“First off, she’s a Virginia gal. Second, I’ve learned about her family, a good family with roots in the church,” he continued, hugging Marianne closer. He smelled of a noxiously sweet aftershave, and she craned her face away from his jacket. He let her go and stepped back, grabbing the microphone and whisking the cord behind him. “Do you know, Marianne, that we have a surprise for you tonight?”

Marianne shook her head imperceptibly, then watched as Tad gestured to Regina. “A reunion!” he continued. “A family reunion, of two beautiful and hardworking Christian sisters.”

And there was Ruth, emerging from the kitchen in a navy skirt suit, her hair pulled back tightly, her pale, makeup-less face implacably serene. She did look beautiful—in a vaguely corporate-Madonna way—but also scared and slightly tottering in her navy heels and tan hose. Marianne reached to take the mic from Tad, but he turned away, toward the audience and Ruth, who stepped shyly onto the dais, aided by Regina.

“This gal here is Mrs. Ruth Boyette, wife to Darryl Boyette, minister of Healing Waters Baptist Church, and sister to Miss Marianne Stuart—”

The audience clapped their approval.

“Ruth,” Marianne whispered as her sister approached for a quick, light hug. “Why didn’t you call me? What are you doing here?”

“—is a big part of what we’re calling the Tour of Life,” Tad continued. “Which is something I want to invite all of you to join, about the sanctity of life, the power that we have to protect the powerless. That’s why she’s come here, to talk with you about your power, and to congratulate all of you, and also her sister for making this space where you have the freedom to exercise that power. Isn’t that right, Ruth?”

Ruth nodded, and Tad replaced the microphone in its stand. Ruth leaned in slowly. “I’m here to tell you all a story.” She paused, and Marianne could see that her shyness—the unsteady, slow walk, the determined composure—was something she had practiced. She was not scared. She was, in a way that Marianne would never be, at home here.

“It’s a sad story, in a lot of ways,” Ruth continued. “My mother—” she looked back at Marianne with a sorrowful expression. “Our mother died when I was in kindergarten. She had breast cancer, and she was a warrior.” Ruth paused again.

“But her fierceness started long before she got sick. I would not be here before you today, in fact, if our mother had not chosen life—”

The audience seemed to be holding their breath. This could not go on. Was Marianne going to let Tad Tucker and her baby sister take over, ruin, whatever was left of what she had built? With a fantasy concocted about a time she couldn’t remember?