The Strawberry Hearts Diner(30)

“Find out m-much?” Shane asked when Hilton sauntered away, casting a look around for his next target.

“Just that Carlton is determined to own Pick and that he doesn’t give up easy,” she said and smiled. “I love this song.”

“I asked the guys who are standing in to play a couple of extra songs so I could dance with you.” Shane grinned.

“After wallowing in the mud with that man all afternoon, this is wonderful.” Jancy snuggled in close to Shane’s chest. Sparks danced around them, and she felt as if she was floating six inches off the ground. She was really dancing with Shane, the guy that she’d never been able to get out of her mind.

The song ended, but Woody and the older guys went right into one more, and Shane kept Jancy in his arms. Leonard picked up the microphone and did a fine job with an old George Jones tune, “Tennessee Whiskey.”

Shane sang along with the lyrics that said she was sweet as Tennessee whiskey and strawberry wine. Princess dreams filled Jancy for those three or four minutes with Shane as her knight in shining armor.

“Okay, folks,” Leonard said when the song was finished. “Woody is warmed up, and I’ll turn this microphone over to a man who can call a clog better than I can. Choose your partners and let’s close this party out in real Pick style.”

Shane grabbed Jancy’s hand and led her to the pavilion. Ryder quickly laced his fingers in Emily’s and fell in behind Shane and Jancy. The other three couples joined them, with two more bringing up the rear.

“I practiced a little this mornin’, but it’s been a long time,” Jancy said.

“You’ll rem-m-member real quick.”

Woody pulled the bow across the fiddle. Pretty soon the sound of fast music and feet clogging on the wooden stage joined the clapping of the folks keeping time and filled the whole park. If Carlton Wolfe didn’t get the message, he was just plain stupid. Pick, Texas, had a heartbeat of its own, and the folks there didn’t need a pacemaker.

Shane and Jancy stole the show. She grabbed the skirt of her sundress and sashayed around like she’d been born to bluegrass clog dancing. If the folks in Pick hadn’t already accepted her into the flock and fold, they would now for sure.

When the music stopped, Woody held up his fiddle and pointed his bow to Shane and Jancy. “And that, folks, is the way to end a party here in our part of the world.”

Shane kept her hand in his as he led her across the lawn. “That was the best part of the whole afternoon. You are a great dance partner.”

Vicky walked up beside them. “You were both pretty amazing. So were y’all, Ryder and Emily.”

“So are we going to church?” Jancy asked, amazed after that fast dancing that she had breath left.

Vicky nodded. “We always close at six on Sunday so we can go to the night service.”

“Reckon I could pick you up at six thirty and take you?” Shane asked.

Jancy turned to Vicky. “Does he go to the same one y’all do?”

“Yes, I do,” Shane answered.

“Then I’ll be ready,” she told Shane.

A bright smile covered his face as he headed toward Woody to claim his fiddle.

“Who’d have ever guessed that you could clog,” Vicky said.

“Louisiana, remember?” She smiled. “I’m surprised that your new boyfriend didn’t jump up here on the stage with you.”

“Number one, he’s not my boyfriend. He’s courtin’ my recipe for tarts, not me. Number two, he’s a city guy. I doubt he knows how to dance like that.”

“With number two you might be right. But with number one, you couldn’t be more wrong. Look at him over there helping the old gals carry stuff to their cars. Men who are out for a recipe don’t do things like that. They act more like Mr. P-Nose.” Jancy looped her arm in Vicky’s. “I can’t believe I’m going to church with Shane.”

“Why?”

“Because he could have his pick of all the single girls in this part of Texas.”

“I don’t think he’s got eyes for anyone else,” said Vicky.





CHAPTER SEVEN


The last time Jancy had attended church was the week before her mother had died. Yet it wasn’t so different from the one where she and Shane sat on a back pew that hot Sunday evening. A center aisle separated the sturdy oak pews. The choir sat behind the pulpit in a small section reserved for about a dozen people. An old upright piano stood off to the right, and Darlene, Leonard’s wife, leafed through pages of the hymnal. Jancy figured there were about seventy-five people in the congregation, which was pretty close to the number of folks who’d attended the church back when she and her mother sat on the back pew every Sunday morning.

The preacher finally came forward and took his place behind the lectern. “Evenin’, folks. We had a right nice time at the park this afternoon. All those folks there standing together—well, it caused me to think of what Jesus said about loving your neighbor. But before I get into that, let’s all open our songbooks to hymn number two eighty and sing loud enough that the angels in heaven can hear us.”

“Wasn’t he the one who was callin’ the dance steps?” Jancy whispered.

Shane picked a hymnal from the back of the pew in front of them and found the page. “Yes, but that’s only because his wife wasn’t up to dancin’. They’re both really good at it.”