"You look horrible." He spit the words out as if they tasted bad in his mouth.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"I haven't filed the papers yet. I'm giving you one more chance"

"I thought I had used up all my chances when I didn't march my `fat rear end' out to the car last weekend." I didn't whisper, and several people sitting in the pew in front of us turned to stare.

"You are making a fool of yourself." His tone was colder than an iceberg.

"File the papers. I'm not changing, and I sure don't want to be married to you anymore"

"I will tomorrow morning. Then I'm sending someone to pick up my car." He spoke in low tones, but they were as bitter as gall.

"You gave me that car for my birthday," I argued. My mind had a will of its own, and it was not bashful and did not stutter.

"The papers say that what is mine is mine and what's yours is yours. The Impala is in my name. I'll send someone to get it first thing in the morning."

"And they won't touch it. You want it, you come get it," I said.

"We'll begin by turning to hymn number .. " the choir director was saying.

I stood up, deliberately stepped on Drew's toes, and walked out of the church. It's a good thing Oklahoma law doesn't allow liquor stores to open on Sunday, or I'd have driven straight through town and bought a bottle of Jack Daniels just to get the bitter taste of Drew out of my mouth.

Instead I drove to Billy Lee's church on Broadway Street. Momma always said it didn't matter which church you went to on Sunday morning. The church wouldn't take you to heaven or fling you down to the devil, either one. All it did was provide a place of fellowship with others so you could worship God. I didn't see Him making a change, and I didn't intend to share a pew with Drew ever again. Betsy and Marty could take turns sitting beside him for all I cared.

The congregation was singing "I Saw the Light" when I walked through the doors. They finished the last word, and the preacher smiled at me. A few people turned to look at what was taking his attention, and they smiled too.

With a flip of one hand, he motioned me to come forward. "I do believe Gert's niece, Trudy, has come to visit us today."

I didn't know if they were going to pray for my soul or tack me to a cross, but I marched right down the center aisle, my kitten heels sinking into the carpet.

The preacher beckoned me forward. "No one has claimed the place where Miz Gert sat every Sunday morning, and it has looked empty without her. I'm sure she'd be delighted for you to take that seat, Trudy. Third pew from the front, there on your left. Please have a seat, and sing with us. We'll sing Gert's favorite song, since Trudy is here. I don't even have to tell you the number. Let's sing loud enough that the angels in heaven can hear us without straining their ears."

They began to sing "Amazing Grace" with such volume that I jumped. The person next to me tapped me on the shoulder to share a hymnbook. I nodded a polite thank-you and looked into Billy Lee's blue eyes. They held mine for just a moment, before I looked down at the words and added my alto to the mix.

He wore the same suit he'd worn to her funeral, and he looked like a lawyer or a preacher, certainly not a handyman. When we finished singing, the preacher opened his Bible to the verses in Jeremiah 51 where God was sending down his judgment against Babylon. I'm sure he meant for the congregation to realize that God takes care of his own, but what I heard was something about rendering vengeance.

The rest of the sermon was lost as I thought about Drew's taking the Impala the next morning. Vengeance could belong to the Lord; I wouldn't argue that issue for a minute. If God wanted to baptize Drew Williams with vengeance, I'd sure be the one behind Him, egging Him on. I didn't hear much more of the sermon as I figured out ways to help the Good Lord out.

The preacher wound down his sermon and announced, "We're having a social lunch in the fellowship hall today. Everyone is welcome, whether you remembered to bring a covered dish or not. I think Billy Lee brought enough ribs to feed the multitude Jesus talked about in Matthew. So if you'll bow with me in a final word of prayer, we'll adjourn to the kitchen."

"Join us?" Billy Lee said after the benediction.

"I didn't bring anything."

"I brought more than enough for both of us"

"You aren't going to ask me why I'm here?" I asked him.

"Don't care. Just glad that you are. It would make Gert feel right good to know you're sitting in her spot. And I'm glad to have you here too, Trudy," he said.

"Then I'd be glad to eat with ya'll, and thank you for the invitation."

I helped the ladies set out the food and wound up sitting beside Billy Lee for the meal. The ribs he'd brought were delicious, and someone had brought a potato salad that was scrumptious. I had to have the recipe for Thanksgiving. It was creamy and had fresh green onions and lots of bacon in it.

"I heard you and Billy Lee were doing a number on Gert's place," Elsie Goodman said from across the table. "She would like that. Maybe you'll have an open house when it's all done so we can see it?"

"I hadn't thought of that, but I suppose I could. It would be fun. But it'll be a while, Elsie."

"I reckon it will. A person doesn't undo fifty years of neglect in a few weeks"

She turned to talk to the lady next to her, and Billy Lee leaned over toward me. "You look pretty today," he said.

"So do you. Why are you all dressed up?"

"Men do not look pretty," he said.

"Didn't mean to offend you. What is in this potato salad? Who made it?"

"I made it, and I'm dressed up because I felt like it."

"Are you mad at me?" I asked.

"No, ma'am, I am not"

"Children!" Elsie shook her head at us.

I had to smile. "Elsie, I think I'm too old to be called a child."

"Not to me. I'm ninety. Not much difference between me and Gert. She just went on ahead of me to get things ready. Kids your age will always be children to me. Stop fussing, and enjoy this lovely day. You are as pretty as a picture in that dress, Trudy, and whether you like it or not, Billy Lee, you are pretty in that suit. It becomes you and makes your eyes look even bluer. Now, what were you saying?" She turned to the lady beside her again.

"Fight settled?" I asked.

The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. "Better be, if we don't want to stand in the corner."

"Tell me about the potato salad recipe."

"I'll bring it over later this evening."

"I'll make sandwiches for supper," I said, quietly enough that only he could hear it.

He nodded.

I talked to more people that day than I'd visited with in years. Everyone had a story to tell me about Gert and what a blessing she'd been in their lives. My cantankerous, bossy old aunt had had another side that I'd never known, one that reminded me of my mother. By the middle of the afternoon, I wished that I'd spent more time getting to know her.

When I got home, I changed clothes and crawled into the middle of the bed with a dollar-store spiral notebook, writing down every story that I could remember about her. My legs, crossed for a long time, went to sleep, and when Billy Lee knocked on the door, I was hobbling like an old woman.