Page 16 of Falls From Grace
“I- I mean, Dolly is cool, no one is disputing that.”
“Did you ever hear the album Loretta Lynn recorded with Jack White? She was in her seventies and she still blazed rings around your indie icon.”
“Really?”
“You should take a listen, just for an absolute start,” Savannah said pointedly. “Country music is old. It comes from ancient European traditions. It’s African. It was the music of enslaved people, of struggle, of protest. It’s storytelling. It has a lot more to say than my old dog died.” Savannah grabbed the stroller back, since her son was being pushed by a philistine.
Brynn looked actually chastened.
“Okay,” she said, wrapping her jacket around her tall frame. “I admit, I haven’t really given it a shot.” Savannah snorted. “Where should I start? If I wanted to educate myself?”
“Is that not just asking me to do the work for you?” Savannah asked spikily. “You managed to find your way into other genres just fine.”
“Fair enough.” She spread out her hands in surrender. “Just figured since I was in the presence of an expert, I’d be stupid not to ask.”
“What do you reckon, Tucker?” Savannah peered around the stroller, letting her son’s sweet face take the edge off her head of steam. “Pizza and a listening party?”
“Yeah!” he piped up, kicking his legs.
“I could clear my busy schedule for that.” Brynn smiled.
That night, Savannah kissed her baby’s sleeping head where he lay peacefully for once in his new big-kid bed and tiptoed out of his room. From her own room she wandered out on the balcony, wrapping herself in a blanket for warmth. She leaned on the railing and stared out at the dark night. She could sense, rather than see the woods and the still lake.
Tonight, she would probably get some sleep. Tucker was exhausted and his little heart was full from the blaze of attention that had been his mama and Brynn combined. He’d been whirled around the living room on Brynn’s hip as she danced with him, then cuddled cheek-to-cheek with his mama as they swayed to softer songs, ate pizza on one woman’s lap and then the other, forgoing his highchair for being part of the action.
Savannah had to admit that her heart felt pretty full too.
“Listen to this,” she’d said, over and over, playing Brynn a selection of her most favorite country artists and, to her credit, Brynn had kept an open mind, asking thoughtful questions and nodding along at times.
“Wait, who is this?” Brynn asked about Amanda Shires, about Adeem the Artist, about Ashley McBryde and that was just the A section. Savannah started to get an inkling of exactly what kind of country music was going to steal its way into the Californian’s soul. She liked being there to see it happen.
“Now you’re getting it,” Savannah said, as Brynn picked up the record arm and dropped it back for another listen to Parking Lot Pirouette.
Brynn gave her a crooked smile and touched her lightly on the hip as she passed her on her way over to attend to Tucker’s shriek for her attention. Savannah felt that touch all the way through her body. She wasn’t quite sure what was happening, just that the combination of the song, that smile, the casual intimacy of the touch, her child’s happiness, all made her feel full right up to the brim in a way she hadn’t in a long time.
She wrapped the blanket more tightly around her shoulders as the coldness started to seep into her body. She heard an owl screech in the woods and the trees rustle in the breeze. Somehow, this time, she didn’t long to be out in the wild. She turned and walked back inside, ready for once to go to her bed alone.
Chapter Seven
“Hey, where’ve you been? It’s getting late; I was just about to send out a search party.” Noah looked up from where he was sprawled on the couch in their living room. Brynn came in the door, tossed her jacket aside and flung herself on the other couch, kicking out her legs and stretching her back. Two-year-olds were heavy.
“I was hanging out with Savannah,” she said, almost surprised herself as she announced it. “And Tucker. Man, is he a sweetpea.” She propped her arm behind her head.
“Oh, wow, you met her kid? Wait, you’re hanging out? How? What did you get up to?” He held up his hands and laughed. “Woah, sorry. Just she’s a bit of a mystery to me.”
“We… listened to country music actually.” Brynn sat up, a silly grin on her face. “Did you know some of it is actually kind of great?” She dodged as he threw a cushion at her face.
“I told you, dude.” Noah shook his head at her. “But it tracks that you wouldn’t take my word for it until a smoking hot woman sits you down and makes you pay attention.”
“Smoking hot, huh? Noah… you got a little crush there?” For some reason, that idea made her stomach kind of tight.
“No, just objectively, she’s hot and you- wait. Do you have a crush on her?”
“What? No,” she scoffed, possibly too fast. “And even if I did, she’s straight - presumably - and basically your boss, so it would be a teeny, tiny, completely innocent crush, if I did, you don’t even need to worry.”
“I mean, I wouldn’t exactly describe her as my boss, but she does think you’re my wife, Brynn, so you hitting on her would be really, really bad.” He gave her a firm stare.
“Got it, got it, one-hundred percent absolutely not hitting on her,” she agreed. “Just admiring innocently, and now a little bit of a country music fan.” She held her hands up with a grin and he groaned.
