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Keith looked around St. James and saw a number of people he knew, including his Aunt Betty, the Muller and Jenkins families, Jenny, without her friend of Thursday evening, but with two young children, and, interestingly, Police Officer Schenley from the high school and church parking lot incidents, with his family. Also there was Sherry Kolarik, of all people, who Keith imagined had returned to the scene of her public confession as a first step toward spiritual health. Like himself, Ms. Kolarik was undoubtedly relieved that Pastor Wilkes wasn't looking at her. However, the pastor did make an oblique reference to her predicament by reminding everyone that women were the weaker vessel, more sinned against than sinners themselves. Keith wondered how that would play in Washington, D.C.

Keith did not see the Porters and hadn't really expected to, but he had thought, or hoped, that Annie would surprise him by being there. But he guessed that this wasn't possible, that she'd be at St. John's with her sinning husband, and Keith wondered if he should drive into town for the eleven A.M. service there. He mulled this over, but decided it was not a very smart move at this juncture of events.

The service ended, and Keith walked down the church steps, where Pastor Wilkes shook the hands of everyone there and called them by name. Keith usually managed to avoid this familiarity after church, but this time he stood in line. When he got to Pastor Wilkes, they shook hands, and the old man seemed genuinely happy to see him, saying, "Welcome home, Mr. Landry. I'm delighted you could come."

"Thank you for inviting me, sir. I enjoyed your sermon."

"I hope you're able to come next week. Our discussion gave me an idea for a sermon."

"About the return of the prodigal son?"

"I had something else in mind, Mr. Landry."

"I may be out of town next Sunday."

Wilkes smiled mischievously. "Pity. I was going to discuss the role of the church in public affairs."

"Good topic. Perhaps you could send me a copy of it."

"I will."

They shook hands again, and Keith moved off. It was a cool, blustery morning, and a north wind blew through the cornfields and the trees, scattering the first leaves of autumn over the grass and through the tombstones of the churchyard. It was a starkly beautiful day, the white church and parsonage, the tall swaying elms, the picket fence of the cemetery, the clouds sailing across a pewter-colored sky. But there was something foreboding about it, Keith thought, something portentous about the autumn wind that blew the summer away and turned the land into hues of red and gold, which were deceptively pleasant harbingers of the dark season. As much as he wanted to stay, he was somehow glad he wouldn't be here much longer.

Keith ran into his aunt in the parking field, and she told him how pleased she was that he'd come to church, then invited him to Sunday dinner. Unable to think of a polite way to refuse — except to say that he'd rather watch the Redskins game and drink beer, which she wouldn't think was polite — he accepted.

* * *

At the appointed hour, around kickoff time, he arrived at Aunt Betty's with a bottle of French red Burgundy. Aunt Betty studied the label awhile, mouthing the French words, then put the bottle in the refrigerator. It didn't matter, because as it turned out, she didn't own a corkscrew anyway, and Keith sat in the living room with a glass of caffeine-free instant iced tea with too much sugar in it.

Also invited to dinner were some of the people he'd seen at the Labor Day barbecue — his mother's other cousin, Zack Hoffmann, and Zack's wife, Harriet, and their grown daughter, Lilly, and Lilly's husband, Fred. With Lilly and Fred were their three young boys, whose names Keith didn't catch and who were too young to demand that the Redskins-Cleveland game be turned on. The boys went outside and played in the yard.

Keith made small talk, aware that these people were related, and kept the conversation going by playing the family-tree game. Keith actually found it interesting in some essential, tribal way.

At dinner, which was traditional roast beef, gravy, mashed potatoes, peas, and biscuits — the sort of American food that had disappeared from the nation's capital two decades ago — Harriet, still on the family-tree subject, mentioned, "My sister, Dorothy, married Luke Prentis. I think you know the Prentis family, Keith."

He looked at her and remembered why she looked familiar.

"I believe you once went out with my niece, Annie."

"Yes."

"She married one of the Baxter boys. Cliff. He's chief of police."

Keith wondered if he could open the wine bottle with a screwdriver.

Zack looked up from his roast beef and said, "I heard they had a meeting about Cliff Baxter at St. James. That fella is a..." He glanced at the boys and said, "... is a wild one, if you want my opinion."

Lilly and Fred agreed. Aunt Betty was oblivious, and the boys asked permission to be excused, which was granted.