more 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 if