Sunday afternoon, after dinner, Bill and Karen rode around Cole County.
Karen, wrapped in a red overcoat matching the color of her hair, snuggled close to Bill.
"I love you so much," Karen said.
"I love you, too," Bill replied.
"Remember what we were discussing the other day?"
"You mean about running away this summer?"
"Yes--I want to leave sooner!"
Bill turned onto the road by the lake, drove into the woods, and parked. He reached under the seat, retrieved a pack of cigarettes, drew out two, handed one to Karen, and lit them both.
"Do you still want to elope?" Karen asked, very concerned about the whole situation.
"Baby," Bill replied, exhaling smoke, "we're both just juniors in high school!"
"I don't care!" Karen cried. "I don't think I can take living with my parents any more!"
"You think you got problems with your parents, you ought to try living at my house for a week!"
"I wish I could!" Karen replied, not letting on that she'd be equally excited to be with Bill's brother, Danny.
"Shit!" Bill said. "What's the matter with us? Do you really love me?"
"Yes," Karen said, caressing Bill's hair. "I've got a grandmother in New Orleans. We could live with her, and our parents can't say a damn thing!"
"You don't know how much I want to do this, baby," Bill said, as he hung his head down. "It's just the red tape involved! We'd have to get the money--who'd put us through school? I'm not all that smart, you know!"
"Can't we cross those bridges when we come to them?" Karen asked.
"I don't know," Bill said. Before he could say any more, Karen began running her hands through his hair, they threw their cigarettes out of the window, and tightly embraced.
Josiphene Michael, at four thirty that afternoon, awoke from a deep nap. She dreamed that she and Nicholas were being married. That wasn't the first time she had dreamed it.
She walked into the kitchen, and put on coffee. On the refigerator door was placed a note, reading, "Josiphene, because you are in this area of the kitchen most often, I placed this note here. I have gone out to the farm. Will be back about six. Eli."
Realizing Eli's suggestion of where she spent most of her time, Josiphene burned with anger.
After two cups of coffee, Josiphene made her face, brushed her hair, and put on a nice dress. She went to the telephone, and dialed.
"Nicholas," she said, "Did I wake you?"
"No, my darling," Nicholas, sitting back in his recliner, replied.
"I just wanted to see what time you'd be here tonight."
"I guess, about seven, as usual. Is that okay?"
"Well," Josiphene said, "I suppose so. Nicholas, I have something vry important I want to discuss with you tonight. It's a subject we've avoided for a long time."
"I'm looking forward to it."
Most of the Lebanese citizenry of Cole attended the various Christian churches spread throughout town. George and Helen Knapp, on the way to an evening prayer service at Trinity Episcopal Church, were in one of their usual discussions about the status of Josiphene Michael.
"I just don't think it's right," Helen said. "I wouldn't say it around anyone but you, but Josiphene acts like a slut! Of course, everyone knows about them--and what do you think poor Eli thinks about it?"
"No telling," George said. "I don't know why Josiphene and Eli don't get a divorce. It would be the only decent thing to do!"
"We don't know Nicholas Abraham that well," Helen said, "and sometimes I wonder how well Josiphene knows him!"
"How long will they be able to go on this way?" George mumbled, as they approached the church.
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