“I don’t mind,” Annajane protested. “Just do whatever you need to do, Pokey. I’m going to ride in the ambulance with Sophie.” She glanced at Mason. “If that’s okay with you?”

“Now, wait a minute,” Celia snapped, not about to let Annajane usurp her authority. “Her father and I will ride in the ambulance. He’s going to have to sign authorization for her to be treated. And I’m her, uh, I’m his wife.”

Pokey turned to go. “Not yet, you’re not.” She said it under her breath, just loud enough for Celia to hear.

“Daddy,” Sophie whimpered, reaching out an arm for her father.

“Right here, sugar,” Mason said, stepping to Annajane’s side and squeezing the little girl’s hand. “We’re going to get you to see a doctor right this minute. And guess what? You’re gonna get to ride in an ambulance. What do you think about that?”

“Will it hurt?” Sophie asked, huge tears rolling down her pale cheeks.

“Not at all,” Celia said brightly. “It’ll be fun! I’ll get them to blast the siren so everybody knows you’re coming.”

“It might hurt a little bit,” Annajane said, shooting Celia a look. “But we’ll be right there with you, the whole time. We need to get the doctors at the hospital to see what’s wrong with your tummy. I think they’ll give you something to make you sleep, and then they’ll take a look and figure things out.”

“Okay,” Sophie said wearily. “Only, don’t let me go, Annajane. Okay?” Her eyelids fluttered, and she dozed off, her forehead nestled against Annajane’s ruined dress.

“I won’t, baby,” Annajane whispered. “I promise.”

Mason reached over and gently removed the little girl’s glasses, which had slid off the end of her nose, tucking them into the pocket of his tux jacket.

The door flew open again, and Sallie Bayless bustled in with Davis in her wake. “Pokey says there’s some talk that it might be her appendix? And an ambulance is on the way? I just called Max Kaufman. He was on the third tee at the golf club when I reached him,” she told her son. “He’s going to meet you at the emergency room.”

“Max Kaufman?” Celia asked.

“Chief of surgery at the hospital,” Sallie said. “A very old family friend. He should have been sitting right out front in one of those pews, but Max is a hopeless philistine. Says he never goes to weddings or funerals. But he’s a wonderful doctor, isn’t he, Mason? He’ll take very good care of the child.”

“Mason and Annajane are going to the hospital, and I’ll follow in my car. Maybe you could ride with me,” Celia said.

Sallie shook her head. “Celia, dear, I think it would be better if you and I went on over to the club to greet our guests. Mason has his cell, and I have mine, and he can keep us posted.”

“I don’t know,” Celia said, her brow furrowed prettily. “I think I need to be with Sophie…”

“Look, y’all, we don’t all need to go to the hospital,” Davis spoke up. “Mama, I’ll take you and Celia over to the club for the reception. If there’s nothin’ seriously wrong with Sophie, Pokey can bring Mason back over there once Doc Kaufman gets it figured out. Hell, maybe it’s nothing. It’d be a shame to cancel the party if it’s only a bellyache.”

He glanced toward the doorway, where Celia’s sultry maid of honor leaned against the doorjamb, looking bored.

“Good idea,” Mason nodded in agreement. He grasped Celia’s arm and gently steered her toward the door.

“Well,” Celia said hesitantly, “If you really think you can do without me…”

Mason walked her to the door. His hand rested lightly on the small of her back, and he brushed a kiss on Celia’s forehead. “I knew you’d understand. Look, I’ll call you the minute we know something. Maybe it’s not really anything serious. In which case, I’ll be at the club in an hour or so. Okay?”

Celia responded by wrapping her arms tightly around Mason’s neck, molding herself to him, and kissing him deeply and passionately.

Sallie Bayless looked away politely. Finally, she cleared her throat. “Celia, dear, I think we’d better go. Your great-aunt is out there, and she’s beside herself with worry…”

In the distance, they heard the approaching keen of a siren.

Mason peeled himself off the front of his bride’s low-cut gown. “Better go,” he said.

“Call me,” Celia repeated, reluctantly allowing herself to be towed away.

*   *   *

When they were alone again, Mason went back to the settee, where Annajane was still holding Sophie in her arms.

“Let me take her,” he whispered, holding out his arms.

“You’ll ruin your tux,” Annajane protested, but Mason was already sliding his arms under the child’s limp torso. He straightened up and cradled Sophie against his chest.

“You really think it’s her appendix?” he asked.

Annajane shrugged. “My cousin Nadine had appendicitis one summer when we were up at the cabin. Thank God Mama was there, because my aunt really thought Nadine was just constipated. Mama insisted they go to the emergency room, and, sure enough, that’s what it was.”

Mason blanched. “Maybe we should take her to Raleigh. Max Kaufman is a good enough country doc, from what I know, but Passcoe Memorial is just a little old podunk hospital with, what, fifty beds? Maybe she should see a pediatric specialist…”

The siren was getting closer now.

“Mason, Passcoe Memorial is a fine facility,” Annajane said. “It’s small, but they have a state-of-the-art surgical wing, thanks to your father’s Rotary Club, and Mama always said Dr. Kaufman was the best surgeon, the best diagnostician, she’d ever seen. If it really is her appendix, there’s probably no time to take Sophie to Raleigh. If it’s something else, something more serious, Dr. Kaufman can refer us to a specialist, but in the meantime, let’s just take one thing at a time, please?”

Pokey rushed into the room, pink-faced and breathless.

“Okay, the cars are moved, and the ambulance is pulling around front,” she said. She put one hand to Sophie’s cheek. “Oh wow, she really does have a fever,” she said. “How long has she been asleep?”

“Just a few minutes,” Mason said.

“Where’s the bride?” Pokey asked, looking around the room. “Checking her makeup?”

“Not funny,” Mason snapped. “Mama persuaded her to go on over to the country club. Maybe you should join them.”

“Not a chance,” Pokey said. “Pete’s taking the boys over there, but I’m going to the hospital.”

6

Geographically, the distance from the church to the hospital, which was located on the bypass just outside the Passcoe city limits, was only seventeen miles.

To Annajane and Mason, the ride seemed to take a lifetime. Jammed into the back of the ambulance, perched on either side, with Sophie’s tiny form on a gurney between them, they could only watch helplessly as she writhed in pain.

“She’s hurting! Can’t you give her something?” Mason growled at the emergency medical technician riding in the passenger seat.

“Sorry, Mr. Bayless, but with kids this young, we just make sure their pulse and breathing are stable,” the EMT said. “We’ll be at the hospital in fifteen minutes, and they’ll probably give her something then.”

“Daddy,” Sophie whimpered. “Annajane. It hurts.”

She was awake again, and she looked terrified. Annajane squeezed the child’s hot, clammy hand and brushed back a strand of hair from her forehead.

“We’re taking a ride to the hospital, sweetpea,” Annajane said. “Can you tell how fast we’re going? This old ambulance goes even faster than your daddy’s fun car.”

Mason laughed despite himself. The “fun car” was what Sophie called his restored candy-apple red 1972 Chevelle convertible. It had been Glenn Bayless’s favorite big boy toy, handed down to Mason as a twenty-first-birthday gift.

The convertible was currently garaged in a truck bay at the bottling plant, brought out only occasionally, for Sunday drives to the coast, or as a special treat for Sophie, because there wasn’t room for it in the two-car garage at the house, what with his own Yukon and Celia’s Saab. And also because Celia had taken an instant disliking to—and distrust of—what she called his “middle-aged crazy car,” or, worse, “your pimp-mobile.”