Small Town Girl

'Love you. Momma!'

'Don't be gone so long this time!'

'I won't.'

Tess hit the gas pedal twice-a real smart aleck trying to lighten the mood. The muffler rapped like strafing and Mary pressed the tissue to her quivering chin. Tess pushed a tape into the deck, cranked up the volume until it nearly broke her own eardrums, backed into the alley, then roared away with her own recorded voice belting out a diminishing farewell for the little squash-haired lady on the high back step.

It was roughly one mile from her mother's house to downtown. Tess cried all the way, partly for the loving and lonely mother she'd left behind, partly for Papa John, and partly for herself because she was leaving Kenny Kronek. She should not stop at his office; what purpose would it serve? But the thought of driving away without bidding him good-bye caused an actual ache in her breast. It felt as if some force greater than she controlled her will as she pulled up in front of Kenny's office, raised her sunglasses, checked her eves in the mirror and found she'd cried off all her mascara. Hiding behind her shades once more, she got out and stood for a moment studying his building. It had a gray wooden facade with the door in the center and, on either side, a white window box filled with red geraniums. The geraniums looked like Faith's work.

She nudged the legs of her jeans down off her calves and headed for the plate-glass door that said Kenneth Kronek, CPA. Her sensible self half hoped he'd be gone to lunch, but her sentimental self yearned for a personal goodbye.

She stepped inside and there he was, working at a desk beyond an open doorway of a private office that stretched across the back half of the narrow building. Out front a small reception counter had been abandoned by his secretary, leaving him alone in the place.

He looked up and his fingers stalled above the buttons of a calculator. She took her glasses off slowly and stared back at him while time froze and neither of them flickered a muscle. Finally he rolled his chair back and rose, impaling her with his eyes as he walked through the doorway and stopped behind his secretary's empty chair. He was dressed in gray trousers, a white shirt with a pen in his pocket and a multicolored tie with an equestrian motif. His sleeves were rolled up several inches, but the tie was knotted tightly and fell straight down his flat front. She was dressed as she'd been the day she rolled into town-in cowboy boots, jeans and the Southern Smoke T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

'Hi,' she said.

'Hi,' he answered, and she could tell from the thick-throated syllable that her appearance had generated the same tumult within him that was going on within her. 'What's wrong?'

'I have to go back to Nashville today. Something came up very suddenly.'

'You've been crying.'

She pushed the glasses back on. The lenses grayed his face and clothing.

'A little, yes… but it's… I'm okay.' She rubbed the underside of her nose with the back of her hand.

'Come into my office.'

'No.' She started rummaging in her purse, seeking a distraction from the awful stranglehold he seemed to have on her heart. 'I just wanted you to know I was leaving so you can tell Casey. And I wanted to give you my card so that-'

He came around the desk and gripped her arm. 'Come into my office, Tess.'

'Kenny, I didn't come here to-'

'My secretary's gone to lunch, but she could come back any minute.'

He hauled her into his private domain, shut the door and they stood behind it, facing each other, mixed up and frenzied inside. He dropped her arm the minute the door closed, and asked, 'What happened?'

'A man who got me started in this business was killed by a robber.'

'Who?'

'His name was John Walpole. We called him Papa John.'

'Yes, I know about him. I can imagine what he meant to you. I'm sorry, Tess.'

'You know about him?'

'I've read about what he did for you, lots of times, in magazine articles.'

'You have?' Her grief over Papa John, and her sadness over saying good-bye to her mother-and him-became momentarily eclipsed by wonder at this man. She had peeled back so many layers of him that she thought herself foolish to be amazed by what this new layer revealed.

Wordlessly he went to a file cabinet, opened the drawer marked M and pulled out a manila folder. He tossed it on his desk and its contents fanned out in a crooked train, half exposed. Tess glanced down at an array of press clippings she recognized-portions of photos peeked out, one behind another, tear sheets from newspapers, and articles from glossy magazines. She opened the folder and saw a headline and picture of herself from USA Today, and a much smaller piece from the Wintergreen Free Press telling about her singing with the First Methodist Church choir directed by Ken Kronek. She closed the folder again and met his eyes.

They were leveled on her without the slightest embarrassment.

'All right,' he said, 'now you know.'

She was stunned. 'How long have you been collecting these?' she asked.

'Right from the beginning of your career till last week. There are two more folders in the drawer.'

'But what was the point?'

'Maybe none, I don't know. Maybe just that you were a hometown girl who made it, somebody I took inspiration from, somebody I tried to kiss one time on a school bus. Hell, I don't know. Old crushes die hard.' He scooped up the file and turned away to put it back in the metal cabinet. When the drawer closed he remained facing it, hands bracketing his belt, breathing deeply. She studied the smooth surface of his white shirt back, the rim of his shoulder blades pushing against it like a kite frame in a gusty wind, the neatly trimmed hair above his white collar- so much more conservative than the Nashville shags worn by most of the musicians she hung around with. He could not help himself from giving away the fact that saying good-bye to her was turning out to be far more difficult than they'd expected.

If it was difficult for him, it was no less difficult for her.

'Look, Kenny, I have to go,' she said quietly, trying to keep her voice from breaking. 'I just wanted you to tell Casey that I'm sorry I couldn't talk to her before I left, but here's my card. It's got my unlisted phone number on it, so she can call me anytime. And I just want you to know that when she comes down to Nashville I'll take very good care of her. She's going to be living with me for a while at least, and as soon as she gets a job I'll help her find someplace to live. I'm going to try to talk her into getting into Vanderbilt in the fall, just in case the music career doesn't fly, and even if it does, she'll never regret college. I'll introduce her to good people and I'll always be there for her, so you don't have to worry, Kenny, honest.'

He turned around at last and she saw the pent-up emotion in his face, equal to that within her.

They both spoke at once.

'Tess-'

'Kenny-'

They barely got the names out before she was in his arms, not kissing him, but drawn up high and hard against his chest in a painful good-bye. She clung to his shoulders, her business card bent in half, the pen in his shirt pocket biting into her right breast. He smelled so familiar, and felt so stable and reliable, the rock upon which her mother had leaned long before Tess had learned what a wonderful man he was.

'I'm going to miss you,' she whispered.

'I'm going to miss you, too.'

She pulled off her sunglasses and they hung against his back while their eyes began to sting. After a long time he put a hand on the back of her head and pressed her forehead against his neck, very tightly, so she couldn't look up. When he spoke, his voice sounded tortured. 'On Saturday…' he managed, and swallowed as if unsure he could go on. 'When I said to your mother that I just might fall in love anyway, I was talking about-'

'No, don't.' She lurched back and covered his lips with her hand. 'Don't say it. It's not true anyway. This was just a… a crazy fling at a wedding reception-we both agreed, right?'

He reached up for her wrist and dragged her hand down, freeing his mouth. He held her hand over his hurting heart as they drank each other in, saying good-bye with their eyes and realizing no other ending was possible.