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"I hope so, Logan," I said. "I hope so." His face was beaming so. How easy he was to please and make happy, I thought. His happiness was never clouded by dark suspicions as mine was. How I needed a man like him. I wanted to cuddle in his arms forever.

"Oh, Logan, I love you. Love me forever and ever like you do now," I pleaded as I fell into his arms.

"I will. I promise," he said.

When we kissed we were almost oblivious to everyone and everything around us. Then the crowd of well-wishers cheered again and the party continued. Logan and his new young companions inspected the Rolls-Royce and I turned to thank Tony as the music was begun again. Before he reached me though, Jillian got up fro her seat and ran to him.

"Oh, Tony," she cried, "you do love me! Wasn't it a wonderful ceremony."

People stopped to stare and listen.

"Yes, Jillian." He put his arm around her to turn

her back to her table. She leaned back and, looking over her shoulder, called to everyone nearby.

"Enjoy yourselves," she commanded. "Please, everyone, continue to enjoy yourselves."

I watched as Tony seated Jillian again and had Martha Goodman bring her something to eat. Then he started toward me. I couldn't help feeling sorry for Jillian, for the way people were looking at her and whispering.

"Why did you permit this to happen?" I demanded as soon as he was close to me and I could direct him to a place where we couldn't be overheard. "Don't you find it embarrassing?"

"Embarrassing?" He looked back in Jillian's direction as if he, himself, were back in time and hadn't realized what was going on in the present. "Yes, it's embarrassing, but it's more tragic to me than embarrassing."

"Then why permit her to come out here like that? In front of all these people. Most are surely laughing at her."

"She doesn't see it that way," he said, his face approximating a smile. I couldn't understand it. "In her eyes, mad eyes, she sees them all as having a good time at her wedding reception. "

"But . ."

"But what?" he said, his lips compressing into a tight thin line. "Whose embarrassment are you worried about, hers or yours? Should I shut her up in her suite like some crazed animal? Should I let her pine away within four walls? Or let her go crashing down the deep dry well of her memories until she finds herself on the bottom, alone, in the dark, forgotten?

"Don't you see," he said, his eyes moving off me and in the direction of the house, "I can't bear the thought of her shut away in some institution.

"She was once very beautiful and very precious to me," he added, turning back in Jillian's direction. "Like a fine, hand-painted piece of china. Oh, she was terrified of getting older, of not being desirable and beautiful, and I'm sure the realization that she couldn't prevent it contributed to the way she is today, but don't you see?" he said, taking hold of both my arms just under the elbows . . . "In a strangely beautiful way, she has it . . eternal youth and beauty. Her madness has given it to her.

"So," he said, releasing me and taking a deep breath as he stood up straight again, "I think we'll tolerate the embarrassment and put up with the snickers. You can make that kind of sacrifice, can't you, Heaven? You can do something totally unselfish, I'm sure. When you want to," he added and started away.

"Tony . . ."

"Yes?" He waited. I looked back at Jillian seated comfortably by a table, smiling and nodding at people, holding her fork like a toothpick and pecking on her platter of food like a bird.

"What if she sees me?"

"What of it?" He smiled. "She'll just see you as Leigh, as young as she was the day Jillian and I were married. She was twelve and she wore a long pink bridesmaid's dress and carried a bouquet of sweetheart roses. I'll never forget how beautiful she looked that day." He tilted his head with the reverie and then his eyes blinked and he looked at me. "And you look just as beautiful today," he said and walked off to return to Jillian.

I gave thought to what he had said and how he had said it. Tony obviously still had a strong love for Jillian. Or was it something else?

The sad sight of Martha Goodman leading the grinning spectacle of Jillian back into her room with its glassless mirror and timeless memories made me both sad and frightened.

"It's time to cut the cake." Logan came up and led me to the cake, which was placed on a table at the center of the stage. It was a fairy-tale cake, a fivetiered white confection bedecked with garlands and flowers. It was almost as tall as I was. Beaming, Logan took my hand and, holding the knife together, we cut a slice from the bottom tier of the cake. As he opened his mouth and I popped in a small piece of cake, I couldn't help but remember that fantastic sundae he had made for me the day he had asked me to marry him. Our cake was a fantastic Tatterton creation, but I would always think of Logan's magical rainbow castle as my true wedding cake.

After everyone had been served cake and ice cream, and the waiters had made their way between tables bearing more champagne and cognacs and brandies and cordials, the reception began to wind to a close. Just as I was beginning to feel the exhaustion of the celebration weighing on me, I saw Keith and Our Jane wending their way over to my table.

"Heaven," Our Jane said, leaning over and hugging me, "Keith and I have to be going. I'll miss you so."

"You'll write me soon?" I asked.

"Every week."