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front of him. Yes, he had Lillian to thank for Sarah, if nothing else, and because of that he would go along with the story she invented. For her sake he would pretend. For her sake he would help however he could.
    Whatever it meant.
     
     
     
          B y the time Reverend Snopes wound through an hour and a half of Bible thumping, delivered the community bulletin board, and read the sick list, Belle was bored stiff. The reverend was still as dull as ever. He should be thanking God she had arrived, she thought irreverently, because at least while she was here, the congregation had a reason to stay awake.
    It was the only joke she could bring herself to make. The gossipy whispers were all around her. It was all she could do to hold her head up and pretend to listen to the preacher. She heard bits and pieces, words said just loudly enough for her to hear, hastily muttered questions. "Where has she been?" "—she was in Cleveland last," "stepbrother's death—scandal—" "I heard she was a—well, you know."
    She tried to close her ears, not to hear, but it was impossible. She told herself she should be used to it. They had always talked about her. Even when she lived here, she knew the things they said about her. She was too wild, too strange, too everything. It had always been like that.
    Though until today it had never been mean. It was a shock to hear what they'd been saying, the lies that had been passed as truth. Suddenly in their minds she was little better than a whore.
    She laughed shortly, softly. Well, maybe they'd stone her when she walked out. God knew it wouldn't be the first time someone had wanted to punish her for her sins. They could all just stand in line.
    "God bless you, my friends. Keep God in your hearts this week, and I will see you next Sunday." Reverend Snopes spread his hands to encompass the entire congregation, his sleeves flapping like the wings of a fat raven. On cue, the crowd rose, the organ swelled.
    Belle inhaled deeply. It was time to put her plan in action. "Keep God in your hearts," the reverend had said. She hoped the crowd here remembered it.
    Pasting a smile on her face, she rose and turned to face the aisle, searching for Rand and her mother.
    The congregation filed by.
    Not one good Christian spoke to her.
    But she heard their talk, their hateful gossip, as they moved past, and she met their curious looks. Belle felt her face redden, and she raised her chin, fighting to keep her expression even. Their lack of charity surprised her, even though she knew it shouldn't. After all, she was the first to say what hypocrites churchgoing people were. Still . . .
    It didn't matter. She was here only for one reason, and it wasn't to hear the sermon or make friends with the neighbors.
    Then she saw Rand and Lillian hurrying out the front door, and she forgot all about gossip and godliness. Belle pushed into the crowd, ignoring the shocked gasps as she made her way up the aisle toward the back of the church. By the time she got to the front porch, groups of people were already gathered on the knoll, and she spotted Lillian among them. Rand had disappeared, and Belle felt a quick surge of relief. She only wanted to deal with one of them at a time, and Lillian was more than enough.
    She took a deep breath, running down the steps and hurrying through the grass. She slowed just before she reached her mother, pushing back loose tendrils of hair and trying to look as composed as possible.
    "Why, hello there, Mama," she said, smiling the broadest smile she could muster. "Miz Dumont, Miz Miller, how nice to see you both again."
    The talk died. An uncomfortable silence swept the group. Ernestine Dumont and Stella Miller stared at her as if she'd just risen from the dead.
    Lillian swept into action, just as Belle knew she would, but her mother's expression was stiff, her smile frozen in place. She clutched the folds of her black silk dress convulsively. "Hello, Belle. I didn't expect to see you at church