He frowned. "Did you?" Then a horrifying thought struck him. "Casey, you're not pregnant, are you?"

She burst out laughing. "Oh, Daddy, you should see your face!"

"Well, you might think it's funny, but I don't."

"I was just testing you to see how shocked you'd be."

"Well, I was shocked, all right!"

"So you figure I'll be, too, if I find out you and Faith sleep together."

"You know perfectly well she's never stayed overnight in this house and neither have I stayed at hers."

"Oh, come on, Daddy, even I'm not naive enough to think it only happens at night, tucked under the covers."

"Well, I tell you what, smarty. What happens between Faith and me is none of your business, and it would be a breach of faith for me to talk about it with you, don't you think?"

"A breach of Faith… very clever, Daddy. Maybe you're the one who should be writing song words with Mac."

"Do we have to bring her up again?"

"Oh, I forgot. You don't like her because she used to tease you in high school."

"It's more than that. She's still got an attitude."

"No, she doesn't. Not when you approach her without thinking of her as a star, but just as the girl who grew up next door."

"I'm not interested in approaching her at all. As far as I'm concerned, the less our paths cross, the better."

"Do you think she'll come and sing with the choir though?"

"I don't know. I hope not. I was appalled at Reverend Giddings asking her. Figured she'd think I put him up to it."

"I saw you glaring at me as if I'd put him up to it. Honest, I didn't have anything to do with that. But wouldn't it be something if she'd do it? Wow."

With a twist of sarcasm, Kenny mumbled to himself, "Yeah… wow." Moments later he was left behind while Casey wandered out of the room, daydreaming about her idol and the possibility of singing in the church choir with her.

Yeah, he thought ruefully, that's all we need around here.

The next day when Tess went out to start her car she found a note stuck under the windshield wiper. It was written in pencil on a sheet of narrow-lined paper that had been torn out of a spiral notebook.

"Mac," it said, "I've got a verse two that I think will work. Try it out."

Mama's in the home place, never changed a lick,

House as worn and tattered as a derelict,

Same old clock a-tickin' on the faded kitchen wall.

Mama won't replace anything at all.

Mama's fine.

Can't change her mind.

Tess stood in the alley, reading the verse, singing it to herself.

She loved it! It worked so much better than the second verse she herself had concocted. How surprising that a seventeen-year-old girl had the insight to come up with something this good.

On her way to the hospital she dialed her producer, and said, "Jack, listen, I want you to save space on the album for one new song that I'm writing down here. It's not done yet, but it will be soon. I'm getting good help from a high school girl who lives right across the alley, and you won't believe it, Jack, but it's good. She's good."

"A high school girl! Tess, have you lost your mind?"

"I'm excited, Jack. She can write and she's got a voice."

"Tess," he said with exaggerated patience.

"I know, I know, but this one's special. She's bright and she's got talent to go with it. I want to encourage her and see what she's got. It's just one cut, Jack, okay? And if the song doesn't pan out the way I think it will, we'll use whatever you've got picked out from the demos."

He sighed-a man who'd lost the battle and knew it. "All right, Tess. What's it called?"

" 'Small Town Girl.' "

"A ballad?"

"Yes, upbeat. I'm working on the bridge, and if it turns out as good as the first two verses, the last verse will be easy. I'll let you know the minute it's finished."

"And you'll send a rough?"

"Of course, with piano accompaniment."

"Okay, Mac, you're the star. You know best."

"Jack, for the hundredth time, don't say that, as if I'm the only one responsible for making my records hits. You know you're indispensable to me."

He laughed, and said, "Okay, Mac. How's your mother?"

Tess's mother was progressing normally, which, in the case of hip replacement, meant slowly. By the third day her catheter had been removed and when Tess arrived, Virginia, the therapist, was in the room running Mary through a series of exercises to increase her blood circulation. Mary lay flat in bed, flexing her feet, squeezing her buttocks together and tightening her thigh muscles. But when she was instructed to use a towel as a sling to pull her recovering leg upward, things got more difficult. A male aide arrived to help Mary to her feet for her first attempt at using a walker. The process was slow, with Virginia showing her how to use a leg lifter to support her leg while swinging it off the bed, and instructing her not to bend her hips more than ninety degrees.

"I know, I know," she said, "I've done this before."

"All we're going to do is get you upright first. There's no rush. Just sort of half sit, half hang on the edge of the mattress and don't put your weight on either foot."

When she had been swung around and tipped upright, it was apparent she grew dizzy. Her eyes closed and she gripped the arms supporting her.

"Take your time. There's no rush." Virginia gave her a minute, then said, "Okay?"

Mary nodded twice in fast succession, but her eyes remained closed and her nostrils flared.

Virginia instructed Tess, "Please pay attention, because your role will be to encourage and support. It'll help if you remind her to go slow and be systematic. Now, Mary, today we're going to do most of the work getting you up, but at home you'll push off the bed with both hands, right? Stay inside the walker, make sure you don't get your feet outside it or too far up in front because it can tip over."

Mary nodded. When they got her up off the edge of the bed she reeled.

"Do you feel nauseated?"

"I'm… okay," she answered breathlessly.

"If you feel nauseated, let us know."

She nodded again and pulled in a sturdy breath through her nose.

"I know you've done this before, but just a reminder… all four feet of the walker need to be on the floor before you make your first step. The walker goes first, then your sore leg, then your good leg. Are you ready?"

Mary opened her eyes and nodded.

Tess was the worst possible nurse. She had always loved her mother, but moving along beside her during her first hesitant steps with the walker was traumatic. She discovered she was holding her breath, glancing from Mary's white knuckles to her grim face, from her moist forehead to the sheen of tears the patient couldn't keep from her determined eyes. Her legs looked like kegs, bound in those thick, flesh-colored PEDs. Everything about her seemed foreign, and Tess felt as if she never knew the right thing to say. Give her a crowd of ten thousand to entertain, but not one mother in pain.

"You're doing great, Mom," she tried, after Mary's first three steps, then overanxiously to Virginia, "Isn't she doing great?"

"Absolutely. There's no hurry, Mary. Take your time."

Tess repeated silently, Take your time, take your time, wishing she were anywhere but in that hospital room.

"Keep all your weight on the walker and don't look at your feet."

"Look up," Virginia instructed.

Mary went six feet that first time with the walker. Each step was arduous, a repeat of the pain suffered two years earlier, pain to which Tess had been oblivious until now. She was amazed by her mother's courage to face this a second time, knowing what she'd have to go through, and chagrined with herself for her chickenheartedness.

By the time the patient was returned to bed, it was hard to say who was more relieved, Mary or her daughter. Tess got Mary's adductor pillow and helped tuck it between her knees, covered her with the sheet, rolled up the towel she'd used to lift her leg, and put it in a bedside drawer. Mary looked worn and frail, and Tess again searched for a distraction to offer. Suddenly she remembered.

"Oh, I brought your mail!" she announced brightly, digging it out of her large gray bag. "Looks like you got some cards. Want me to open them for you?"

Mary lay with her eyes closed, her breathing labored. "In a minute."

Tess felt stupid for making the suggestion at the wrong moment. She would never be natural at this the way her sisters were. She bent down and felt awkward drying Mary's forehead with the sweep of a palm. She kissed Mary's forehead, and even that felt forced. "Of course. There's time for that later. You rest awhile first."

Mary nodded without opening her eyes and Tess was left to sit on a chair watching her and wishing she were someplace else.

Renee came later that morning and brought her daughter, Rachel, with her. They both seemed so natural at saying and doing the right thing. "How ya doing today, Momma?" Renee said, bending over the bed and kissing her mother. "Did they get you up to walk?"

"A little."

"And it was awful, I know. But this afternoon will be better and tomorrow better than that. Look who I brought."

Rachel stepped close. "Hi, Grandma."

"Rachel, darling." Mary rolled over and smiled wanly.

"Mom and I made you some cookies. The chocolate ones rolled in powdered sugar that you like so much."

"Top-of-the-Mountains?" She immediately brightened and made an effort to push herself up. "Where are they?"

While Renee uncovered the tin, Rachel found a chance to greet her aunt. "Hi, Aunt Tess, I haven't seen you yet."