Carnal Innocence

me,” she said simply, and handed him the bow.
    Jim cast his mind around for what might be best. Settling the violin on his shoulder, he eased the bow overthe strings in a few testing sweeps, then launched into “Salty Dog.”
    By the time he’d finished, the dazed look had left his eyes and a grin was splitting his face. He knew he’d never sounded better, and caught up in the music he flowed into “Casey Jones.”
    Caroline sat on the arm of the chair and watched. Oh, there were a few wrong notes, and his technique could use a little polishing. But she was impressed, not only with his playing, which was clever and bright, but with the look in his eye, the look that told her he was playing for pleasure.
    That was something that had been denied her—and that she had denied herself—for nearly twenty-five years.
    Jim came back to himself and cleared his throat. The music was still dancing and swaying inside his head, and his fingers vibrated with it. But he was afraid he was pushing his luck.
    “That’s just some stuff old Rupert showed me. It’s nothing like what you played. That was … holy, I guess.”
    She had to smile. “I think we can make a bargain, Jim.”
    “ma’am?”
    “You show me how to play what old Rupert showed you—”
    His eyes bulged out of his head. “You want me to show you how to play those tunes?”
    “That’s right, and in return I’ll show you how to play others.”
    “Like what you was playing yesterday?”
    “Yes, like that.”
    He knew his hands were sweating and made himself give her back the violin before he smudged it and ruined everything. “I’d have to ask my daddy.”
    “I’ll ask him.” Caroline tilted her head. “If you’d like to.”
    “I’d like it just fine.”
    “Then come over here and watch.” She remainedsitting so he could have a good view of her fingers. “This is called the Minute Waltz. It’s by Frederic Chopin.”
    “Chopin,” Jim repeated reverently.
    “We won’t play it in a minute just yet. It’s not a race, it’s just for—”
    “Fun?”
    “Yes.” She tucked the violin under her chin, relishing that three-letter word. “For fun.”
    They were well into their first lesson when Deputy Carl Johnson drove by to tell her that Austin Hatinger had escaped.
    Caroline made up her mind about two things after Carl Johnson had driven off to pass the word at Sweetwater. First, she was going to renew her target practice. And she was going to get herself a dog. Her initial instinct to pack and run had faded almost before it had begun. What had replaced it was an emotion much stronger and deeper. This was her home now, and she intended to protect it.
    Following Jim’s advice and directions, she headed down Hog Maw Road toward the Fullers’. Jim had told her that Happy Fuller’s bitch Princess had had a litter some two months before.
    Happy, changed from her funeral dress to her gardening clothes, greeted her with pleasure. Not only was she pleased to be rid of the single remaining pup, she wanted a new ear to listen to all the excitement.
    “I’ve never been more terrified,” Happy was saying as she led Caroline around to the backyard, past a gaggle of ceramic geese and a bed of impatiens. “I was standing aways apart, by my mama’s grave. She passed in eighty-five from cancer of the ovaries. Wouldn’t see the doctor, Mama wouldn’t, so it ran through her like Grant took Richmond. Me, I go into Doc Shays and have a pap smear every six months like clockwork.”
    “I’m sure that’s wise.”
    “Makes no sense to hide from problems.” Happy paused in front of a whirligig of a man sawing wood. Theair hung so heavy and still, the little man was getting plenty of rest.
    “Anyhow,” Happy continued, bending to tug out a weed that had dared intrude on her zinnias, “I’m standing by Mama and I hear all this commotion. Shouting and screaming and what all. Turned around just in time to see that deputy from Greenville go tumbling with Mavis into Edda Lou’s grave. Then Austin, he takes a vicious swipe at the other deputy— hardly more than a boy that one—and knocks him clean out with his own pistol. I’m thinking to myself, Holy God in heaven, he’s going to open up with that gun. But what does he do? He snatches Birdie ‘round the throat and orders that deputy—the one down in the grave—to throw out the key for the leg shackles. Now you could hear Mavis wailing and screaming fit to wake the dead. Lordy, there’s