“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.”