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It only made her laugh.

"Of course she does. Three-quarters of the community believes that. I bet. Let them, let her think that. She'll be more afraid of me, and that's what a spawn like her needs to be, afraid.

"Poor Noble." Mama surprised me by sitting on my bed. She hadn't done that since I was very little. She brought the candle around to light up my face, then she reached out and stroked my cheek gently, running her fingers over my lips and under my chin.

"Would I ever let anyone, especially someone like that, harm you? Would our precious loving family stop protecting you? As long as you believe and hold on to your faith, you will be unassailable. She will see all this quickly and she will change or..."

"Or what. Mama?"

"Or be gone." She stood. She stared down at me, then she looked around again, slowly moving the candlelight about the room. "But there was

something," she said in a whisper. "Something was in this house tonight."

She took a few steps toward my closet and for a long moment stood there staring at it. I held my breath. If she found Betsy's clothes, the panties...

When she turned away from the closet, I breathed easier. She looked down at me again.

"We've got to be vigilant. Noble, always vigilant. Remember, we have a precious person to protect. If ever you do anything or think anything that might endanger Baby Celeste, you hesitate.

Understand?"

"Yes. Mama."

"Good. Good. Okay, try to sleep," she finally concluded.

She walked slowly to the doorway, turned, and lifted the candle one final time. Then she left, the light dragging behind her like a faded gold shroud being pulled into the darkness.

I lay back and stared into that darkness. I thought I heard whispering, but when I turned toward the wall, it stopped.

I've got to be good. I thought. There is nothing they cannot see. I went to sleep promising I would.

The next day Betsy appeared with the remainder of her things. I helped her and Mr. Fletcher carry it all to her room, and then, without saving thanks or anything, she just closed the door in my face.

"Shell calm down," Mr. Fletcher assured me. "She would always pout and sulk when she didn't get her way. My wife used to give in to it. I did, too, but those days are over now," he vowed, and smiled at me. "But let's not think of anything unpleasant, not at the start of a whole new wonderful life."

He put his arm around my shoulders. I didn't want to pull away, but it made me. nervous.

"Maybe soon you and I will go up to the lake, huh? Well take out a boat and have a real day together. What do you think?"

"Maybe." I knew I should have sounded more grateful and eager, but I couldn't.

"It's all right. We'll take it a day at a time. This is a big change for everyone. I appreciate that."

I helped him bring in his things next. Mama had just recently cleaned out her closets. For years and years, Daddy's clothing had hung there and had still been in the dresser drawers. As if it were part of some spiritual ritual, she decided to pack all that herself at night and bring it up to the turret room. I had offered to help her, but she said it was something a wife had to do alone.

Through the closed turret-room door, I heard her talking, and from what I heard, she was talking to Daddy's spirit. I wondered if she was apologizing, if it was a sad conversation, but I soon heard her laugh. "How wonderful!" she declared, then she became very quiet. I moved away quickly. I knew that if she ever caught me eavesdropping, she would be angry.

Helping Mr. Fletcher put his clothing away, however, was an entirely different thing. This I could do. He remarked about how much space was available to him.

"The closets in this house are much bigger than they were in mine," he told me.

Afterward, the four of us. Mama. Mr. Fletcher, Baby Celeste, and me, went out to plan where we would put the tables for the wedding feast and how we would arrange it all.

Betsy was still up in her room sulking. Mama and I had created an arch for the wedding ceremony. I built it and she decorated it with vines and flowers. She and Mr. Fletcher then pretended to have a wedding rehearsal.

"This looks more like a stupid picnic." we heard, and turned to see Betsy watching from the porch. "What if it rains?"

"It's not going to rain," Mama told her.