My delight was only increased further when Drew and the kid on the banjo began to sing the lyrics in perfect harmony. Then, I nearly fainted when Drew’s face broke out in a huge grin, and he and the banjo prodigy exchanged a meaningful glance like they were sharing a private joke.

He was so relaxed and completely at ease singing about constant sorrow with a giant smile on his face. I wanted to laugh, not because the scene was funny, but because I was so pleasantly surprised. He appeared to be so happy, and his happiness was infectious. Also, he had a truly remarkable singing voice; a clear, velvety baritone that I felt in my bones.

I watched and listened, wholly entranced. After he sang of meeting us on God’s golden shore, the song was over. I was bereft amidst the applause. This perfect moment, listening to Drew sing and play with such talent and obvious enjoyment, felt like a sudden and miraculous gift.

And then it was over.

The group moved on, and I was stuck. The other banjo player called out the key of G, playing the tonic. Drew fell into the accompaniment with both banjos, the other two guitars, and the violin, providing the chord progression while the bass fiddle lead with the melody of “The Highwaymen.”

I stared at him for a stretch, still hearing the echoes of his previous performance and feeling melancholy that it was over.

“That Drew Runous has a nice voice,” a woman in the row just in front of mine whispered loudly to her friend, snaring my attention. The two women appeared to be about Momma’s age or a little older. Both ladies looked vaguely familiar—like hometown folks that I’d forgotten about—and I couldn’t help but overhear their conversation.

“Yes he does, and he’s a might good looking, too,” the other woman said, an indulgent smile on her face. “My Jennifer is sweet on him since he helped with her car troubles when she was stalled on Moth Run, down by the Winston place.”

“I didn’t know they were an item.”

“Oh, no, they’re not, but Jennifer wishes they were. She can’t get him to talk; only ever got one-word answers, though she’s been up to the ranger station any number of times with muffins and the like. And you know he’s never in town—well, hardly ever. I can’t get more than three words out of him myself. She finally gave up.” Jennifer’s mother sighed.

“He is shy, that’s true. Maybe she should be more up front about her interest. She’s a beauty.”

“Oh, she did that.” The second woman chuckled a little and leaned closer to her friend like she was going to tell a scandalous story. I also leaned forward, irrationally invested in what was about to be spoken. I even went so far as to fiddle with my shoe to disguise my intent.

“Jennifer went down to the Cades Cove station knowing he’d be there. She brought her banana cake—you know, the one she won second prize for at the fair? Well, she wore that yellow dress that her daddy doesn’t like, and what do you think she did? She sidled right up to Drew, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him.”

The first woman pulled away, her expression shocked with disbelief. “Oh, my dear Lord,” she loud whispered. “What did he do?”

The mother sighed. “He let her down gently, but he was a real gentleman about it.”

“When was this?”

“Oh, I don’t know. At the beginning of the summer, I guess. But you know he’s been in town for years and aint never been attached to any girl that I’m aware of.”

The two women shared a knowing look, as though Drew not being attached to a woman for several years automatically meant he was either suffering from some fatal illness, or he was gay.

I straightened in my seat and affixed my eyes to the front of the room when one of the ladies glanced over her shoulder. Fighting a guilty blush, I made the mistake of looking at Drew just as he turned his head, sweeping the crowd.

Our eyes met, and he did a double take. His mouth parted slightly, his eyes widened just a hint. Then he smiled.

Despite my red cheeks, I smiled back and gave him a little wave. I kept my eyes glued to the front of the room even when I felt the two ladies turn and peer at me.

I sat as still as a statue, and thought about making a quick escape, but Drew kept glancing my way through the remainder of the melody, a hint of a smile on his face, his eyes anchoring me to my chair.

When the song came to its conclusion and the bass fiddle announced that they would be taking a half hour break, I knew I couldn’t cut and run, because I didn’t want to leave.

He set his guitar down behind him, resting it against the wall of the musicians’ space. The crowd filtered out of the room. In order to avoid being caught in the swell by the door, I moved further in, walking to the far wall so Drew would have a clearer path if he chose to come talk to me.

His eyes never leaving my face, Drew navigated the theater seats, wooden chairs, pews, and stools, making his way to me.

I noted that several people moved to talk to him, but he put them off, gently saying, “Excuse me,” or “I’ll be right back.” My heart rate increased as he neared, as did the size of his smile, and I felt a tad bit out of breath.

I didn’t realize I was smiling until I spoke. “Hi, Drew.”

Not breaking stride, Drew backed me up against the wall, his hands gripping my waist, his mouth unexpectedly meeting mine for a soft, sweet, caressing kiss.

I’m not going to lie. I kissed him back. But it was a confusing kiss for several reasons.

First, it gave me zings in my things, as Sandra would say. Maybe it was the beard; more likely, it was the man attached to the beard.

Second, it didn’t feel like a friend kiss despite the fact that it was over in less than five seconds. But it didn’t exactly feel like it was planned to be something more. In fact, I don’t think he’d planned to kiss me at all. It was a truly spontaneous kiss.

Third, his kiss made me feel like I’d been filled up with a bolt of lightning; my restless energy increased tenfold the moment our lips touched.

I felt distinctly dazed as I gazed up at him.

“Hi, Ash.” His eyes danced over my face. He looked happy, at least happier than I’d ever seen him. “It’s great to see you.”

I smiled up at him. “You saw me this morning.”

“But you weren’t wearing this dress.”

Still dazed and finding no response for his statement, I said dumbly, “Cletus plays the banjo.”

“Yes, sugar. I know that.” His grin intensified as he removed his hands from my body and stepped back two steps. I almost followed him to stay in his orbit, but I managed to put a mental leash on my instinctual desire to do so.

“Did you enjoy the music?” His eyes were cheerful.

“Oh yes…you all were just great. You especially were fantastic. I loved watching your fingers move—you have great fingers. They’re very long and really know how to move.”

A small, amused frown creased his brow, and as the words spilled out of my mouth, his grin became massive. He glanced at the floor, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and lifted his blue-gray eyes to mine. “Well…thank you, Ash. I’ll keep your admiration for my fingers in mind for future reference.”

My neck started to itch as we stared at each other, likely because my brain slowly caught up with the conversation. It rewound what had just emerged from my mouth, and heated embarrassment swirled upward from my chest to my cheeks.

“I…I mean,” I stammered, and I could feel the smile fall from my face as mortified understanding of what I’d actually said took the place of my kiss-daze.

“I know what you meant.” He said this quietly, in a way that was meant to ease my embarrassment.

I cleared my throat and glanced at the floor then back to him. “Well, you also have an amazing singing voice.”

His grin became a little self-conscious, but no less sincere or warm. “Thank you. That’s nice of you to say.”

“I mean it.” I nodded vigorously, wanting him to understand that I was being honest. “I don’t hand out false compliments because that only serves to diminish their value. I’m telling you, Drew Runous, you have an amazing singing voice. You should be singing all the time. You should live your life singing all your words—starting now.”

He laughed. His eyes reminded me of shining silver bells on Christmas, merry and bright. “All right, I believe you. Thank you.”

“Your Viking name should definitely be Drew the Singing Marauder, or I still like Drew Never-A-Dull-Moment.”

He lifted a single eyebrow as he responded, “Nah, most people would call me Drew the Boring,” his tone was flat and dry.

I snorted. “What people? Alligator wrestlers? Somali pirates?”

He shrugged and spoke plainly without bitterness or malice like he was explaining a universal truth. “Normal people want to go to bars, parties, hook up; socialize, be seen. Money, power, influence….” He took a deep breath before adding, “I’m not like that.”

“What are you like?” I asked before I realized that I’d spoken.

His single eyebrow lifted again at my bold question, and a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. When he answered me, his voice held a suggestion of Texas swagger and charm, catching me off guard. “Sugar, I think you know what I’m like.”