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speed to get here, now did you?"
    "Hi, Mom," he said, letting go of Cammie's hand to give Dorothy Kennedy a big bear hug and a sound kiss. "And no, I didn't speed. Cammie made me drive five miles under the speed limit."
    "That's my girl," Edward said as he embraced Cammie in his loving, paternal arms. "Make him toe the straight and narrow. You know we count on you to keep him out of trouble."
    "Oh, she makes it hard for me, Dad," Grant said, "But that's okay, 'cause I know she's really soft as butter inside."
    While Edward clasped his son's hand and laughed heartily, Cammie fought the distinct urge to slug Grant. She might have, if Dorothy hadn't kissed her cheek.
    "Cammie, sweetheart, I'm so glad to see you. You're so pretty up on that TV. Dad and I have everybody we know watching you. Oh, and I almost forgot. When we get home I've got some material I found that'll be just beautiful for that dress pattern we picked out for you last month."
    "Great, Mom," she said with an enthusiasm she was far from feeling. "I can't wait. And talk about pretty, I love your new outfit. Did you make it?"
    "Why, sure. Got to keep my fingers busy. The Good Book says, idle hands are the devil's workshop."
    "The preacher's right on that score," Grant said, sliding Cammie a mischievous grin. "I try to keep mine as quick and clever as possible."
    Dorothy smiled proudly. "I know you do, son. You're just so gifted and imaginative. I declare, the Lord must have been feeling generous the day you were born."
    "I think so too, Mom. He gave me an extra portion, and a man has to be thankful for that." Grant nodded amiably as he draped his arm around Cammie's shoulders, looking amazingly sweet and innocent as he brushed his fingers back and forth against the bare skin of her upper arm.
    "So, son," Edward said, "just about got that special fishin' pole worked out for Audrey? That's all she talks about every time she and Trish come to visit."
    "It's almost done. I ran into a few hitches, but I've about got it worked out. I wouldn't be much of an uncle if I let my only niece down, you know."
    "Oh, dear," Dorothy said. "Church must be starting while we're standing around gabbing. I think I hear the organ."
    Grant nodded. "I think I hear it too. Maybe we should go on in. When the organ's touched just right, it's a beautiful thing to behold."
    "That's a fact," Edward said, hooking his arm through his wife's and leading the family toward the sanctuary. "Come on, kids. Time to sing some hymns, give some thanks, and get rid of the week's guilt. Or maybe get some more, depending on what the good reverend decides to preach."
    Cammie hung back just enough so Dorothy and Edward were a good ten feet in front of them. Edward was middle-age handsome, and Grant favored him; Dorothy was a maternal version of a young Judy Garland. It was all too easy to see the similarities between them and their son. But looking at their trusting faces and being enfolded in the unlimited bounty of their love—something she'd always associated with Grant as well— Cammie decided she had grossly misjudged her adoptive brother somewhere along the line.
    "You should be ashamed of yourself," she hissed as his hand fit snugly in the small of her back. "All those innuendos in front of your parents."
    "Innuendos?" he repeated incredulously. "What innuendos, Cammie? I was just going along with the folks. And you do make it hard for me, you know."
    His seductive chuckle was interrupted by a grunt of pain as her elbow connected with his ribs.
    "I hope the preacher heaps all kinds of guilt on your head today," she said between clenched teeth.
    "Not likely," he shot back. "I don't feel any remorse for having my prayers finally answered. Took Him long enough. After seventeen years I was beginning to think He'd disconnected the line."
    "That's blasphemous, talking like that."
    "No, it's not. It's honest." He stopped short as their parents reached the open and welcoming doors of the church, from which the