retrieving a mammoth hatbox and a wedding invitation. Sally’s mother said they would enjoy coming, as Sally tried to figure out the wide-brimmed hat. “Can you make it down the aisle without your glasses?” Jill asked.
“I will. I just won’t be able to see who you’re marrying.”
Jill managed a small smile. “Maybe I could take just a taste of your pie. It smells so good.” Sally’s mother obliged. When Jill took off her coat and hat to sit down at the table, she revealed coal black dyed hair.
Sally and her mother chorused, “Your hair!”
“It was red.” Sally explained to Sally’s father. Jill concentrated on devouring the pie. “After Lincoln, I dyed it black. When I first met Charlie, he really liked it.”
“Does he know you are a strawberry blonde?” Sally asked.
“Sure,” Jill said, “but he says the contrast with my complexion is striking.”
“It certainly is,” Sally’s mother said, without too much sarcasm.
Jill excused herself. “I’ve got to run. So much to do.”
Rubbing his five-o’clock shadow after Jill left, Daddy said, “She doesn’t look happy.”
Mother stood at the window, watching Jill barrel out of the driveway. “You know, I read somewhere black hair dye can seep into the brain.”
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
First Monday in January
Sheriff Woods asked Tim to let him try to talk to Sally. “Sally, we need you to wake up. People are arriving for John’s service.” Sally opened her eyes wide. Sheriff Woods could read Sally’s frightened bewilderment in her darting eyes. He turned to his wife. “Gabby, perhaps we should let Sally rest upstairs.”
“No,” Sally said. “I need to be here.”
“For the memorial service.” Gabby stated, to make sure Sally was completely present.
“For the wedding.” Sally looked down at her long black dress. “What happened to the emerald green?”
“The one you wore New Year’s Day?” Gabby asked.
“No.” Sally plucked at the black linen. “For Jill’s wedding. Did Art get to talk to Tony?”
Then Sheriff Woods remembered. Jill’s reception was held in the Hotel Baker. He also recalled searching frantically for Tony Montgomery.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
December 1958
Art couldn’t find Tony in his usual haunts. He finally called him at the farm and set up a lunch at Casey’s Bar. Asking Sally along to cushion any emotional scenes, Art couldn’t imagine what he might say to Tony to help.
Hiding in a corner booth Tony looked thinner, pale even. “Oh sure, you two are still together and you haven’t even made love.” Tony drained his glass of beer. “Sorry, bonded.” He shook his finger at Art. “I never believed the lies you tried to sell me. Look at her; Sally, the saintly virgin, raises her eyebrows at the mere mention of intercourse.” Sally slid in next to Tony.
Art seemed to forget how to bend his frame into a sitting position. “You look terrible.”
“Oh, thanks. No chance Jill sent you to say she changed her mind?”
“No.” Avoiding his direct glance, Sally said to her hands. “We will all be at the wedding.” A low moan broke from Tony.
“You shouldn’t go.” Art waved away the waitress after she sat down three water glasses.
“I will though, if I can stand up long enough.”
Sally tried to reason. “You’ll find someone else.” She ventured a look at him.
Tony’s harrowed glance showed all his pain. “Jill is all I can think about.”
“What about going back to college?” Art asked.
“Books?” Tony spread his hands palm up on the table flipping them back and forth, as if they were pages of a book. “Nothing there, when I can’t touch her.”
Sally put her hand on Tony’s arm. “Don’t.”
“Don’t?” Tony yelled. He grabbed the back of her hair. Sally’s head had time to bounce off the back of the booth before Art’s fist slammed into the bridge of Tony’s nose.
“Never touch her!” Art sat back down on his side of the booth, before offering Tony his
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