A Week From Sunday (15 page)

“I like what you’re wearing,” Quinn said abruptly.

“Thank you,” she stammered, certain that her cheeks were flushing. She’d put a lot of thought into what to wear. Not wanting to appear too formal or “city,” she’d fetched a sunflower yellow dress out of her suitcase. Her father had given her the dress to wear in the summer; he’d liked the way she’d looked in it as she’d busied herself in the drawing room. She’d even let her hair down a bit and put on a touch of makeup.

“Of course, you’d stand out like a three-legged dog no matter what you wore,” he said with a chuckle.

“Was that supposed to be a compliment?”

“It must not have been a very good one if you have to ask.” He shrugged. “I just meant that you’re the type of woman that’s just plain meant to be seen. Most of the women around here are a bit hardened by life.”

“Hardened? What do you mean?”

“They’ve been worn down from the day-in and day-out of their lives,” he explained. “About the best that they can ever hope for is to find a fella to settle down with and have a bunch of kids. They don’t have any chance to go to society balls or fancy dinners.”

“I’ll have you know that my life in Shreveport wasn’t the bed of roses you make it out to be,” she scolded him. “I had my hands full taking care of my father, and his health didn’t allow him to attend many parties.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Well, maybe I did.” He turned his head in the moonlight and winked at her. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re different from the women in Lee’s Point. Very different.”

“Even different from Lola?” she asked tentatively.

“Oh, hell yes!” he exclaimed. “Do you even need to ask?”

Adrianna wanted to open her mouth and tell him all of the things that Lola had said about the two of them, but she couldn’t find her voice. Just because she and Lola were different didn’t mean that he wasn’t interested in her. Besides, she didn’t know him well enough to inquire. Finally she managed, “I suppose not.”

The rest of the walk to the tavern was filled with small talk. Quinn pointed out the various businesses and spoke of people he knew, but Adrianna had trouble paying attention. With every step toward the Whipsaw, her nerves became more frayed. Finally, they rounded the now-familiar corner and found themselves in front of the tavern. A couple of rough-looking men were going in the front door and gave the two of them a cursory look before entering.

“Don’t be nervous,” Quinn murmured.

“That’s a lot easier said than done.”

“What’s the worst thing that could happen? It wouldn’t matter a bit if you hit a dozen wrong keys. They won’t know the difference.”

Giving him a wry smile, she said, “I don’t suppose they would.”

“You’ll do just fine,” he winked.

As they stood for a moment inside the door, Adrianna could hear her heart pounding in her ears. Unlike the empty room in which she had practiced just a few hours earlier, the space was now nearly full. Men stood elbow to elbow at the long bar. The smoke from their cigars and cigarettes formed a haze above their heads. Other patrons sat at the tables and gathered in groups, the sounds of their voices echoing off of the walls:

“You should have seen his face!”

“He got a job on the WPA.”

“Huh, they’ll not get much work out of him.”

“If you ain’t gonna drink that, slide it on over to me.”

“That tight-ass banker is a skin flint.”

“I told you it ain’t gonna work.”

“Ahhh, shit-fire.”

Adrianna had to squelch the desire to turn and run back out the front door. The conversations that floated around her made her head swim. This was far more than she had ever bargained for. She’d never performed in front of a crowd like this before! How on earth could Quinn possibly expect her to play? With her knees quaking and her insides going around and around like a Ferris wheel, she took a deep breath, tried to remember the debt she owed, and followed along behind Quinn as he headed toward the bar.

Gabe had just slid a tall glass of a dark beer across the counter to a bear of a man. As he was retrieving his payment, he looked up to see them approaching and gave a warm greeting. “It is nice to see you again,
mademoiselle
.”

She could only nod her head in reply, her voice stuck in her throat.

“It will be a good night for singing,
n’est-ce pas
?”

“Did you get that damn tap working?” Quinn cut in.

“I am afraid she is a bit of a fickle mistress,
mon ami.
” The barman grinned as he slapped his boss on the shoulder. “It worked fine to start the night, but now it’s not.” He gestured down the length of the bar to where a man was working on his hands and knees. “Charlie is working on it now.”

“Not again,” Quinn groaned. “Let me look at it.”

Without another word, the two men left Adrianna standing beside the bar and went to examine the tap. Indecisive as to whether to follow, she settled on staying put; if he’d wanted her to come, he would have asked.

As she looked out over the sea of people, she felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over her. Every eye in the place was looking her over as faces peered up over their beers and people elbowed their neighbors. She regretted her choice of attire, wishing she had chosen something less colorful. She was wondering if she should join Quinn and Gabe over by the tap, when there was a tug at her sleeve.

“Well, ain’t ya a pretty thing, I done do swear!”

Adrianna turned at the sound of the voice and nearly recoiled from the sight that greeted her. An incredibly old-looking man had sidled up beside her, one arm leaning against the bar. Dirty white hair fell down his wrinkled face. As he smiled at her, she could see that his mouth was like a cemetery, a tooth jutted up here and there, as if they were tombstones haphazardly planted. But the worse thing about the man was his smell, a mixture of alcohol and an overpowering body odor.

“Excuse me?” she asked tentatively.

“Ain’t ya the one that’s gonna play that pian’r now that Gabe’s got hisself a busted wing?” the man continued, rubbing one hand against his stubbly chin. “Ya might not play like ol’ Gabe, but ya’ll be a hell of a lot prettier on the eyes, I done do swear!”

“Th-thank you.”

“The name’s Long. Roy Long,” he said, extending a hand. Looking down at his gnarled fingers, Adrianna could see a thick layer of grime under most of his nails. Still, it would be rude not to return his greeting. Taking Roy’s hand, she marveled at how it felt like leather. “Ya can probably tell by the last name that I done do be related to our governor.”

“You mean our former governor, Huey Long?”

“Yes sir-ee-bobtail. His granddaddy and my granddaddy was kinfolk. I’ll tell ya, that man was a crackerjack.”

Tuning out her speaking companion, Adrianna looked over her shoulder, her eyes searching for Quinn. When she found him, he was staring back at her, a grin on his face. He chuckled to himself and winked at her before returning to the task of fixing the tap. Instantly, she felt better; if the ancient Mr. Long had any ill intentions, surely Quinn would come to her rescue.

“. . . just the type, I done do swear!” Roy cackled.

“Tell me, Mr. Long,” Adrianna inquired. “Does everyone participate in the sing-alongs or just a few?”

“Aw, heck! Ya’re likely to have every dang person in this place up on his feet just a ramblin’ along! Even an old fart like me who ain’t got the voice that can compete with a jackass’s bray will sometimes find hisself singin’ like he was in a church choir.”

“So it’s an important event,” she said, her heart sinking.

“You ain’t just a whistlin’ Dixie!” the old man nearly shouted. “But most of that’s on account of the way Gabe plays that piano, I done do swear! More of these folks done show up to hear him plink away on Saturday night than show up to hear the church organ on Sunday!”

Her nerves sinking faster than a wrecked boat at sea, Adrianna was barely aware of asking, “So what . . . what would happen if the piano playing wasn’t quite what everyone expected?”

“Well, now,” Roy said as he took a glass of liquor from the bar and downed its contents in one gulp. He smiled his rotten-toothed smile as he said. “I reckon things might get a bit ugly.”

Adrianna sat down at the piano stool as Gabe spread out the music she would be playing. As casually as she could, she blotted her nervous, damp hands on the front of her dress. Sweat beaded on her upper lip. When Gabe placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, she tried to look at him with as much confidence as she could muster.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

Looking at the sheet music, the song’s title burned itself into her mind—“Old Dan Tucker.” She and Gabe had practiced it over and over earlier in the afternoon, and she felt relatively sure that she could play it without any errors . . .
relatively
sure. Taking a deep breath, she said, “I’m ready.”

“Nothing to it,
mademoiselle
.”

Pulling a chair from one of the nearby tables, Gabe climbed onto the seat and whistled loudly through his fingers. The conversations that had filled the room slowly came to a stop as each head turned to look at him. Adrianna could feel the anticipation in the room.

“
Messieurs et mesdames,
if I can have your attention, please. It is now time for us to begin this week’s sing-along,” the Cajun began to a loud round of applause. Raising his heavily bandaged hand above his head, he continued: “As I am sure all amongst you but the blind can tell, I will be unable to perform at the piano, but do not fret, for we have a most able replacement.” Holding his hand out to Adrianna, he explained, “All the way from the fine city of Shreveport, I present to you
cette petite femme,
Annie.”

With exuberant applause mixed with a few whistles, the Whipsaw’s patrons responded warmly. Adrianna leaned up from her stool and gave a slight wave. Quinn stood near the bar, a towel draped over one shoulder, and nodded to her. She was certain her face was flushed with embarrassment.

Sitting back down on her stool, Adrianna poised her fingers over the keys.

You can do it, you can do it, you can do it,
she repeated in her mind.

Right before she played the first note, a saying that her father had told her came to mind:
The only failure is the fool who doesn’t try
. Charles Moore had taken the same attitude in dealing with his handicap and refused to let it dictate the terms of his life. She was asking Jesse to do the very same thing. How could she expect less of herself?

Gabe, still standing on the chair, shouted, “Let us begin!” Then he begin to sing in a loud, clear, and surprisingly good voice:

“Old Dan Tucker’s a fine old man,

Washed his face in a fryin’ pan,

Combed his hair with a wagon wheel

And died with a toothache in his heel.”

Taking a deep breath, she began to play. The sound of the piano, while not providing the crisp, clear notes of a well-tuned instrument, nonetheless rang out in the enclosed space. After the first tentative bars, she began to gain confidence and her fingers slid effortlessly over the keys. Once she had finished the opening refrain, she was startled when the audience joined in; deep baritones mixed with the sweet tenors and altos in a strong harmony. She was surprised by the purity of the sound and found herself joining in.

“Get out the way, old Dan Tucker,

Get out the way, old Dan Tucker,

Get out the way old Dan Tucker,

It’s too late to come to supper.”

The song neared its finish. The sound filled the room and bounced against the walls. Adrianna felt a great joy inside. Considering how nervous she had been when she’d entered the Whipsaw, her feelings of happiness were somewhat surprising. All the thoughts that had bothered her over the last several days drifted away: her father’s passing, Richard Pope, Lola, and even her dealings with Quinn. As her fingers played the final note, the tavern crowd roared its approval.

As she turned to see Quinn’s reaction, a man stepped into her line of sight. Looking up, she had to squint through the lights above to make out his features. When she did recognize him, she was startled to see that it was the same bear of a man who had been sitting at the bar earlier. Longish black hair and matching whiskers partially covered his deep jowls. His shoulders were so wide that they blocked most of her view. She smiled uneasily, but the man’s face was turned down in a frown.

“Ya really think yore somethin’, don’t ya girlie?” he snarled.

“Wh-what?” she stammered.

“Go back to where ya come from.”

Chapter 13

“G
ODDAMNIT
, R
EUBEN
.”

Behind the counter, Quinn had watched as the man got off the stool and headed for the piano.
What the hell is he going to do?
When he and Adrianna had first entered the Whipsaw, he’d seen the large man and should have known there would be trouble; there was
always
trouble whenever Reuben Griffin was around.