A/N: This 2021 Edition is basically the same story as posted previously. However, it has been edited for continuity and restructured, including a new Prologue and consolidated chapters (previously posted chapters combined), for what I hope is a more interesting reading experience. Some superfluous content previously included has been excluded in the main body of the story but will be included in either the Appendix at the end or as a companion story. Other content from a previously posted side-story has been incorporated into this edition. Once the story is complete, the previous 2020 Edition will be removed (after the first of the year). I have tried to stay true to canon. Canon characters, main and supporting, will appear from the series The Dukes of Hazzard (1979-85) and Enos (1980-81), and both movies (which aired in 1997 and 2000) and are the property of Warner Bros. Studios. However, this story does not include any events from The Dukes of Hazzard: Hazzard in Hollywood, only characters from that movie. Other events, original characters, and canon character arcs (there are a lot of them) are this author's creation, with several based on characters and/or character arcs created by WENN9366 (gratefully acknowledged where appropriate).

Please see acknowledgments, as well as a synopsis of Dukes of Hazzard: Reunion!, at the end of this chapter.

Forward: For newcomers to this story, the events in Secrets, Bittersweet Memories, and Dolly Parton Goodbyes occur just after the movie The Dukes of Hazzard: Reunion!. Rosco tells the story of what happened after Enos returned to his adopted home of Los Angeles, and Daisy returned to North Carolina to complete her Ph.D.


Secrets,

Bittersweet Memories,

and Dolly Parton Goodbyes

A fanfiction based on The Dukes of Hazzard

By

KayCee1951


Prologue

November 25, 2013

Sarah Jane parted the curtains slightly and peeked through the parlor window for the third time in ten minutes. That Yankee from New York would be arriving in a little more than an hour. Why her husband of fifteen years had insisted on meeting Mr. Lambert on the front porch was beyond her. 3

Rosco P. Coltrane, having only recently relinquished his Sheriff's badge, was in remarkable condition for a man on the low side of eighty-seven. Sarah Jane swore he'd have kept his badge until doomsday if not for the man who now wore that very same six-point star.

Though not as cold as some late Novembers, the air had a crispness, and she fretted about him sitting out there, waiting and thinking. Rosco was on the verge of a deepening nap when she appeared next to his big white rocker with a crocheted throw tucked under her arm. His eyes darted back and forth under softly pleated lids. That mind of his was goin' places it shouldn't, rememberin' things better left to the past. They'd had words about it earlier, and he still wouldn't budge.

'I got me a plan," he'd said, tapping the temple of his head full of soft white hair, 'and that's a fact."

If he took notice as she laid the blanket over his lap and spread it over his legs, he didn't let on—stubborn old coot. Expelling a deep sigh, Sarah Jane took a seat on the porch swing.

'After buryin' them once,' she thought, 'why go diggin' up the bones?1


An hour later, Tyrone Lambert sat on the Coltranes' front porch swing, his well-traveled leather messenger bag containing his laptop and recording equipment at his side. He'd brought it just in case the retired Sheriff changed his mind and allowed him to take notes during their meeting.

Rosco rocked slowly and tried to give the appearance of the put-out-to-pasture country bumpkin lawman he thought the man would likely expect to find. Mr. Tyrone Lambert's hankering to tell the story in an episode of Crime and Punishment in the Deep South sure 'nuff had the new Sheriff in a tizzy. And with good reason considering the shenanigans of the last few days.

When he arrived, Mr. Lambert stated his case and seemed to genuinely be interested in telling the real story behind what happened back in '98, one that didn't sensationalize it.

It wasn't as if the events of those few days hadn't landed Hazzard County all over the front-pages. The tale, convoluted and slanted to satisfy the public's appetite, was told and retold ten ways to Sunday on the national news channels for weeks afterward, none of it quite right and most of it dead-wrong.

But playing to Mr. Lambert's agenda and motives was not the mission Rosco had set himself on today. The decent folks hurt most by the crime shouldn't be forced through the punishment mill all over again. They got punished enough in ways that don't leave scars on the outside.

He was pondering where to begin the tale that needed to be told when Sarah Jane emerged from the house with two cups of hot cider.

"Thank you, Mrs. Coltrane," Ty said, taking the mug by its antler shaped handle.

"If you like fish and grits, Mr. Lambert, you're welcome to stay for lunch."

"Thank you. I look forward to trying it."

Bending to hand Rosco his cider, Sarah Jane gave him a peck on the cheek.

Rosco held up his mug emblazoned with 'Bassets Are the Bomb' and said proudly, "Grandgirls give me one every year for Christmas. Got…what's it now Sweetcakes, fifteen so far?"

"Yes, dear. That one's from 2003."

"Oh, yeah. Those girls love their paw-paw. Kew. Kew."

"And don't forget their maw-maw. I'll call ya'll directly when lunch is ready," Sarah Jane said with her hand gently resting on Rosco's shoulder and her attention on Ty. The smile she gave him seemed warm, but he didn't miss the coolness lurking in the corners of it or the apprehension in the look she gave her husband.

After the screen door closed behind her, Ty took a sip of his cider and said, "I don't think Mrs. Coltrane is too keen on me being here."

"She's just tryin' to keep the fox outta the henhouse."

"At the risk of bringing out your wife's protective instincts again, I'd like to repeat my request to take some notes before we move on to what happened."

"No need for that. You got all the facts and the evidence. I think you ought to just listen."

"I brought my digital recorder. I could do both."

"You are horrendously persistent, aren't you, son? No…I wouldn't wanna waste tape or paper on what I got to say."

"But the recorder is digital. It doesn't use–" Ty shook his head slightly and sighed. "Go ahead, Mr. Coltrane, we'll do it your way."

"Well, now. Let's see. To really tell it the way it happened…and mind you, took years and years to piece it all together…I gotta start back on that day in May 1997…"


Chapter 1

"My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun -

In Corners - till a Day

The Owner passed - identified -

And carried Me away –"

Emily Dickinson

Saturday, May 17, 1997 – Los Angeles

The sun was disappearing below the horizon, and the twinkling lights of Los Angeles were spread out below Griffith Observatory like an endless runway. A few bats darted in the periwinkle twilight, and, just to the west, the Hollywood sign stood over the city like a harbinger.

The peace of the scenery below was an illusion. In the scrub brush of the forested areas behind the observatory, the quiet of Griffith Park had been disturbed by police sirens, responding to a call from park rangers who had discovered the body of a young girl, beaten, battered, and partially dismembered.

Detectives Inez De Pina and Enos Strate arrived at the scene, showed their badges to the uniformed officer at the parking lot barricade, and parked their silver-gray Crown Vic close to the trailhead. Lt. McCaffery, lead homicide detective, was waiting for them when they signed in and made their way to the taped off area just outside the core crime scene. Cadaver dogs were being deployed to search the outlying areas in every direction beyond the main perimeter for missing body parts. Markers had been placed, and a pre-searched and documented pathway to the tent had been established with metal stakes and police tape.

"We secured the observatory for about half an hour until forensics determined the victim was killed somewhere else and dumped here," McCaffery said. "M.E.'s still making her preliminary evaluation, but she estimates the girl's body was deposited here no less than four hours ago."

"How old was she, Lieutenant?" Enos asked, bracing himself for the answer he'd already guessed.

"Maria estimates between twelve and fifteen."

McCaffery shook his head and forged on. "No ID on or around the body. Unies are getting a list of visitors and have canvased the passengers of vehicles exiting the observatory parking lot. Greer and Torres are up there now," he said, pointing up to the observatory buildings with his pen. "…Getting the information on visitors waiting to see the…" He looked at his notes. "…the 8:45 show in the planetarium. The observatory admin liaison," he rechecked his notebook, "Gordon Prescott, asked that we not interrupt the schedule or alarm visitors any more than is necessary. So, we barricaded the road from the entrance to where the exit meets the main park road. Traffic's been rerouted, and they'll close the observatory lot at ten."

Close proximity to victims' bodies was an occupational certainty for Enos Strate. Having seen his share growing up a moonshiner's son in the hills of north Georgia, the twenty-five plus years as a law enforcement officer, the last five months of which had been as a Detective, provided a dirge of experience with all manner and causes of death.

But children who died by violence…Those were the worst, most soul-gutting of the calls.

As McCaffery led the way to the tent, Enos barely managed to force down the sick he felt, rising to his throat as they got closer. At least while he was taking notes, he could concentrate on something other than the anger – and the memories.

De Pina asked the medical examiner if she had any preliminary cause of death yet.

"Nothing visible. I'll know more when I get the ni?a back to the shop."

While Maria Flores grumbled an indictment in Spanish to the Universe at large, McCaffery turned the scene over to De Pina, asking for a report by 7:00 am.

"Maria?" Inez asked after the Lieutenant had left.

"Got it. I'll get you as much as I know before then; just be prepared to paste it in at the last minute."

"Thanks, you can send it to E," Inez turned toward Enos.

"E," De Pina beckoned. When she didn't receive a response, she called louder. "E!"

"Sorry, I was gettin' some thoughts down while they were still in my head."

She eyed him for a second, understanding that some of the thoughts in his head had little to do with making observations about the victim or the crime scene.

"Why don't you go up to the observatory and see if Torres and Greer have found anyone who saw anything?"

"Sure thing," he answered flatly, stuffing the notebook and pen into the pocket of his suit jacket.

De Pina watched him as he ascended the hill, then shook her head and groaned loud enough for Maria Flores to notice. It was a good thing there were two thousand miles between her and that Duke woman.


After inquiries of the staff and maintenance crew turned up no substantive information at the observatory, Enos asked Greer to get hold of De Pina, chiding himself for being so absent-minded as to leave his radio in the car.

"Inez," he said when De Pina answered.

"I'm here. You find anything?"

"Nothin' so far. I'm releasin' Torres and Greer. You gonna be much longer?"

Enos Strate's Blue Ridge Mountain accent, the thickness of which could be turned on or off at will, came and went with his mood, or necessity, or how much sleep he had lost. The dial was set on the thick side tonight.

"Looks like we'll be here awhile…why?" She knew that E was well aware of how long it would take before they could wrap up at the scene. Another indication that his head wasn't really in the game.

"Nothin'. Just want to look around is all, see if I can turn anything up here?"

De Pina said, "Take your time. This poor girl's not going anywhere anytime soon."

It was 9:55 pm when Enos decided he would not find anything more, at least not tonight. After speaking with the technical staff, he sat through the last part of the planetarium show without conscious awareness of the content, only that it had managed to carry him out of himself for some twenty-odd minutes. His intention was to speak to the narrator. Why he thought the woman might have anything to contribute, he would not have been able to explain to De Pina or anyone else for that matter. He was going through the motions. Work and routine were the only things keeping him from falling into the pit.

Three weeks had gone by since he and Daisy almost tied the knot. After all the years, the ten long and lonely years, they had nearly made it, and she had left him at the altar in front of the whole of Hazzard County.

Even after all that, he had told her he would be waiting for her when she grew up.

That had been when he was still riding on the ever-present, addictive hope that someday she would grow up; when he was in her presence; when she was flesh and blood standing near him. By the time he'd finished his report at the Hazzard County Sheriff's office that Saturday, any hope he'd had left had given up the ghost.

He'd gone back to the motel, packed, headed for Atlanta, dropped off the rental car, and took the first plane he could book back to L.A. When the plane landed, he relied on the little bit of self-respect he had left and forced himself to walk out of the terminal, get into the first cab he could hail, and go back onto the streets of Los Angeles. He knew if he had stayed or even allowed himself to look back – that would have been the end of him.

Now, he felt like that exploding star that had been projected onto the domed ceiling, collapsing in on itself until it became a black nothingness that sucked the life out of everything that came close to it.

He only snapped back to awareness of where he was and what he was supposed to be doing when the narrator tapped him on the shoulder.

"Detective, I'm sorry, but if there's nothing else we can do to help you tonight, maintenance wants to lock up…and I need to go home."

Flustered and suddenly reverting to clumsy Hazzard deputy mode, he asked her no questions, thanked her, apologizing profusely for keeping her so late, and left the observatory as fast as he could without falling over his own feet.

Tuesday, May 20, 1997 – Los Angeles

De Pina had apparently had enough of E's doldrums because she took him aside before the Monday morning briefing and gave him an ultimatum: she did not want to pull rank on him, but either he snapped out of it or else. His work product was suffering, and if he kept up this blue-funk, she would have to make an official recommendation for therapy.

After a good deal of arguing that he would quit being a cop before becoming a bad one, he finally said, "Work's all I got right now, Inez. I know I haven't been much use lately, but I really am workin' on it. Let me handle it on my own."

As she usually did, De Pina put her trust in E to be a man of his word…the man she had come to know and to care about.

"Alright, I won't make it official…for now. But you need help. If you can't talk to me, and obviously you can't, or we wouldn't be having this conversation…please, please, talk to someone."


By Tuesday, Enos had twelve cases in various stages of investigation in his tray. Another two had just been deposited on his desk. In addition to that, he had two witness interviews scheduled, and he needed to read the Medical Examiner's preliminary report on the Griffith Park victim. Plus, he was assisting Major Crimes by chasing down information to support seven of their ongoing investigations.

Before lunch, he had written four reports, called twenty-four pawn shops, written seven emails to other law enforcement agencies, and had almost completed an application for a search warrant that needed to be in the hands of a judge by 2:00 pm And wished he had more.

However, an in-person report on one of the Major Crime files was due to Detective Lance by five. He was not looking forward to that interaction.

At least, he had finally gotten a decent night's sleep. Being with Kate last night had helped. She didn't judge; she didn't insist he should snap out of it; she didn't want to know 'why.' Kate's apartment was a safe space, but the irony of their relationship was not lost on him.

Enos shoved those thoughts aside and made a trip downstairs to the food truck to score a mulita with all the extras. Eating at his desk, he was able to submit the warrant application to the unit commander for approval by 12:30. After finishing off the Mexican version of a grilled cheese sandwich with meat, he turned his attention to the Griffith Park file and the ME's preliminary report.

Forty-eight hours had passed since the girl's established time of death, between 8:00 pm and 9:00 pm on Friday night; time enough for any local missing person report to be in the system, but he'd found nothing.

The rest of the afternoon was spent expanding the search for missing persons in the tri-state area of California, Nevada, and Arizona.

When the week failed to turn up anything on the identity of the Griffith Park Jane Doe, Enos began to question if the girl would ever be identified. Even though beaten with what Maria described as 'something like a two by four,' the body had been scrubbed clean and had yielded no particulates that might, while they could not identify her, point to where she was killed. With that knowledge, he might have been able to track backward from there.

He made an entry in the file notes:

If the arm and foot were amputated to hide her identity, why Griffith Park? Why public place like observatory?

He would have to wait until something showed up out of the blue or until the minimum three-week period for missing persons from other police jurisdictions to appear in the national database.

Reluctantly, he set the file aside and turned his attention to the string of uniform thefts across several City of Angel's regions and started cross-referencing them with other crimes involving uniformed perpetrators.

Then, he called Kate to ask if he could swing by after his shift for the fifth time in as many days.

Monday, May 26, 1997 – Durham, North Carolina

The bookstore at Duke University was about to close. Daisy had put off buying the supplies she needed until her paycheck hit her account, and she was hurrying to get what she needed after work.

Between work and her dissertation, the draft of which should have been completed by now, the candle she had been burning at both ends was about to meet in the middle. It didn't help that she hadn't been able to get a good night's sleep in a month.

Hurriedly gathering the supplies, she headed to the register. Next to the counter, the Los Angeles Times screamed at her accusingly from the top of the newsstand shelf. She tried to redirect her focus on Durham's local Herald-Sun next to it instead, turning away only when the twenty-something behind the counter got her attention. When the guy asked, "Will that be all?" she reached for the L.A. paper and eased it surreptitiously onto the counter, as if the whole scenario was playing out in slow motion. Glaring back at her was a helicopter view of police officers behind cars, guns drawn, with a heading that read Police Standoff in Van Nuys.

She whispered at the photo, "I don't think he works in Van Nuys." Besides, none of the officers had Sergeant's chevrons on their sleeves.

"Pardon?" asked Twenty-something.

"Nothing. How much do I owe you?"

Daisy returned to the apartment that she shared with three other women and threw the paper into the trash can in her bedroom. It was her turn to cook, so she set about the task of getting supper ready.

She remembered cooking dinner. She remembered eating, except it seemed like something someone else had done. The thick multi-sectioned paper in the other room intimidated and unsettled her like the rhythmic ticking of a clock. Why she had picked it up, let alone bought the damn thing, she didn't know.

Vague comments from her roommates came drifting through the din:

"Girl, have you looked in a mirror in the last week? Your hair looks like birds nested in it."

"Sweet Pea, why don't you just call the guy, because this look is not good on you."

"This cryin' in your soup's not gonna get that draft finished."2

She excused herself from the table without answering, went to her room, and closed the door. The paper glared at her from the wastebasket. She reached for the phone, as she had many times since that day a month ago. Like all the other times, she put the receiver back down without making the call. Even if she called, she would have to dial Information first…she didn't even know his number. And what would she say to him? Would she accomplish nothing but opening a wound? Would that be her wound or his?

Bereft of answers, she drew the paper out of the bin, folded it over, curled up around it on the bed, and, finally, thankfully, found sleep.


The next morning, Daisy awoke, staring at the closet and the heartache it contained, still clutching the folded Los Angeles Times as if Enos were secreted somewhere within its pages.

At some point in life, everyone gets a wake-up call. She thought that hers had been the day she divorced L.D.3

Marrying him had only been a bad decision - a mere hiccup compared to the day she jilted the only man she had ever truly loved…once upon a time. He had been so far away for so long. His choice? She didn't know.

An avalanche of memories overwhelmed her.

Saturday, a month ago, Enos had, just-like-him, so gently and gracefully told her he was willing to wait until she grew up. Then, he had stayed through most of Bertha Jo and Bubba's wedding reception3, the one that was supposed to be theirs, trying to maintain some dignity while she was trying not to humiliate him any more than she already had. Somehow, over the long years since they were sixteen, the scenario had become the norm for them, until he left the last time. She had given up thinking he would ever come back. And definitely not just for her.

Why did L.D. have to show up?

Bertha Jo and Bubba had been married under the wedding arch that was supposed to be for her and Enos, with Daisy's bridesmaids in attendance. Bertha Jo and Bubba had toasted with the champagne, eaten the cake, and danced to the music that was supposed to be hers and Enos's first dance as a married couple. She was still wearing her wedding dress!

The rest of the day was even more bizarre and surreal. Everyone tried to act as if nothing of consequence had happened. She and Enos had avoided getting too close to each other, separated by the multitude of friends and family surrounding them. No one knew what to say, least of all her. She told herself that she would find him later when they could be alone and beg him to forgive her.

Because he always forgave her.

What she had done weighed more heavily on her with every passing minute of that excruciating pretense. It was so civil, so Hazzard. She would have suffered less if Enos had slapped her in the face.

But no. He just slipped quietly away.

Leaving the reception, he gave her a weak smile, and a half-wave, then disappeared into the crowd. It was the last time she saw him.

After finally managing to free herself of friends and family around 9:00 pm, she went looking for him. The night clerk at the motel told her Enos had checked out, leaving no forwarding information.

His Aunt Judy and Uncle Frank had been at the reception then left when everything went pear-shaped. Knowing that she would get a cold reception, even if they agreed to speak to her at all, she called Judy and Frank Strate from the motel. She wasn't wrong about the cold reception. However, they couldn't tell her anything because they hadn't heard from Enos since the afternoon.

The only other place left she could think of was the Sheriff's office. Adding insult to injury, instead of Cletus, she ran smack into Sheriff Rosco, decked out in all his tasseled splendor.

"Daisy Duke! Shame, shame, ever' body knows your name. You're not welcome here!"

Rosco was the only one in Hazzard County that day who had no reservations about speaking his mind, and she couldn't blame him. It even brought her a moment of relief. He might be a rotten Sheriff, a scoundrel, and a chiseler, but he was as protective as a mama bear with her only cub when it came to Enos.

She grabbed him by the shirt with both hands. "I know, Rosco. I know. I just want to find him and tell him how sorry I am." Her contrition showed in eyes wet with tears, and her head suddenly thrust onto his chest.

Rosco awkwardly patted her shoulder while she sobbed into his uniform. He was ill-suited and under-equipped for touchy-feely stuff.

"Please, tell me where he is," she said.

"I'm sorry, Daisy. You're too late."

Daisy pulled back, still seizing him by fistfuls of shirt.

"What do you mean I'm too late?!"

"Cletus said that Enos came in here about five o'clock and wrote up a report on his part in the apprehension of Mama Jo3 and her gang for the State Prosecutor's office, and then he left."

"Where'd he go?"

"Cletus asked him that…an' Enos said he was goin' home. I got–"

"That was four hours ago. I talked to Aunt Judy and Uncle Frank. They haven't seen him."

"You didn't let me finish now. I got a call from Enos a half-hour ago." Rosco took both of Daisy's hands in his. "Daisy Girl, he's on his way home…to Los Angeles."

He hadn't told her goodbye...


Acknowledgments: Arcs for certain characters created by WENN9366, both canon, and her original characters, have been drawn from her DOH Enos-centric fanfic Halls of Stone and Iron with the permission of the author. Without her support, encouragement, and challenge to go beyond my original meager vision, Secrets, Bittersweet Memories, and Dolly Parton Goodbyes might have remained a nice little story that's been in my head for a while. I encourage readers to check out her DOH fanfics posted on : Halls of Stone and Iron, The Story of Us, Beneath a Hazzard Moon, Before the Dawn, all of which are complete, and her most recent story in progress, Evergreen.

Thanks, also, to my granddaughter, who writes Destiny fan fiction under the pseudonym Ladyawesomesauce, for being a continuous sounding board to the very end. She also contributed a very special poem/epigraphs. Check out her fanfics in progress, By Choice, Not Chance: The Red Wars, and By Choice, Not Chance: Fireteam Stories.

References:

(1) "why go digging up the bones" is a reference to Randy Travis's 1985 song of much the same name, Diggin' Up Bones.

(2) "this cryin' in your soup" is a reference, and homage, to Beverly McConnel character played by Paula Prentiss in the movie In Harm's Way, 1965

(3) L. D is the husband Daisy divorced, part of the plot in the movie The Dukes of Hazzard: Reunion! - Sarah Jane, Mama Jo (Maxx), Bertha Jo (Barlow) and Bubba are also characters from that movie. Note: I have given Sarah Jane the maiden surname 'Bascom'


Synopsis of Dukes of Hazzard: Reunion!

After being in Los Angeles for the last ten years, Enos Strate returns to Hazzard during the homecoming celebration being held near the end of April 1997.

Cooter Davenport is a Congressman, Boss Hogg has passed and left his dubiously earned 'empire' to Rosco P. Coltrane (now Boss Rosco). Luke Duke is a smokejumper for the U.S. Forest Service, and Bo Duke is a driver on the Nascar circuit. Uncle Jesse is still holding down the fort at the farm. And Daisy Duke is completing her graduate studies, going for a Ph.D. in Ecology at Duke University (located in Durham, North Carolina).

After being gone for ten years, Enos shows up at the Duke farm – where Daisy is peeling an apple. Due to an offhand suggestion from Uncle Jesse that if she throws the peel over her shoulder, it will land at the feet of the man she's going to marry, she says, "Why not?" It lands at Enos's feet in the shape of an 'S'. He asks Daisy out on a date. When she accepts, he leaves to pay a visit to his 'folks' but, focused on Daisy, falls over something on his way to his car. Uncle Jesse shakes his head and proclaims, "that boy hasn't changed."

Daisy comments that she's "not so sure of that."

Enos arrives to pick up Daisy for the date, gives her flowers, and boldly kisses her before leaving for the Boar's Nest, something that takes Daisy entirely by surprise. Enos tells her he has been planning to do that for years, ever since she kissed him goodbye when he left for Los Angeles [This author assumes he meant the first time he left for L.A., in 1980]...and while she puts the flowers in water, he mutters to himself:

"It was worth the wait...almost."

Enos and Daisy picnic at Hazzard Swamp, touted as the place that Hazzard folks have used for years for 'serious courtin.' While there, Enos confesses the only reason he came back to Hazzard was that after "gang wars, shoot-outs, and a tour on the S.W.A.T. team," he has finally gotten up the courage to ask her to marry him, presenting her with a diamond ring. She drops the engagement ring in the grass while noticing a new fern species and walks away to put the fern into a baggie. Thinking she is hesitating at his proposal, he pleads with her not to say it's sudden because "it's been goin' on since the seventh grade." And he "can't wait another thirty-two years!"

She smiles sweetly at him and tells him, "Oh, Enos. Of course, I'll marry you."

Later, when Uncle Jesse and the boys balk at the suggestion of a marriage between her and Enos, she tells them, "I always loved him. I didn't realize it then because he was always around. But I missed him and just never knew how much until now."

After Daisy is kidnapped by Mama Jo Maxx and her gang (because they think what she discovered in the swamp was Garsonite Ore they're trying to keep secret), Bo, Luke and Enos have to find her in time for the wedding that is to be held at the end of the race in front of all of Hazzard County. They outsmart the bad guys, of course, win the race, and in time to have the wedding.

Daisy, and everyone else, believe Enos is a Police Sergeant with the L.A.P.D. [However, this author thinks he was dressed more like a detective would.]

Daisy is in her wedding dress, the bridesmaids, with Bertha Jo Barlow as her maid of honor. [It should be noted that the back story is about Bertha Jo and Bubba, who are not only competitors in the Hazzard Strong 'Person' Contest but are in love.] The cake is delivered. Rosco begins the ceremony when a band tour bus pulls up…and who should get out of it but Daisy's ex-husband, L.D.!

Well, she is so overwhelmed by him showing up that she faints. When she comes to, she realizes she's not ready to get married again. So, instead of Enos and Daisy getting married that day, Bertha Jo and Bubba were married – cake, wedding arch, bridesmaids, end everything that had been prepared for Enos and Daisy's wedding.

Enos seems to understand, saying that she threw an apple peeling over her shoulder when he first arrived in Hazzard, landing at his feet, and it formed an 'S' for Enos Strate and that they are destined to be together. He says he will just have to wait for Daisy to "grow up."

[Yes, he said that! How cooperative of the writers to give my story THAT tidbit. The Reunion! ended – and Secrets, Bittersweet Memories, and Dolly Parton Goodbyes began…]

Synopsis by: KayCee1951

Originally aired on CBS on April 25, 1997 (Available on DVD)

Directed by: Lewis Teague

Written by: Gy Walden

Other Sources: Wikipedia, IMDB