Always a Lady by Sharon Sala

she clasped the preacher's hand and pumped it heartily.
    At least one of the congregation was listening this morning. After the new arrivals had taken their seats, he'd felt himself losing their attention. Brother Donald beamed.
"Case, it's sure good to see you here this morning.''
    Lily recognized a neighbor from a nearby farm who'd been at the barbecue the other night. She smiled self-consciously and started to turn her head to the side when Case grabbed her gently by the elbow as he included her in the welcome.
    "It's great to be here, Mildred," he said. "You remember Lily, don't you?"
    "I surely do," Mildred said. "You're the one who fixed that apple pie with the graham cracker crumbs between the crust and fruit, aren't you? My word, but that was good. You've got to give me that recipe. My man talked about that pie all night."
    "Thank you," Lily said. "And I'd be glad to give you the recipe. It was my mother's."
    "Great," Mildred said. "I'll give you a call later this evening. I've got company coming tomorrow night. I just might make that pie for dessert."
    Case slipped his hand a little farther up her elbow and gave her arm a gentle squeeze as Mildred made an exit across the withering excuse for a lawn.
    "Thank you," Lily said quietly and turned to face him.
    "For what?" Case asked softly.
    "For coming with me. For being there." His voice was low, but sure. Lily's heart skipped a beat when he answered.
    "If you'd let me . . . I'd always be there for you, Lily."
    She yanked her arm free and made a dash for her father who was visiting with the preacher beneath the small porch roof.
    "Dad! We'd better hurry or I won't have time to get the noon meal."
    Morgan nodded, shook the pastor's hand, and then noticed, for the first time, the high color on his daughter's cheeks. He turned around and caught the long, intense look that their host was giving Lily. If he wasn't mistaken, Case had just made a declaration that his girl wanted to ignore.
    "We're going to drive into Clinton and eat out," Morgan said. "Case already told us. He said it was your day off."
"But I don't have days off on . . ."
    "Obviously you do today," Morgan said. "Come on. Let's get your brothers before they start a riot and we're all run out of town on a rail. I see a couple of nervous fathers already."
    Lily tried to ignore Case's existence. But it was hard when he was coming toward her with an expression on his face that brooked no arguments.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
I'll never be ready for you.
    Case didn't wait for her answer. He simply guided her back to his truck, and led the way into Clinton for Sunday dinner.
    It was late. Lily kept glancing at the clock over the kitchen stove and tried not to be nervous. Case had been gone all evening. By the time it was dark, she'd expected him to come walking into the kitchen at any moment. But he hadn't appeared, and she was beginning to imagine any and every dire emergency befalling him.
    One minute they'd been in the den visiting and watching an old movie on television when Duff had come bursting into the house. He shouted something about fences being down and cattle out and Case exited on the run.
    Her family's offer to help had been quickly refused. He'd claimed plenty of men were available to do what needed to be done. The Brownfields were to stay and visit with Lily. It was why they'd come. And so they'd visited . . . and finally . . . they'd all retired to their rooms. All but Lily, who waited and worried.
    She parted a curtain and stared outside. Nothing but darkness looked back. She quickly dropped it back in place, walked over to the counter, and began rearranging the cutlery drawer for something to do.
    Where could they be? Her heart thumped raggedly against her rib cage. Nerves kept her stomach rumbling. Nothing has happened, she told herself. He's just late. No telling what kind of mess they found when they arrived. But the harder she tried to convince herself she was being silly, the more anxiety