Coot was watching from a distance with the other mill workers near the barn. Coot was watching her. He always watched her. She was the loveliest thing on two feet. He could feel his face wearing a grin, even though she was so far away. Judy Bronson spun like a fairy out on the dance floor. Her blonde hair caught the light from the lanterns. It was illuminated and made her look like a heavenly being.

Coot had never been in love before. Not even close to it. But he believed he was in it now. With Judy Bronson. Of course, she hardly knew he existed, but this was only a minor technicality.

“Hey, Coot,” said Aaron, snapping his fingers in front of Coot’s eyes. “Are you even with us?”

“Think he’s had too much moonshine,” said Billy.

“No way,” said Aaron. “Not the preacher. He don’t never touch liquor.”

“He’s a regular J. Wilbur Chaplain, ain’t he?”

One boy slapped Coot’s shoulder. “Tell me, Mister Chaplain, are you for or against the Eighteenth Amendment? Inquiring minds wanna know, Reverend!”

The boys laughed so hard Coot thought they were going to empty their bladders in their britches.

But Coot didn’t care. He was busy watching Judy. Judy knew how to dance, and Coot had never known this until tonight. She was nothing but graceful. No, poised was a better word for it. She was long and poised. Fair. That was also a good word for what she was. She was very fair. She had white-blonde hair, and a charm that made even the grossest mill workers behave like Sunday school teachers when they were near her.

Coot knew he didn’t have a chance with her, but he was in love nonetheless. And you can’t control who you love. Even if it’s bad for you. You can control what you know and what you think and what you do. But not who you love.

“Hey, Preacher,” said Aaron. “You’re creeping me out with that face you’re wearing.”

More laughter.

Judy was in the arms of Baby Joe, the boy with dimples. Girls loved Joe’s dimples. Coot had once tried to give himself dimples by exercising his smiling muscles until they were sore, but it didn’t work. What he would’ve given for a pair of dimples like Baby Joe’s. Those things were top-shelf.

Joe spun Judy in a circle, her hair lifting from momentum. Coot wanted to die a slow death when she passed him. He knew she would never see anything in him.