Been around the world, now she’s coming back…
“Wider-eyed and noting what this small town lacks,” Casey added in a corduroy contralto voice that was dead on tune.
“Can’t return. Too much learned.”
The last two lines Casey had tacked on created a haunting afterthought that would echo at the end of each verse. Tess got shivers. She heard the accompaniment in her head, picked it out on the keys, closing her eyes and holding the last chord as it scintillated off into silence like lazy smoke around their heads.
The room remained silent for ten seconds.
Then Tess said, “Perfect.”
“It’s what you were talking about, isn’t it? Seeing the town’s deficits through the eyes of somebody who used to live there.”
“Exactly. I love the refrain idea. It all works.”
Tess leaned forward and wrote the words and melody line on the staff paper. When she finished, she set the pencil down on the music rack, and said, “Let’s do it again.”
While she sang, Casey sat in the overstuffed armchair with her left leg swinging, head thrown back, eyes closed, twisting the end of her braid around one finger and quietly adding harmony, almost as if to herself.
“You know what?” Tess said when they’d finished. “I just got shivers.”
“Me, too.”
“That’s always a good sign. Plus, it sounds like you have a great voice. Why are you holding back?”
“Because it’s your show.”
“Hey, if you’re gonna do it, do it. Wanna add harmony this time so I can hear it?”
Casey looked unsurprised. Tess liked that. “Sure.”
They sang it again and Tess recognized a distinctively unique voice. It had a touch of grit and a touch of grime, as though it could rub the calluses off a working person’s hands. It had a good musical ear behind it, but most importantly, a fearlessness. Not many seventeen-year-old girls Tess knew could sing side by side with someone of her renown without quailing. Casey did it with her leg still thrown over the chair arm and her eyes still closed.
When she opened them the country western star on the piano bench was looking back over her shoulder wearing a bemused expression. “So tell me … did you come in here to show me what you had?”
“Partly,” the girl admitted.
“Well, I’m impressed. You could take the tread off of tires with all the gravel in that voice.” Tess swung around and cupped her knees as she faced Casey. “I like it.”
“Trouble is, it always sticks out.”
“In a group, you mean.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Like a church choir.”
“Uh-huh. Oh! Which reminds me! My dad didn’t like me bothering you to sing with the choir. He said I’d been intrusive and ordered me over here to apologize, that’s the real reason why I’m here. So I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to butt in to your private time at home, but I just didn’t stop to think. Anyway, Dad said, ‘You get over there across the alley and let her off the hook!’ So here I am.” Drawing forward to the edge of her chair, Casey let her hands dangle between her knees, and shrugged. “You ought to be able to come home and move around town in peace without people bugging you the way they do everywhere else you go.”
“That what your dad said?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well…” Tess considered awhile, relaxing on the piano bench with her hands lining her thighs, the long perfect nails pointing at her knees. “I must say, that’s a surprise.” She cocked her head. “Tell me, is this choir any good?”
“Not much. But don’t tell Dad I said so.”
Tess laughed and said, “Oh, believe me, I won’t.”
“Their voices aren’t so bad, but … I don’t know. I’m probably not much of a judge. I just like to sing—country’s my favorite, but it’s not bad singing with the choir. It’s not exactly a gig in a roadhouse, but it’s singing, so I’m just glad Dad agreed to direct, otherwise we didn’t know what we were going to do. You remember Mrs. Atherton?’
“Sure. Glasses, about so high, wavy black hair.”
“Yeah, but it’s gray now. She had bypass surgery, so I don’t know if she’ll ever come back and direct again.”
“Hm, that’s too bad.” Tess got up and said, “Got some chicken poaching out here. I better go check it.”
Casey followed her to the kitchen and leaned against the archway watching while Tess lifted the lid, poked the chicken breast and found it tender. She put the lid back on, turned off the burner and got her salad fixings out of the refrigerator. While she tossed them with dressing, Casey inquired, “Have you got somebody who does this stuff for you when you’re at home in Nashville?’
“What? You mean cooking?”
“Yeah.”
“I have a housekeeper, and she’ll do it if I ask her, but on days when I’m recording we’re in the studio from mid-afternoon till about nine at night or so, and midway through the session a caterer brings food in. On the night of a concert I usually wait till after the concert to eat. I don’t like singing on a full stomach.”
“What’s it like, being up there in front of all those people? I mean, it must be so awesome.”
“It’s the only thing I ever wanted to do. I love it.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. I’ve been singing since I was about three years old. First to my dolls, then to my mom and dad, then to anybody who’d listen.”
“You, too?” Tess put her food on the table and went to the silverware drawer. “When I was little I was the same way.” She returned to the table with a fork and knife, and Casey pushed away from the doorway.
“Guess I’d better let you eat.”
“No, listen, if you don’t mind, neither do I. Sit down and talk.”
“Really?”
“I only cooked one piece of chicken, but I’ve got a piece of pecan pie I can give you.”
“Mary’s?”
“You bet.”
“Hey, that sounds great.”
When Tess made a motion to get it, Casey ordered, “No, you sit down and eat. I’ll get it myself.” She knew right where to find a plate, fork and spatula. When the wedge of pie was served up she said, “Mary got any ice cream?”
“Sure. You know where.”
Casey helped herself and brought her dessert to the table.
“So what kind of place do you live in, in Nashville?” she asked.
“I’ve got a house of my own, but I’m only there about half the time. The rest of the time I’m playing concert dates.”
“Is it bad, being gone so much?”
“It was worse when I traveled by bus. It was like being marooned together, living in such close quarters with the same people day after day. There were times when I’d get sick of the bus, sick of the people, sick of trying to remember what town we were in so I wouldn’t make a mistake on some radio station. But I must like it. I keep on doing it. And it’s much nicer since I own my own plane.”
“Your own plane … wow! Mary told us when you bought it. I was so impressed!” Tess chuckled at the girl’s unbridled candor. “So tell me what it’s like when you’re recording,” Casey prompted.
Tess was still telling her when Kenny’s voice came from outside the back door. “Casey, what are you still doing here bothering her?” Dark had fallen and the kitchen lights were on. The way the door was situated he had to gaze in at an angle to see the table where the pair sat, but he got a clear enough shot by putting his face to the screen.
Tess leaned forward to peer at him around the far doorway. “She’s no bother. I asked her to stay.”
Casey said, “We’re talking, Dad, that’s all.”
Uninvited, he stepped inside, into the tiny back entrance, a step lower than the kitchen. Pressing a hand on either side of the doorway, he poked his head into the room. “Casey, you come on, now. I told you to come straight back home.”
“Can I finish my pie first?” she said with strained patience.
To Tess he said, “You sure she’s not bothering you?”
“Let her finish.”
“All right. Ten minutes,” he replied, then pushed off the wall and disappeared.
When the screen door closed behind him, Casey said, “I don’t know why he’s breathing down my neck so bad today. He never does that.”
Tess thought, I don’t know why a man who’s antagonistic toward me would bother to come clear across the alley in the dark to tell his daughter to get home when he could have used the phone.
“What does your dad do?” Tess asked.
“He’s a CPA. He’s got his own business downtown just off the square about three doors down from the dress shop where Faith works.”
“Faith?”
“Faith Oxbury, his girlfriend.”
“She the one who was over there having supper with you tonight?”
“Mm-hmm.” Casey licked the ice cream off her spoon. “She’s over most nights for supper. Either that or we’re at her house. They’ve been going together since forever.”
Tess wondered how long forever meant, but she wasn’t going to ask. Casey finished licking off her spoon, set it down and pushed back her plate. Propping one heel on an empty chair seat underneath the table, she slouched down and let her spine curl. “Daddy and Faith have been going together so long that people kind of treat them like they’re already married. They play bridge together, and get invited to parties together, and if there’s anything of mine going on at school, she usually comes with Dad. Heck, she even sends out Christmas cards with all of our names on them.”
“Then why don’t they get married?”
“I don’t know. I asked him once and he said it’s because she’s a Catholic and if she married a divorced man she couldn’t receive the sacraments in her church anymore. But if you ask me that’s a pretty lame excuse not to marry a man you’ve been going with for eight years.”
“Eight years. That’s a long time.”
“You know it. And I’ll tell you something else. They’d like me to think there’s nothing below the waist going on between them—I mean, he pecks her on the cheek now and then, and they’ll hold hands sometimes, but she never stays overnight at our house and he never stays overnight at hers. But if they think I buy that charlotte russe they’re stupider than they think I am.”
“Charlotte russe?”
“Oh, it’s just this name I’ve given it—we made charlotte russe in home ec one time—anyway, that’s what I call it, this little charade they play with me, like I’m still in the sixth grade. But nobody goes together that long without doing it.” Casey brought her observations up short, then shot a straight look at Tess. “Do they?” she asked, as if suddenly uncertain.
“Don’t ask me.”
“Well I don’t think so. But you know what? Underneath it all, I have to respect him for caring enough about my respect for him not to want to jeopardize it. So we all pretend they’re as platonic as siblings and she comes over and fixes supper and stays till nine or so, then he walks her to the car and says good night. And on Thursdays they play bridge, and once a week she comes over and irons his white shirts because he doesn’t like the fold lines from the laundry, and once a week he goes over there and cuts her grass. And on Sunday she goes to her church and he goes to ours. But at least we all get along. Faith is real nice to me.” Casey paused and took a deep breath. “Well…” She dropped her foot to the floor and slapped her knees. “My ten minutes are up and I have to get home.” She got up and took her dirty dishes to the sink, followed by Tess. When she’d run water onto her plate she turned and said, “Thanks for letting me hear your song in progress, and for the pie, and for letting me ask you questions. Sorry if I got nosy, but I couldn’t help myself. Could I give you a hug?”
Tess had just set her own dishes down when she found herself hugged hard and hugging back. While she was in Casey’s clutches the girl pulled in a noisy breath, and exclaimed, “Ooo, you’re just super! And I’ve always been blown away by the fact that you grew up right over here across the alley and made it as big as you did. I want to be just like you!”
With that, the impetuous girl hit for the door. “’Night, Mac. Tell Mary I’ll be up to see her tomorrow afternoon!”
On the day following Mary’s surgery, Tess arrived at her bedside at midmorning and found she missed the company of her sisters, who failed to show up as promised. It was difficult watching her mother, whom she remembered as hale and hearty, now wearing support stockings, clinging to a walker and struggling to stand upright for a mere fifteen seconds.
Tess once again found herself sadly lacking in bedside technique. Without Judy and Renee, conversations with Mary tended to be brief and drift off into silences, or occasionally, run into brick walls. She told Mary about her visit from Casey, and how much she’d enjoyed the girl.
“She tells me she’s sung with a band,” Tess prompted.
“Yes, but I never heard them.”
“Country?”
“I think so.”
“She’s got a really distinctive voice, a gruff contralto that sort of claws at you.”
“Kenny made her quit doing that, though. He didn’t like that bunch she was hanging around with, so don’t encourage her.”
“Kenny’s got a real thing against country western singers, doesn’t he?”
“Oh, Tess, are you still picking on him after all these years?”
That was one of the brick walls.
The day sent Tess’s emotions vacillating.
A physical therapist named Virginia came in at mid-morning and raised Mary’s legs several times, drawing soft moans while Mary’s eyelids closed tightly and twitched.
“You’ll be helping her with her therapy at home,” Virginia told Tess. “Would you like to try it now?”
“No! I mean … you go ahead. I’ll help tomorrow.” The idea of being the one to cause her mother pain caused a lightness in Tess’s stomach. Who had done this for Momma the first time? Renee? Judy? Would they take turns this time or leave it all up to her once she got Momma home?
Midway through the day a nurse removed the oxygen prong from Mary’s nose, which made her look so much less vulnerable. But the IV and catheter stayed, lashing her to the bed in her wrinkly regulation gown with the split up the back.
When Judy showed up around two P.M., Tess greeted her with overt enthusiasm, surprising even herself. Judy again remained cool to Tess, waddling over to the bed to give her affection to Mary instead. “Hey, Momma, how you doing today?”
“Not so good, I’m afraid. Lots of pain.”
“Well, you know how it was last time. If you can just hang in there for the first couple of days, it gets better really quick after that.” Somehow, it seemed to Tess, her sisters knew all the right things to say, whereas she felt awkward consoling her mother. “Renee’s taking a day off today,” Judy told Mary. “She’s got some wedding stuff that she’s got to do. She said she’ll see you tomorrow. Anybody else been up to visit?”
At that moment a cacophony of chatter approached from down the hall and three people entered the room at once: Casey, her father—bearing a box of chocolates—and a man in his mid-fifties wearing a short-sleeved summer shirt with a clerical collar.
Mary smiled when she saw him. “Reverend Giddings.”
“Mary,” he said fondly, taking her hand while hellos were exchanged around the room, the most enthusiastic from Casey to Mary. “I brought a whole greeting party! Look who I ran into in the hall!”
“Casey and Kenny … my goodness, this is nice.”
They went to Mary and took turns kissing her while Casey sang, “Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how do your hip sockets grow?”
Mary caught Casey’s spirit and replied, “With silver balls of some sort, I’m told,” referring to the new ball-and-socket prosthesis she now wore in her right hip. Everyone laughed and Mary admitted, “All I know is it hurts like the dickens today.”
“This should help.” Casey took the
candy from her father’s hand and laid the box on Mary’s stomach. “Your favorites—very, very extra-dark chocolates.”
“Oh, my goodness, oh, yes, they are my favorites.” She set to splitting the cellophane with a thumbnail while conversation enlivened the room. Casey oversaw the candy operation while Reverend Giddings passed along messages of good will from members of his congregation. In the general shifting of visitors Kenny somehow ended up standing near Judy and Tess at the foot of the bed.
“Well, Judy,” he said, glancing down at her, “haven’t seen you for a long time.”
“Keeping out of mischief?” Judy asked.
“In this town?” he answered wryly. “Hard not to.”
Assuming the typical male hospital visitor stance—feet planted and arms crossed—he glanced briefly at Tess and said, much quieter, “Hello, how’re you today?”
He spoke civilly out of respect for Mary, and because the minister was in the room, but both of them felt awkward, standing side by side carrying on a conversation strictly for the benefit of others.
“Fine. A little tired. I’m not used to this schedule.”
“I imagine you’re used to working a little later at night.”
“Most of the time.”
Mary said, “Girls, look—dark chocolate. Would you like one?”
Tess answered, “No, thanks, Mom,” but Judy moved away to pick one from the proffered box.
“How about you, Kenny? Chocolate?”
“No, thanks, Mary. Bad for the waistline.”
Kenny and Tess stood apart from the others, an island of restraint in the room of six people, carrying on one of three conversations taking place simultaneously.
“Casey was pretty excited when she came home last night. I appreciate your taking time with her.”
“I enjoyed her a lot.”
“She told me you sang together.”
“We did, a little.”
“I suppose you know you lit a real fire under her.”
“I think the fire was there before she came over to see me, so if you’re upset about it—”
“Who says I’m upset about it?”
“Well, Momma said you didn’t like her singing with her band.”