"You told Meg Bryan you wanted to look up your family history."

"Oh, that." Fred turned on the right turn signal for our exit. "I think it would be nice to know something about my family. Wouldn't you like to know where you came from?"

"I came from Mama and Daddy and Nanna and Granddaddy. And Grandmama Alice. That's enough."

"But think of all the people whose genes we carry. For instance, where did Haley get her olive skin? Strawberry-blond hair and olive complexion. Not your usual combination."

"But beautiful."

"Of course it is. But where did it come from?"

' The hair came from me. And Sister has olive skin. I'm sure you're in there somewhere, though."

"She was having a great time, wasn't she?"

The conversation had taken another ninety degree

turn. After forty years, it's no problem following. "Great."

Haley is our youngest child and has been widowed for over two years. She and her husband, Tom, had married right out of college, but put off having a family while they established careers. Haley is a nurse and works in cardiac surgery; Tom was heading up the corporate ladder at one of Birmingham's largest engineering firms. At thirty-two, they were just beginning to think about a baby when a drunk driver put an end to everything. For a long time Haley was so immersed in grief, we wondered if we would ever see our laughing, happy daughter again. But in the past few months, she had been more like her old self. When we saw her enjoying herself like she had been today at the wedding, it did our hearts good.

We turned onto our street, a nice old neighborhood with sidewalks and porches. Leaves on the trees, just emerging, cast a green glow.

"Alan and Lisa aren't back, yet," Fred said. "They probably won't be back until late." He reached over and patted my leg.

"Then you've got time to go to the grocery for me," I said. "I've already got the list made out."

Fred tightened his hold on my leg and squeezed. "I don't want that produce man saving you those special grapefruits." Farther up my leg and a good squeeze.

We went into the house laughing.

Later, when I took our old dog Woofer for his afternoon walk, I thought about Debbie and Henry, how much they would learn about each other. How much they would never know about each other. But maybe that's the secret of a happy marriage, depths still there to plumb. Surprises. And a whole lot of luck. I shared

this with Mitzi Phizer, a neighbor and old friend, who was out in her yard picking a bouquet of tulips.