CHAPTER TEN
They drove home through the piquant spring night realizing it would be most prudent if for the remainder of her time here they'd limit their encounters to waving hello across the alley. She considered saying so, then switched on the radio so they need not speak at all.
Halfway back to town one of her own songs came on. It was 'Cattin'.'
He reached over and turned the volume up.
She reached over and turned it down.
'What did you do that for?' he said.
'You don't have to turn it up just because it's me.'
'I turned it up because I like it.' He cranked the volume again and one of his knees started wobbling in time to the music.
She gave him an arch glance. 'It's immoral, you know.'
'What is?'
'That song.'
He burst out laughing-a long, loud, lusty laugh with nothing held back. After he got done she ended up telling him all about the letter she'd gotten from the irate listener who called the words 'filthy,' about the preposterous demands her fans sometimes made on her, and the frustration of becoming so famous that people think they own a piece of you and can tell you how to conduct your business. She also confessed her guilt for having these feelings because her fans were her lifeblood, and without them she'd be nowhere.
'I suspect what you're feeling is probably universal among the very famous,'' he said. 'Don't worry about it so much. Fans are like any other people, some are nice and some aren't. Some are reasonable and some aren't. It's the same in any business.'
They reached town so fast she couldn't believe it, talking all the way. When they pulled up in the alley she shut off the engine but neither of them moved. It was suddenly very quiet without the radio.
'The trouble is, Kenny, you're too easy to talk to.'
'That's trouble?'
'You know what I mean. I don't remember you being this easy to talk to when we were in high school.'
'Same here. I remember you being a stuck-up snob.'
She considered awhile. 'Maybe we're both getting over some misconceptions.'
They could look at each other now for great lengths of time while silence fell between them and underscored their changing altitudes toward each other and their marked reluctance to part. But both of their houses had lights on, and this lingering was getting them nowhere. He glanced at her house. She glanced at his. She was supposed to give Tricia a ride home, and he ought to go in and give Faith a goodnight call, which he usually did on the evenings he didn't see her.
'Looks like Casey's still up,' she noted.
'And your mother, too.'
'Tricia, too. She's taking care of Momma.'
'You have to take her home?'
'Yes… and I'd better get going. It's a school night.'
'Well…' he said, reaching for his door handle, looking back at her. 'Thanks for the ride.'
'Anytime.'
They smiled at each other in the semidark while the half-moon shone in the back window and the shadows of the trees patterned the garage roofs. There was no further reason to linger. They got out of the car, slammed the doors and stood in the warm night on either side of the Z.
'Good night,' he said over the car roof.
'Good night.'
It took a while before either of them moved. He finally turned and walked across the alley slowly, and she watched him become a black cutout against his distant porch light.
'Hey, Kenny?' she called, wishing to detain him awhile longer. He turned, stopped. She could tell he really didn't want to go in the house yet. 'I really did enjoy talking with you tonight.'
'I enjoyed it, too.'
'Especially the stuff about my dad. Thanks for that.'
'No need to thank me. He was a part of my childhood, too.'
'In Nashville all my friends are music related. Seems like all we talk about is music. But back here it's… well, it's good to reminisce a little.'
'Yes, well…' He thought of how much she'd changed in these few short days at home, and how much his opinion of her had changed as well. He wondered what her reaction would be if he simply walked back to her side of the alley and kissed her. But it struck him afresh who she was, and who he was, and that he was on his way inside to call Faith and say good night.
'Good night again,' he called, doing the right thing. 'See you Sunday.'
'Yeah, see you Sunday.'
After Tess had taken Tricia home and prepared for bed she turned out the light and stood for a few minutes at the window overlooking the backyard. Across the alley one upstairs light was on in the bedroom that used to be his when he was a child. Did he still use that room? Or was it Casey's now? What was the point of wondering? Yet she did, even after she got into bed and lay in the dark going over this evening and how very, very enjoyable it had been. Singing with him, driving with him, petting the horse with him, talking about the old days. It was true what she'd told him when he was walking back to his house, every friend she had now was somehow connected to the music industry. None of them had known her as a child, none could share recollections of her past, yet Kenny even remembered her father. How precious his story had been and how very connected it made her feel, as if this place would always be here for her, with its living family as well as its dead. This then was nostalgia making its impact, and in her lucid moments she realized it was temporary and would fade as soon as she returned to Nashville. But in her less guarded moments, it-and Kenny Kronek, too-made her question where she belonged.
In the bright light of morning she knew exactly where she belonged. The daily express packet arrived from Kelly Mendoza and it was back to business, in between housekeeping duties. She called Jack Greaves and told him, 'I'm going to ask Casey Kronek to sing backup on 'Small Town Girl.' Okay with you?'
'I think your voices are a perfect blend.'
'Thanks, Jack. This means a lot to me.'
'Not nearly as much as it means to Casey Kronek, I'll bet.'
'Listen, put it on the schedule for the first week of June.'
'Will do.'
She went to find Mary and tell her. Mary was resting in bed with her eyes closed and a cup of coffee balanced on her stomach, as if she'd just dozed off. As Tess stopped in the doorway a floorboard creaked and Mary awakened with a start. Her hands jerked and the coffee sloshed onto the sheets.
'Oh, Tess… oh, dear, look what I've done. The sheets.'
'That's okay, Momma, I can change them.' She went in and took the cup from Mary, setting it aside. 'I came to tell you something exciting.'
'What's that?'
'I'm going to ask Casey to sing backup on the song we wrote together.'
'You mean on the real record?'
She no longer tried to correct Mary when she referred to tapes and CDs as records. 'Yes. I just talked to Jack about it.'
'But Kenny isn't going to like it.'
'I got his permission last night.'
'You did?'
'I wouldn't ask Casey without it.'
Mary thought a moment. 'Well, in that case then, my, this is going to be something, isn't it? Casey's going to
