Different Drummers (12 page)

“What's wrong, Kathleen?” he asked as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Have you had bad news from home? Has something happened to your family?”

“It's nothing like that,” she managed to mumble. “I've got this splitting headache. Must be a migraine.”

Lennie got her a glass of water and a couple of pills. “Take these,” he said, “and I'll call Bob over at the hardware to come for you. You can't stay here like this.”

“No, no, please, just give me a minute,” she answered hastily. “This is only his first week and he's trying so hard.”

Sooner or later, Lennie would find out Bob had lost his job but she couldn't even think about that right now. Getting through the next minute and the one after that was all that mattered right now.

Lennie talked on the intercom then helped Kathleen out of her seat as if she were ninety years old. “There's only you and me in the front office,” he said, “so I asked one of the guys in the print room to come out here and cover the phones till Mr. Tate or Bernie comes in.” He picked up her purse. “You lean on me. I'm taking you home.”

He opened his car door and fussed around as he settled her inside. “It's probably this heat. You're not acclimatized yet. When I first came down here from Vermont, it got me the same way.”

Within a few minutes, he pulled into her driveway. Once inside, he pulled a chair under the open window across from the window fan. She leaned back as the soft breeze brushed her face. He brought a glass of iced water and set it on the end table beside her.

“I'm OK, Lennie.” She said, anxious now for him to be gone. “Perhaps you'd better get on back to the paper.”

“Are you sure? I guess I do need to be there. At least until either Bernie or Mr. Tate comes in.”

“I'll be fine. Thanks for bringing me home. You're probably right about the heat. I'm just not used to it yet.”

She sipped on the water then dredged up a flimsy smile. “See, I'm better already.”

Lennie looked relieved. “OK, but don't you move out of that chair. We'll keep a check on you and if you're no better by this evening, we can send for Dr. Parker.” He gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder. “See you later, kiddo.”

“Thanks, Lennie. Tell Mr. Tate I'm as sorry as I can be.”

As soon as Lennie's car had pulled out of her driveway, Kathleen got up and paced the floor, trying to bring some order into her muddled mind. How could Bob con her into coming three thousand miles from home, and because he couldn't handle his job, or his whole life for that matter, chuck it all in the air and walk away from it? What gave him the right? My God, come to think of it, she wasn't even his first wife. He'd told her he hadn't had time to tell her about his other marriage since he'd arrived back in Eddisville, but what about when they were in England? Whirlwind romance or not, he'd had plenty of time to tell her he'd been married before. She snatched up her precious figurines, the Dresden shepherd and shepherdess Bob had brought her from Germany, took them outside, and flung them to the terrace floor as hard as she could. They smashed into a hundred tiny pieces. The shepherdess's delicate little head rolled crazily toward her, then stopped at her feet and stared up at her accusingly.

She ran back into the house, flung herself on the bed, and sobbed into her pillow.

* * *

It was the familiar sounds of Freddie Conroy's truck rattling to a stop in her driveway that sent her into the bathroom to splash cold water into her puffy eyes. She picked up the comb and ran it through her hair, then tried to steady her hand while she applied lipstick. When she opened the door in answer to Freddie's knock, she could tell by his tight-lipped smile that he'd heard the news, or some of it.

“I went by the hardware and old man Phillips told me he'd had to fire Bobby last Tuesday. Then I went by the
Gazette
to find you, and Lennie Barlow told me he'd brought you home.”

He looked around the room. “Where's Bobby now?”

She stared at him numbly. “He's gone, Freddie.”

“What do you mean he's gone? Gone where?”

“Texas. He's gone to reenlist.”

Freddie's eyes widened and he gave her an unbelieving smile. “Quit your kiddin', Kathleen. Bobby wouldn't…”

Her laugh was bitter, harsh. “I'm not kidding, Freddie. He's gone. Really gone.”

“Why that son-of-a-bitch. How could he do that to you?”

Freddie slapped the arm of the chair with the flat of his hand.

“Come to think of it, I'm not surprised. Even though he said he was glad he got out of the army, it was all nothing but an act. Just the other day he told me he wished he'd stayed in.”

Kathleen crossed to the kitchen and filled two glasses with ice, then reached for a couple of Nehis from under the sink. “Bob can't read, you know,” she said as she walked back with the drinks. “How will he manage even there?”

“It'll be easier for Bobby in the army,” Freddie said. “They give guys like him jobs they can handle.” He sipped on his drink. “He was a good soldier all right, even getting promoted to sergeant on account of his bravery in combat. He held on to it for a couple of months before he was demoted to corporal. I guess a sergeant would have a lot of paperwork being in charge of men and all.”

Freddie took out his handkerchief and blew his nose. “When Bobby came back home this last time he had a two-week leave before he went to Texas for his discharge. He told us he'd gotten married to an English girl. He seemed different somehow, more settled. I guess he really was tryin' but just couldn't handle this readin' and writin' thing.”

When a car door slammed in the driveway, Freddie got up and looked out the window.

“Here comes Mr. Tate. He'll be coming to check on you and there's no need in me hanging around. I'm late for work anyhow, but I just had to see if you were OK.”

Kathleen walked to the door with him. “I think I'm going to make it now, even though I wanted to die when Beulah told me. It means a lot to me that you came by and especially that you filled me in on a few things I didn't know.”

She looked up at him. “You're always there when I need you, aren't you, Freddie? Ever since I got off that bus outside Gus's you've been there for me. One day I'll make it up to you, you'll see.”

He put his arm lightly across her shoulders. “Shoot, Kathleen, there ain't no need for that. What are friends for?”

William Tate took off his jacket and hat, and sat in the chair Freddie had just vacated.

“Lennie said you had a headache but you were acting kind of strange. Said it looked like you'd had bad news from home.”

“No, no, it's nothing like that.”

“What is it then?”

Kathleen sat in the chair nearest the fan and picked at her nails. She wanted to tell him, but couldn't bear the thought of his pity. After all, she had some pride.

“Look,” he said. “I'm not trying to pry, but you're practically alone here. Please, Kathleen, you can trust me. Does this have anything to do with Bobby?”

“Well, yes it does—”

She told him everything then, apprehension closing in as the reality of her predicament sank in.

“It's not just the illiteracy thing that hurts so much. It's all the awful deceit. Beulah said he did it out of love but I think he should have been honest with me. He owed me that much. Then it would have been up to me to decide.”

Her boss fumbled in his pocket for his cigarettes.

She passed him an ashtray. “Can I have one too?”

He offered her the pack of Lucky Strikes.

“I suppose you think I'm pretty stupid, don't you?” she asked.

“I don't know about stupid. I'd say you were naive. Ever since I first saw you in Todd's it's puzzled me as to why you married him. You're so different from him, so totally different.”

“I just loved him, and I'm trying very hard to understand him. I mean how long did he think he could go without my finding out. Surely, he knew he'd have to tell me sometime. He should have told me when I badgered him to apply for the job at Phillips. Oh, I'd have been hurt all right but even then I'd have tried to help him. Anything would have been better than him reenlisting. There are schools. He could have learned. It's not so hard and I'm sure he's bright enough.”

She pushed her hair back out of her eyes. “My mind is so muddled. How did he even get in the army in the first place if he couldn't read and write? Surely there were tests.”

“There were for the first little while,” Mr. Tate said. “But you're talking World War II and things got pretty desperate over there. More and more men were needed so restrictions were put to one side. Illiterates were allowed in, then as things heated up, they were taking anything that breathed. It wasn't until after the Korean War got underway the rules changed back again. Still, I'd bet you even now some guys who can't read and write can sneak in if they want to badly enough.”

Mr. Tate loosened his tie and for the first time Kathleen noticed how worried he looked, how obviously concerned he was for her.

“Maybe Bob's not all to blame,” she said. “Did I make him feel inferior in some way? If I did, I didn't mean to. And even though I hate it that he left to reenlist without so much as a word, I think he was at the end of his rope. He's used to the army, you see. Freddie said Bob told him he wished he'd stayed in. I think he feels safe there. Beulah said he's coming back for me after he reenlists and puts his name down for a house.”

Mr. Tate's eyebrows raised half an inch. “Will you go back with him?”

She shook her head. “No. Not yet anyway.”

She hadn't known until this minute that she'd actually made up her mind not to go. “I can't be uprooted from place to place like this. Not all that very long ago, I'd have done just about anything to get out of Eddisville. My first night in this town was a nightmare. And then, well, then I met you. You let us have this nice house and you hired me on your paper. I found I was getting used to it. The place has taken on an air of familiarity. People are beginning to know me and I'm making some friends. Who knows what'll be waiting for me in Texas. I don't want to go through it all again. It's too soon and maybe I won't be so lucky next time.”

The unexpected thought flashed through her mind. At least this was a reprieve from a marriage in trouble.

“What will you tell Bob?” Mr. Tate asked.

“I'll tell him the truth. That I'd like him to get more settled before I go out there.”

Her boss stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. “I've got a feeling you can handle this, even though I can see you feel like someone's pulled the rug out from under you. You haven't asked for advice so I'm not giving any, except to say it's not going to do any good to sit home all day and stew. I'm thinking it'll get your mind on other things if you come on into the paper.”

He smiled, his hand raised as if making a pledge. “This isn't so I can get some work out of you, I swear it isn't.”

His caring look had a soothing effect, like balm, and she realized too her headache was nearly gone.

She twisted her face into some sort of answering smile. “If you'll give me just a minute, I'll spruce myself up and then ride back with you.”

“Good girl. And another thing. How about you coming to our house for dinner tonight. No point you staying here alone. And it'll give you a chance to meet Belle, my wife. She, well, she's pretty much of a homebody and it'll be good for her to have some company.”

Mr. Tate had that wistful look Kathleen had seen before, but just as quickly, it was gone. “Oh yeah,” he added. “Belle called the office to say the telephone company rang after I left this morning. They'll be hooking up your phone in the next couple of days.”

Kathleen picked up the empty glasses and carried them to the sink.

“Thanks, Mr. Tate. You've been very good to me. You remind me so much of my dad. Oh, not in looks, but in the way you try to help people. I wish you could meet my dad. And yes, I'll look forward to coming to your house tonight and especially to meeting Mrs. Tate.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Dinner at the Tate's that night was just as elegant as Kathleen had known it would be.

The surprise of the evening was Belle Tate. She was shorter, with a more ample figure than Kathleen had imagined. The blonde hair, blowing in the wind in the photograph in her husband's office, was gone now. Snow-white hair had taken its place. Her face was almost as white as her hair, giving the look of alabaster. Ever since Kathleen had lived in the little house, the woman had been a mystery. She'd never really seen her until this evening, except for that one quick glance through the window the day Mr. Tate had shown her the house. Mrs. Tate was never in the yard or even on the porch. A couple of times Kathleen had started across the yard to introduce herself, but some intuition had stopped her.

“Thank you so much for inviting me,” she said, as they sat in the Tates' large living room, with its overstuffed chairs, and its antique gold-brushed chandelier. “I don't know what I would have done if I'd had to stay home alone tonight.”

Her voice cracked and a tear rolled down her cheek. Damn, she'd been doing all right until she'd opened her mouth to speak. Filled with shame because she hadn't even thought to bring a handkerchief, she sniffed and wiped the offending tear away with the back of her hand. William Tate gave a sympathetic cough. “I think a glass of wine would be a good idea,” he said. “Excuse me while I get the glasses.”

Mrs. Tate casually passed Kathleen a box of tissues from the end table. Her smile was kind as if she hadn't noticed a thing. Kathleen took a handful, then wiped her eyes and blew her nose as daintily as she could.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that. I'm all right now.”

“We're glad you could come, Kathleen.” Her boss's wife discreetly ignored Kathleen's remark. “William's told me all about you. I've wanted to meet you ever since you arrived in Eddisville, but well, I don't get out much.”

Mrs. Tate had breeding written all over her, along with a certain endearing fragility. Her soft voice, with its lilting Southern accent, reminded Kathleen of Melanie Wilkes in
Gone With the Wind
.

“I think it would be nice if you called me Belle,” she said, patting Kathleen's hand. “Mrs. Tate sounds so stuffy don't you think?”

Kathleen smiled and sniffled at the same time. “Yes, I'd like that.”

The Tates had a live-in housekeeper, a colored woman whom Kathleen had seen a few times hanging out the wash or busying herself around the yard. They'd waved to each other from a distance but never spoken. Was she the one responsible for those wonderful smells now emanating from the kitchen? Kathleen, who hadn't had a bite to eat all day, was surprised to find she was hungry.

The housekeeper stuck her head around the door.

“Dinner's ready,” she said with a smile.

“Thanks Sarah, we're coming.”

They walked through the wide foyer with its soft lighting and wide staircase. In the dining room, the table was beautifully set with a crisp white linen tablecloth, crystal, and fine china. A bowl of pink and white carnations was in the center of the table, flanked by pink candles in crystal holders.

When Sarah, as a matter of course, joined them at the table, Kathleen hid her surprise. She hadn't been in the South long but already knew this arrangement would be unacceptable in most Southern homes. Somehow, it endeared the Tates to her even more.

“I'm sorry we didn't introduce you to Sarah earlier,” Mr. Tate said, as he poured the wine. “She was sort of behind with her cooking. But anyway, Kathleen Conroy, this is Sarah Belvoir who's been with us so long, she's one of the family.”

Sarah was an excellent cook and had prepared what Belle said was a typically Southern meal. The pot roast was fork tender, and there was a thick, rich gravy to pour over the rice. Sarah told Kathleen the dish of lima beans mixed with corn was called succotash. No, Sarah said with a smile, she didn't know where the name originated. She said the sweet potatoes mixed with brown sugar and pineapple bits were called candied yams, and yes, she'd made the hot yeast rolls from scratch. There was also a tossed green salad and a huge pitcher of iced tea.

When Belle reached for the gravy bowl, a telltale two-inch scar was visible on her right wrist below the long sleeved blouse. Kathleen was startled and averted her eyes quickly, not wanting to offend.

“I haven't had a chance to thank you for renting the house to Bob and me,” she said.

Belle smiled. “You're very welcome. It seemed a shame to let it sit empty, but, well, we couldn't let just anybody rent it. When you came along, you seemed so perfect.”

“What a nice thing to say.” Kathleen was feeling better than she had all day. “Maybe you and Sarah would come and have tea with me on Saturday. Now that I'm on my own.”

“Oh, I couldn't do that,” Belle interrupted, a trace of panic suddenly coming into her voice. “It's just that, I've, well, I've actually never been inside the house.”

“You've never…”

“No, you see it was built for my mother, and I…”

“Oh, that's all right. I understand,” Kathleen said quickly, not understanding at all.

“It isn't that I don't want to. It's just that…” Belle put down her napkin and twisted her wedding ring nervously.

“Perhaps soon I'll come.”

“Yes, of course.”

Mr. Tate was clearly disturbed at his wife's discomfort. “Should I get the dessert, Sarah?” he asked.

“No, I'll get it.” Sarah rose from the table. “Miss Kathleen, would you like some lemon meringue pie?”

The housekeeper was tall and stately looking, regal even. She smiled at Kathleen, but the message written on her face couldn't be plainer. It was time to change the subject. Kathleen was only too happy to comply. “Yes please, Sarah. I'd love some.”

Kathleen said she'd never tasted anything better than the delicious pie. No, not even in the bakery at home. Sarah promised to give her the recipe so she could send it to her father.

After the initial awkwardness, conversation flowed fast and free, just like around the table at home. Kathleen bathed in the glow of friendship, and tried not to think how great it would have been if Bob had brought her here to live instead of to the house on Bennington Street.

At nine o'clock, Belle Tate took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “I don't want to seem inhospitable,” she said to Kathleen, “but if you'll excuse me I believe I'll go to bed.”

Kathleen looked at her watch. “I'm sorry. I had no idea it was so late. I expect I'd better be going.”

“Nonsense,” Belle said. “Please do stay. It isn't late at all. Sarah and William will be watching television for a while. I always go to bed early.”

That night, Kathleen had her first taste of American television or of any television for that matter. They watched the
Schlitz Playhouse
and then
Tales of Tomorrow
. It was almost eleven o'clock when Kathleen bid Sarah goodnight and Mr. Tate walked with her across his back lawn to the little house.

“I feel I need to explain to you about Belle,” he said. “She sometimes comes across as sort of strange to people who don't know her.”

“You don't owe me any explanation, Mr. Tate. I think she's charming and she was very nice to me. I can see she's been ill though. It's still there, in her face.”

He gave a tight smile, and with the nervous habit he had, pushed his glasses back up from the edge of his nose.

“Yeah, but she's so much better than she was. She's getting better all the time. She used to be such a happy person and had lots of friends back in the old days. We entertained at least twice a week and Belle was always the life of the party. All of that changed when Coop was shot down.”

Mr. Tate stuck his hands deep in his pockets. “I know millions of others are in the same boat we are. But Belle, she just couldn't handle it. She had some sort of terrible breakdown. She tried to kill herself more than once. I think she's over all of that now, but well, she never leaves the house. As long as she's inside she feels safe and is almost as normal as anybody else. She…she hasn't been over the doorstep in eight years.”

“Eight years.” Kathleen's step faltered as she looked up at Mr. Tate.

Her boss stared straight ahead. “That's right, not even into the yard.”

“I'm so sorry. I don't honestly know what to say.”

They'd reached the house and Mr. Tate kicked the loose gravel on the path. “You don't have to say anything. I felt I should tell you though. Living so close to us and all, you'd be bound to wonder. Anyway, everyone in town knows about it. Dr. Parker said not to give up hope. He's read of cases where people who are housebound like Belle have returned to normal, sometimes even overnight. So, well, you never know. I guess we're just waiting for that miracle.”