“Rob is dealing with Lucy on the other line,” John said. “But I saw Patty-Cake at her desk when your sisters went out. I think we’re okay.”

Very quietly Caroline said, “Your mama is going to be so angry with me.”

“No she won’t. Caroline,” he said, “right now my mother is the least of our worries. You want to tell me what’s going on? Because I’m sure confused.”

He could hear the sound of highway traffic and people’s voices in the background. A rest stop on the highway, a hundred miles away or a thousand, far enough that it was hard to get any real sense of her as she tried to pull words out the void.

Finally she said, “I’ve been a coward, and it’s caused you a lot of grief.”

“Caroline,” John said, hoping he sounded calmer than he felt. “Save the mea culpa for Father Bruce, and tell me what the hell is going on. Just say it, whatever it is, and we’ll work it out.”

“I don’t want to get married,” Caroline said.

John heard himself make a sound like a balloon deflating. It was what he had been hoping for and dreading. He supposed he should ask a lot of questions, sound hurt or outraged, demand explanations, but nothing came to mind. He felt like a man who has spent a great deal of time and energy planning a jailbreak, only to find that the doors had been unlocked the whole time.

She was saying, “I know I owe you a long explanation and we need to talk this through in detail, but right now I’m hoping we can work together to make this as easy as possible—” Her voice trembled, and she stopped. “I’m really sorry. I really am, but this can’t be much of surprise, after all. Are you okay?”

“I took a letter up to the retreat house, the same day we dropped you off there. I’m assuming you didn’t get it.”

Caroline drew in a sharp breath. “It must have come after I left. They probably forwarded it home to Old Roses. Do you want to tell me about it now?

“Hell no,” John said, and he felt himself flush with embarrassment and irritation.

“That’s okay,” Caroline said. “I can pretty much guess what it said. So we’re in agreement, we’re not getting married tomorrow?”

John cleared his throat. “Yes, we’re in agreement. What comes next?”

“The hard part. I have to talk to Mama and Father Bruce before I—before we—make any announcements. I know I’m asking a lot, but could you keep this quiet until this evening? We could tell the families at the dinner, when we’ve got everyone together.”

“You’ve thought this through,” John said, feeling only vaguely more charitable toward her.