Sister had called around five o’clock to say she and Richard were back from Pulaski, that Virgil was with them, and they were ordering Chinese. Did we want some? Since I had spent what was left of the afternoon visiting Debbie and the baby instead of thinking about supper, we certainly did. And it had been a very pleasant supper around the fire.

“Is this Benson guy one of the snake handlers?” Richard asked.

“Most probably,” Virgil answered. Which meant that of course he was.

Richard got up and stood with his back to the fire. If he had been a woman in a skirt, he would have hiked it up. As it was, he rubbed his hands up and down his pants leg, absorbing the heat.

“How come you don’t arrest them, Sheriff?” he asked.

“That little thing called freedom of religion, Congressman.”

A slight tension entered the air.

“I don’t bother them as long as they don’t bother or hurt other folks.”

“Well, somebody sure as hell bothered Monk Crawford,” Richard said.

“And we’ll arrest him. Or her.”

Mary Alice jumped up from the sofa. “I forgot the fortune cookies.”

She went into the kitchen and came back with a small sack. She handed it to me. I was sitting on the floor on a pillow with my head against Fred’s leg. I took a cookie for both of us and passed the sack to Luke. He had been very quiet all night and I wondered if he shouldn’t be in bed.

“Everybody read them out loud,” Mary Alice insisted. “Patricia Anne, you go first.”

The slip of paper from my fortune cookie informed me that I would become rich. Fred’s said, “You will never die.” Luke’s read, “Better things are coming.”

And then Virgil’s.

“You will soon be released from the insane asylum.” He burst out laughing.

“What? You’re making that up,” Sister said.

“I swear that’s what it says.”

“It does not.” Sister grabbed the message from Virgil.

“You will soon be released from the insane asylum.” She looked up, laughing. “Y’all, that’s what it really says.”

She patted Virgil’s hand and, still giggling, said that her fortune cookie advised, “Befriend yourself as a child,” whatever that meant.

And then we all looked at Richard who still stood before the fire.

“You will marry Miss America,” he said sheepishly and threw the paper into the fire.

“Hey, that may be better than not dying, Richard,” Fred laughed.

“No way. Those women have all those make-the-world-a-better-place causes. And every one of them has breast implants.”

“He knows,” Luke spoke up. “He dated a Miss Mississippi for several months. Whatever happened to that girl, Richard?”

“She was out in Washington hugging trees last I heard.” He stretched. “I’m tired. I think I’ll call it a day.”

“Me, too.” Luke stood up and swayed a little. Virgil reached out and steadied him.