She went to the faucet, uncoiled the hose and dragged it across the crisp, wet grass to the garden, between the rows of beets and okra where she set the oscillating sprinkler, then padded back across the grainy dirt to rinse her feet clean with the dew on her way to turn on the tap at the house.

The spray hit more lawn than vegetables so she had to try again, running out between the rows when the sprinkler was at its nadir, then sprinting out of the way as it rebounded.

She was standing beside the garden watching the sprinkler when she heard a door slam softly across the alley.

She turned and looked.

And there stood Kenny on his back step sipping a mug of coffee and watching her. He was dressed as he'd been the day she'd taken her mother to the hospital, in gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt, only this time he was barefoot, and even from across two backyards his appearance telegraphed that he'd just gotten out of bed. Not even the distance could disguise the impression of hair still flattened from sleep and limbs not yet ready to hurry. He took a long pull from the mug, studying her with disconcerting directness, making no attempt to pretend he was doing anything else.

Finally he tipped the mug down and lifted a hand in silent greeting.

She raised hers, too, and felt a peculiar twist inside, a warning. Not Saint Kenny, she thought. Don't even think it.

But his watchfulness made her aware of her long bare legs and short silk wrap and the little she wore under it.

She turned back to the sprinkler, which still wasn't in the right spot. Once more she had to run out between the rows before she got it where she wanted it, high-stepping over the damp plants with her muddy feet and dirt-flecked legs while Kenny watched. The oscillator came back and slapped cold water across her rump. She yelped once and might have heard him laugh-she wasn't sure. Maybe it was just her imagination mingled with overt discomfort at cavorting in her sleepwear while he watched with his toes curled over the edge of the step.

Her feet got thick with mud. She worked them in the grass while standing in place, waiting out two oscillations of the sprinkler to make sure it was covering the garden right. Finally she turned her back on Kenny and made her way up the sidewalk, leaving wet footprints behind. On her way up the steps she felt his eyes still following, and, reaching the top, turned with the screen door half-open, to check. Sure enough-he stood as before, holding his coffee mug at chest height with both hands, not even pretending to disguise his interest. The sun had picked a path between the trees around his house and glanced off the roof of her car like a comet in her eyes. His face, to the right of the reflection, remained inscrutable. He did not move; did nothing more than watch her and make her heart dance as it had not in years, while she wondered foolishly if there had ever been a Sunday morning when Faith's car was parked behind his from the night before.

Silly woman, she thought, that's none of your business.

But when she turned and went inside her heart was still pounding.

At twenty to ten she was heading upstairs to put on her own clothes for church when she saw Kenny and Casey come out of the house dressed in theirs. As they walked single file to the garage Tess realized what she was doing: noting the comings and goings of these people just like any other nosy neighbor.

She went to the ten o'clock service at First Methodist and heard Kenny's choir for the first time. They were passably good, and she could pick out Casey's voice as clearly as if she were singing alone. The choir loft was situated at the rear of the church, and she resisted the urge to crane around and look up there.

She recognized faces all around, and on this particular morning, it felt very fitting to be back again. Reverend Giddings announced from the pulpit that she'd be singing with the choir next Sunday, so everyone knew she was there in the congregation, and a good dozen people in her vicinity turned to smile at her. When the recessional hymn began, she piled into the aisle with everybody else, and people murmured kind remarks about her singing, and how nice it was to have her back home. Some touched her on the arm the way shy hometown folks will do. She smiled, and lifted her eyes to the choir loft, where Kenny had shucked his jacket and was directing in rolled-up white shirtsleeves. Casey caught her eye and waved unobtrusively.

Outside a steady procession of people came up to say hi, to offer congratulations on her successful career and ask if she would be doing any formal autographing while she was in town. Some she knew, some she didn't. Many people inquired after Mary, and wished her a speedy recovery. Judy's and Renee's families had gone to the earlier service, so Tess waited alone for the appearance of Casey and Kenny.

They came out when the crowd was thinning, and though Tess caught sight of both of them, her gaze remained on Kenny. He was resetting the collar of his suit jacket, and unless she was mistaken, searching the crowd for her. The moment their eyes met, his stopped moving and his hands sort of drifted down his lapels as if he forgot what he was doing.

He came directly to her, with Casey one step behind, and spoke anxiously.

"Well, what did you think?"

"Very respectable. I enjoyed the music a lot. I'm looking forward to practice on Tuesday."

"Hi, Mac," Casey said, and they hugged.

"Hi, sugar."

"I thought about our song all night long."

"Jack's going to call me on Tuesday the minute he hears it."

"Oh, great. Listen, some of my friends want to meet you. Would you mind?"

"No. Bring them over."

She brought up two girls who also sang in the choir. When Tess had given them several minutes of polite chitchat, the three girls drifted off, leaving her with Kenny.

"Casey's excited about the song you two finished," he said.

"So am I."

She expected him to express an opinion about her encouraging Casey, but none came. Still, the remarks

seemed to leave a blank between them, and he quickly changed the subject, as if to keep her captive a few minutes longer on this beautiful Sunday morning with memories of daybreak still lingering on their minds.

"So you're going to bring Mary home today."

"I've got the pillows all loaded in the backseat of her car."

"Well, I know she's mighty anxious to be back home."

"The truth is, so am I. It got a little lonely around there last night."

Neither of them made mention of the early-morning staring he'd done from his back step while she was

jumping cabbage rows in her lingerie. They watched people getting in their cars at the curb and leaving, and realized they had nothing more to say but were lingering for the sake of lingering.

"Well..." she said, glancing at her watch. "I'd better be going. I can spring her anytime after noon."

"Yeah, I'd better find Casey, too. We left a ham cooking in the oven." There was a parking lot at the rear of the church. When she turned toward it, he turned with her and strolled along at her side, his hands in his trouser pockets. They went around the side of the building past a crab apple tree that was blooming, their footsteps lagging, enjoying the sun on their heads and the simple act of strolling side by side through the lovely spring day. He walked her to Mary's Ford while thirty feet from it Casey and her friends stood talking near someone else's car.

" 'Bye, Mac!" she called, and they all exchanged waves.

Kenny opened the driver's door for Tess just as he had last night for Faith. He did it without hurry-a man who performed courtesies for women without conscious thought.

Tess got in, stuck the key in the ignition, glanced up and said, "Thanks."

The day was so hot and still that the birds had stopped singing. The heat beat up from the blacktop

parking lot and from the vinyl car seat as Tess found her sunglasses and slipped them on. In no particular hurry.

She started the engine. In no particular hurry.

Rolled down the window of the open door. In no particular hurry.

She glanced up at Kenny again but couldn't think of a thing to say. The stroll from the church to the car had felt as natural as slipping into the pew had felt earlier. Much to her surprise, she found herself reluctant to leave him.

He acted as if he felt the same. He gave the car door a push with both hands, and said quietly, "See ya."

"Yeah, see ya," she replied, and realized, as she put the car in reverse and glanced in the rearview mirror, that the girls were standing there watching them.

She thought about him too much on her way to the hospital, about him and Casey and Mary, and how Mary loved them both, and about being back home, and this most peculiar lethargy that she was feeling this morning. It was easier to simply keep bumping into him than to avoid him, and each time she did, she lost a few more of her objections to him.

Sometimes it was more than bumping into each other. Like him with his coffee cup this morning. And her waiting till he came out of church after the service. These were not accidental encounters, they were planned.

To what avail?

Mary's car was like a kiln inside. Naturally, it had no air-conditioning, and Tess wondered again what she did with all the money she sent her. She sighed, dried the sweat from beneath her nose with one finger and wished she could return to Nashville tonight. It'd probably be better for everyone involved, she thought, including Kenny Kronek.

She found Mary bathed, dressed and eager to leave.

"Hi, Mom," she said, kissing Mary's cheek.

"Hi, honey."

"This is the day, huh?"

"At last. You got my car downstairs?"

"Right by the door."

"Well, then... let's bust me out."

A girl came in pushing a cart. "For the flowers," she explained, and left it. Tess started loading them up but Mary said, "Before you take them down, will you sign a couple autographs for some of the nurses who didn't get a chance to meet you? I told them you wouldn't mind."

Actually, Tess was in a hurry to get out of there. A hospital was a dreary place on a beautiful spring afternoon, but she signed some papers anyway for the list of names Mary gave her, then finished loading up Mary's flowers. She was surprised to discover separate bouquets from Kenny and Casey, apart from the one Faith had picked and brought over herself. Every day Tess saw more clearly how their lives were intertwined with her mother's.

Getting Mary into the backseat at the hospital proved fairly easy with help there to assist her. Basically, Mary was instructed to do all the work herself, bearing her weight on her hands, which was safer than letting other people try to move her. When she was settled on the pillows with the windows rolled down, they headed home, Mary praising the weather, the beautiful day, and the joy of being released from the hospital. Then she said, "Kenny and Faith came to visit me again last night."

"They did? I saw them leave but I thought they were probably going out to dinner."

"They went to dinner afterwards. Do you know how many times he came up to see me?"

"How many?"

"Four. Isn't that something? Why, some of my own grandkids didn't get up to see me even once, and that boy comes up to visit me four times. That Kenny... I tell you... I don't know what I did to deserve him, but he's like the son I never had. I couldn't love him more if he was my very own, and that's the God's honest truth."

They stopped for a red light, and Tess said, "Momma, can I ask you something?" She tried to see Mary in the rearview mirror but could not. "Just exactly what is his relationship to Faith?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, Momma. Are they lovers?"

"Tess, for heaven's sake. What kind of question is that?"

"Oh, come on, Momma, this is 1995. Unmarried people do have lovers."

"Well, I wouldn't presume to ask."

"You don't have to ask. All you have to do is look and see if her car is ever there in the morning."

"I don't pay any attention to things like that."

"Casey says they are."

"Well, Casey should button her lip! I can't believe they'd do anything like that around her. And why are you bringing it up anyway?"

"Just curious, that's all."

Mary said, "Oh, look, is that a pink dogwood in bloom over there?" and Tess understood, her mother didn't like anything less than complimentary being said about her precious neighbor.

When they pulled up in the alley at home, a surprise waited. Renee and Jim came out of the house waving hello and smiling. It was the first time Tess had seen Jim since she'd been home, and he had a bear hug for her, along with the greeting she'd come to expect over the years: "If it isn't old Tess-tickle.

Hiya, sweetheart." They both laughed at the age-old joke. He had the most teasing smile Tess had ever seen, and crinkly eyes and not much hair. She liked him as much as she always had.

"Jim, you big bald brat. When are you going to stop calling me that?"

"Never. I'm going to tell the National Enquirer one of these days and they'll put it in a headline." He stood back and assessed her. "Jeez, you look good, kid." He braced his hands on his knees and looked through the open back door of the car. "Hi, Ma, how you doing in there? Need some help gettin' up those back steps?"

"Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy," she scolded, "will you stop calling Tess that awful name?"

Tess got the walker from the trunk and they all stood by rather helplessly, for there was little they could do except coach as Mary maneuvered herself out of the car, gripping the edge of the roof and moving by degrees. The walk to the house seemed a good half mile long in light of the slow progress Mary made with her walker, each forward movement measured and cautious. They hovered beside her and as they reached the back steps-three very high steps that had been homemade years ago-Kenny showed up, sprinting across the yards.

"Hey, wait for me!" he called.

There was a flurry of greetings and Kenny said to Jim, "Just like last time?"

"Just like last time, okay, Mary? We've got the program down." The two men took Mary's arms over their shoulders and lifted her bodily up the steps and into the house. She ordered one of the girls to get her antique chair from the living room. The one with the high seat. When the girls asked if she shouldn't lie in bed and rest for a while, she replied, "Been away from my kitchen long enough, and I do believe that's coffee I smell. Nobody's going to stick me in the bedroom when my kids are here!" She carefully maneuvered herself onto the armchair and prepared to hold court.

Renee had, indeed, brewed a pot of coffee and she said that Judy and Ed were also on their way over. Judy showed up with a German chocolate cake and they all stayed to visit and snack. Ed's greeting for Tess was much less jovial than Jim's had been. He was a quiet man who repaired appliances and largely took orders from his wife, exerting his own form of retaliatory control by pinching pennies and making her account for every one she spent, even though she had a business of her own. The family characterized Ed by repeating the story of the time he had finally agreed to go to Hawaii, then refused to pay for a rental car and forever after claimed he didn't like Maui because there was nothing much there to do if you didn't know how to swim. Ed greeted Tess with a hug that was chary of body contact, and said, "How are you?" then sat down to tell Kenny how many pounds of scrap copper he'd managed to pick up on the job, and how much it was worth per pound.

Within twenty minutes all three of Judy and Ed's kids showed up, too, and around three o'clock, the bride-and groom-to-be, Rachel and Brent Hill, along with Renee and Jim's other kid, Packer. Packer had earned his nickname at age three when he had gotten mad at his mother and declared he was leaving home, to which Renee obligingly replied, "Okay, sweetheart, you want me to help you pack?" She had helped him fill a duffel bag and load it on his red Radio Flyer wagon, then watched him trudge off down the driveway till he got to the curb and turned uncertainly with big crocodile tears in his eyes. Forever after, the family had called him Packer.

Amid the pouring of coffee and the serving of cake, the story got told again, and laughed about again, along with a few others. The cousins exchanged small talk about what was going on in their lives, and the adults did the same. It was small town U.S.A. on a Sunday afternoon, the traditional family gathering at Grandma's house, and Tess could see how her mother reveled in it. When someone remarked that they'd pretty much taken over her house, and asked if they were wearing her out and should they leave, she said, "Don't you dare!"

So they stayed, and Kenny with them.