Song of the Red Sparrow, Book Three

Donna Lilliforth cautiously took the extended hand of Anna Church, the woman who had introduced herself so eloquently and so plainly as the mother of the man Donna had known as the sheriff of Prairie Gulch, Texas. She suspected his mother did not know as much, however. 
“Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Church,” Donna said, sitting in a chair at a table full of dirty ashtrays and half emptied paper coffee cups. 
“My dear, you have the look in your eyes of a woman who has had the pleasure of being introduced to my son. I have seen it many times over. You look at me with the knowledge of having known him. Everyone who comes into contact with Luke has it. It’s a look of a person who has wrestled with the devil.” 
“Oh, no, Mrs. Church,” Donna replied before she fully realized her confession. “He was not like that at all. The Luke Church I know is quite a charming man.” 
“You see, I was right,” Anna Church stated victoriously. “You have met him. I don’t have to know the particulars regarding how or where. Luke hasn’t been in correspondence with me since he married the congressman’s daughter, the shrew who put on as if she were the last remaining virgin in all of the Union. I did not approve of my son’s courtship to that woman and neither did his father, the captain. God rest his soul. Perhaps that’s why he married her, to spite us.” 
“What kind of woman did he prefer before her?” Donna begged the question. 
“In one word …performers,” Anna Church answered. “He fancied them flashier. He had eyes for actresses, singers, and showgirls. He wooed one particular budding starlet, in fact, a real looker he had seen in some forgettable production. He used to follow her from show to show. He sent her flowers before every performance. He was absolutely smitten with her. There for a while, I don’t think she even knew his name. She would not have given him the proper time of day had he asked. I believe he only decided to marry the congressman’s daughter only after the actress just disappeared, this infatuation of his. I wish I could remember her name though. She was a beautiful creature, however. Absolutely stunning. I decided to go to one of her shows once just to see what all the fuss he was making over her was about and there she was, center stage like a doll cut from porcelain, shining like a street lamp. I’ll never forget that night, and prayfully, neither will all of mankind. That awful night. I was sitting in the tenth row of the theatre. Luke had gotten me tickets. He was hired on as part of the extra security for the show that dreadful evening.” 
“You were there then when the President was shot,” Donna reached the climax of the woman’s tale prematurely. “The actress you went to see, the woman Luke Church was infatuated with, was her name Mavis?” 
“Yes,” the old woman answered as if a portion of her brain that held every memory of her long life had been pricked. “Why, yes, now that you mention it, I do remember her name. Her name was indeed Mavis. Mavis O’Hand.”