Small Town Girl (15 page)

When Kenny reached his porch, Faith was still holding the door open.

"You were gone so long," she said. "I wondered where you went."

"Just talking to Tess." He went in ahead of her, his hands in his pockets.

"I thought you didn't like her."

"I don't. But she thinks I sicced Giddings on her to get her to sing with the choir and I wanted to set her straight."

"Oh." Faith let the door close against her backside while he stopped and waited for her. He could tell she was deep in thought, pausing in her tracks to study him. She was a woman of many averages—looks, shape, intelligence, style, temperament. Faith possessed the homogeneous appearance of the women who modeled clothes for retirees in the catalogues his mother used to get. She was three years older than he, thirty-nine, and dyed her hair, though he couldn't for the life of him figure out why. The color she used was as ordinary a brown as gravy, and did about as much to brighten her faintly graying brunette. Her pleasant face hadn't an age line in it and hardly ever showed anger, but hardly ever had cause because they got along so well. She wore mostly dresses and slacks—never jeans or shorts—and always acted like a lady. The perfect role model for Casey, he thought, who tended to be tomboyish and in your face lots of times.

Tonight Faith was still wearing the conservative celery green suit she'd worn to work, with chunky white costume beads around her neck and matching clusters on her ears. In all the years he'd known Faith, he'd never seen her wear a dangling earring. Certainly nothing like the shimmering silver Indian things that were hanging on Tess McPhail right now.

"I was rather hoping to meet her," Faith said.

"Tess?" he said, surprised. "Why?"

"Well, she's famous. I've never met a famous person before."

"Listen, Faith, you wouldn't like her any more than I do. She's mouthy and insincere and she thinks everybody should fall on their knees and murmur a mantra when she passes."

"I don't see how she can be that bad, coming from a mother like Mary."

"Well, believe me, she is. She hasn't changed a bit."

Faith walked into the kitchen ahead of him. "Still, she came home to take care of her mother. She must have a heart somewhere."

In the kitchen Casey was waiting to pounce on him. "Daddy, why can't
I
go over and talk to Mac?
You
did!"

"I'm not going to have you hanging around over there bothering her."

"I wasn't
bothering
her. She told you so today at the hospital."

"You are
not
going over there."

"Daddy!" Casey stamped her foot.

"Nope."

"But we're writing a song together!"

"She's writing the song. You keep out of there."

"Arrr! I could just
scream
!" She tried some histrionics, pretending to pull her own hair. "When I graduate, I'm going to be out of here so fast I'll leave a vacuum! And you know where I'm going? Straight to Nashville, that's where! Then there's no way you can keep me from seeing whoever I want!"

"Fine. When you graduate you can go wherever you want," he said calmly. "Tonight you're staying home."

She put her face smack in front of his and said, less dramatically, "Daddy, you are such a poop!"

He chuckled, and said, "That's about what she said. The two of you should have fun comparing notes on me when you go to Nashville. You smell like horses. Why don't you go up and take a bath?"

"Arrr!" She turned on her bootheel and clumped upstairs. A minute later her guitar started whanging as loud as she could make it whang, and she started singing some song he'd never heard, at the top of her lungs. But no bathwater began running.

He blew out a breath and muttered, "Teenagers."

Faith put her hand on Kenny's arm.

"She's not so bad. And you have to put yourself in her place and understand her frustration—that there's an hon-est-to-goodness Nashville star right across the alley who has befriended her, and she's got to stay in this house as ordered. I'll bet you'd be frustrated, too. Just be careful, Kenny, that you don't rob her of an opportunity that could mean the world to her."

"What opportunity? You mean you think Tess wants her hanging around over there?"

"What
did
she say at the hospital?"

"Yes, but—"

"You dislike the woman so much that it could possibly be coloring how you're treating Casey."

"You think I should let her go over there?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. Just make sure you make a fair judgment. Now I'm going to go upstairs and see if I can soothe some ruffled feathers." She patted his arm before leaving the room with her customary unflappability.

Upstairs, she tapped on the closed door and asked, "Casey? May I come in?"

Casey stopped hammering her guitar. "I don't care."

Faith went in and shut the door, leaned back against it holding the knob at her spine. A guitar case lined in red velvet lay open on the floor. Casey sat on her desk chair, sulking, one cowboy boot resting on the overturned side of the other one, staring at her left thumbnail which was bent against the neck of the guitar.

"You know what, Faith?" the girl said. "I called Daddy a poop, but I really wanted to call him a shit."

Faith remained unruffled. "Good thing you didn't. You'd have hurt his feelings, and he's really not one, you know."

"I know," Casey admitted sheepishly.

"You really want to be a singer like Tess McPhail, don't you?"

Casey kept staring at her thumb. Finally she dropped her hand from the instrument and looked up at Faith. "Do you think I'm crazy?"

"Not at all. And maybe I'm not the best judge, but I think you're good enough."

"But Daddy doesn't, does he?"

Faith moved into the room and sat on the edge of the bed, crossing her knees and resting an elbow upon them. "Your dad might possibly be a little bit scared that you'll succeed. Did you ever think about that?"

"Why would he be scared of a thing like that?"

"Because it'll take you away from him. Because it's a hard lifestyle, being a successful performer. Because a lot of musicians use drugs and lead wild and ruinous lives—or so we're told. Take your pick."

"But he
knows
what my music means to me!"

"Mm-hmm," Faith said quietly. "And you know what you mean to him."

Casey quieted. "I know. He loves me. But I can't stay around here forever. What would I do in a town this size?"

"I don't think he expects you to stay. He's just fighting some of his own battles, getting used to the idea of you graduating next month and leaving, wherever you go."

"And I don't think Tess McPhail leads a wild and ru-inous life, either. I think she works real hard at what she does."

"I'm sure you're right."

Casey and Faith had always gotten along together. Faith's placid personality seemed the perfect balance for Casey's excitable one. Faith had never criticized or badgered to get Casey to change her ways. Since she wasn't married to Kenny, she had no call to act like a parent; in giving Casey latitude, she had won her trust.

"Hey, Faith, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"When I'm gone, do you think you'll ever marry Daddy?"

Faith was still tipped forward with her inverted forearm draped across one knee. She fit the nail of her ring finger under the nail of her thumb and worked it around a little bit, studying it.

"I'd like to," she said, meeting Casey's eyes again. "But I just don't know."

"But you've been going together for so long."

"Maybe too long. We've each grown a little fond of our independence."

"You're scared. Is that what you're saying?"

"No, I wouldn't say scared. Wise, maybe."

"Is it because you're Catholic?"

"Well…partly."

"But you and Daddy see each other every day. What would be different if you were married?"

"I know this won't make much sense to you, but your dad and I have the best of both worlds We have companionship, but at the same time we have our independence. I actually like going home to my little house and having nobody to answer to but myself."

"That's probably because I'm so noisy and sassy that you're glad to get away from me."

Faith smiled with genuine affection. "Not so noisy and sassy that I won't miss you too when you're gone."

"Has Daddy asked you—to marry him, I mean?"

Faith uncrossed her knees and dropped her hands to the edge of the mattress. "Not for a long time."

"Oh." The room grew quiet as Casey sat studying Faith and trying to make sense of her relationship with Kenny. Finally Casey laid her guitar in its case, snapped the lid closed and stood it in the corner against her bookcase. She didn't understand why Faith's answer left her feeling blue.

"Well," Faith said, taking a deep breath, "I guess it's about time I was leaving. Feeling any better?"

"Not really."

Faith rose and stood beside Casey's chair, a hand on her shoulder. "As fathers go, he's a pretty good one."

Casey nodded, her gaze fixed on the floor.

"Tell you what I suggest. Take a long, leisurely bath, and empty all of this out of your mind for a little while, and when you're done it'll all seem less crucial."

Casey nodded again.

"Want to have supper with us?" Faith invited nonchalantly.

That's what Casey liked about Faith. She understood that sometimes you had to be alone. "Naw. You go ahead without me."

"All right. But don't wait too long to talk to your dad again. The longer you wait, the harder it gets, okay?"

"Okay. And thanks, Faith."

Faith and Kenny ate alone that night, inside rather than out at the picnic table. After supper she ironed four shirts for him and watered his mother's old houseplants. She added spray starch to his grocery list and took out his garbage. When she left for home it was after eight-thirty and already dark. Kenny walked her to her car, which was parked in the alley, as usual. They went slowly, spiritlessly, into the sound of crickets and the dewy smell of the spring night, their moods still flat because of his disagreement with Casey. The porch light dimly illuminated the surface of the picnic table and laid its extended shadow on the damp grass at its feet. It ran a strip of reflection along the paint on the side of Faith's car as they walked around it and he opened her driver's door.

She turned before getting in. "I think you're going to have to let her try whatever it is she wants to try with her music."

He sighed long and deeply and said nothing. When he finally spoke, his frustration was apparent. "Why couldn't she have gone to college or trade school? Something she could fall back on!"

"She'd be miserable in college and she'd probably drop out anyway."

Kenny stood with one hand folded over the top of the open car door, staring at the toes of his shoes, which were illuminated by the dome light.

"I saw an interview with Henry Mancini once," Faith told him. "He said that his father had never thought music was a serious enough occupation, and even after he'd had many hits, even won Academy Awards, his father still wondered when he was going to get a real job. I always thought that was so sad."

Kenny said nothing, just kept his hand on the car door, his eyes downcast, nodding repeatedly.

"Well, I must go," Faith said. "Good night, dear." She kissed him on his cheek and he murmured "Mm" as if scarcely aware she'd done it.

She got in and he slammed the door for her. She rolled down the window while the engine churned to life. "Bridge at the Hollingsworths' tomorrow night," she reminded him.

"Yes, I remember."

As the car backed up and centered itself in the alley, he stood with his hands in his trouser pockets, following it with his eyes if not his thoughts. The headlights flashed across him and he raised his hand in an absentminded farewell.

When Faith's taillights disappeared, he stood for a long while, listening to the crickets, thinking about what she'd said regarding Henry Mancini. It was as close to chiding as he'd ever received from Faith. Good old Faith. What would he do without her? Especially after Casey graduated and moved away.

His gaze wandered across the alley to Mary's house. The downstairs lights were off and the single upstairs window below the roof peak was gold. Pretty early for a woman like that to be in bed, he thought. Where Faith's departure had scarcely registered, the nearness of Tess McPhail, a mere backyard away from him, smacked him with a sharp, masculine reaction, much like when he was in high school and hovered around the halls where he knew she'd be walking between classes. He stood looking up at her window recalling the exchange they'd had in the backyard a few hours ago, wondering how she could still manage to do this to him after all these years. By the time that encounter in the yard had ended they'd been flirting, hadn't they? Damned stupid, but that's exactly what they'd been doing. And why?

He'd made a happy, well-adjusted life for himself and Casey. He had exactly what he wanted—a nice little business that brought in enough money to afford him a comfortable life, a circle of long-time friends, one very special friend in Faith. All in all, a calm, secure, small town life. Then
she
came back and things started changing. Not only could she still manage to get under his skin, she was getting under Casey's as well. No matter what Faith said, he didn't want his daughter hanging around with Tess McPhail. Casey was too starstruck and impressionable to be molded by a woman like that. And as for himself, he'd better start acting like a committed man and being the kind of guy Faith deserved.

When he returned to the house Casey was in the kitchen, smearing peanut butter and jelly on a piece of toast. Her hair was clean and wet, and she was wearing a knee-length sleep shirt with a picture of Garfield the cat on the front. She licked the knife clean, holding the toast on the flat of her hand and watching him enter the room.

"Well…" he said, pausing just inside the door. "You took a bath."

"Uh-huh."

"Still mad at me?"

"Uh-uh. Faith and I had a talk."