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bottom creaked with relief and the old chair continued to rock long after Lollie had vacated it.
    They stood on the porch, their faces wreathed in smiles, as Ellen parked beside a 1955 Chevrolet pickup and ran up the steps to greet them. She hugged Aunt Lollie first, pressing her cheek against the sparse gray hair. The pungent scent of cinnamon tickled her nose. Some things never change, she thought. Aunt Lollie still smelled like gingerbread. As she gathered Uncle Vester to her heart she noticed that he fit loosely into his faded overalls, a bag of bones held together by stringy muscle and fierce pride.
    Dirk watched the greetings from the porch steps. A faint summer breeze stirred the humid air, and a mockingbird on a nearby mimosa tree scolded its mate. Around him the earth, still damp from an early morning shower, released its rich, black smell. Dirk had the sensation of being in the center of life itself, of feeling the pregnant pulse of the land and of witnessing the miracle of growth. He decided to blame his feelings on too much companionship with Gigi. Otherwise he might have headed down the lane and back toward freedom.
    "And is this the young man you wrote us about?" Aunt Lollie asked. As Dirk came up the porch steps she captured his hand in her fat ones. "My, my, you're a fine, sturdy-looking man." Her faded blue eyes perused him from top to bottom. "Good strong legs.
fine
breadth of chest. You'll make good babies."
    "I have all my teeth too." Dirk smiled good- naturedly to show that he was not in the least bothered by Aunt Lollie's remarks.
    Uncle Vester hooted with laughter and pinched Ellen's cheek. "You took your time about it, young 'un, but I think you picked a winner. What'd you say his name is?"
    "Dirk Smith." she said.
    "Dirk Caldwell," Dirk said at the same time.
    Ellen gave him a
Be Quiet
look. "His name is Dirk Smith Caldwell, Uncle Vester. The third."
    "Come from a long line of Caldwells, do you, son?" Uncle Vester asked. "Well, I like that in a man. Carrying the family name and all. Ellen's been stuck off on that mountain for years now. . ."
    "Ves-ter . . ." Aunt Lollie warned.
    Uncle Vester took Dirk's arm and bustled down the steps to get the bags. "Show Ellen to the guest room, Lollie. We'll have a little talk while we unload the car." He winked at Dirk. "Man talk."
    Before she went into the house with her aunt, Ellen took one last look to see how Dirk was handling this massive dose of family. She need not have worried. He and Uncle Vester were laughing together like two old cronies. He looked up from the car trunk and signaled okay. His smile was so mischievous, she decided that perhaps she should be worrying for herself. There was no telling what sort of fantasies Dirk was spinning for Uncle Vester.
    The screen door popped behind them as she followed Aunt Lollie into the house. Air conditioning was considered a modern foolishness by her relatives. The ceiling fans—their one concession to comfort—did little to cool the humid air. By the time Ellen reached the top of the stairs, her dress was clinging damply to her skin.
    "Well, here we are." Aunt Lollie flung open the door to a large bedroom. A massive armoire dominated one corner of the room, a four-poster bed the other.
    Ellen sat on the edge of the bed and bounced up and down like a child. "You still have feather mattresses! I'm so glad."
    Memories of days gone by flooded her mind. She could almost hear winter winds outside the window and smell the popcorn. She could almost feel the sweaty-sticky bodies of her cousins as they cuddled together in the featherbed, perspiring from the mountain of quilts Aunt Lollie had piled on top of them to keep them warm.
    "Will Emmaline and Carol be coming?" she asked.
    Tears sprang to Aunt Lollies eyes as she thought of her two daughters. "Carol and her husband are off in Spain. Lord only knows when they'll get back. They gallivant all the time. Emmaline and her husband will take the other upstairs bedroom.