"I'm not going to wash feet tonight," Esme told her and then glanced at her husband.
"All right," Cleav answered, patting her reassuringly on the shoulder. "Go on ahead, Mother."
As Mrs. Rhy hurried down the aisle, Cleav turned back to his wife. "Are you feeling all right?"
"I'm fine," she told him easily. "I just thought I'd skip it this time."
Cleav nodded his agreement and gave her a chaste good-bye kiss on the cheek.
"I hate to leave you alone up here," he said, glancing over his shoulder at the circle of men already forming in the clearing, their water buckets and towels in evidence.
"I'll be fine, go on," she said.
"You sure, Esme-girl?" her father interrupted.
"Yes, Pa," she said. "Go on now with Cleav."
As she watched the retreating backs of the men, she heard a giggle behind her. Turning, she saw the twins coming up the hill with Armon. He had one arm around the waist of each.
Seeing Esme, the two broke away from their sweetheart and hurried toward her. "Are you waiting for us?" one asked.
"What are you both doing with Armon?" Esme asked, looking over her sisters' shoulders to the culprit, who was now leaning so negligently against a tree trunk.
"Armon says that since we're going to the revival instead of walking out, the rules don't count," Adelaide answered with unconcerned openness.
"The rules always count," Esme said firmly. "Adelaide, this is your night, so I'll expect you, Agrippa, to walk home with me and Cleav."
"Oh, for heaven's sake." Agrippa gave her sister an exasperated look. "Well, can't I at least sit with them?"
Esme started to say no and then held her tongue. "All right," she said finally. "But you find me as soon as the service is finished."
"Thank you." Agrippa gave Esme a grateful kiss on the cheek.
Esme hugged both girls warmly. "Now, you'd best hurry or you'll be late," she told them.
"You're not coming with us?"
"Not tonight."
As Esme stood on the hill watching the twins scamper toward the women's group, she folded her arms across her chest. Her sisters were sweet and pretty and such precious little featherheads. She'd always thought that she would provide for them. But it was Cleav who had given them a decent place to live and furnished them with clothes to wear. Could she expect Cleav to protect them from the human dangers in life as thoroughly as he protected them from the elements? Cleav wanted to share her responsibilities, but she still felt that she should handle this one herself.
Turning, she looked at the object of her sisterly concern. Armon Hightower stood, like a wolf in waiting, grinning at her. She felt the rise of powerless ire inside her. Oh, how she'd like to slap the self-satisfied smile right off his face! But she'd never slapped a man in her life.
Suddenly an idea came to mind. As her plan hastily took shape, she slowly made her way toward Armon Hightower.
He stood, a sprig of straw stuck in the side of his mouth, and his movements were lazy and casual as he watched Esme approach. "Evenin', Miz Rhy," he greeted her politely. "What you doing up here with us sinners?"
With a hasty glance around Esme realized that virtually everyone who had chosen not to go foot washing was either a mother with a quartet of children or a wild young man.
"Actually, I wanted to have a word with you," Esme lied.
Armon raised an eyebrow warily. "If you're fit to be tied about me escorting both them gals up here," he said, "I warn you that I already mentioned it to your pa, and he didn't care no how."
Esme accepted his statement with a nod. "This has nothing to do with the twins." She stated the bald-faced untruth without flinching. "This is something else entirely."
Pushing off from the tree, Armon stood straight before her, his interest obviously piqued.
Allowing the suspense to gather, Esme hesitated. "There is ... I have a friend here who . . . well, has indicated an interest in you."
