“Okay,” the priest said, holding up his free hand. “I’d better get going. If you and Colette need any advice, give me a call.”

As the priest turned, Paul saw Colette’s Toyota jounce into the driveway. “Don’t go just yet.”

Colette got out and walked up with her fists balled white, like a runner waiting for the gun. She looked at Father Clemmons and back at Paul. “You … snake,” she said between clenched teeth. Paul imagined all the adjectives she was leaving out for the priest’s benefit.

“Colette…”

“Don’t Colette me,” she said. And then her face knotted up like an angry child’s. “My own first cousin.” She glanced at the priest. “My own childhood playmate.”

Paul stood up and wiped his hands. “What?”

“Someone told me.”

“Told you what?”

She nearly gagged on the word. “Clarisse. You took advantage of her.”

Paul glanced at the priest. “All we did was dance,” he yelled.

“She was on you like flypaper, I heard.”

The priest cleared his throat. “Well, I’ve got to be…”

Paul gave him a pleading look. “Don’t go yet.”

Colette put a fist to her mouth for a moment. “You were dating my first cousin. Clarisse and I made our first communion together.”

“She was holding on to me, I wasn’t holding on to her.”

Colette gave him a killing look. “You got her drunk.”

“Baby, since when can I keep Clarisse from drinking?”

“You came on to her, I heard it.”

“Pardon me, Father, but that’s bullshit.” The priest waved his apple core, giving his blessing to the argument.

Paul pointed at the ground with a forefinger. “She asked me to buy her a few rounds and I thought she was sweating it off and soaking it up with all the bar stuff she was eating.”

“She ate a pickled pig foot, I heard. Do you know how drunk Clarisse has to be to eat a pig foot? But no. You weren’t worried about her. Just like you don’t worry about me. Now everybody in town knows my husband is dating my first cousin. It feels like incest.”

He threw up his hands. “I did not date Clarisse. You invited her along.”

Colette opened her palms to the priest. “He puts a woman in a car—”

“I had to bring her home and—”

“He brings her to a dance hall.…”

“She bugged the hell out of me for a drink.…”

“He gets her drunk.…”

“She ordered, damn it. She ordered and she—”

“He dances with her like she’s his wife.…”

“She’s a decent dancer.…”

“Takes her out into the parking lot in the dark—”

“I was bringing her home.…”

Colette looked away from the priest into Paul’s eyes, and he felt that something big was coming. “Then he feels her on the behind as she’s getting in his truck.…”

“Feels her behind? What? She was so shit-faced she couldn’t raise her legs to—”

“Then when he’s in the truck, does he start it right away and drive her home? Nooooo.” Colette wound up an arm like she was getting ready to throw a softball underhand. “He lets the poor woman slide next to him and he looks her in the eyes.…”