“Thank you, Mac. You’re making all my dreams come true.”
“It’s fun for me, too,” Tess said, and it was true. Some who sought to befriend her left little impression at all; others she immediately took for opportunists seeking to use her in whatever way they could. Casey was different. She neither expected help with her career nor asked for it, but her vibrant personality, along with her talent, made it fun to help her anyway. She was a person with whom Tess could laugh and sing beer-drinking songs, and there were few friends like that in Tess’s life. She felt closer than ever to the girl as they bade good night.
“See you tomorrow.”
As Casey walked away with her father Tess saw, against the distant porch lights, that the two were holding hands. When they were halfway to the alley she could hear the murmur of their voices, but no distinct words. She figured relatively few teenagers held their parent’s hand anymore. Would she herself have done so at seventeen? Not likely. But something within her was renewed watching them walk away.
As they walked home, Casey was saying, “Do you see how nice she is?”
“I’ll have to admit, she’s very nice to you.”
“She was nice to you, too.”
“It’s just that I don’t want you to get carried away with these dreams of glory and then be disappointed.”
“But Daddy, aren’t you the one who always said I could do anything I set my mind to do?”
“I said that, yes.”
“Then why are you resisting my doing this with her? Because you are, I can tell. Even when you don’t say so.”
He sighed and offered no answer.
“Faith said you’re scared that if I really decide to get into music I might succeed and it’ll take me away from you.”
“Faith might possibly be right. It’s a scary lifestyle.”
“Oh, Daddy,” she said in gentle rebuke as they reached their own back steps and went inside.
Shutting out the lights and closing up the house for the night put an end to their discussion. Though it remained open-ended, Kenny felt himself growing more and more helpless to stop the contagious lure of fame and fortune that Tess McPhail represented for his daughter. Uncannily, she was beginning to represent a contagious lure for him as well. But one thing was sure: He wasn’t going to act on it, for to do so would be to set his seal of approval on her in Casey’s eyes, and he didn’t want to do that. Faith was a consideration as well, for he felt committed to her whether they were married or not. Furthermore, there was self-preservation to consider. Tess would be gone back to the life of the rich and famous when Mary’s hip was healed, and he was too smart to set himself up for another fall. It might be fun to sit and spar with her the way they’d done tonight, but any way you cut it, Tess McPhail was as off-limits now as she’d been nineteen years ago, and he knew it.
The phone rang downstairs in Mary’s kitchen at twelve-thirty that night. Tess awakened with a start, surprised to find she’d already been sleeping for an hour. She turned on the bedside light and hurried downstairs, answering in the dark.
“Hello?”
“Tess?”
“Burt?”
“Finally got a chance to call you.”
“Where are you?”
“Fort Worth. Billy Bob’s. The boys are breaking down and I’m supposed to be helping them, but I decided to call you first.”
“You sound tired.”
“Just sick of the road. You know how it is. How’s everything there? How’d it go with your mom?”
“Okay, I guess. She’s still in the hospital.”
“When will she be home?”
“Day after tomorrow or the next day.”
“So how you doing at nursing?”
“Terrible, I think. My sisters are much better at bedside stuff than I am.”
He chuckled and let a beat pass before saying what was on his mind. “I was thinking about you tonight.”
“Yeah?”
“We were doing ‘I Swear’ and the words made me remember the last time we were together.” It was a romantic ballad about the kind of love that lasts a lifetime.
“Oh, Burt, that’s sweet.”
“Wonder if I’ll ever have anything like that.”
“That what you want?”
“I don’t know. What about you?”
“No, I don’t think so. Too hard when you do what we do.”
“Yeah, that’s for sure.”
“I told my mother about you, though. Showed her your picture on my shirt.”
“Oh, yeah? What’d she say?”
“She wanted to know if I might marry you. Ma clings to any straw.”
“We could give Ma a thrill. How ‘bout it? Want to?”
She could tell he was joking. “Oh, sure. Get serious, Burt.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” He sighed. “Well, anyway, I just needed a familiar voice tonight.”
“I know what you mean. I’ve been there a thousand times myself. Where to next?”
“Someplace in Oklahoma. Can’t even remember.”
Somebody came by the phone and yelled something at him. He raised his voice and answered, “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be right there!” To Tess he said, “Hey, listen, gotta go. Boys are giving me shit. Wanna get together next time we’re both in Nashville?”
“Sure.”
“Take you to the Stockyard for one of their luscious Cowboy steaks.”
“Make it one of their fresh lobsters and it’s a date.” He chuckled and she added, “Hey, listen, call whenever you can, will you?”
“You got it. Miss you.”
“Miss you, too, Burt.”
“ ‘Bye, then.”
“ ‘Bye.”
After they hung up Tess stood in the dark kitchen, staring absently out the window, feeling the loneliness of being isolated from normality. Fine romance she and Burt could have. Seven hundred miles apart tonight, with the chance of crossing paths in Nashville five, maybe six times a year. She felt around for the drinking glass, ran the water and filled it. Drinking, she studied the outline of Kenny’s house, its looming black roof peak haloed from beyond by a streetlight somewhere up on the corner. The windows were dark, everyone there asleep, secure in that small town way that she had once known. Kenny would go to his office tomorrow, and would probably have supper with Faith tomorrow night, and afterward maybe play cards. Whatever their relationship was, they had companionship. Kenny had Casey, too, and Tess could understand his fear of losing her to this improbable life where commitments became strained by separation, fame and sometimes extreme wealth.
Ah, well … She sighed and turned from the window to go back upstairs.
When she was once again settled down in bed she lay awake thinking of Burt packing up his instruments, boarding a bus and trying to get a decent night’s sleep while the driver pushed on up the highway to some city in Oklahoma.
She thought of Kenny in his familiar bed across the alley.
Of Burt and herself the couple of times they’d been together, trying to create some kind of relationship in a few rushed hours, knowing it took more than a couple of days every now and then to forge anything meaningful.
There’d been more meaning in the brief time she’d spent tonight with Casey and Kenny than in any relationship she’d had time to attempt in the last several years.
Burt again—rolling around with him on her living room floor because she liked him a lot and it felt good to do that sometimes with somebody you thought you could trust. Sex was something you generally did without when you were a star and single. Anything else was either dangerous or ill-advised.
Oh, hell, why think about it?
Because of Burt’s call, of course. But when she turned onto her stomach and tried to empty her mind so sleep could float in, it wasn’t Burt she saw behind her closed eyelids, but Kenny Kronek.
Tess and Casey finished the song on Saturday afternoon. They sang it together so many times that they had every lick and dip down pat
in their harmonies. Their vocal qualities were totally different—Tess’s resonant and soprano, Casey’s gritty and alto, but the combination created an arresting blend.
When Casey left at five o’clock, Tess had a rough demo tape of both their voices.
She called Jack Greaves and said, “The song is done. I’ll express it to you on Monday so you get it Tuesday. When you listen to it, will you pay attention to the voice that’s singing harmony? Tell me what you think of it.”
“Okay,” Jack said. “I’ll let you know.”
After the call to Jack she hung around the kitchen feeling rootless: Saturday evening in a small town and everybody had plans. Casey was off to get together with some of her girlfriends. Renee and Jim were having dinner with their gourmet group. Judy … well, Tess didn’t really want to be with Judy. So what was she going to do? Clean the house, since Mary was coming home tomorrow. It was a beautiful spring evening, however, and the prospect of housecleaning suddenly seemed like a gloomy occupation. If she were anywhere but here she’d be working, singing a concert or a club. She made herself a smoked-turkey-and-sprout sandwich and was standing by the kitchen sink eating it when she saw Kenny and Faith come out of his house and head for her car. So they had plans, too. They were all dressed up, she in a pink dress and he in a sport coat and tie. He opened the passenger door for her and for a split second Tess had a flashback of her daddy doing that for her momma. Kenny and Faith were probably going out to supper. What else would they be doing on a Saturday night? And why did their being together make her feel all the more alone? As Kenny walked around the rear of the car Tess wondered if he’d glance her way, but he didn’t. He had his keys in his hand, searching for the right one, obviously with no interest in Tess McPhail. He got in Faith’s car, backed it up and the two of them drove away.
What was this heavy weight on Tess’s chest? Disappointment? Because Kenny Kronek hadn’t searched for her face in a window? She turned away, wondering what in the world was wrong with her. Was she so caught up in being idolized that she needed to make a conquest of him? Again?
Trying to drive the notion out of her mind, she dug into the housecleaning with a vengeance. She put clean sheets on her mother’s bed, threw the soiled ones in the washer, dusted, vacuumed, scoured the bathroom, then followed all the instructions she’d gotten from the physical therapist, removing all the scatter rugs from the main floor, making sure no loose electrical cords were snaking into the traffic areas, tucking away any obstacles that might possibly catch the leg of a walker or the foot of a shuffling convalescent. She found the various recovery aids that Mary had told her to dig out: a bath bench, a long-handled sponge, a booster for the toilet seat, a long-handled shoehorn. From the basement she carried up a three-tiered rolling metal cart, washed it off and loaded it with chairside conveniences. It was already dark by the time she turned on the outside light and went out into the yard and picked some bridal wreath and tulips from the south side of the house, then did a horrible job of arranging them in a vase—Tess McPhail was accus tomed to receiving flowers, not giving them. She threw away the awful yellowed plastic doily with the curled edges and set the bouquet in its place on a pretty scalloped-edged plate she found in a high cupboard.
Then she walked all through the house, inspecting her handiwork and realizing she was actually bone weary from the unaccustomed physical labor.
Something rare and wonderful happened that night. Tess fell asleep on the sofa watching TV during the ten o’clock news. When she awakened it was deep night, the crickets were serenading outside, and she stumbled upstairs groggily to fall into bed and sleep like a lumberjack till dawn.
She awakened sheerly amazed at what she’d done.
The clock said 6:10, and she felt fabulous! So fabulous that she bounded up immediately, brushed her teeth, got some tea steeping and went out in the backyard to water her mother’s garden.
This was a time of day Tess rarely saw. She stood on the back steps, tightening the belt of a short jade satin kimono, while enjoying the streaky explosion of colors in the eastern sky. It was a splendid daybreak! Vibrant heliotropes and oranges thrusting their fingers up, up into the paler light-washed sky overhead. She tipped back to look for the moon, but if it was still there it was on the other side of the house where she couldn’t see it. The birdsong out here was downright impolite—mourning doves, sparrows, mockingbirds and robins all trying to outdo each other. She remained on the step for several minutes, listening, imbibing, appreciating the spectacle she so seldom saw. Everything was fresh, the grass jeweled with dew, the trees as still as oil paintings. The rowdy sun ascended high enough to place everything directly before it in a black hole. She squinted as it edged up above the garage roof and the ornamental pear tree in Kenny’s yard—a magnificent orange ball whose radiance shut her eyes and finally forced her off the steps.
She went to the faucet, uncoiled the hose and dragged it across the crisp, wet grass to the garden, between the rows of beets and okra where she set the oscillating sprinkler, then padded back across the grainy dirt to rinse her feet clean with the dew on her way to turn on the tap at the house.
The spray hit more lawn than vegetables so she had to try again, running out between the rows when the sprinkler was at its nadir, then sprinting out of the way as it rebounded.
She was standing beside the garden watching the sprinkler when she heard a door slam softly across the alley.
She turned and looked.
And there stood Kenny on his back step sipping a mug of coffee and watching her. He was dressed as he’d been the day she’d taken her mother to the hospital, in gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt, only this time he was barefoot, and even from across two backyards his appearance telegraphed that he’d just gotten out of bed. Not even the distance could disguise the impression of hair still flattened from sleep and limbs not yet ready to hurry. He took a long pull from the mug, studying her with disconcerting directness, making no attempt to pretend he was doing anything else.
Finally he tipped the mug down and lifted a hand in silent greeting.
She raised hers, too, and felt a peculiar twist inside, a warning. Not Saint Kenny, she thought. Don’t even think it.
But his watchfulness made her aware of her long bare legs and short silk wrap and the little she wore under it.
She turned back to the sprinkler, which still wasn’t in the right spot. Once more she had to run out between the rows before she got it where she wanted it, high-stepping over the damp plants with her muddy feet and dirt-flecked legs while Kenny watched. The oscillator came back and slapped cold water across her rump. She yelped once and might have heard him laugh—she wasn’t sure. Maybe it was just her imagination mingled with overt discomfort at cavorting in her sleepwear while he watched with his toes curled over the edge of the step.
Her feet got thick with mud. She worked them in the grass while standing in place, waiting out two oscillations of the sprinkler to make sure it was covering the garden right. Finally she turned her back on Kenny and made her way up the sidewalk, leaving wet footprints behind. On her way up the steps she felt his eyes still following, and, reaching the top, turned with the screen door half-open, to check. Sure enough—he stood as before, holding his coffee mug at chest height with both hands, not even pretending to disguise his interest. The sun had picked a path between the trees around his house and glanced off the roof of her car like a comet in her eyes. His face, to the right of the reflection, remained inscrutable. He did not move; did nothing more than watch her and make her heart dance as it had not in years, while she wondered foolishly if there had ever been a Sunday morning when Faith’s car was parked behind his from the night before.
Silly woman, she thought, that’s none of your business.
But when she turned and went inside her heart was still pounding.
At twenty to ten she was heading upstairs to put on her own clothes for church when she saw Kenny and Casey come out of the house dressed in theirs. As they wa
lked single file to the garage Tess realized what she was doing: noting the comings and goings of these people just like any other nosy neighbor.
She went to the ten o’clock service at First Methodist and heard Kenny’s choir for the first time. They were passably good, and she could pick out Casey’s voice as clearly as if she were singing alone. The choir loft was situated at the rear of the church, and she resisted the urge to crane around and look up there.
She recognized faces all around, and on this particular morning, it felt very fitting to be back again. Reverend Giddings announced from the pulpit that she’d be singing with the choir next Sunday, so everyone knew she was there in the congregation, and a good dozen people in her vicinity turned to smile at her. When the recessional hymn began, she piled into the aisle with everybody else, and people murmured kind remarks about her singing, and how nice it was to have her back home. Some touched her on the arm the way shy hometown folks will do. She smiled, and lifted her eyes to the choir loft, where Kenny had shucked his jacket and was directing in rolled-up white shirtsleeves. Casey caught her eye and waved unobtrusively.
Outside a steady procession of people came up to say hi, to offer congratulations on her successful career and ask if she would be doing any formal autographing while she was in town. Some she knew, some she didn’t. Many people inquired after Mary, and wished her a speedy recovery. Judy’s and Renee’s families had gone to the earlier service, so Tess waited alone for the appearance of Casey and Kenny.
They came out when the crowd was thinning, and though Tess caught sight of both of them, her gaze remained on Kenny. He was resetting the collar of his suit jacket, and unless she was mistaken, searching the crowd for her. The moment their eyes met, his stopped moving and his hands sort of drifted down his lapels as if he forgot what he was doing.
He came directly to her, with Casey one step behind, and spoke anxiously.