart. Was that sardines I smelled?" He sat down on the swing beside me.

"Two cans full, and I didn't waste a bit of the oil. And, yes, it purged my heart. I'm glad he took the car back, and I'm glad God and I had a bit of revenge. It's over. You want some breakfast, or did you already eat?"

"I'd love French toast and hot chocolate," he said.

"From scratch?"

"Is there any other kind?" he answered.

"Guess not, if you want the good stuff."

He followed me into the kitchen, where we set about making breakfast.

Billy Lee gathered the apricots.

We'd finished stripping all the woodwork in the hall, the banister, the stairs, and a gazillion little lathe-turned rails, not to mention the newel post, which was intricately carved. The electrician had finally finished. Air-conditioning was installed. The man who would varnish the floors was scheduled to come the next day. My body was worn to a frazzle with weeks of hard work behind me, and there was plenty more on the way.