“You can pick the graveyard gate with a length of old coat hanger, Wilson. I stashed some up on the bluff… if you know how to climb…”
“I know you want to do the ‘honorable thing’, Wilson… but you just can’t ask my father. It’s not that he won’t consent to you marrying me. It’s that he might up and shoot you with his rabbit gun. And me, too, likely as not…”
We’d joked about getting married for as long as I could remember. I never dared to hope she really meant it. I teased her that we could just elope. We could run off to the Big City like she’d always dreamed. All she had to pack was her ballet slippers. She said she’d always wanted to be married at the Hilltop Church. I determined to make her hope a reality...