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Show house/ 462 iied. She's a stubborn, strong-willed woman. She's had to 3e, to raise those young ones by herself. Don't be too hard m her." Don't be too hard on her. The irony of his apoooh echoed through me. His speech had done l i t t l e to make me feel any better. Between the morning sickness and the accusations I felt I was being dragged through miles of slime. And in my heart I believed that I deserved i t. And so she had given her consent at l a s t , warning Brian at the last moment, "You know what sort of family you're marrying into? A den of polygamists, t h a t ' s what." We were married by a J u s t i c e of the Peace who stood before us in his undershirt. His wife had curlers in her hair and she had left her dentures in a l i LLlu glass on the coffee table. Neither of our parents attended the l i t t l e ceremony. All through it I felt flushed with shame and disappointment. It was my own f a u l t , I told myself, to keep the tears from flowing. If I hadn't been so w i l l f u l , doing things my own way all my l i f e , hadn't rebelled against my father and now Brian's mother, then I could have had a wedding with s t y l e . Nothing sumptuous, certainly - but a ceremony, warm and legitimized by relatives wishing us well. Perhaps my father even would have sealed us to each other for a l l e t e r n i t y - bonding us beyond death. Perhaps I had not sinned so irredeemably as to be denied that. "Till death do you p a r t , " the J . P . had said, coughing. Death. Death was a l l around me. Brian's death, the death of family r e l a t i o n s h i p s . 'And the hearts of the children ^hall be turned t r a i n s t the f a t h e r s . . . . and the heart of the |