Small Town Girl

CHAPTER SIX

When Kenny reached his porch, Faith was still holding the door open.

"You were gone so long," she said. "I wondered where you went."

"Just talking to Tess." He went in ahead of her, his hands in his pockets.

"I thought you didn't like her."

"I don't. But she thinks I sicced Giddings on her to get her to sing with the choir and I wanted to set her straight."

"Oh." Faith let the door close against her backside while he stopped and waited for her. He could tell she was deep in thought, pausing in her tracks to study him. She was a woman of many averages-looks, shape, intelligence, style, temperament. Faith possessed the homogeneous appearance of the women who modeled clothes for retirees in the catalogues his mother used to get. She was three years older than he, thirty-nine, and dyed her hair, though he couldn't for the life of him figure out why. The color she used was as ordinary a brown as gravy, and did about as much to brighten her faintly graying brunette. Her pleasant face hadn't an age line in it and hardly ever showed anger, but hardly ever had cause because they got along so well. She wore mostly dresses and slacks-never jeans or shorts-and always acted like a lady. The perfect role model for Casey, he thought, who tended to be tomboyish and in your face lots of times.

Tonight Faith was still wearing the conservative celery green suit she'd worn to work, with chunky white costume beads around her neck and matching clusters on her ears. In all the years he'd known Faith, he'd never seen her wear a dangling earring. Certainly nothing like the shimmering silver Indian things that were hanging on Tess McPhail right now.

"I was rather hoping to meet her," Faith said.

"Tess?" he said, surprised. "Why?"

"Well, she's famous. I've never met a famous person before."

"Listen, Faith, you wouldn't like her any more than I do. She's mouthy and insincere and she thinks everybody should fall on their knees and murmur a mantra when she passes."

"I don't see how she can be that bad, coming from a mother like Mary."

"Well, believe me, she is. She hasn't changed a bit."

Faith walked into the kitchen ahead of him. "Still, she came home to take care of her mother. She must have a heart somewhere."

In the kitchen Casey was waiting to pounce on him. "Daddy, why can't I go over and talk to Mac? You did!"

"I'm not going to have you hanging around over there bothering her."

"I wasn't bothering her. She told you so today at the hospital."

"You are not going over there."

"Daddy!" Casey stamped her foot.

"Nope."

"But we're writing a song together!"

"She's writing the song. You keep out of there."

"Arrr! I could just scream!" She tried some histrionics, pretending to pull her own hair. "When I graduate, I'm going to be out of here so fast I'll leave a vacuum! And you know where I'm going? Straight to Nashville, that's where! Then there's no way you can keep me from seeing whoever I want!"

"Fine. When you graduate you can go wherever you want," he said calmly. "Tonight you're staying home."

She put her face smack in front of his and said, less dramatically, "Daddy, you are such a poop!"

He chuckled, and said, "That's about what she said. The two of you should have fun comparing notes on me when you go to Nashville. You smell like horses. Why don't you go up and take a bath?"

"Arrr!" She turned on her bootheel and clumped upstairs. A minute later her guitar started whanging as loud as she could make it whang, and she started singing some song he'd never heard, at the top of her lungs. But no bathwater began running.

He blew out a breath and muttered, "Teenagers."

Faith put her hand on Kenny's arm.

"She's not so bad. And you have to put yourself in her place and understand her frustration-that there's an hon-est-to-goodness Nashville star right across the alley who has befriended her, and she's got to stay in this house as ordered. I'll bet you'd be frustrated, too. Just be careful, Kenny, that you don't rob her of an opportunity that could mean the world to her."

"What opportunity? You mean you think Tess wants her hanging around over there?"

"What did she say at the hospital?"

"Yes, but-"

"You dislike the woman so much that it could possibly be coloring how you're treating Casey."

"You think I should let her go over there?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. Just make sure you make a fair judgment. Now I'm going to go upstairs and see if I can soothe some ruffled feathers." She patted his arm before leaving the room with her customary unflappability.

Upstairs, she tapped on the closed door and asked, "Casey? May I come in?"

Casey stopped hammering her guitar. "I don't care."

Faith went in and shut the door, leaned back against it holding the knob at her spine. A guitar case lined in red velvet lay open on the floor. Casey sat on her desk chair, sulking, one cowboy boot resting on the overturned side of the other one, staring at her left thumbnail which was bent against the neck of the guitar.

"You know what, Faith?" the girl said. "I called Daddy a poop, but I really wanted to call him a shit."

Faith remained unruffled. "Good thing you didn't. You'd have hurt his feelings, and he's really not one, you know."

"I know," Casey admitted sheepishly.

"You really want to be a singer like Tess McPhail, don't you?"

Casey kept staring at her thumb. Finally she dropped her hand from the instrument and looked up at Faith. "Do you think I'm crazy?"

"Not at all. And maybe I'm not the best judge, but I think you're good enough."

"But Daddy doesn't, does he?"

Faith moved into the room and sat on the edge of the bed, crossing her knees and resting an elbow upon them. "Your dad might possibly be a little bit scared that you'll succeed. Did you ever think about that?"

"Why would he be scared of a thing like that?"

"Because it'll take you away from him. Because it's a hard lifestyle, being a successful performer. Because a lot of musicians use drugs and lead wild and ruinous lives-or so we're told. Take your pick."

"But he knows what my music means to me!"

"Mm-hmm," Faith said quietly. "And you know what you mean to him."

Casey quieted. "I know. He loves me. But I can't stay around here forever. What would I do in a town this size?"

"I don't think he expects you to stay. He's just fighting some of his own battles, getting used to the idea of you graduating next month and leaving, wherever you go."

"And I don't think Tess McPhail leads a wild and ru-inous life, either. I think she works real hard at what she does."

"I'm sure you're right."

Casey and Faith had always gotten along together. Faith's placid personality seemed the perfect balance for Casey's excitable one. Faith had never criticized or badgered to get Casey to change her ways. Since she wasn't married to Kenny, she had no call to act like a parent; in giving Casey latitude, she had won her trust.

"Hey, Faith, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"When I'm gone, do you think you'll ever marry Daddy?"

Faith was still tipped forward with her inverted forearm draped across one knee. She fit the nail of her ring finger under the nail of her thumb and worked it around a little bit, studying it.

"I'd like to," she said, meeting Casey's eyes again. "But I just don't know."

"But you've been going together for so long."

"Maybe too long. We've each grown a little fond of our independence."

"You're scared. Is that what you're saying?"

"No, I wouldn't say scared. Wise, maybe."

"Is it because you're Catholic?"

"Well…partly."

"But you and Daddy see each other every day. What would be different if you were married?"

"I know this won't make much sense to you, but your dad and I have the best of both worlds We have companionship, but at the same time we have our independence. I actually like going home to my little house and having nobody to answer to but myself."

"That's probably because I'm so noisy and sassy that you're glad to get away from me."

Faith smiled with genuine affection. "Not so noisy and sassy that I won't miss you too when you're gone."

"Has Daddy asked you-to marry him, I mean?"

Faith uncrossed her knees and dropped her hands to the edge of the mattress. "Not for a long time."

"Oh." The room grew quiet as Casey sat studying Faith and trying to make sense of her relationship with Kenny. Finally Casey laid her guitar in its case, snapped the lid closed and stood it in the corner against her bookcase. She didn't understand why Faith's answer left her feeling blue.

"Well," Faith said, taking a deep breath, "I guess it's about time I was leaving. Feeling any better?"

"Not really."

Faith rose and stood beside Casey's chair, a hand on her shoulder. "As fathers go, he's a pretty good one."

Casey nodded, her gaze fixed on the floor.

"Tell you what I suggest. Take a long, leisurely bath, and empty all of this out of your mind for a little while, and when you're done it'll all seem less crucial."

Casey nodded again.

"Want to have supper with us?" Faith invited nonchalantly.

That's what Casey liked about Faith. She understood that sometimes you had to be alone. "Naw. You go ahead without me."

"All right. But don't wait too long to talk to your dad again. The longer you wait, the harder it gets, okay?"

"Okay. And thanks, Faith."

Faith and Kenny ate alone that night, inside rather than out at the picnic table. After supper she ironed four shirts for him and watered his mother's old houseplants. She added spray starch to his grocery list and took out his garbage. When she left for home it was after eight-thirty and already dark. Kenny walked her to her car, which was parked in the alley, as usual. They went slowly, spiritlessly, into the sound of crickets and the dewy smell of the spring night, their moods still flat because of his disagreement with Casey. The porch light dimly illuminated the surface of the picnic table and laid its extended shadow on the damp grass at its feet. It ran a strip of reflection along the paint on the side of Faith's car as they walked around it and he opened her driver's door.

She turned before getting in. "I think you're going to have to let her try whatever it is she wants to try with her music."

He sighed long and deeply and said nothing. When he finally spoke, his frustration was apparent. "Why couldn't she have gone to college or trade school? Something she could fall back on!"

"She'd be miserable in college and she'd probably drop out anyway."

Kenny stood with one hand folded over the top of the open car door, staring at the toes of his shoes, which were illuminated by the dome light.

"I saw an interview with Henry Mancini once," Faith told him. "He said that his father had never thought music was a serious enough occupation, and even after he'd had many hits, even won Academy Awards, his father still wondered when he was going to get a real job. I always thought that was so sad."

Kenny said nothing, just kept his hand on the car door, his eyes downcast, nodding repeatedly.

"Well, I must go," Faith said. "Good night, dear." She kissed him on his cheek and he murmured "Mm" as if scarcely aware she'd done it.

She got in and he slammed the door for her. She rolled down the window while the engine churned to life. "Bridge at the Hollingsworths' tomorrow night," she reminded him.

"Yes, I remember."

As the car backed up and centered itself in the alley, he stood with his hands in his trouser pockets, following it with his eyes if not his thoughts. The headlights flashed across him and he raised his hand in an absentminded farewell.

When Faith's taillights disappeared, he stood for a long while, listening to the crickets, thinking about what she'd said regarding Henry Mancini. It was as close to chiding as he'd ever received from Faith. Good old Faith. What would he do without her? Especially after Casey graduated and moved away.

His gaze wandered across the alley to Mary's house. The downstairs lights were off and the single upstairs window below the roof peak was gold. Pretty early for a woman like that to be in bed, he thought. Where Faith's departure had scarcely registered, the nearness of Tess McPhail, a mere backyard away from him, smacked him with a sharp, masculine reaction, much like when he was in high school and hovered around the halls where he knew she'd be walking between classes. He stood looking up at her window recalling the exchange they'd had in the backyard a few hours ago, wondering how she could still manage to do this to him after all these years. By the time that encounter in the yard had ended they'd been flirting, hadn't they? Damned stupid, but that's exactly what they'd been doing. And why?

He'd made a happy, well-adjusted life for himself and Casey. He had exactly what he wanted-a nice little business that brought in enough money to afford him a comfortable life, a circle of long-time friends, one very special friend in Faith. All in all, a calm, secure, small town life. Then she came back and things started changing. Not only could she still manage to get under his skin, she was getting under Casey's as well. No matter what Faith said, he didn't want his daughter hanging around with Tess McPhail. Casey was too starstruck and impressionable to be molded by a woman like that. And as for himself, he'd better start acting like a committed man and being the kind of guy Faith deserved.

When he returned to the house Casey was in the kitchen, smearing peanut butter and jelly on a piece of toast. Her hair was clean and wet, and she was wearing a knee-length sleep shirt with a picture of Garfield the cat on the front. She licked the knife clean, holding the toast on the flat of her hand and watching him enter the room.

"Well…" he said, pausing just inside the door. "You took a bath."

"Uh-huh."

"Still mad at me?"

"Uh-uh. Faith and I had a talk."

He wandered a couple steps farther in. "Faith and I had a talk, too."

"What'd you two talk about?"

"You."

She finished licking off the knife and set it down. "Want a piece of toast? I made two."

"Actually, that sounds kind of good."

She handed him one and they rested their rear ends against the edge of the kitchen cabinets, munching.

"Our fights never last too long anyway, do they?" she ventured, balancing her toast on five fingertips, nibbling the crust.

"Nope."

"Daddy, if I go to Nashville after I graduate, can I still keep Rowdy so I can come home and ride him on weekends?"

"Costs a lot of money to board a horse. And how often do you think you'll get home? It's a five-hour drive."

"But would you go out and ride him sometimes so I don't have to get rid of him right away?"

"I guess I could do that."

She stopped eating her toast for a while and let it rest, forgotten, on her hand. He could nearly feel the wave of sadness wash over her as she thought about the changes ahead, the two of them separating, her living someplace else far away, leaving all the people and things that were so familiar and dear. He remembered her as a baby and got sad himself, his memories as clear as if they'd happened yesterday. He opened an arm and she curled against him, tucking her forehead beneath his jaw.

"Oh, Daddy, it's so hard growing up."

"Hard on parents, too."

"I'm going to miss you. And who's going to take care of you?"

"Faith will still be around."

"Then will you marry her?"

"Well, I don't know. Maybe eventually."

"What kind of an answer is that?" She drew back and looked up at him, perplexed, her battle with tears forgotten. "Don't you want to get married again?"

"I don't know. My life is all right the way it is."

She studied him thoughtfully for a moment, then said, "Could I ask you something, Dad?"

"Couldn't you always?"

"You won't get mad?" She stuffed the last bite of toast in her mouth.

"I don't usually. Why would I now?" He polished off his toast, too.

"All right. Here it is." She brushed her palms together as they continued leaning against the cabinet. "Does Faith put out?"

He choked on his toast and coughed twice. "What kind of a question is that?"

"Well, I was just wondering, that's all, 'cause you two are so… well, I don't know… comfortable together, I guess. I mean, it's like you've been married for fifty years. So naturally I wonder."

Kenny colored, and said, "Casey, you're impossible."

"That must mean you don't want to tell me." She glanced at him askance. "I figure she must. I mean, everybody does it at some time or another. It's okay. You can tell me and I won't be shocked. Then I'll tell you if I ever have. Deal?"

"Casey Kronek!"

"Well, don't you wonder? I mean, I'm seventeen already."

"Who would you have done a thing like that with? You've never even dated any boy seriously!"

"But what if I was curious? What if I just decided I wanted to know what it was like because all the other girls were talking about it?"

He frowned. "Did you?" Then a horrifying thought struck him. "Casey, you're not pregnant, are you?"

She burst out laughing. "Oh, Daddy, you should see your face!"

"Well, you might think it's funny, but I don't."

"I was just testing you to see how shocked you'd be."

"Well, I was shocked, all right!"

"So you figure I'll be, too, if I find out you and Faith sleep together."

"You know perfectly well she's never stayed overnight in this house and neither have I stayed at hers."

"Oh, come on, Daddy, even I'm not naive enough to think it only happens at night, tucked under the covers."

"Well, I tell you what, smarty. What happens between Faith and me is none of your business, and it would be a breach of faith for me to talk about it with you, don't you think?"

"A breach of Faith… very clever, Daddy. Maybe you're the one who should be writing song words with Mac."

"Do we have to bring her up again?"

"Oh, I forgot. You don't like her because she used to tease you in high school."

"It's more than that. She's still got an attitude."

"No, she doesn't. Not when you approach her without thinking of her as a star, but just as the girl who grew up next door."

"I'm not interested in approaching her at all. As far as I'm concerned, the less our paths cross, the better."

"Do you think she'll come and sing with the choir though?"

"I don't know. I hope not. I was appalled at Reverend Giddings asking her. Figured she'd think I put him up to it."

"I saw you glaring at me as if I'd put him up to it. Honest, I didn't have anything to do with that. But wouldn't it be something if she'd do it? Wow."

With a twist of sarcasm, Kenny mumbled to himself, "Yeah… wow." Moments later he was left behind while Casey wandered out of the room, daydreaming about her idol and the possibility of singing in the church choir with her.

Yeah, he thought ruefully, that's all we need around here.

The next day when Tess went out to start her car she found a note stuck under the windshield wiper. It was written in pencil on a sheet of narrow-lined paper that had been torn out of a spiral notebook.

"Mac," it said, "I've got a verse two that I think will work. Try it out."

Mama's in the home place, never changed a lick,

House as worn and tattered as a derelict,

Same old clock a-tickin' on the faded kitchen wall.

Mama won't replace anything at all.

Mama's fine.

Can't change her mind.

Tess stood in the alley, reading the verse, singing it to herself.

She loved it! It worked so much better than the second verse she herself had concocted. How surprising that a seventeen-year-old girl had the insight to come up with something this good.

On her way to the hospital she dialed her producer, and said, "Jack, listen, I want you to save space on the album for one new song that I'm writing down here. It's not done yet, but it will be soon. I'm getting good help from a high school girl who lives right across the alley, and you won't believe it, Jack, but it's good. She's good."

"A high school girl! Tess, have you lost your mind?"

"I'm excited, Jack. She can write and she's got a voice."

"Tess," he said with exaggerated patience.

"I know, I know, but this one's special. She's bright and she's got talent to go with it. I want to encourage her and see what she's got. It's just one cut, Jack, okay? And if the song doesn't pan out the way I think it will, we'll use whatever you've got picked out from the demos."

He sighed-a man who'd lost the battle and knew it. "All right, Tess. What's it called?"

" 'Small Town Girl.' "

"A ballad?"

"Yes, upbeat. I'm working on the bridge, and if it turns out as good as the first two verses, the last verse will be easy. I'll let you know the minute it's finished."

"And you'll send a rough?"

"Of course, with piano accompaniment."

"Okay, Mac, you're the star. You know best."

"Jack, for the hundredth time, don't say that, as if I'm the only one responsible for making my records hits. You know you're indispensable to me."

He laughed, and said, "Okay, Mac. How's your mother?"

Tess's mother was progressing normally, which, in the case of hip replacement, meant slowly. By the third day her catheter had been removed and when Tess arrived, Virginia, the therapist, was in the room running Mary through a series of exercises to increase her blood circulation. Mary lay flat in bed, flexing her feet, squeezing her buttocks together and tightening her thigh muscles. But when she was instructed to use a towel as a sling to pull her recovering leg upward, things got more difficult. A male aide arrived to help Mary to her feet for her first attempt at using a walker. The process was slow, with Virginia showing her how to use a leg lifter to support her leg while swinging it off the bed, and instructing her not to bend her hips more than ninety degrees.

"I know, I know," she said, "I've done this before."

"All we're going to do is get you upright first. There's no rush. Just sort of half sit, half hang on the edge of the mattress and don't put your weight on either foot."

When she had been swung around and tipped upright, it was apparent she grew dizzy. Her eyes closed and she gripped the arms supporting her.

"Take your time. There's no rush." Virginia gave her a minute, then said, "Okay?"

Mary nodded twice in fast succession, but her eyes remained closed and her nostrils flared.

Virginia instructed Tess, "Please pay attention, because your role will be to encourage and support. It'll help if you remind her to go slow and be systematic. Now, Mary, today we're going to do most of the work getting you up, but at home you'll push off the bed with both hands, right? Stay inside the walker, make sure you don't get your feet outside it or too far up in front because it can tip over."

Mary nodded. When they got her up off the edge of the bed she reeled.

"Do you feel nauseated?"

"I'm… okay," she answered breathlessly.

"If you feel nauseated, let us know."

She nodded again and pulled in a sturdy breath through her nose.

"I know you've done this before, but just a reminder… all four feet of the walker need to be on the floor before you make your first step. The walker goes first, then your sore leg, then your good leg. Are you ready?"

Mary opened her eyes and nodded.

Tess was the worst possible nurse. She had always loved her mother, but moving along beside her during her first hesitant steps with the walker was traumatic. She discovered she was holding her breath, glancing from Mary's white knuckles to her grim face, from her moist forehead to the sheen of tears the patient couldn't keep from her determined eyes. Her legs looked like kegs, bound in those thick, flesh-colored PEDs. Everything about her seemed foreign, and Tess felt as if she never knew the right thing to say. Give her a crowd of ten thousand to entertain, but not one mother in pain.

"You're doing great, Mom," she tried, after Mary's first three steps, then overanxiously to Virginia, "Isn't she doing great?"

"Absolutely. There's no hurry, Mary. Take your time."

Tess repeated silently, Take your time, take your time, wishing she were anywhere but in that hospital room.

"Keep all your weight on the walker and don't look at your feet."

"Look up," Virginia instructed.

Mary went six feet that first time with the walker. Each step was arduous, a repeat of the pain suffered two years earlier, pain to which Tess had been oblivious until now. She was amazed by her mother's courage to face this a second time, knowing what she'd have to go through, and chagrined with herself for her chickenheartedness.

By the time the patient was returned to bed, it was hard to say who was more relieved, Mary or her daughter. Tess got Mary's adductor pillow and helped tuck it between her knees, covered her with the sheet, rolled up the towel she'd used to lift her leg, and put it in a bedside drawer. Mary looked worn and frail, and Tess again searched for a distraction to offer. Suddenly she remembered.

"Oh, I brought your mail!" she announced brightly, digging it out of her large gray bag. "Looks like you got some cards. Want me to open them for you?"

Mary lay with her eyes closed, her breathing labored. "In a minute."

Tess felt stupid for making the suggestion at the wrong moment. She would never be natural at this the way her sisters were. She bent down and felt awkward drying Mary's forehead with the sweep of a palm. She kissed Mary's forehead, and even that felt forced. "Of course. There's time for that later. You rest awhile first."

Mary nodded without opening her eyes and Tess was left to sit on a chair watching her and wishing she were someplace else.

Renee came later that morning and brought her daughter, Rachel, with her. They both seemed so natural at saying and doing the right thing. "How ya doing today, Momma?" Renee said, bending over the bed and kissing her mother. "Did they get you up to walk?"

"A little."

"And it was awful, I know. But this afternoon will be better and tomorrow better than that. Look who I brought."

Rachel stepped close. "Hi, Grandma."

"Rachel, darling." Mary rolled over and smiled wanly.

"Mom and I made you some cookies. The chocolate ones rolled in powdered sugar that you like so much."

"Top-of-the-Mountains?" She immediately brightened and made an effort to push herself up. "Where are they?"

While Renee uncovered the tin, Rachel found a chance to greet her aunt. "Hi, Aunt Tess, I haven't seen you yet."

"Hi, Rachel." They hugged a little stiffly: they scarcely knew each other. "How are the wedding plans coming?"

"Perfect. All we need is sun. I'm so glad you'll be home for it."

"Oh, Tess, look at these cookies," Mary said, already more animated since the two had arrived and brought the treats. "You've got to have one."

"No, thanks, Mom."

"Oh, what's one little cookie going to hurt?" Mary was looking into the tin as she spoke.

Renee said, "Mom, you know she doesn't eat this kind of stuff," and Mary stopped insisting.

The longer Tess was home the more she realized that her sisters were probably right, she was out of touch with her family. She couldn't have guessed that her mother preferred dark chocolate candy, or what kind of cookies were her favorite. She scarcely knew enough about Rachel to carry on a comfortable conversation. After the obligatory hug they found little to say, while Rachel and Renee found plenty to visit with Mary about.

Shortly after Renee and Rachel arrived, Faith Oxbury showed up, dressed in a pastel print dress, jewelry and pumps, bearing a big vase of irises.

"Hello there," she said cheerfully from the doorway. "Is there anyone in here with a brand-new hip?"

"Faith," they all chorused. "Hello!"

Tess straightened up and took notice of this woman whose car was parked across the alley most nights after work.

"Mary, dear, how are you? The nurses tell me that you've been up already and have taken a few steps. I'll bet you're glad it's over and all you have to do is file your insurance papers." She set down the flowers and kissed the patient's cheek. Then she stood at the bedside squeezing both Mary's hands, and looking right into her eyes. "I'm so glad the worst part is over for you. I can't tell you how many times I thought of you day before yesterday."

"Oh, thank you, Faith. That means so much to me."

"Kenny sends his best and tells me to give you a big kiss, so that's from him. And the irises, too. I picked them in his yard."

"They're absolutely gorgeous. Thank you again."

"And something from Casey, who says she'll try to come up tonight after supper." From her purse Faith extracted a card. "She made it." Mary read it aloud.

"Certain people leave a glow,

Love-dust everywhere they go,

Smiles and cheer and happy-dom,

Hurry home and sprinkle some."

Everyone murmured appreciatively and the card got passed around. When it reached Tess she read the additional note Casey had put at the bottom. " 'Hospitals are best when you're getting out of them. Glad you're coming this way soon. Miss you! Love, Casey.' "

As Tess closed the card, Faith said, "Mary, I haven't met your other daughter yet, though I waved to her from the back step last night." She approached Tess and took both of her hands as she'd done to Mary earlier. "I'm Faith Oxbury."

Tess squeezed back. "Hi, Faith. I'm Tess."

"And you're every bit as pretty as your pictures." Faith had the rare combination of sincerity and candor that struck the perfect chord with Tess. She recognized immediately what a genuinely kind woman she was. ' "Thank you."

"And as nice, if Casey can be believed." Tess chuckled at Faith's directness. "Thank you again."

"She thinks you can walk on water. That's all we've heard around the house since you came home is Mac, Mac, Mac. You have that girl absolutely glowing."

"Well, I don't know why. I didn't do much."

"You respected her music, that was enough. I think you have a disciple for life."

Faith finally released Tess's hands.

Tess said, "So she told you she and I are writing a song together?"

"Told us! Why, that's all the girl can talk about! She's been up in her room playing her guitar and singing constantly since you got here."

"I didn't know she played guitar."

"Oh, yes. Since she was ten and her hands got big enough."

"Well, I'd like to hear her sometime." That was a statement Tess rarely made, but speaking the words today, she truly meant them. Undiscovered talents were always trying to get to her, perform for her, but most were not allowed. Yet Casey she welcomed, for reasons she had not clearly defined.

Faith was saying, "I'm sure all you'd have to do is say the word and she'd have it at your door. Her father is concerned that she's bothering you, though, coming across the alley too much."

"Oh, no, not at all. Will you tell her, by the way, that I like the second verse?"

"Second verse?"

"She'll understand."

Faith smiled. "I'll tell her."

Tess liked Faith Oxbury. There was nothing about her not to like. She was very genuine, charitable, kind to Mary, obviously as dear a friend to the entire family as Kenny was, and more than likely a wonderful influence on Casey.

What bothered Tess was that she found herself analyzing Faith not in light of all this, but in light of the fact that she was, from all apparent evidence, Kenny Kronek's longtime paramour.