Now the clapping was loud and it came from all over the green. It kept up while Leo’s father said, “I’m Jim,” and it stopped as soon as he began playing the first sliding notes of “Natchez Burning.” Leo didn’t know what to do; this was Jim’s solo number, no harps at all, and while Ryder was tapping the flat of his harmonica in time on the palm of his hand, Leo couldn’t just stand there, not after his father flew the news about the army, not with-of all people-Chick Donovan sitting in the audience. But no way could he walk off the gazebo till the next number either, so he turned his attention to the music and the music only. He watched his father pick and sing, his mustache looking so thick, his head so big. Jim’s eyes were closed, his face tilted up towards the trees, and if his voice had sounded true to the words earlier this week in front of Helena, it was three times that now; Jim was singing the part about his baby lying on the ground, and his voice was high with no gravel in it at all. His thick finger was thimble-sliding smoothly, there was sweat on his creased forehead, but his voice sounded as pure and naked to Leo as a child’s.

At the finale, Jim let the end notes strum off his fingers like someone’s last breath, and the audience started in clapping before the final note had finished ringing through the mike. Leo glanced out there and saw straight into Chick’s face. Chick was pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with one finger, and of course, he wasn’t able to clap at all.

39

At five minutes to eight, Allie untied her apron and punched out as fast as she could, leaving Titcomb and her friends to order from her relief. Outside, the lot was full of cars and pickups, a few motorcycles. The sky had a rosy light left in it and Beatrice had just switched on her neon sign. Two men at a picnic table said “Oh, man” and “Sweet thing” to Allie as she walked by in her white UFO dress, but she had her eyes on Leo and his band, who were returning to the gazebo from their intermission. They’d spent it back at the generator with the bald man, and she knew where she’s seen him before too; he was one of the poker men who had made everybody laugh, Leo most of all, on Leo’s birthday night. His band. Gosh. She watched as Leo followed his father back up under the gazebo. His shirt was too baggy in the waist and his tacky striped tie got lost under that wide leather contraption he kept his harmonicas in. He pulled his microphone closer to his face, then Jim said a few words into his own mike about what a good audience everyone was and he began playing a fast song with no singing, just his instrument and Leo’s and Ryder’s too.