Wedding Bell Blues - [37]

When they climbed into the truck to go home, Lily said, “Thank you for the pig.”

“It was no skin off my nose. I’d been thinking about getting me a pig anyhow.” She started thetruck. “And I can understand why the thought of slaughtering that pig bothered you. I mean, I’m novegetarian, but it does seem like a shame that a critter has such a hard time coming into the world, only toget taken out of it so quick.” She watched the road for a minute. “There was somethin’ I wanted to askyou, though.”

“Yeah?”

“About that joke you made when you were about to invade that sow’s privacy.”

“Oh, that. I hardly even knew what I was saying. I’m always make dumb jokes when I’mnervous.”

“Well, it’s probably none of my business. It just seemed like an odd joke for a married lady to bemaking ... at least for a married lady who’s married to a man.”

The biscuits in Lily’s stomach congealed into a heavy clump. How could she be so stupid as tomake a joke like that? Apparently waking up before the sun wasn’t conducive to her secret-keepingabilities.

“It’s okay,” Jack said. “Like I said, it’s none of my business. You don’t have to tell me anything.

But if you ever decide you wanna talk, your secrets — if you’ve got any — are safe with me.”

What was it about Dr. Jack that made Lily decide to trust her? Was it because she was the first reallesbian Lily had seen since she hit Faulkner County? Or was it Jack’s obvious kindness — the part of herpersonality that made her rescue abused dogs and swaybacked horses?

Whatever it was, it made Lily talk. She talked all the way back to the house and then sat talkingwith Jack in her truck in the driveway.

When Lily finished, Jack breathed, “Whoa. That’s quite a story.”

Lily laughed. “You’re telling me.”

“So ...” Jack looked her square in the eye. “You lonely?”

Lily quickly broke eye contact. “Lonely? Of course I’m lonely. I lost my wife, my best friend —

but if you’re, like, coming on to me, I’m not interested. The only thing that could possibly make my lifemore complicated than it is now is a relationship. Besides, I’ll never find anyone I can love like I lovedCharlotte —”

“Whoa, Nelly!” Jack hollered. “Let me try again. What I meant to say was you probably had lotsof friends back in Atlanta ... other dykes you hung out with. I bet that now that you’re away from them,you’re kinda lonely.”

“Oh. That kind of lonely.” Lily felt like an idiot. Why had she gotten so defensive? “Yeah, I guessI am lonely. Sometimes, it’s nice, you know, just to hang out with other dykes and talk about dyke

“Yeah, I know what you mean. My friend Honey runs a tattoo shop out on Peacock Alley. She’sgot an apartment out back, and Friday nights a bunch of us go out there ... just to hang out and be dykes,like you said. There’s Honey and her girlfriend and a couple of old army dykes from Fort Oglethorpe.

They’re all older than you are — on the wrong side of forty, like me — but we’d be glad to have you ifyou think your husband wouldn’t mind you having a girls’ night out.”

“I bet he wouldn’t. God knows he’s been having boys’ nights out often enough. So where is thisPeacock Alley?”

“That’s not really the name of the road. That’s just what locals call the old highway that runsbetween here and Chattanooga. It’s called Peacock Alley because years ago, when it was a main road,there used to be all these roadside stands that sold those chenille bedspreads with gaudy-colored peacockson ’em. Those bedspreads’d be hanging on clotheslines, blowing in the breeze. I guess they were tacky,but when I was a little kid, I thought they were beautiful.”

Lily pictured Jack as a young tomboy, watching the chenille peacocks fluttering in the breeze.

“You look like you wanna ask me somethin’,” Jack said. “Go ahead. I’ve already made you tell meyour life story.”

“I was just wondering ... people around here, like Ed and Vina ... do they know about you?”

Jack grinned. “I guess so. I’m not the type to say much about my personal life, but I’ve neverbothered to keep it much of a secret either. I think folks in Faulkner County think I’m the way I am onaccount that my momma leaving and my daddy not knowing how to raise a girl. So I think they feel sorryfor me.” She rolled her eyes. “Not that there’s anything to feel sorry for. Of course, given the choice, Iguess I’d rather have them pity me than beat me up.”

“Have you ever thought of moving away?”

“I did move away for a while — went to college in Chattanooga, then vet school in Knoxville. ButI love my farm, and I always knew I’d wind up taking over Daddy’s practice. Besides, it doesn’t matter ifI live in a small town or a big town. Dykes turn any town into a small town.”

Lily laughed. “I think you’ve got something there.” She looked at her Timex. She had been gone alittle over three hours. “Well, I’d better go inside. I want to be there when Mimi wakes up.”

“Okay, well, nice talking to ya. I’ll call you the next time I go to work on somethin’ other thanpigs. I figure you’ve drawn your fill of pigs. And hey, maybe I’ll see you over at Honey’s next week?”