Her arms were warm, her hands clenched across his belly. He wanted to impress the feeling of her breasts pressing against his back. Turn and pull her into his arms and kiss her until they both forgot the day.
Instead he tried to concentrate on driving and ignore the heated blood that shot through his veins.
Hiram was watching for them and came out as soon as they drove into the yard. His dog barked a welcome and danced around them, stirring dust in the air.
“Hey, missy, tell me how things went at the rehearsal,” he greeted her as soon as Kirk stopped.
For the next few minutes Kirk sat on the bike, watching as Angelica charmed his grandfather with her enthusiasm and honest assessment of everything she’d seen. She was high on praise and brought in slyly that another singer was needed in her opinion to balance things out.
“I could put in a good word for you with Gina,” she ended, grinning at Hiram.
Kirk watched as his grandfather seemed to consider the suggestion. Could he really think about singing in the festival again?
The three of them prepared dinner. Angelica insisting on helping. When they sat around the old farm table, Kirk tried to remember the last time a woman had been there for dinner.
Hiram was as animated as Kirk had ever seen. Her visit was good for the old man. He hoped she’d remember them once in a while in the years ahead and maybe drop a note.
“So you see, you’re needed,” she concluded when she finished another plea for his singing. “I think you should sing that song you told me the words to. Could I learn the music in time do you think? I hunted around and actually found the sheet music in Webb Francis’s stack. I could accompany you.”
Hiram looked at Kirk.
“What do you think?”
“About her learning the music, from what I know she can practically hear a song once and play it. Do you want to sing?”
Hiram looked back and forth between them.
“Maybe I do.”
“Wonderful. Let’s call Gina right now. Do you have her number?” she asked, looking at Kirk.
“It’s in the book. Really, Granddad?”
“Don’t you think I can?” he asked testily.
“I think it would be a miracle and a wonderful one at that,” Kirk said.
“Call her. See what she says,” Hiram instructed Angelica.
Ten minutes later a smiling Angelica hung up the phone.
“She’s thrilled. Says that’ll get even more people there.”
“Coming to see if I still have the voice, I expect,” Hiram said wryly.
She laughed.
“You’ll show them. Shall I practice to accompany you?”
“Sure, who else would I want?”
“Let’s see what we have, so I can start in the morning,” she said.
“I’ll clean up,” Kirk offered as they both rose to go to the front of the house to discuss the music.
He did the dishes, walked outside to check on things around the farm. The fence had been reinforced. The hogs seemed happy enough in their large pens. He rested a foot on a lower bar and leaned against it, looking at the darkening sky.
He mentally counted the days until the festival. Could he last that long? Maybe he’d take a quick trip to Atlanta and visit the gallery there that carried his work. See what the feedback was from patrons and get some ideas for another sculpture.
