It was really much too early in the day for murder.

"Bertie, here's my problem with that reasoning. When people see you, they think this is who you are." I waved my hand from his head to his feet. "But the truth is that this whole costumelike persona is only one tiny aspect of who you are. There's a lot more on the inside than you can see on the outside. So as long as you look like this, people will judge you unfairly."

"Mom, I look like all the guys my age in Kathmandu."

"But you're in Atlanta. Take a bath."

"I see your point."

"Look, I've got to get on the road or else I'm going to sit in rush-hour traffic for hours. I'll see you in a few weeks if you're still here for the wedding."

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna stay for a while. Dad needs help getting around, and it's pretty nice here at this time of year."

"You might think about gainful employment," I said, and he gave me a look. "It's just a thought."

"Mom! Wait!"

It was Charlotte.

"You didn't have to get up," I said. "We said our good-byes last night."

She threw her arms around me and hugged me hard. Then she stood back and looked at me with such an odd expression I thought she was going to start crying.

"Taking Dad to the doctor. Checkup this morning."

"Good," I said.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I don't blame you for being frustrated with us. We suck."

"Yeah, at the moment you both sort of do, but life's long and there's time yet for you both to amount to something spectacular."

"I'm going to do better. I swear," Charlotte said.

"Me too," Bertie said.

"That's a start. But I'd rather see y'all shoot higher than to merely be better-go be brilliant! Now, I'll call y'all when I arrive, okay? Tell your father I said so."

There were the perfunctory kisses all around and one last hug from Holly, who had traipsed in to see what was going on.

"Love you, Gammy," she said. "Don't go."

I didn't want to leave her either, but the only way Charlotte was ever going to be the kind of mother Holly needed was if she had to.

"It's okay, Holly Doodle, I'll be back before you know it."

They followed me to the garage, watched me squeeze through the narrow space between my car and the wall to get in my car, because Wes insisted on the better one, and only then did they realize that I wasn't taking the Benz.

"Hey!" Charlotte said. "I thought you were taking Dad's car!"

"Nah," I said. "I decided to get a Benz of my own when I get to Charleston. You can tell that to your father too if you want."

"Righteous," Bertie said and smiled.

"Oh, shut up, Bertie," Charlotte said. "You've never even surfed one day in your whole life."

"Bye, y'all!" I said, raised my window, and backed out of the garage. Wes was in my rearview mirror, dressed for the day and holding The Wall Street Journal. I stopped and rolled down my window again.

"Les? Can you turn the car off? I want to talk to you for a minute."

Every hair on the back of my neck stood up. Instinctively, I knew Wes had something up his sleeve. Had he already discovered the missing checks? And that I had taken the title to the Audi?

"Sure," I said and put the car in park.

"Want to get out so we can go sit on the porch?"

"Okay," I said, turned the car off, and got out. "What's going on, Wes?"

"I've been thinking, that's all, and I just want to talk to you about something."

I sat on one of the wrought-iron benches that stood on either side of our front door, and he sat on the other.

"You know, I don't think we've ever sat on these at the same time," I said, and it was true. They were awfully nice, but mostly decorative.

"You're probably right. So, Les, I've been thinking. We can't do this like this."

"Do what how?" I said.

"Almost thirty years together and boom? It's not right. I think we owe each other more than this, you know, to at least try and figure out what we're doing here."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, remember I told you that I got the name of someone I wanted us to go and see? They're these supershrinks who manage to rehab all kinds of relationships, and I think we ought to go and see them. You know, give it a stab? In fact, I've already set up a couple of crisis sessions with them for the week after next. Normally, it takes weeks to get in, but I convinced them . . ."

"You what?"

"Yeah, I did. I knew you wanted to go see your brother and all that, which is fine. So go see him, have fun, but please if you can, come back next Sunday so we can make our Monday appointments?"

I thought about it and came to a quick conclusion that it was hopeless.

"I don't know, Wes. I don't know."

"Look, I never asked you for much," he said. "I think this is critical."

I just looked at him and cocked my head to one side. Was he kidding? Never asked me for much? He saw it on my face.

"Okay," he said, "maybe I asked for a lot. But you're walking out of here and busting up our family like this? I just think you owe it to me and to all of us to make sure this is the right thing to do."

Now what was I supposed to say to that? Frankly, I didn't feel like I owed him a damn thing. It was quite the other way around. But he had gone to the trouble of trying to get us to at least talk it out with a professional. Maybe that meant something. Maybe his experience with cancer had made him reconsider his behavior.

"Okay, Wes. I'll go to one session for you, but that's it."

"Well, I booked more than one, but we'll see. Thanks, Leslie. I just don't want you to have any regrets."

"I'll see you Sunday," I said and started the car. "E-mail me the information, okay?"

"Sure. Drive safe."

Wes was really going to lose his mind when he discovered the missing checks. He was going to need CPR. I smiled the whole way out of Atlanta. I knew the only reason he wanted to see those psychiatrists was because he didn't want to give up one dime he had to his name. It had nothing to do with love. But what if it did? It was true that different people loved in different ways and that they showed it differently. What if all the nice things Wes had been saying to me were his way of trying to show me how much he cared? It was easy to leave Wes when I was convinced he didn't give a damn, but I didn't want to hurt anyone. That wasn't the woman I'd ever been. But they all made me so angry! What would life be if I went back to Wes? Horrible! It gave me chest pain to even consider it. But was I ready to walk away from all of it? My children? Holly?

I drove for several hours and finally began to sense the Lowcountry. I passed over the Edisto and other smaller bodies of water, over which hung the enormous branches of live oaks and long sheers of Spanish moss. Those haunted trees had graced the banks of these same rivers and streams from the days the Catawbas, the Sewees, and the very first fathers and mothers of our country walked the land. At one point in South Carolina's history over twenty tribes of Native Americans lived here. In my mind's eye, I could almost see them silently moving down the water in canoes or making their way through the woods. The water, glassy and pristine, reflected every dock and boat and tree in a perfect mirror image. How did I always forget how powerful the Lowcountry was? Because I had lived the past thirty-plus years of my life in Atlanta, lost in the needs of Wes and the children when Wes had never cared about mine. It was so beautiful here you could lose yourself in the landscape.

Actually, I thought to myself, that's kind of a funny point because what were my needs? I'd been so consumed by Wes and the children I'd never had time to develop any personal desires. I gardened, true, but mostly out of a sense of duty to the house. Okay, I'll admit I got some pleasure out of the results, and the work itself was a great way to relieve stress. But the only passion I really ever had, my love of chamber music, had been squelched by Wes's aversion to it. Well, things are going to be very different from now on, I told myself. Very different. Maybe I'd indulge myself in endless concerts, learn all about it. Maybe I'd grow fruit trees and wire gorgeous music into the garden of wherever I wound up living.

As soon as I passed Orangeburg and changed counties, I opened my windows and let the edges of the Lowcountry rush inside. It's just a fact of life that the air around Charleston is sweeter and thick. I wanted to drink it. I called Jonathan when I was about thirty miles outside of the city. He didn't pick up, so I just left a message that I'd be home soon.

Just as I was coming into the business area on the outskirts of Charleston, my cell phone rang. It was Harlan calling from Milan. I pulled into a gas station to talk to him.

"Ciao, bella! Come stai?"

"Tutto bene!" I said, using all my Italian in one exchange. "When are you getting home? I have so much to tell you!" I pulled over into a filling station.

"Tomorrow afternoon. Is everything okay?"

"Yes. Everything is fine."

"Where are you? Do I hear the roar of traffic?"

"Yes, you do. I'm in an Exxon station. As you know, it's against the law to hold a phone and drive an old beat-up car at the same time. I'm just coming back from Atlanta."

"It's a bad idea anyway, never mind the law. Why did you go to Atlanta? A conjugal visit?"

"Heavens, no! No, this is terrible, but Wes found out that he had testicular cancer, so I went to Atlanta to get him through the surgery."

"Testicular cancer? Holy Mother Church! That's terrible! Is he all right?"

"He's totally fine. They don't think he'll even need chemo."

"Well, good, I guess. Now, more important, how's my Miss Jo?"

I giggled. I couldn't blame Harlan for not caring too much about Wes's well-being.

"She's been staying with her uncle Jonathan while I was away, and I fear he's spoiled her rotten."

"Impossible. She couldn't be any more rotten than she is."

"Well, we're all in love with her. That's a fact."

"I brought her something she's going to love," he said, in a voice that told me whatever the gift was that it was something ridiculous.

"Okay, tell me," I said. "What extravagance did you manage to find?"

"Matching father/daughter Prada raincoats and hats." He started to laugh. "You know Leonard adored anything Prada."

"Oh, Harlan, there's no excuse for you!"

"And a great handbag for her auntie too! You'll love it!"

"Oh, Harlan! You are too much, brother. I'm going to make a feast for you!"

"If you'll just throw away all the catalogs and junk mail, that will be sufficient, thanks. Hey, how's Jonathan?"

"Jonathan's great. He's probably the kindest man I've ever met."

"Hmmm. Sounds lukewarm to me. Don't settle for lukewarm, Les."

"Hey, Harlan? I'm not settling ever again. Don't worry about that. See you tomorrow. Safe flight!"

Was my relationship with Jonathan lukewarm? Hardly. His kindness is what brought me back to life and made me feel like a woman again. Harlan would see that when he got home. But Harlan would also see that I wasn't ready to jump into another committed relationship with anyone. Besides, Jonathan kept talking about moving across country in perhaps as soon as a year.

By the time I pulled into Harlan's driveway, I had spoken to Jonathan. He had a plan. He was picking me up at six, we were driving out to the beach, and he was making dinner for me.

"Nothing fancy," he'd said, "but at least you won't have to cook on your first night home."

I'd told him I'd be ready and I was. I brought all my things inside and placed the pictures I'd brought all around my bedroom and the sitting room. I put a small one of Holly right by my bed. I was excited to see Jonathan. God forgive me, but the few hundred miles between me and Wes felt so good. I'm sorry to say it, but it just did. I was already dreading going back for the wedding.

I had this crazy fluttering in my chest, and the closer it got to six o'clock my pulse picked up speed. But true to his punctual habits, six o'clock rolled around and the doorbell rang.

"Hey!" I said. "It feels like I haven't seen you in a month!"

It was true.

"Hey, yourself!" He gave me a great big hug and a bunch of silly, noisy smooches all over my face that made me laugh. "I missed you!"

"I missed you too. You've got Miss JP in the car?"

"She's out at the beach. I can tell you with authority that she doesn't like the sand at all."

"Well, of course not. She's got tender little princess paws. That mean old sand gets very hot."

"I can't believe Harlan doesn't have little sandals for her," he said. "In eight colors."

"I know. It's abusive. He'll be home tomorrow. I'll bring it up with him."

"Tomorrow? Great! I hate to admit it, but I'm not cut out for dogs," he said.

"Really? I thought you loved Miss Jo."

"I do. If you could potty train her, I'd love her a lot more. Come on, let's get going. I'm too old to pick up poop."