A lady dressed in a gossamer gown of white, red shoes and sparkling white hose steps out onto the lonely sidewalk and flicks her cigarette to the curb. Her cloche hat sits on her short black curls and almost covers one of her deep blue eyes.

Her name is Felma, but she tells everyone it is Thelma. After all, it is 1926 and Felma is an "old- fashioned name" and everyone knows Thelma is not an old- fashioned girl. Wasn't she one of the first in her college class to bob her hair? She's going to be a lawyer. That is...she had planned to be a lawyer. She had big dreams of leaving her sleepy backwater Mississippi hometown and her Daddy's money. No burly husband, hamburger casseroles, and pack of kids for her. Adventure was what she craved.

How could she have known two years ago that all her dreams would come crashing down? It all started with a sore throat then the rash. Scarlet Fever is what the doctor's called it. She was sent packing from Mississippi State and her career was over.

Her older sister Claire and Clark's 7th- anniversary party had been the event of the year. Their mother had planned it for months. Her secret she would take to her grave. Claire would never know about that night in Baton Rouge. Now three months later it was no doubt. She was pregnant with Clark's baby. He had just laughed when she told him. It wasn't his first betrayal of Claire, but Thelma felt ashamed that she had gotten drunk that night and let it happen.

Sam, a Rhett Bulter look alike, was sitting in his 1926 red and tan Chrysler Imperial and just smiled when he saw Thelma step out and off the curb. He couldn't help himself. She had that effect on him. She had told him the whole story and he had in vain offered to marry her. She would have no part of it. She didn't love him or at least that is what she told him. That was okay. He loved her enough for the both of them. He had loved her ever since that day he had seen her with her friends at her sixteenth birthday party. He had come to buy the hundred acres of riverfront land from her daddy. She had not noticed him, but he had decided on that very day that she would someday be his wife. Four years had passed quickly. Sam was a patient man.

He had been at the party, too. He saw the looks she gave Clark. He wondered just how long she could keep her secret. He watched as she got into her car and sped out of the
gravel driveway. He'd just follow her and make sure she got back to her bungalow safely.

It was a hot June morning. All five of her children were present. She looked so peaceful with a smile. Short steel grey curls framed her ageless face. How had she managed to live ninety years and yet still be so beautiful? He sat there like stone; frozen with his seventy years of memories.

So many adventures they had together. They and all the children had traveled all over the world. Sam junior the oldest, now an old man himself walked slowly over to his dad and took his hand. It was time to take that long ride. A State Trooper rode his motorcycle ahead of the white hearse.

The river was quiet and the gravesite was on a small knoll in the ancient family cemetery. Bees buzzed in the stifling windless heat. Sam trudged up the hill and suddenly a cold wind blew out of the south. Sam just grinned and was heard to whisper.
"It's okay, I'll see you again. It's still our secret."