I ran a hand over the gorgeous bedspread and eased down onto the fainting couch, watching the sunset for a few moments with the back of one hand thrown dramatically over my forehead. Every word that went through my mind had a heavy Georgia accent.

It was my birthday. I was officially over the hill, and no one had remembered, but I didn't care. I'd just been given the most wonderful accidental birthday gift in the whole world. Someday I would tell Billy Lee what he'd accomplished but not for a long time. I was going to savor every single minute of the time in Jefferson, Texas, and make memories to revisit time and time again.

Momma used to say that I'd missed being a firecracker by only two days. I'd always wondered, if I'd been born on the Fourth, if I'd have had more spunk and brains. I stared at the woman in the mirror hanging above the dressing table. Dark, curly hair. Nondescript green eyes with a few crow's-feet settling in around them. A square face with full lips. It shocked me to realize I was the image of my grandmother. No wonder Momma sometimes confused me for her mother when she wasn't having a good day.

Though it was my birthday, I hadn't thought about my customary dozen red roses all done up in a big vase from Drew until that moment. Momma would have thought I was a new maid coming around to clean the toilets if I'd gone to see her that day. She hadn't had a good day now in a long time. The only way Crystal remembered my birthday was if I reminded her. Then she'd run out to the jewelry store with her father's credit card. I had at least half a dozen little gold pendants with Mom scrolled diagonally across an open heart. They were in a silver jewelry box on the dresser at Drew's house.

Had Charity found that box yet? Had she held her breath, hoping to find diamonds and rubies, since that precious red gem is my official birthstone? If she'd opened it, all she'd found were little gold Mom necklaces bought at the last minute and a promise ring Drew had given me six months before we were officially engaged. I'd inherited his mother's engagement ring, which he'd replaced with a wide gold wedding band when we were married. Before we'd been married a year, the engagement ring went to the safe deposit box at the bank. It was one of those things "in his possession."

I was in Miss Scarlett's bedroom. My heart was floating six feet above my body, and I couldn't care less about roses, necklaces, or anything else. Nothing could erase or diminish the joy of that moment. A knock on the door jerked me back to the present. I opened it just a crack to see Billy Lee in a pair of khaki slacks, a blue short-sleeved shirt that made his eyes sparkle, and dress shoes. His sandy hair was combed straight back, and he smelled heavenly after a fresh shave.

"Can you meet me down in the parlor in half an hour? I thought we'd go to supper," he said.

I'm sure my face was a lesson in pure shock. Unable to speak for the second time in an hour, I nodded. I took the quickest shower I'd ever had, promising myself that later I was going to take one that lasted until the hot water went stone cold. I chose the swishy floral skirt and cotton sweater that brought out the green in my eyes, ran a brush through my hair, and slapped on a smidgen of makeup. I didn't rush down the staircase but took my time and wished I had a green velvet dress with a petticoat, maybe a parasol, and definitely a deep southern accent. I didn't look or sound a bit like Scarlett O'Hara, but I liked to think that my new fiery spirit was the same as hers.

The parlor did not disappoint. Whoever designed it must have loved and studied Tara. Billy Lee was sitting in one of the red velvet wing chairs flanking the fireplace, and he stood when he noticed me. He was even more handsome than Rhett Butler that evening, and he had eyes only for me.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Where are we going?"

He looped my arm though his. "To supper. I hope you like Italian. That's where I've made reservations."

"Love it. This is so . . " And then I saw the horse-drawn carriage waiting at the curb.

"Thought you might like to go back in time." He smiled.

"Oh, my!" I gasped.

The driver held the door for us, and Billy Lee helped me into the carriage. I wasn't Trudy Matthews; I was truly a southern belle. As we rode down brick streets, past the Christ Episcopal Church, the museum, and hotels, I imagined it as it was in pre-Civil War days. I envisioned a time that offered a quieter, more genteel way of life. The driver kept up a steady chatter about legends and lore about everything we passed. I didn't need a notebook to write down every word. The whole experience was branded deeply on my heart and mind.

When the carriage stopped at the Italian restaurant on the west side of town, Billy Lee was a true southern gentleman and offered his hand to help me out. He opened doors and pulled out my chair at our table. He ordered a bottle of vintage wine, and I was amazed at his ability to pronounce the name. I would have stumbled and stuttered, and the waiter probably would have brought us Kool-Aid instead of a smooth, wonderful, deep red wine. I had veal parmesan. He had lasagna, and we talked about how the movie and the book were different. I'd never known a man who had read Gone With the Wind, and I had never had so much fun in my entire life.

I glanced out the window at the carriage several times during dinner. We weren't far from the O'Hardy place, and a nice stroll on a summer's evening would be fun, but I wanted another ride in the carriage to relish a few more minutes of the slow life that Scarlett had experienced before the war.

"It's not going anywhere. I ordered it for the whole evening," he finally said.

I -smiled. "If this is my prize every time the floor man comes around, I may hire him to varnish something once a week."

"So I did good, did I? Am I now sensitive, pretty, and what else?"

"Just plain great," I said.

He grinned. "Hey, now, I like that word best of all."

"Finally, one we agree on," I teased.

He raised his wineglass. "To Trudy, who's beautiful in her new outfit and with her curly hair."

I clinked mine with his. "Thank you, Billy Lee."

"Shall we order a tiramisu to go so you can have a midnight snack if you get hungry?" he asked.

"Honey, usually I could eat two of those things, but it'll be sometime tomorrow before I'm hungry again."

"If you want one later, we'll have it delivered to the hotel."

The waiter laid the check on the table. Billy Lee put some bills inside the thin black folder and waved the waiter away when he said he'd return with change. ---- - - - - - - -- - --

When we were back in the carriage, he told the driver to give us the grand tour of town. I could give someone the grand tour of Tishomingo in exactly five minutes. In a carriage it might take fifteen, and that would allow time for the horses to stop and nibble on Daisy Black's rosebushes that stuck out over the sidewalk.

Jefferson was a different story. The driver took us east of town, over a bridge across the Big Cypress Bayou. He told us the history as he kept the horses moving along at a steady pace. He talked, and I listened with one ear, but mostly I just let the words flow through my brain. All the history didn't appeal to me as much as did the frogs, crickets, and other creatures of the night setting up a chorus that sounded exactly like "Happy Birthday to Trudy."

The bayou had a peculiar smell to it, not anything like Pennington Creek in Tishomingo. Not even that year when the water got so high that they had to close off the old wooden swinging bridge did Pennington smell like the Big Cypress Bayou.