Small Town Girl

by LaVyrle Spencer

  “I assumed you didn’t want to talk about it.”

  “Well …” he said, and let the thought hang.

  She put the rouge on the shelf.

  “Well …” she said, using exactly the tone he had used.

  “Casey thinks we should.”

  “Mmm …” She was applying rose lipstick; in the mirror he watched her open her lips and curl them against her teeth. When her lips were coated she took the time to rub them together and put the lipstick away before speaking again. “I suspect Casey’s worried about your welfare and would like to know you’ll be tied up with somebody for life after she’s not here to watch over you anymore.”

  “That’s about right. But I told her you’ll still be here.”

  She smiled at him in the mirror. “Of course I will. Goodness, where else would I be after all this time?” She pulled a Kleenex from a box on the back of the toilet, blotted her lipstick and dropped it into a plastic wastebasket. She picked at a couple of curls around her face that had been pushed back by her powder puff, and began tucking her cosmetics into a small zippered case.

  “Nothing’s changed in the Catholic Church, and I know it means a lot to you, being able to go to Communion.”

  “Yes, it does. I’m … well … I’m content if you are, keeping things the way they are.”

  “Fine with me.” Kenny kept leaning on the towel bar, watching her as she smoothed a hand down her torso and retucked her blouse neatly into her waistband. “Casey asked me something else last night.”

  “What was that?”

  “She wanted to know if you put out.”

  Faith swung around and tried to stop herself from laughing, but could not. A soft ladylike snort escaped as she covered her lips.

  “Oh, good gracious. What did you tell her?”

  “I told her, ‘On occasion.’ “

  “You did not.”

  Kenny dropped his hand from the towel bar and grinned, moving toward her, letting his head tip to one side. “No, I didn’t, but if I remember right, you do put out now and then, don’t you?”

  “Kenneth,” she chided, dropping her gaze like a blushing virgin.

  He walked up against her and joined his hands on the shallows of her spine while she put her arms around his shoulders, leaning back and looking up at him.

  “It’s been a while,” he said, “and we have the house to ourselves.”

  “I just freshened my makeup.”

  “We have twenty minutes before we have to leave for Laurie and Yale’s.”

  She checked her watch over his shoulder. “Fifteen,” she corrected. “But … well … all right.”

  They went up to Kenny’s room, where Faith removed her slacks and pantyhose, and laid them neatly on a chair. He threw his trousers and shorts on the foot of the bed and said, “Why don’t you come over here on the edge of the bed?”

  Obediently she went where he suggested, and arranged herself in suitable fashion that would mess them both up the least. His shirttails got in the way and she held them aside. When he made overtures as if to incite her to orgasm, she said, “We don’t have time, Kenny,” and he obediently desisted. Reaching his own orgasm, he grunted softly. These were the only verbal exchanges they made during the coupling, although when it was over they smiled at each other. Then he kissed her for the first time that night, and she said, “We’ll have to hurry because Laurie likes to get started on time.”

  When they left the house together, Faith was just as neat and tidy as she’d been at work that day.

  At nine o’clock that night Tess was just eating her supper—flatbread topped with herbed tomatoes and goat cheese, broiled. She was sitting at the kitchen table barefoot, in her baseball cap and a huge white Garth Brooks T-shirt, turning the pages of a JCPenney catalogue that had arrived in her mother’s mail that day. The radio on top of the refrigerator was tuned to KKLR in Poplar Bluff and Trisha Yearwood was singing “Thinkin’ about You.”

  Out in front of Kenny’s house, Casey parked her pickup truck in its usual spot at the curb, walked around the south side of the building to the back porch door and called inside, “Hey, Dad, you home yet?” Getting no answer, she glanced across the alley. It was a warm spring evening with crickets singing and fruit trees blooming in the dark, giving the yards a faint sweet smell. Mary’s kitchen light was on and the back door open: the invitation proved too much for Casey.

  The sound of the radio wafted out as she bounded up the back steps and put her forehead to the screen. Peering sharply to her right she could see three empty chairs at the kitchen table. The view of Tess, sitting on the fourth, was bisected by the doorway into the room.

  “Hi, Mac. It’s me, Casey!”

  Mac leaned forward and called, “Hey, Casey, come on in!”

  Casey went in. “Just got back from visiting your mom. Saw your lights on.”

  “How is she?”

  “They got her up to walk once while I was there.” Casey winced as if watching Mary now. “Ouch.”

  “I know. But she’s a tough one. Sit down. Want some flatbread?”

  “What’s flatbread?”

  “This pale flat stuff without leavening. No fat. No fuss. Just broil some tomato and cheese on it, then put a little fresh basil on top and you got a meal. Here, have one.”

  Casey picked up a wedge and took a bite. “What’s this white stuff?”

  “Goat cheese.”

  Casey stopped chewing and looked sickly. “Goat cheese?”

  “Never tasted goat cheese?” Tess took another piece herself. “It’s good.”

  “Phew!” exclaimed Casey. “Tastes like their damn pen.”

  “Mm … the world’s a big place. Lots of new things to taste out there.”

  “I bet.” In spite of her complaint, Casey persevered and took a second bite. After all, if the great Tess McPhail ate goat cheese, Casey was going to, too. The fresh basil was a new and delectable taste, and before long she had finished her first piece. “It’s not so bad if you keep at it. Can I have another one?”

  “Sure, go ahead. I’ll make more.”

  Tess got up to do so, and while the new pan was broiling, she brought Casey a Coke, and said, “Your second verse is good. I’m going to use it.”

  Casey looked stunned. “You’re kidding!”

  “No. I like it. I thought maybe since tomorrow’s Saturday you could come over and we’ll work on it some more, see if we can finish it together.”

  “Really? Me?”

  “Really. You. But you know what? When it’s published, you’ll have to take credit as one of the writers.”

  “Oh, Mac, are you serious?”

  “Of course. I called my producer and told him to save one slot on the new album for it. The quicker we finish it the better.”

  Casey locked her hands on top of her head and stretched out on her chair grinning up at the ceiling in rank ecstasy.

  “Boy. My dad’s not going to believe this. Nobody is. I can’t believe you’re gonna do this for me!”

  “You’re the one who’s doing it.”

  Casey let out a whoop that lifted her heels, and Tess watched with pleasure.

  “I gotta go out and take care of my horse first thing in the morning, but I’ll be here after that.”

  “Great. But right now we eat.” The new pan of flatbread was bubbly, and she carried it over to the table with a pot holder. “Let’s celebrate our new association—co-writers.”

  Tess stretched out like Casey, both of them with their heels on the same chair. While they ate, Tess said, “I met Faith today. She’s a nice lady.”

  “Yup. Faith and me, we get along like Ricky Skaggs and steel strings. Hey, you ever meet Ricky Skaggs?”

  “Sure. Played at some state fairs with him a couple years ago.”

  “How ‘bout Alan Jackson? You met him?”

  “Sure. You ever heard of Freer, Texas?”

  “Nope.”

  “Rattlesnake Roundup there every year. Looks like A
lan Jackson and I might be there again this year.”

  While their impromptu dinner continued, Tess mesmerized the girl with stories about going on tours and doing concerts with the big names. They finished off all but one piece of flatbread and threw their crumpled napkins on the pan. Casey accidentally burped out loud and they laughed at her surprised expression. Travis Tritt and Marty Stuart came on the radio with an oldie, “The Whiskey Ain’t Workin’ Anymore,” and they yowled along like a couple of beer swillers in a bar.

  That’s how Kenny found them.

  It was shortly after ten when he pulled into his garage and closed the overhead door. From clear out in the alley he could hear their voices, and recognized Casey’s immediately, singing at the top of her lungs. Was she over there again? The lights glowed in Mary’s kitchen as he crossed the backyard and stopped at the bottom of the steps, listening.

  They were bellowing fit to kill about needing one good honky-tonk angel, and someone was thumping a heel hard on the floor as Kenny climbed the steps and peered inside. He could see Casey’s back and part of Tess’s front. Casey was wearing jeans and her old cowboy boots; Tess, as far as he could see, wore nothing more than an oversized T-shirt. They were banging the tabletop with their drinks, and Mary’s potted plant was quivering in time to the music.

  The song ended and they yowled and clapped as if they were coming off a dance floor.

  Tess said, “Girl, you and me are gonna get along just fine!”

  Kenny knocked and called, “Is this a private party or can anyone join in?”

  Tess tipped forward to see around the doorway.

  Casey spun around on her chair. “Dad! What are you doing here?”

  “I could hear you clear across the alley.”

  In an unusually happy and expansive mood, Tess said, “Come on in, Kenny. We’re just eatin’ goat cheese and stretching our vocal cords.”

  He opened the door and went in, stopping just inside the kitchen doorway, surveying the two of them. Tess had a tomato stain on her shirt and the table was littered with dirty dishes. It looked as though Casey had been here for a while.

  “Sounds pretty raucous from out here. Who’s eating goat cheese?”

  “Me!” Casey declared proudly. “And it’s good, too!”

  “Here.” Tess hooked a chair with a foot and sent it scooting backward. “Pull up a chair and try some.”

  He arranged himself on the chair across from her and studied the two of them, recalling that he’d ordered Casey to stay away from here, and realizing that an effective parent would follow through with a reprimand. Reprimands, however, were the farthest thing from his mind as he settled back and decided to enjoy himself.

  Casey said, “Guess what, Dad. Mac likes the song I’ve been helping her write. She’s going to record it on her next album, and she says I’ll get credit as a co-writer! Isn’t that right, Mac?”

  “Yup. That’s right.”

  “Really?” His gaze wandered from his daughter to Tess.

  “That is, if you have no objections,” Tess added.

  “Wouldn’t do me much good if I did, would it?”

  “Probably not.” Tess got up and stuck the remaining piece of flatbread in the microwave and got a can of Coca-Cola out of the refrigerator. When she clapped the soda down in front of Kenny his glance flicked up to her. “Thanks,” he said, following with his eyes as she went back to the microwave to retrieve the warmed food. Her legs were bare and her T-shirt was hanging over braless breasts, small and uptilted. The soiled spot on her shirt brought her down to mortal level and prompted a smile, which he concealed as he drank. It had been a long time since he’d seen a woman act so casual about being half-dressed. He actually didn’t know what Faith wore to bed because he’d never spent a night with her. One thing he knew is he’d never seen Faith in any baseball cap. Tess’s was pink and said Wailea on the front. Her ponytail looked pretty pathetic sprigging out through the hole in the back like a skinny clump of wire grass. For once she’d removed her dangly silver-and-turquoise earrings, of which he wasn’t too fond. She looked better without them. Matter of fact, she looked a little too good to him all the way around tonight.

  The goat cheese wasn’t bad either, though the crust was rather tough from being reheated. She returned to her chair and became a major distraction, merely sitting there. He had to force his attention back to Casey, who went on talking. “Mac and I are going to work on the song again tomorrow, okay, Dad?”

  “I guess so,” he said noncommittally.

  “Should we make it noon, Mac?”

  Tess smiled at the girl’s enthusiasm.

  “Noon’s good. Gives me time to visit Mother in the morning.”

  “Gol, I’m so excited! Isn’t she something, Dad? I can’t believe this is happening!” Without pausing for breath Casey jumped up and announced, “I gotta use the bathroom, okay?”

  She knew right where it was and hurried away without waiting for an answer, leaving the other two in the fluorescent-lit kitchen, trying to pretend disinterest in each other and carry on a neutral conversation.

  “Thanks for what you’re doing for her,” he said.

  She waved his words away as if her help were nothing, and surprised him by saying, “You know, I was thinking … I really do want to sing with your church choir after all. You sure you don’t care?”

  He hid his surprise and answered, “No, I don’t care.”

  He sipped his Coca-Cola and watched her over the can. She was used to being watched. She could sit absolutely still beneath his regard and meet his eyes dead-on, in spite of the undercurrents in the room. Those undercurrents ranged clear back to high school and became amplified by the quasi-impropriety of a country music megastar sashaying around in her sleepwear in front of a single man who’d once had an enormous crush on her.

  “Practice on Tuesday, right?” she said.

  “That’s right. Seven P.M. Would you want to sing a solo?”

  “That’s up to you. I’m not after stealing your choir’s thunder.”

  “My choir’s not that good. No thunder to steal. If you want to do a solo, I’ll pick out some music.”

  “You decide.”

  A commercial came on the radio and Kenny kept his gaze pinned on Tess for several seconds. Then he cleared his throat and sat up straighter, folding his forearms on the table.

  “So you met Faith today.”

  “Yes. She’s very sweet.”

  “She said the same thing about you, actually.”

  “Did she?”

  “Yes, she did.”

  “Don’t believe her,” Tess said with a grin.

  “Don’t worry,” he replied, and an answering grin played on his lips.

  Some seconds slipped by in which they wondered if the challenge would forever be between them, enjoying it at the moment. Nothing would ever be easy between them—that much they knew—but the constant friction spiced up their encounters and made them think about each other after they parted. She dropped a hand to the JCPenney catalogue and absently flicked the corners with a long persimmon thumbnail. Zzzt-zzt.

  “So what are you two? Engaged or what?” she asked.

  “No. Friends.”

  “Oh, friends.” She nodded as if giving that some thought. Zzzt. “For what? Eight years? Is that what Casey told me?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Mm.” Zzzt. “Momma’s mentioned Faith in her letters, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “Momma loves her.”

  “And Faith thinks the world of your mother.”

  “Eight years is a long time.” Zzt.

  “For what?”

  “Whatever.”

  “Friendships last like that in small towns. You ought to know that.”

  “So what happened to Casey’s mother?” Zzt.

  “She got tired of us and ran away to Paris.”

  “Got tired of you—just like that?”

  “That’s what she said.”r />
  “Wow. Bummer.”

  “Yeah, bummer.”

  Zzt. “So now you mistrust women, is that it?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Eight years with Faith and no wedding ring.”

  “By mutual consent.”

  “Ahn.” Zzt.

  He pointed at her thumbnail on the corner of the catalogue. “Would you mind not doing that anymore? It bothers me.”

  “Oh … sorry.” She knit her fingers together loosely and rested them beneath her chin, her elegant trademark nails creating a striking contrast to her bill cap and clubbed hair. The room grew silent while she lightly stroked the underside of her chin with one knuckle. Finally she said, “Must’ve been hard on Casey, having her mother run away.”

  “She got along. My mother was alive then and filled in.”

  “But you and Casey are really close—I can tell that.”

  “I’d say so.”

  “And she’s crazy about Faith. She told me so.”

  “Boy, you two have talked a lot. What did she tell you about me?”

  “That you don’t want her to grow up and be like me.”

  He said nothing, only watched her steadily, feeling no need to confirm or deny her statement, which she liked.

  “It’s understandable,” she said. “The life doesn’t leave much time for personal relationships.”

  “Meaning what? That you don’t have any?”

  “Are you asking if I have a boyfriend?”

  “Well, you asked me about Faith.”

  She considered a moment before deciding she would answer him. “Yes, I do, as a matter of fact.”

  “Live-in or live-out?”

  “Live-out. Way out. He’s on the road right now, in Texas, and I’m here.”

  “And when you’re both in Nashville?”

  “That’s only happened four times since I met him.”

  It was unclear why they were setting up boundaries. Perhaps both of them would have denied that’s what was happening, but before they had a chance to assess their motives, Casey returned.

  “You know what, Dad?” she was saying as she rounded the archway into the kitchen. Whatever she had to say was less important than her physical presence, which brought back their common sense. They kept it light after that and Casey had no idea what they’d been discussing while she was gone. Kenny and Casey left a short while later, and on the back step, Casey gave Tess another of her impulsive hugs.