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looked out the window, at the long dirt
drive that led to the highway. "You sure you want to go through
with this?"
    "You ain’t thinking of backing out on me now,
are you? You better grow some balls and fast."
    Larry expected the blue lights to come down
the drive any minute, because cops could probably read minds. And
if not, they knew how to tap into phone lines, and Betty Ann never
could keep her damned mouth shut. "I—I'm with you, honey. I
promised, didn't I?"
    "A promise from a man . Hah, that's
worth about as much as an egg from a mule. You only promised
because I was giving you my yummy sweet sugar at the time.
Remember?"
    Larry clenched his hand around the phone. He
nearly flung it at the Franklin stove, but the Franklin had been in
the family for four generations. Maybe he'd start a fire with his
coffin scraps and melt down the phone later. "Of course I remember,
darling."
    "And after, that part about snuggling in the
dark. Bet you never heard pillow talk like that before."
    He had to admit he hadn't. But he didn't want
to admit it out loud. Not when they might hear. It was bad enough,
him knowing. And Betty Ann knowing. And whoever Betty Ann blabbed
to, at the hairdresser's or the Baptist Church or the Stateline
Tavern.
    "You know that kind of thing gets me all
worked up," Larry said. "That's stuff's for in the dark, not out
here in the daylight where God and everybody can see."
    Betty Ann laughed. "You must have forgot
about that time in the hayloft."
    "Don't do this, Betty Ann. It's hard enough
as it is."
    "You know all about hard, don't you?"
    Larry looked out the window at the far slopes
of granite, the worn edges of the Blue Ridge. When you got mad, you
just had to look way off in the distance, his Daddy always said.
Daddy wasn't born a fool, just ended up that way. "That's enough of
that. I made a promise, and I'll keep it. Are you going to keep
yours?"
    "But you ain't said what you wanted yet." She
lowered her voice into the husky whisper that sounded like the
result of a lot of practice. "But I got a good idea."
    "I'll pick you up at seven. Like we
planned."
    "Like we planned."
    "Bye, now."
    "Bye. I love you."
    The click of the phone rattled around inside
his skull, bouncing against that word "love." He'd heard that word
a time or two before. And then push always comes to shove, and you
find out it doesn't mean a thing. It's just a word.
    He went back to the barn. He spread the
velvet lining in the coffin and stapled it into place. Most people
went with black velvet, but Larry believed in Royal blue. There was
something churchy and sacred about it. When you went under the
dirt, you wanted all the comfort you could get.
    Glue had leaked from one of the corners where
the angled wood met. Larry took a chisel from the workbench and
scraped the clot free. He felt along the joint. Not a stray
splinter, tight as a mouse's ear. He was getting better with
practice.
    He finished up just as the sun set on the
hills. He tested the fit of the lid one last time. The lid wasn't
so heavy, and he'd drilled holes where the nails would go. This
would work just fine.
    At least, the part you could count on. Wood
was straight up and honest, you could shape it and trim it and make
something that would last. You could build your own coffin with no
problem. But you had to have somebody to drive the nails, because
you damned sure couldn't do it from the inside.
    He set the lid aside, wiped his tools, and
saw that everything was laid out on the workbench. He blew out the
lamp and hung it by the barn door. It was time to pick up Betty
Ann.
     
    Larry sat in his Ford and looked around the
trailer park. Betty Ann could do better than this place. She was
plenty dumb enough to marry some farmer and have a bunch of kids.
You got married to the dirt up here, one way or the other. Some put
it off for as long as possible, but the mountains always took you
anyway.
    He blew the horn. Betty Ann wanted him to be
right on the button, but she