"Do you think she loves you?"

Why should it be so difficult to answer that simple question? He'd asked it of himself countless times and had always come up with the same answer, the one that made him wonder at Rachel's stubbornness. Answering Liz now, he felt rather timid.

"Yes. Sometimes… yes."

"Well, then… she's scared, don't you see? And she's got a perfect right to be. Why, look at your record! What woman would willingly take on a man with a record like that?

You've got to assure her you mean it when you say you've changed. But whatever you do, don't give up on her. If she loves you, believe me, it's the last thing she wants."

"It is?" The idea was stunning. Women were strange birds. Why did they do one thing when they wanted to do another?

"Take my word for it."

He carried the idea away with him, and it stayed on his mind throughout that sleepless night. The following day he thought about it again, and wondered how he could show her he had changed and was so much happier with the new Tommy Lee that he wouldn't dream of backsliding. That afternoon he was jogging past the end of his driveway when he stopped and eyed the kudzu vine tangled across the ditch. He pondered for some time before finally picking up three rocks and flinging them in, to clear the area of snakes. Then he forced his way through the thick vines to the place where he always used to toss his empties.

As he moved through the ditch, he grew amazed. Lord o'mercy, did I drink all this?

He picked up a can, tossed it up absently, and caught it. Then his eyes narrowed and he stared off into the distance. All right, Rachel, I'll try one more time.

The following day Rachel came home from work to find a huge black plastic trash bag on her front step, bound at the top by an outsized red satin bow. She approached it cautiously, surveyed its lumpy exterior, touched it with a toe, and heard a metallic clink. Gingerly she untied the bow, peered inside, and found it filled with aluminum beer cans. She also found a note: "All right, Rachel, you win. I'm cleaning up my act. What else do I have to do to get you to say yes?"

What the hair dryer and flowers had failed to do, the sack of beer cans accomplished. Rachel pressed four fingertips to her lips and burst into tears. Oh, Tommy Lee, you crazy, off-beat, irresistible hellion, can't you see it would never work?

Callie Mae was immediately concerned to find a tearful Rachel dragging a huge black bag into the house.

"Why, Miss Rachel, what's wrong?"

"Everything!" The bag sent out a mysterious sound as Rachel dropped it and dissolved into tears on Callie Mae's shoulder.

A sympathetic hand patted the back of Rachel's head. "Now, you just tell Callie Mae everything."

"I can-can't."

"'Course you can. You want to start with what's in that bag that set you off?"

"Oh, Can-Callie Mae," she wailed, "it's a go-gift from Tommy Lee."

Over Rachel's shoulder Callie Mae gave the bag a second look. "So that's it."

Rachel drew back and mopped her eyes, still sniffling. "He won't stop people-pestering me, and I… we…" Her words trailed off and ended with a woeful look of misery and renewed weeping.

"You don't have to explain nothin' to Callie Mae. I see how it is with you two. I always seen."

"How it is between us two is impossible." Rachel threw her hands out and began pacing agitatedly.

Callie Mae pursed her mouth and grunted, "Hmph." Then she asked, "You mind if I take a look at what he brung you?" Rachel shook her head and Callie Mae opened the sack and peered inside. "Well, now, what do you know about that!" she exclaimed softly, then asked, "He the one sent you them flowers, too?" Rachel nodded while Callie Mae noted her crestfallen expression. "Jus' when he call you skinny?"

"Don't you go getting that… that look in your eye, because it isn't going to work. He isn't going to sweet-talk me into making a fool of myself. Not with a philanderer like him."

Callie Mae crossed her hands against her stomach and affected a sober, judgmental expression. "Yup, he's a wild one, that Tommy Lee."

Rachel paced. "And he couldn't make a single one of his marriages work."

"Nope. He sure couldn't."

"And he hasn't gone to church in years." It wasn't exactly true, but it felt reassuring to heap blame on him.

"At least ten, fifteen."

"And he still drives like a maniac."

"He's one crazy white boy, for sure."

"And you should see the way he lives." Rachel threw up her hands. "Why, his house looks like a pigpen!" Suddenly she came to a halt, looked up, and felt herself color.

Callie Mae cocked an eyebrow and said, "Oh?" But she wiped all expression off her face and busied herself unnecessarily dusting a table with her apron while advising softly, "And you mustn't forget, there's the fact that Mr. Owen, he's only been gone a few months. And your daddy would have a conniption fit if he was to find out Tommy Lee been nosin' around his daughter again. And o' course we all know what the Good Book says about honorin' fathers, no matter if they're right or wrong. But there couldn't be no question about your daddy bein' right. After all, he's got one o' the best heads in this county. Why, he runs that bank over there like them Yankees run the war- merciless. You know he always gonna end up winnin', and though he don't always smile a lot, people got respect for him, and there's them that say he's a mite cold and calculatin' at times, but he seems to get along just fine without a lot o' friends since your mama died. Yes, ma'am, your daddy, he's one smart man, got the respect of everybody in this county. And folks say you're turnin' out just like him. You want I should put this sack of junk out for the garbage man to pick up tomorrow?" Callie Mae looked up innocently, holding the sack of beer cans now.

Rachel glanced from the sack to Callie Mae's face, then back again, trying to think of a reply. But she was too shaken to know what to say, and finally Callie Mae trudged off through the house, dragging Tommy Lee's offering with her while mumbling something about it being worthless and wondering what that crazy white boy was thinking to drop such trash on people's front steps!

Rachel remained where Callie Mae had left her, round-eyed and stunned, digesting what the woman had just said, quite horrified at the thought that she might be turning out just like her father. Was she really all those things? Merciless? Cold? A person who'd rather have the town's respect than smile a lot? She swallowed convulsively, closed her eyes, and bit her trembling lip, wanting to deny it.

But that made two people now who'd told her the same thing, for hadn't Tommy Lee called her a smug, supercilious socialite?

And if it wasn't true, why was she crying?

CHAPTER EIGHT

To Rachel's utter surprise, Tommy Lee showed up at church the following Sunday morning. He was standing on the steps when she arrived, and she realized her mistake the moment her feet stopped moving. Their eyes met, and her first thought was that he had new glasses, styled like the old ones, except that these had clear lenses through which she could clearly see him taking in her white and brown linen dress and matching spectator pumps.

She felt herself blush but could not tear her eyes away from him. He looked magnificent! His skin was brown and healthy looking, and he appeared thinner, dressed in a pale blue suit with a rich navy shirt. The midmorning sun caught the black and silver strands of his hair and threw chips of gold off his tie clasp and the rims of his glasses while a light breeze lifted the end of his tie and gently turned it back, then settled it into place again.

She wasn't certain how long she stood staring before becoming aware of the girl at his side. She was tall and lanky with dark shoulder-length hair, and from the way she took his arm and gazed up at him, there was no question she adored him. Just then the breeze furled the girl's hair and blew it back from her temple, and as Rachel caught sight of the red button earrings, her heart sank.

Oh, no, she thought, not again. This one's young enough to be his daughter.

Just then the girl turned, revealing Lily's cupid's-bow mouth and brown eyes that might easily have belonged to Tommy Lee himself at age fourteen. Rachel stared, transfixed, feeling her composure slip as she confronted the girl who, had circumstances been different, might have been her own daughter. Her eyes were helplessly drawn to Tommy Lee again, and they stood like a pair of marble statues. Move! she told her feet. Half the town is watching you gape at him, including his daughter and your own father! For in that horrifying moment Rachel realized Everett had joined her, after parking the car, and stood watching the silent tableau with growing disapproval.

Beth's eyes flashed from her father to the pretty dark-haired woman and back again. Then, to Rachel's relief, Tommy Lee gave a silent nod and moved away with her.

Beside her Everett said stiffly, "Rachel, for God's sake, people are staring."

To her horror, she glanced around to find it was true. Several pairs of curious eyes had taken in the scene, but as Rachel looked up, they all quickly glanced away.

The church service seemed interminable. It took a great deal of self-restraint for Rachel to face front for a full ten minutes before checking behind her under the guise of picking up a hymnal from the seat. Just as she'd suspected, Tommy Lee and Beth were only a few pews back. Surreptitiously she glanced at her father, but he was facing front with a stern, forbidding expression on his face. When she opened the hymnal, the print seemed to blur, and she was terribly conscious of Tommy Lee's eyes boring into her back. In a panic, she wondered where Gaines and Lily Gentry were sitting. Were they watching him watch her? Undoubtedly they were as shocked as she was to see him here this morning. After countless years of absence, he couldn't possibly attend without being conspicuous.