“I’ll write it down before I leave.”
“Since Rorie and Kate put so much time and effort into the meal, I think Skip and I could be convinced to do our part and wash the dishes.”
“We could?” Skip protested.
“It’s the least we can do,” Clay returned flatly, frowning at his younger brother.
Rorie was all too aware of Clay’s ploy. He wanted to get into the kitchen so they could find something else to eat without being conspicuous about it. Something plain and basic, no doubt, like roast-beef sandwiches.
“Listen, you guys,” Rorie said brightly. “I’m sorry about dinner. I can see everyone’s still hungry. You’re all going out of your way to reassure me, but it isn’t necessary.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Rorie. Dinner was excellent,” Clay said, patting his stomach.
Rorie nearly laughed out loud. “Why don’t we call for a pizza?” she said, pleased with her solution. “I bungled dinner, so that’s the least I can do to make it up to you.”
Three faces stared at her blankly.
“Rorie,” Clay said gently. “The closest pizza parlour is thirty miles from here.”
“Oh.”
Undeterred, Skip leaped to his feet. “No problem... You phone in the order and I’ll go get it.”
* * *
Empty pizza boxes littered the living-room floor, along with several abandoned soft-drink cans.
Skip lay on his back staring up at the ceiling. “Anyone for a little music?” he asked lazily.
“Sure.” Kate got to her feet and sat down at the piano. As her nimble fingers ran over the keyboard, the rich sounds echoed against the walls. “Some Lee Greenwood?”
“All right,” Skip called out with a yell, punching his fist into the air. He thrust two fingers in his mouth and gave a shrill whistle.
“Who?” Rorie asked once the commotion had died down.
“He’s a country singer,” Clay explained. Blue ambled to his side, settling down at his feet. Clay gently stroked his back.
“I guess I haven’t heard of him,” Rorie murmured.
Once more she discovered three pairs of eyes studying her curiously.
“What about Johnny Cash?” Kate suggested next. “You probably know who he is.”
“Oh, sure.” Rorie looped her arms over her bent knees and lowered her voice to a gravelly pitch. “I hear that train a comin’.”
Skip let loose with another whistle and Rorie laughed at his boisterous antics. Clay left the room; he returned a moment later with a guitar, then seated himself on the floor again, beside Blue. Skip crawled across the braided rug in the center of the room and retrieved a harmonica from the mantel. Soon Kate and the two men were making their own brand of music—country songs, from the traditional to the more recent. Rorie didn’t know a single one, but she clapped her hands and tapped her foot to the lively beat.
“Sing for Rorie,” Skip shouted to Clay and Kate. “Let’s show her what she’s been missing.”
Clay’s rich baritone joined Kate’s lilting soprano, and Rorie’s hands and feet stopped moving. Her eyes darted from one to the other in openmouthed wonder at the beautiful harmony of their two voices, male and female. It was as though they’d been singing together all their lives. She realized they probably had.
When they finished, Rorie blinked back tears, too dumbfounded for a moment to speak. “That was wonderful,” she told them and her voice caught with emotion.
“Kate and Clay sing duets at church all the time,” Skip explained. “They’re good, aren’t they?”
Rorie nodded, gazing at the two of them. Clay and Kate were right for each other—they belonged together, and once she was gone they would blend their lives as beautifully as they had their voices. Rorie happened to catch Kate’s eye. The other woman slipped her arms around Clay’s waist and rested her head against his shoulder, laying claim to this man and silently letting Rorie know it. Rorie couldn’t blame Kate. In like circumstances she would have done the same.
“Do you sing, Rorie?” Kate asked, leaving Clay and sliding onto the piano bench.
“A little, and I play some piano.” Actually her own singing voice wasn’t half bad. She’d participated in several singing groups while she was in high school and had taken five years of piano lessons.
“Please sing something for us.” Rorie recognized a hint of challenge in the words.
“Okay.” She replaced Kate at the piano seat and started out with a little satirical ditty she remembered from her college days. Skip hooted as she knew he would at the clever words, and all three rewarded her with a round of applause.
“Play some more,” Kate encouraged. “It’s nice to have someone else do the playing for a change.” She sat next to Clay on the floor, once again resting her head against his shoulder. If it hadn’t been for the guitar in his hands, Rorie knew he would’ve placed his arm around her and drawn her even closer. It would have been the natural thing to do.
“I don’t know the songs you usually sing, though.” Rorie was more than a little reluctant now. She’d never heard of this Greenwood person they seemed to like so well.
“Play what you know,” Kate said, “and we’ll join in.”
After a few seconds’ thought, Rorie nodded. “This is a song by Billy Joel. I’m sure you’ve heard of him—his songs are more rock than country, but I think you’ll recognize the music.” Rorie was only a few measures into the ballad before she realized that Kate, Clay and Skip had never heard this song.
She stopped playing. “What about Whitney Houston?”
Skip repeated the name a couple of times before his eyes lit up with recognition. “Hasn’t she done Coke commercials?”
“Right,” Rorie said, laughing. “She’s had several big hits.”
Kate slowly shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t think I can remember the words to her songs.”
“Barbra Streisand?”
“I thought she was an actress,” Skip said with a puzzled frown. “You mean she sings, too?”
Reluctantly Rorie rose from the piano seat. “Kate, you’ll have to take over. It seems you three are a whole lot country and I’m a little bit rock and roll.”
“We’ll make you into a country girl yet!” Skip insisted, sliding the harmonica across his mouth with an ease Rorie envied.
Clay glanced at his watch. “We aren’t going to be able to convert Rorie within the next twelve hours.”
A gloom settled over them as Kate took Rorie’s place at the piano.
“Are you sure we can’t talk you into staying a few extra days?” Skip asked. “We’re just getting to know each other.”
Rorie shook her head, more determined than ever to leave as soon as she could.
“It would be a shame for you to miss the county fair next weekend. Maybe you could stop here on your way back through Oregon, after your trip to Canada,” Kate added. “Clay and I are singing, and we’re scheduled for the square dance competition, too.”
“Yeah,” Skip cried. “And we’ve got pig races planned again this year.”
“Pig races?” Rorie echoed faintly.
“I know it sounds silly, but it’s really fun. We take the ten fastest pigs in the area and