Small Town Girl

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Kenny and Tess sat on the same side of the aisle but she was ushered up front with the other family members. He was seated a few rows back. The wedding was typical small town: the organ was too loud, the singer projected in a piercing soprano, the four-year-old ring bearer veered off the center aisle when he saw his mother, and a baby fussed intermittently from one of the back pews.

Mary walked up the aisle on her crutches, then sat in her wheelchair with the footrests lowered to their limits. Afterward Ed pushed her out of the church, while Tess followed with Judy.

The bride received less scrutiny than Tess. For Tess, occasions like this were uncomfortable yet heady: people staring as she passed, whispering to those beside them; avid fans beaming overtly, hoping she'd smile their way while she kept her eyes fixed on the exit doors. The exception was when she passed Kenny. He, Casey and Faith shared one pew like a regular ail-American family. Casey waggled her fingers when Tess walked past. Faith smiled. Kenny only watched her with those disconcerting brown eyes that had admired her in the alley less than two hours before.

Mary was part of the receiving line in the vestibule, leav-ing Tess free to join the crowd outside. The wind had come up to relieve the afternoon heat, and great white cloud puffs scuttled along the blue backdrop. A black carriage and two Appaloosa horses waited at the curb. Judy fell away to visit with someone she knew. Even those who pretended not to be staring at Tess were. But not one soul approached.

Not until Casey came out of church. She made a beeline straight for Tess, exclaiming, "Wow, you look awesome, woman! Where'd you get that dress? And those shoes!"

"Casey, am I glad to see you."

"What's wrong?"

Tess leaned close and lowered her voice. "I was feeling like a turd in the punchbowl. Everybody looking but nobody coming close."

Casey giggled and glanced around to find many people standing off, watching the two of them.

"They're probably scared. Hey, these clothes… woman! You can't find anything like that in Wintergreen."

"The dress came from Barney's in New York. The shoes are from Nordstrom's in Seattle."

"Killer!" Casey came close, and whispered, "Don't tell Faith, but I think Dad was staring at you all through the service."

"I doubt it."

"He was, too, but I bet you're used to guys doing that, aren't you?"

"I'd be lying if I said no, but some situations are more comfortable than others. This one isn't. Stick around, okay?"

Faith approached and commandeered both of Tess's hands. "Well, hello, Tess. Heavens, you look stunning."

"Thank you. Doesn't everybody?"

Kenny was right behind Faith, attempting to pretend polite indifference to Tess. Their glances settled elsewhere. "Wasn't it a nice ceremony?" Faith prattled on. "I thought for sure you'd sing today."

"Rachel asked me to but I told her I just wanted to be a regular guest this time."

"I'm sure she was disappointed."

"She was very gracious about it."

They made small talk until Judy rejoined them, along with Judy's daughter, Tricia, who brought a tall, thin, pretty girl with hazel eyes. "Aunt Tess? My friend Allison wants to meet you. She's a big fan of yours."

Tess shook the girl's trembling, damp hand. "Hello, Allison."

She was one of the shy ones, blushing furiously, trying hard not to show her braces. In the end she failed and a set of blaze-pink hardware flashed clearly behind her wide smile. She stammered what thousands of others before her had stammered, things like "Gosh, I can't believe I'm really meeting you," and "You're so pretty," and "I couldn't believe you were really Trish's aunt." All the while Judy stood by, observing with the same uppitiness as that day at the hospital. Kenny stood back observing, too, behind Faith, making Tess self-conscious in a whole new peculiar way that made her proud of being a star but wishing that today she were not. For this one day she wished she were just a nondescript girl free to flirt with a guy who sort of turned her on. Instead, every move she made was watched by dozens.

The crowd around her grew, cutting her off from her family and taking snapshots without asking if she minded. Someone requested an autograph and she murmured, "Not right now. The bride and groom will be coming out soon." An overweight woman in a polka-dot dress barreled over, and blared, "Mac McPhail, my Gawd, it's really you! Oh, honey, could I shake your hand?" As if that were not enough, she insisted on giving Tess a hug. Hugs often left makeup on her shoulder and flattened one side of her hair. Of all the fan responses she disliked, getting hugged was the most invasive. Over the fat woman's shoulder she caught Kenny's eye and shot him an expression of hopeless resignation, to which he replied with a sympathetic wince. After that she didn't see him again. The crowd circled, and-like it or not-she found herself the center of attention.

When the last of the wedding guests spilled from church, she caught sight of Kenny wheeling Mary down the ramp leading from the side door of the vestibule. The bride and groom emerged into the wind, which made a parachute of her veil. She clapped a hand to her head to hold it on while birdseed flew and the church bells clamored overhead. Then Casey appeared at Tess's side.

"Dad's taking your mom to her car. He says take your time."

"What happened to Ed?"

"Tricia had to pour punch so he had to take her ahead to the reception hall."

"Where's Faith?"

"She's right over there talking to her sister. Listen, I'm taking off. See you at the reception!"

She was gone with her friends and minutes later Tess moved toward the parking lot where she found Kenny standing beside Mary's car waiting for her. Mary was already installed in the backseat with the door still open. It was a relief to speak to him directly at last.

"Thanks for taking over my job."

"I could see you were a little busy." His grin told her he was referring to the woman in the polka-dot dress. "She didn't crush you, did she?"

"Not quite. Did she leave any makeup on my dress?"

He took advantage of her question to touch her for the first time: his fingertips brushed the blue silk at her collarbone. "None that I can see."

"Who is she anyway?"

"Lenore Jeeters. She's on the city council."

From the backseat Mary spoke up, "A loud-mouthed sow who could do the play-by-play at the Super Bowl without a microphone. She's always trying to get me to talk you into coming back home for fund-raisers, Tess. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction, even if I thought you'd say yes, which I know you wouldn't."

Tess leaned down and smiled into the car. "Thanks, Momma. I owe you one. How you doing? You getting tired?"

"Doing just fine, but I sure could use some supper. Wouldn't mind if you'd get me to that reception before I faint dead away."

Kenny slammed the car door and for the moment he and Tess became an island again, cut off from Mary, feeling that surflike push-pull of an attraction that was inadvisable. "I mean it, Kenny. Thanks for seeing after Momma… again and again and again." She took her turn at touching him… on the sleeve, letting her hand trail down as she moved away. Their fingers joined in passing-a quick, private pressing of flesh, then Tess continued around the car.

The reception was held out in the country at a place called Current River Cove, which years ago had been a roller rink, then an onion-storage shed before someone had bought it and knocked four long windows in the wall, hung a wide deck on the side facing the river, installed a kitchen and turned it into the most roomy reception hall in Ripley County. It was carpeted in ghastly indoor/outdoor olefin with more colors than an oil slick, furnished with Formica tables and stackable chairs, and it smelled like a generic school lunchroom when the wedding party arrived. A band was setting up in one corner and their filler tape amplified a mixed bag of country music across the hall.

Over two hundred guests milled and mingled, waiting for the arrival of the bride and groom. Though they had for the most part kept their distance from Tess on the church steps, the presence of cocktails seemed to signal that it was now all right to approach her and make small talk. It seemed to Tess as if she spoke to every one of them during the half hour before dinner was served. All except Kenny Kronek, who visited with everybody else in the place and must have decided once again to keep some distance between himself and Tess. But Tess seemed to have developed some sensory radar that kept her aware of where he was every minute.

Nearly every person asked her why she hadn't sung at the wedding and if she was going to do so at the dance.

"No," she replied again and again. "I'm a guest here today. The bride and the groom are the stars." There had been hundreds of similar situations during the course of her career, and she had learned well how to avoid upstaging the guests of honor without alienating her fans.

When the bride and groom arrived and dinner was served, Tess and Mary sat at a round table for eight, joined by Judy and Ed, and Tricia, who was done tending the punch bowl. No sooner were they seated than Faith Oxbury approached, and asked, "Are these seats taken?"

"No," Judy answered. "Sit down. My other two kids were ushers so they're seated at the head table."

"Do you mind?" Faith asked Tess politely.

Mind? Sharing a table with Kenny? Unwise, perhaps, but what else could Tess answer? "No. Not at all. I wanted to talk to Casey anyway."

"Oh, good. I'll go get Kenny." While she was gone Casey arrived, breathless, and took the chair right next to Tess. "Boy, I've been talking to some of the members of the band. Are they gonna be good!"

"Do you know them?"

"Two of them. We used to do a little messing around together with guitars."

While they visited, Faith returned with Kenny in tow, and the two of them took the remaining chairs directly across from Tess, filling out the table. With everybody knowing everybody else, the conversation bounced around and changed subjects often.

Dinner turned out to be a tasty combination of chicken and herbed cheese rolled around asparagus and baked in puff pastry with a light tarragon cream sauce. The wines were excellent-a peppery pinot noir and a fruity zinfandel that were passed around and poured and toasted with and laughed over. And in the case of Tess and Kenny, used as a shield to deflect gazes that tended to get tangled up a little too often.

It was Faith who mentioned Mary's earrings and peered at them more closely.

Mary touched one and divulged, "They're real. Tess gave them to me this afternoon." Six people admired them and yodeled praise. The seventh pursed her lips and nudged her husband's elbow. "Give me some more of that wine, Ed."

Mary said, "Yeah, give me some more, too, Ed."

"You're on medication. Momma," Judy chided. "You're not supposed to be drinking alcohol."

"Tell you what, Judy. You get two new hips and sit at your granddaughter's wedding and see if you don't want to celebrate a little bit. I didn't take my pills this morning, and a couple of glasses of wine aren't going to kill me. Fill 'er up, Ed."

Everyone became more jovial except Judy.

In the middle of the meal Tricia brought up the fact that Tess was taking Casey to Nashville and that everyone in town was buzzing about it.

"Isn't she wonderful?" Casey beamed at Tess, dazzled and slightly giddy: she'd been sneaking sips of wine. "She's making all my dreams come true."

Tess said, "It's not a record contract, Casey, it's only singing backup on a single cut."

"I know, but Nashville, Mac! It's what I've dreamed about my whole life long!"

Mary had finished her second glass of wine and was looking well pleased with everything. Ed, also under some alcoholic influence, grinned and said, "Nice going, Casey. You've got a class act to follow in Tess here."

Faith said, "I think it would be appropriate to make a toast to our up-and-coming star." They all raised their glasses, Judy, too, unable to do otherwise without looking like a jerk. But the moment the toast ended she slipped from her chair and escaped to the ladies' room.

Tess watched her go, laid down her napkin and said calmly, "Excuse me, please. I have to talk to Judy."

Once inside the ladies' bathroom she locked the door. The room had three gray-painted stalls and a vanity with two sinks. Judy had thrown her handbag on a counter between them and was stabbing at her hair. Tess set down her own beaded handbag and faced Judy's profile rather than her reflection in the mirror.

"All right, Judy, let's talk about it."

"Leave me alone."

"No. Because I can't stand this anymore."

"Stand what?"

"Your jealousy. I've been home for three weeks and every single time I've seen you, something has managed to get your goat. Either it's somebody asking for my autograph, or somebody asking me to perform, or something I gave Momma."

"You love to throw it in our faces, don't you?" Judy accused. Abruptly her voice became mimicking. "Look at me, the rich, famous star coming back home to show the peons just how drudging their lives are!"

"Damn it, Judy, that's not fair! I have never flaunted my fame or my money around you and you know it!"

"Start with your car, and those clothes you're wearing today, and your mobile phone." She made the words sound reprehensible. "Yuppie country star cruises into town talking on her phone, impressing young girls who have dreams of being a star, too."

"I do my business by long distance. And you bought new clothes for the wedding, didn't you?" Judy refused to answer. "All right, then, so did I. And as for Casey, I wouldn't have paid her two cents' worth of attention if she didn't have talent. But she does, and if I can help her develop it, why shouldn't I?"

"You made sure you announced it where everyone would know how magnanimous you are, didn't you?"

"I didn't announce it. I told Casey a week ago at her own house, in private. Somebody else brought it up tonight, and somebody else made the toast. But you could barely stand to lift your glass with the others, could you? You can't even be happy for Casey. And at Momma's house the day she came home from the hospital, when everybody asked us to sing, what should I have said? No? Because my sister Judy can't stand it? She's going to go in the kitchen and sulk? That's what you did, Judy, and it hurt me. It always hurts me when you treat me as if what I do for a living is something I should be apologizing for. Do you know that you've never once said, 'Congratulations, Tess' or 'Nice song, Tess,' or 'Bought your tape, Tess'? Nothing. As if what I do doesn't even exist. Instead, when anybody else offers me any kind of attention you just curdle up inside. But this is what I do, Judy." She leaned forward earnestly, one hand on the vanity top. "I sing. I sign autographs. I wear glitzy clothes and get photographed for magazine covers because it's part of my work. And when I have the chance to discover new talent and bring it to Nashville, I'm going to do it. Should I pretend none of that is true whenever I'm around you? And should I drive a rusted-out used car for you, too? And not give Momma nice things because it pisses you off? Look, she isn't going to be around forever, and if I want to buy her emeralds, I will! And if I want to take Casey to Nashville, I will! And if you can't accept that, then I pity you. Because the people who really love me are glad for me, and for my success, and for my fame, because they know I worked damned hard for it."

Someone tried the door.

Judy picked up her purse, but Tess grabbed her arm.

"Let me go." Judy tried to pull away, refusing to meet Tess's eyes.

"In a minute. I'm going to tell you something first. If you were happier with yourself you'd be happier with others as well. Think about it."

The woman outside banged on the door. "Hey, who's in there?"

Judy yanked her arm free and glared at her younger sister. "Why don't you just go back where you came from?" she said venomously. "The rest of us can take care of Momma and do a lot better job of it, too."

The lock clacked open and the door slammed against the tile wall as Judy stormed out.

Tess stayed behind, struggling to compose herself. Though she was trembling and tears were threatening, she smiled falsely at the pair of women who came in looking curiously at her. When they saw who it was they decided not to go into the stalls, but to fuss first at the mirror. Tess withdrew a lipstick and powder from her bag and put them to use. Her cheeks held blotches of bright pink while an unflattering flush had mottled her neck.

"I really like your shoes," one of the women said.

"Thank you."

"Are you going to sing with the band tonight?" the other asked.

"No, I'm sorry, I'm not."

"Oh, shoot."

She tucked away her makeup, snapped her handbag shut and hid anything personal from these strangers. Her smile said Sorry to disappoint you, while she offered her customary response to this common request. "You can hear me anytime on the MCA label."

By the time Tess returned to the table the band had started playing and Judy and Ed were gone. So was everyone else except Mary, who inquired, "What went on in the ladies' room anyway? Judy nearly pulled Ed's arm out of his socket getting him out of here."

"I told her what I thought of her jealousy, and Momma, so help me, if you claim one more time that Judy isn't jealous, I'm going to take your wine away, which is probably what I should do anyway!"

"You're too late. Kenny and Faith already cut me off."

"Where are they?"

"Dancing. Everybody is. They all suddenly decided to get up and go out on the dance floor when Judy came roaring out of that bathroom like a wounded rhinoceros and hauled her family home. What is it about weddings that starts so many family feuds?"

Angry tears sprouted in Tess's eyes. "Momma, I just wasn't going to take any more of Judy's shit. She's your daughter, too, and I know you love her, and I'm not asking you to do anything else, but I've been hurt by her so many times, and it's all because she's got such low self-esteem that she can't handle any aspect of my success. It's all right for Judy to get up and leave the room when anybody treats me like a star, but it's not all right for me to call her on it, because that makes me egotistical! Well, I took it, Momma, without saying a word, but no more! Tonight she cut you off when you were excited about your earrings, then she did the same thing to Casey when she was excited about going to Nashville. Now, I ask you, who is small and who isn't?"

Mary sighed and rubbed the back of Tess's fist on the tabletop. "I've been thinking about it since the first Sunday you were home when all you kids were at the house together, and I know you're right. She left the living room as soon as you and Casey started singing. And I've seen other evidence that I just didn't want to believe. Judy's awful good to me, you know."

"Of course she is, Momma, but this isn't about whether or not she's good to you."

"No… no, it isn't."

"You know what would help her a lot? If she got on a good weight-loss program and started taking more pride in her appearance."

"I know, but who's going to tell her so?"

"Not me."

"Not me, either."

"I came as close to telling her as I ever will, five minutes ago in the bathroom."

"She looked nice tonight," Mary said wistfully.

"She looked very nice tonight. But she'd look better if she lost some weight."

Renee interrupted at that moment, arriving breathless from the dance floor and bracing both hands on the table-top. She looked particularly radiant in an apricot dress with a lace bodice and a sheer skirt. "What happened to Judy and Ed?" she inquired.

Tess confessed, "My fault. I got into it with Judy in the bathroom about you know what."

"So she stomped off home?"

"And took Ed and Tricia, too. I'm sorry, Renee."

Renee straightened up, lifted the hair off her hot neck, and said, "Hey, you know what? It's Judy's problem, not ours. And I'm not going to let her spoil my daughter's wedding for me. Now, listen… the bride and groom sent me over to talk to you. They're getting so many requests from their guests that they told me to ask if you'll sing just one song with the band. They said to tell you that if you say yes they'll give you their firstborn."

"Just what I need is a firstborn."

"What do you say?"

"I've been telling everyone all night long that I'm not singing."

"Not even at the bride and groom's request? It would mean so much to them, Tess. Come on," she cajoled.

Tess glanced at the dance floor. Rachel and Brent were half dancing, watching Tess with hopeful expressions on their faces. Tess knew that if she sang it would make their wedding the talk of the very limited social season in Ripley County.

Renee said, "I suspect part of the reason you didn't want to sing was Judy. Now that she's out of the way, what other excuse have you got?"

"You sure it's all right with the band?"

"Are you kidding? What band wouldn't want to say they backed up Tess McPhail?"

"All right. Just one song."

Renee gave the bride and groom a thumbs-up, and they hugged in jubilation, then Rachel blew Tess a kiss and went to the foot of the stage and spoke to the lead guitarist while he continued to play.

At the next song break the band immediately announced, "Everyone knows we have a famous Nashville star with us tonight. She's the bride's aunt, and she's agreed to come up and do a song with us. Hey, everybody, let's make her welcome… Tess McPhail!"

The crowd parted for her, and she went up on the stage with a confident stride, cueing the band on the way. "Can you give me 'Cattin' in G?"

The drummer said, "You got it, Mac," and gave them a four-beat cue on the rim of his snare.

When the rhythm broke and she grabbed the mike she took two hundred hearts captive on the spot. They applauded so loudly they drowned out the first twelve bars of the music, then spontaneously resumed dancing, their faces lifted to her all the while.

She gave Wintergreen something to talk about for the next ten years, planting her glittering high heels as far apart as her straight dress would allow, keeping rhythm with her right knee and sending blue jets shooting from her rhinestones. She forgot about Judy and became one with her audience, giving them a performance filled with energy and rhythm. "Cattin' " had a rock beat and slightly naughty words. She used her hands and long flashing nails like a sorcerer to put her audience under her spell. She had an innate sense of drama and played the crowd like an actress, using eye contact and a hint of flirtatiousness to make each listener believe she was singing exclusively for her or him.

Suddenly Kenny was below her, dancing with Casey, both of them smiling up at her, having fun.

She pointed at Casey. "… gonna dress in satin…"

And at Kenny. "… gonna go out cattin' with youuuuu."

She winked and he laughed, then her attention shifted smoothly to others in the crowd. She knew how to make her eyes glitter with promise and how to hold a hand mike so that the men imagined it was they, close to her lips, and the women imagined they were as alluring and confident as Tess McPhail. There were songs she sang to women; this was not one of them, but the women in the audience didn't seem to care. When the song ended they applauded as enthusiastically as the men. Casey stuck her fingers between her teeth and whistled like a cattle drover. Renee yelled, "All right, sis!" The bride and groom clapped and accepted remarks from those around them while a general chant went up.

"Mac! Mac! Mac!"

It pulsed through the room.

Taking her bow, Tess made sure she caught her mother's eye. Mary was applauding proudly from her wheelchair by the dinner table, and Tess felt particularly warmed by the pride she sensed radiating from Mary. Scanning the faces below, she caught impressions of townspeople she'd forgotten-ex-teachers, store owners, Renee's and Judy's friends, long-time neighbors, people from church, everyone still applauding, calling for more. The bride and groom made their way to the foot of the stage, their faces lifted. "Please do one more, Aunt Tess… please!" Rachel begged.

She sang one more, a slow one for the newly married couple.

"I've never recorded this song," she announced, "but I've always loved it, especially at weddings. Rachel and Brent, this one's for you."

She sang a moving rendition of "Could I Have This Dance for the Rest of My Life" and watched the swirl of partners gliding past. Renee waltzed by with Jim. The groom had his bride. Packer had one of the bridesmaids. Mindy Alverson Petroski was with her husband, the appliance store owner. And Kenny danced by with Faith.

They'd have kept Tess on the stage even longer, but after the second song she thanked the band, gave a farewell flourish and replaced the mike on the stand.

A dozen people complimented her on her way back to the table, and more came after she got there. Mary was flushed with pride, and said, "Honey, you sure knocked 'em dead. I don't know where you got a voice like that, but it sure wasn't from me." People were very kind, coming by one after the other to thank her for singing and to offer the usual platitudes.

Enid Copley and a bunch of Mary's friends came and Mary found herself the center of attention, the mother of the girl who did good.

But a phenomenon happened that sometimes occurred after Tess had sung. Once she'd done so she became such a superstar that the people, fearful of offending her, kept their distance. They came by, said something quickly so they could claim they'd spoken to her, then hustled away, leaving her lonely in the crowd. Casey was in another part of the hall, hanging out with the kids her age. Renee and Jim were having the time of their lives. If Ed were here, she might have danced with him, but he was gone. Nobody was going to ask the famous Tess McPhail to dance, so she was left with Mary, who never lacked for company.

Two teenage girls approached and shyly asked if Tess would sign a paper napkin, which she did. Mrs. Perry, who'd lived across the street when Tess was little, turned from Mary to remind Tess how she had loved the English toffee she used to make at Christmastime, and how Tess had once abashed Mary by knocking on Mrs. Perry's door and asking if she could have some. It was an old story that had been repeated every time she'd run into Mrs. Perry since she was in elementary school. They talked about the Perry kids, where they were now, what they did for a living, then the woman rejoined the older group.

"Mom, you let me know when you're ready to go home," Tess said.

"Pretty soon," Mary replied, but she and Enid Copley and Mrs. Perry and the others were still deep in conversation.

One song ended, another began, and Kenny came off the dance floor alone, snagged the chair next to Tess and dropped onto it, facing her. He looked warm from dancing. His suit coat hung open and he had loosened his tie and freed his collar button. He reached for his glass, took a drink, propped an elbow on the table and said, "Great wedding."

"You look like you're having fun."

"I am."

"Where did you leave Faith?"

"Dancing with her brother-in-law. How come you're not dancing?"

"Nobody asked me."

He glanced around, let his eyes return to her, and said, "Well, we can't have that, can we? Would you like to dance?"

"I'd love it."

He took her hand and walked her onto the dance floor. The band was playing "The Chair" as she swung lightly into his arms in the traditional waltz pose.

"Thanks for rescuing me," she said at his ear.

"What's wrong with the guys around here anyway?"

"They get a little spooked by me. Happens all the time. You're a good dancer."

"Thanks. So are you. And a helluva terrific singer. They all loved you."

"Thanks. I was watching you with Casey from the stage. It's nice to see a father and daughter having fun like that."

"I'm going to miss her when she goes to Nashville."

"I know you will."

"But, Lord, Tess, you've made her so happy. You know that, don't you?" He leaned back so he could see her face.

"Makes me happy, too.'"

"Thanks for all you're doing for her."

"That's got to be hard for you to say."

"It's one of those stepping-stones a parent faces. Maybe I've grown up a little bit since you came home."

They spent some pleasurable moments gazing at close range, flirting silently in plain sight of two hundred people. When it became too obvious, he tightened his arm till their bodies brushed, and her temple rested against his jaw. She recognized the smell of his cologne coming off his warm skin and thought about Renee's admonition to stay away from him. But it felt right, shuffling around the rim of the dimly lit floor in his arms. She had few opportunities to dance anymore. Ironically, creating the music to which others danced robbed her of the chance to enjoy it this way.

"I have something to thank you for, too," she told him. "What you said to my mother when you came to the door to get her this afternoon. I'd told her the same thing, but coming from a man, it meant more."

He glanced Mary's way through the crowd. "She does look great, doesn't she?"

"See? That's what I mean-your response was so genuine that it lit her up like a Christmas tree. She's seventy-four years old, and her hips have been replaced and her face is getting jowly and her hair is getting thin, but when you came to the door and caught your breath you made her feel beautiful."

"Actually, I think you did that, with the makeup and the hair and the jewelry. Those earrings are pretty special, Tess."

"So's my momma."

He cinched her tighter around the waist as if to say, I'm glad you know that at last, and executed a neat turn. She stayed right with him, cushioned by his legs and midsection, and they began to feel the particular exhilaration of two dancers who are equal to one another and enjoying the physical contact.

"Hey, Kenny?" she said just below his ear.

"Hm?"

"I thought you used to be the clumsiest klutz in the whole school. What happened?"

He laughed and smiled against her hair. "Keep up that smooth talk and I just might let you have your way with me."

He had wrapped her up so tightly that she'd have known if he had a nickel in his pocket.

"Did we ever dance in high school?" she asked.

"I don't think so. You'd never have let me get this close to you."

"Mm… too bad," she murmured.

He leaned back to see her face. They got reckless and let their eyes and smiles say a lot, and the conjunction of their bodies say the rest. A woman knows when her dance partner is thinking about more than dancing, and a man knows when her thoughts are taking the same track. Kenny and Tess both knew.

"Would those be moons on your ears?" he asked, grinning, as the diamonds scattered light onto his shoulders.

"Yes, but they're not full."

"I think I've discovered something," he told her.

"What's that?"

"It takes much less than a full moon to make people do crazy things." He moved close again and started humming with the music. She smiled, enjoying the novelty.

"Feature that, would you… a man singing to me."

"I'm probably the one man you know who isn't intim-idated by your success. If I feel like singing I'm going to sing."

"Me, too."

They finished the dance singing in each other's ears, keeping up the surface playfulness to make light of the all-too-remarkable enjoyment of the contact down below.

When the song ended they separated immediately, knowing people around them were probably gawking. They always gawked at Mac McPhail. She turned as if to lead the way off the floor, but he caught her hand and said, "Stay, Tess… one more."

She didn't bother saying yes, only moved up close to his side, hiding their joined hands until the next song started.

The tempo changed. The band played George Strait's "Adalida" and Tess and Kenny smiled and laughed a lot in celebration of how well they did together.

Once she yelled, above the music, "I'm having so much fun!"

He yelled back, "So am I!"

When the song ended they were flushed and hot, returning to Mary's table.

"Well, you two look like you've done that before."

"Not together," Tess said.

Enid Copley and the rest of the bunch were gone. Mary's wineglass was empty and her small purse was resting on her lap. "I know it's early, but I'm afraid I've got to go home, Tess. I sure hate to take you away from the dance, but you can come back, can't you?"

"Of course I can. I'll take you right away."

Kenny said, "I'll come along and help."

Tess carefully refrained from looking at him, but she knew he had more than one reason for offering. Lovers will find a way. They had found theirs.

"Oh, thank you, Kenny," Mary was saying. "That would be nice. She's got that beautiful dress on and this darn contraption is so heavy." She meant the wheelchair.

"Just let me tell Faith I'm going, okay? Be right back."

Tess wheeled Mary near the exit and they waited while Kenny found Faith. Faith looked over and waved good night to Mary and Tess. A moment later he joined them and took charge of pushing Mary outside. When she and the wheelchair were tucked into her Ford, Kenny asked, "Would you like me to drive?"

"Actually, yes," Tess said, and gave him the keys. "I've had a little more to drink than I probably should have. If I got stopped and the tabloids picked it up… well, you know."

It took fifteen minutes to drive back to town, and another fifteen for Tess to help Mary get settled into bed. While she did, Kenny waited in the kitchen, familiar with the house and comfortable in the dusky room lit by only one small pin-up lamp near the kitchen stove. He listened to the women's voices, drank a glass of water at the sink, sat down in the shadows at the kitchen table and waited patiently for Tess and the encounter they'd been anticipating all day. Ever since he'd seen her in that blue dress in the alley he'd known it would happen, that they'd somehow find the private moment that would allow it.

She entered the kitchen and he rose from his chair and spoke quietly. "Get her all settled down?"

"Yes."

Mary called from the bedroom, "Good night, Kenny! Thanks for helping out!"

"Good night, Mary," he called back.

He looked down at Tess and they thought about returning to the dance. Thought about what they really wanted to do. His tie was rolled up in his pocket, his top two shirt buttons were open as they stood close, wondering who'd make the first move, certain by now it would be made.

"Want that light out?" he asked.

"No, leave it on for me later."

He stepped back and let her lead the way outside. The backyard was dark. Even Kenny's backyard was dark. They had left in broad daylight and nobody had thought to turn on the outside lights. Tess preceded him down the back steps, one hand riding the cool metal handrail, her high heels tapping out an unhurried beat. His footsteps, more blunt, followed along the narrow sidewalk until they were halfway to the alley.

"Tess, wait," he said, and snagged her arm.

The single, willful touch was all the invitation she needed. She swung about, swift and sure of what she wanted, and wrapped around him like a flag around a standard. He, too, knew what he wanted, and his arms were waiting to haul her flush against him, his lips were waiting to claim hers. They stood in the middle of the sidewalk and let the dark yard hide them while they gave their open mouths to each other. Since midafternoon they'd known this would happen; suppressing their attraction at every encounter through the long, long evening had only fueled the tinder. They stood foursquare against each other, one of his shiny black shoes planted between her glittering blue ones. She was shorter and when he bent to her, her hand went to his head, holding him while they kissed and kissed, with neither of them denying the other anything, least of all the admission that lust had come a-calling sometime since he'd pulled her around to face him.

What they had imagined, they brought to life. Her head nestled against his shoulder and his arms crossed her back while the kiss continued as if the wedding dance and all those left behind did not exist. Their lips got wet and their breath got short and the back of her dress got twisted beneath his hands.

She doubled her arms around his neck and he lifted her free of the earth, held her fast against him with the kiss still unbroken. Like a key in a lock he swung his head the other way and carried her across the grass to the blackest shadow next to the back steps. There, beside the crickets and the hydrangea bushes, they kissed some more, first with her shoulder blades against the wall, then with his.

It was better, though, with her against the wall. He was stronger, could exert more pressure, so they rolled to reverse positions, his hips pinning her in place. Once he put his hands against the house, bent low and ran his mouth over her collarbones, then up to her ear before the kiss resumed, mouth to mouth. And once she put her hands inside his suit coat and felt his warm back, and let her nails mark it through the white cotton. He shivered and undulated against her, full length, one time only, and made a sound against her lips.

Then he dragged her backward with him onto the grass, and fell, carrying her along onto the cool soft turf and made a cradle of his legs where she lay upon him in the starlight. Her hair tumbled and covered his face, and he held it back as he rolled her over and lay half on lop of her with his hand just below her left breast. He might have covered it. and she might have let him, but by some unspoken compact they had come to understand that kissing was all they'd allow tonight. But kissing-maximized by moonlight and movement-would be thrill enough. They would use it and wring from it every pleasure they had imagined, and revel in temptation for temptation's sake. With open mouths and straining bodies they trod that delicate balance where indulgence and suppression vie for the upper hand. And when indulgence threatened to win and carry them beyond a state of grace, he fell to his back on the grass beside her. There they lay with cricket song pulsating in their ears.

It took a long time before either of them spoke. Finally he breathed, "Whoa."

"I'll say," she managed. Her left arm was outflung, caught beneath his sleeve. She moved her thumb, just to keep the connection with him, scraping it across the fabric of his suit. She smiled to herself, then rolled her head to look at him.

"What do we think we're doing?"

He continued looking at the stars. "I think they call it necking. It used to be popular back in the fifties."

"I like it."

"Me, too."

She sat up, languid and liquid-limbed, and pushed her hair back and put her face to the sky.

He sat up, too, and they remained side by side, thinking about what they'd done, still enjoying the aftereffects that had changed the inner rhythms of their bodies.

"There'll probably be grass stains on your dress."

"I'll have it dry cleaned."

"But what about going back to the reception?"

"Funny thing… I really don't think I'm in the mood anymore."

"Me, either." He drew up his knees and draped his arms over them, bobbed his head forward and smoothed the back of his hair. She ran her hand down his near sleeve and over the back of his hand, and pushed her fingers between his, working them in his palm like a cat's paw in carpet.

"Hey, if we're going to do stuff like this I've got a right to know-do you and Faith sleep together?"

"Yes."

Her fingers stopped working and she sat very still. Then she stretched out on her back again, linked her hands at her waist and crossed her ankles. Gazing at the stars, she said, "Well, she's very lucky, I must say. I haven't been kissed that thoroughly since…"

"Since when?"

"I don't know. I don't make a practice of this."

He stretched out on his side propping his head with one fist, and laid his spread hand in the center of her ribs with his thumb on the underside of her breast. "Neither do I."

She covered his hand with one of her own, enjoying the warmth of it through her clothing. "Then why do you suppose we did it?"

"Look," he said, "I'm not married to Faith. I've had this thing for you since high school, and I wasn't going to pass up the chance. We both knew this was coming."

"But she won't find out about it, will she?"

"No."

"And neither will Casey."

"No."

"No reason for either of them to know because it's just a crazy fling. Lots of people probably have crazy flings at weddings."

"Probably." He moved his thumb, merely scratching the cloth of her dress.

She emptied her mind and reached up to riffle her fingertips through the hair at his temple. It was fine and short and slightly curled. She realized how much she missed having a man whose hair she could touch whenever she wanted to, who would kiss her and make her feel womanly and wanted for more than her talent as a singer. She pulled his head down and whispered, "Then kiss me some more."

He dipped his head and did as she asked, crooking a knee across her legs and staining one elbow of his suit jacket on the grass. Six minutes later, when they had tested their resistance again, he dragged his mouth away, deposited a parting kiss on her lower lip, then on her neck, then on her right breast, just one brief touch through her dress before drawing back to survey her face again.

"I think we have to get back to the dance now."

"Mm…"

"If we don't it'll be all over and everyone will be asking why we never came back."

She sighed and sat up with an effort, hands behind her like a girl on a beach towel. "You're right."

His pose curled him around her, his left arm caught over his updrawn knee, his other hand on the grass behind her stained skirt. It took only a turn of her head to put her lips next to his, to rub without kissing, suggesting further intimacy.

"But I don't want to," she murmured, tasting his breath.

"Neither do I."

They lingered, mouths scarcely brushing, his fingertips stroking her throat so faintly they might have been touching her, might not. "But we have to. Come on." He took her hand, pulled her to her feet and they paused on the grass they had flattened, shaking their clothes back into place. She brushed off her skirt, he unbuckled his belt and tucked in his shirt. He did not turn away while he did it, but let her watch as he ran his hands inside his trousers, then buckled up again.

When they were both back in order they imparted one last lazy kiss, standing close without caressing. It's been fun, the kiss said, and we won't ever forget it.

"I'll drive," she said, and in very slow motion turned toward the car.

"You sure?"

"Yes. I'm perfectly sober now."

The speed of their footfalls slowed with each step that took them closer to parting. The car doors sounded like explosions in the quiet night, and the engine, when Tess started it, like thunder.

Kenny glanced beyond her to Mary's dark house. "Your mother is probably wondering why we're just getting going."

"My mother is probably asleep."

They wondered about it though as they drove back out to Current River Cove, wondered about the future when Tess would be back in Nashville and Kenny would resume his life with Faith-would they look back upon this night and smile inwardly? When they were halfway to their destination Tess said without preamble, "When I get back to Nashville I have a date with my boyfriend, Burt. I figured that would do the trick."

Kenny had slumped down in his seat and managed to get one long leg hitched over the other, his knee on the window ledge. He rolled his head to look at her. "Do what trick?"

"Get you off my mind."

He replied, "I'm pleased to know I've been there."

They reached Current River Cove and the car bounced as it entered the pitted gravel parking lot. She pulled up before the door and the entry lights from the building shone into the car.

"Aren't you coming in?" he asked.

"I don't think so. I think it's best if I go straight back. If anybody asks, just tell them I thought I should stay home with Momma."

Their gazes lingered, but both were determined to keep this light.

"Come to church tomorrow and sing," he encouraged.

"It's better if I don't."

He studied her a moment before deciding she was right. All they'd want to do was spend the day together afterward. "All right, then. When are you going back to Nashville?"

"Tuesday."

"Will I see you again?"

"I'm sure we'll run into each other in the alley."

"Yes, we always seem to, don't we? Well…" Some wedding guests came out of the hall, laughing, heading right past them en route to the parking lot.

"I'd better be going," Tess said.

A light kiss seemed in order, but the wedding guests were close enough to see into the car, so they desisted. Their pact continued: neither of them was going to get maudlin or clinging. They were going to take away some provocative memories and no regrets. They were going to part smiling.

"Well, it's been fun," he said, opening his car door. "See ya, Tess."

"Yeah… see ya, Kenny."

He got out, slammed the door and she watched him walk toward the building. When he'd opened the hall door, he stopped for a moment and looked back at her. His smile was gone. She could hear the music from the band and see the amber light behind him, then the door closed and he was gone. Back to Faith.