Different Drummers (24 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY

Heavy moisture-laden clouds hung low in the sky as Kathleen backed the car out of the driveway.

“While I'm gone, how about takin' the car into the shop for a tune-up?” Bob said. “If we're gonna be drivin' all the way to Tennessee, we don't need to be breakin' down before we're halfway there.”

“OK.” It was easier to agree with him than say yet again she had no intention of going. She drove slowly through the center of town, passed Gus's General Store, and then picked up speed as she headed the car toward Columbia. A streak of lightning lit up the darkened sky, followed by a roll of thunder. Bob eased his wounded leg straight out in front of him.

“You had one hell of a nerve speakin' to Daddy like you did the other night.” The bitterness in his voice cut like a scythe.

“Sure he may seem kind of strange to the likes of you, but that ain't his fault. He comes hundreds of miles to see us, then asks us, nice as you please, to visit him and Selma. Even offers me a good job makin' more money than I ever dreamed of, and then you talk to him like he's a dog.”

Kathleen's deep sigh was almost a sob. “If you'd wanted to talk about this, why didn't you do it last night? I waited and waited for you to bring it up, but you never did. Why now, when we're on our way to the airport? Why don't we wait until you come home after your discharge, and then discuss it?”

“Discuss what? What is there to talk about?”

“We need to talk about lot of things. For one thing, you're no more a faith healer than I am. What your daddy's offering you is not a decent job making good money. It's nothing but a scam. You'll be a flimflam man, Bob. How do you like the sound of that?”

She switched on the windshield wipers and flipped on her headlights as the first big drops of rain splashed on the car windows.

“I've tried to tell you how I feel about these things but you never listen,” she continued. “Go to Crystal Springs if you have to, but if you do, and in spite of what you said last night, I won't be going with you. I'm not trying to give you an ultimatum or anything either.”

“The hell you ain't. You're tellin' me to stay or else. If that ain't an ultimatum, then I don't know what is.”

Kathleen sighed. “OK, maybe it is. I've been here sixteen months, Bob, but we've been together for only two of those months. Even then we did nothing but fight. Last night you said I'd better not ever think of leaving you. Well, I've tried to stay. Honest to God, I've really tried. But can't you see if we stayed together we'd probably end up killing each other.”

A sneer came into his voice. “What you gonna do if we split up? Live off of the Tates?”

She despised him for that remark but decided to let it slide. She just wanted to get him to the airport and away from Eddisville.

“I'll go home. Back to England.”

“How are you gonna to pay for the fare? Are you gonna write and ask your daddy for the money?”

“I'll use part of the money we've got in the bank. I tried to save as much as possible while you were in Korea. The only fair thing to do would be split it down the middle. My half would be more than enough to get me home.”

Bob gave a harsh laugh as he slapped a hand on the dashboard. “Daddy warned me you might try to pull somethin' like this. So, yesterday mornin', after you went to work, he drove me to the bank and we took the money out. Every last damn cent of it. You done good, real good, Baby. You saved over a thousand dollars. But I got it all now. You ain't got no money.”

As Bob slammed that final door, Kathleen's hands gripped the wheel until her knuckles gleamed white. A fury such as she'd never known tore through her.

“So now what you gonna do?” he asked.

He was goading her all right and she struggled not to rise to the bait.

“If the money means that much to you, you can have it. I've still got my ring. I'd really hate to sell it but I will if I have to.”

The rain lashed down in sheets now and she leaned forward to wipe the fogged-up window with a tissue. To add to the already bad conditions, traffic on the narrow winding road was heavy. There was nowhere for them to pull off to wait out the deluge, and so she drove doggedly on.

“Well, now,” Bob said, “I got another surprise for you. You don't have the ring no more neither. I got that too.”

Desperately she fought for calm. “You'd better give it back to me, Bob.”

He gave a short, brittle laugh. “Over my dead body.”

“But, you just can't take it. It's mine. It doesn't belong to you.”

“Don't it? The way I figure it, you owe me this ring, as well as all the money. While I was in Korea, I thought a lot about us and how it was gonna be when I came home. Well, it ain't no better than when I left. You've screwed up my life one last time. I told you last night I wouldn't give you a divorce and I meant it. So, you can either do things my way or leave here with nothin'. And when you get right down to it, that ain't so bad. You came with nothin' so you can leave the same way. I'm gonna be a part of Daddy's church, whether you like it or not. You can either come with me to Tennessee or go back to that Godforsaken place you came from.”

A flash of lightning lit up the sky, followed by a clap of thunder.

“It's bad enough that you've taken the money, but the ring belongs to me. I want it back. Where is it?”

“It's here, right here.” He held her beautiful emerald in front of her face. She raised her hand to snatch it from him, but he shoved her away.

As they approached the Congaree River bridge, Bob rolled down his window, letting the driving rain pelt into the car.

“I'm gonna show you a real case of now you see it, now you don't. You think I'm hung up on the money this ring'll bring, don't you? But you're wrong. Just you watch this.”

His arm shot out the window and he gave a bray of a laugh as he looked down into the churning river.

“There it goes, Baby. There goes your six thousand dollar emerald ring.”

The atmosphere inside the car took on a nightmarish quality as a tearing rage boxed up too long overwhelmed Kathleen. Her leg trembled so much she could hardly keep it on the accelerator.

“You mean bastard,” she said, hearing the hysteria rising in her voice. “You wicked, low-down sod. How could you do that? I…I wasn't going to tell you this, but now, by God, I think you have it coming.”

“What you going to tell me? That the ring ain't worth a bundle after all?”

“No, it's valuable all right. This is about your daddy. I still get nightmares because of the day I went to your house on Bennington Street and walked in on him and Selma…”

“So, what's wrong with that,” he interrupted. “Who did you expect to see?”

“You didn't let me finish. I called out their names when I walked in. They couldn't hear me because the radio was blaring, and probably because they…”

Even after all this time, she found it hard to get the words out. As she tried to say them, the silence closed in on her, fraught with danger.

“Probably because what?” Bob asked, his voice almost a snarl. “You're gonna say Daddy was practicin' his preachin' in front of the mirror and you're gonna make fun of him, ain't you?”

“No,” she said, with a callousness she'd only just that minute become capable of. “I caught the two of them in bed together, your daddy and Selma.”

“Why, you bitch.”

He lashed out with the back of his hand and hit her hard across the face.

“You lyin' bitch.”

Kathleen tasted blood in her mouth as her hand automatically came up to ward off further blows.

He slid across the seat toward her and pushed her hard against the door. He gasped from the pain the quick movement brought to his wounded leg. But it was his good leg that was closest to her and he knocked her foot off the gas pedal.

“Let's see how fast this baby'll go on a day like today.” He laughed crazily as he put his own foot on the accelerator and his hands over hers on the wheel.

They were traveling on the main highway, nearing an intersection. Through the driving rain, Kathleen saw the blurry shape of a pickup truck approaching from a side road. When she realized the truck wasn't going to stop, and that Bob had no intention of slowing down, her survival instinct came to the fore. She made a tight fist and brought it down on Bob's wounded knee with all the force she could muster. He screamed with pain and let go of the wheel as he grabbed his leg.

This was long enough for her to take control of the wheel again and slam on the brakes. She felt them lock and knew the car was going to smash into the side of the truck.

“Jesus Christ,” was the last thing she heard Bob say.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Kathleen slowly opened her eyes and looked around the unfamiliar room. The sterile whiteness reminded her of the one Beulah had occupied, except for the window. There'd been no window in Beulah's hospital room.

She looked at the two sleeping figures in the chairs beside her bed. Sarah Belvoir sat in one of them. She remembered Belle saying Sarah's brother was sick. Kathleen hoped he was well now and hadn't died or anything.

Mr. Tate occupied the other chair, his mouth half open and snoring softly. How long had they been in those chairs, waiting for her to wake up?

Dear Mr. Tate. Dear Sarah.

She glanced down and saw her left leg encased in plaster, outside the covers. Other than that, she didn't know how badly she'd been hurt. Gingerly she raised her arm to her head and felt the bandages wrapped around it. Her left eye was swollen shut and it hurt to touch her face at all. She ran her tongue over her teeth. They all seemed to be there, thank God. Both her arms were outside of the bedclothes and they looked all right, except for a few scratches.

She tested her arms. Nothing wrong with her right arm but the left one didn't respond like it should. It dragged along the sheet with not much feeling in the hand and none at all in the fingers. She ran her right hand over the rest of her body. There were bandages around her chest and it hurt there when she pressed. She took a deep breath. Yes, it hurt to do that too.

She tried to think what could have caused such injuries, and found herself once again in the car with Bob in the middle of a driving rainstorm, grappling with him for the wheel as they approached an intersection.

The sudden recollection caused her to try to sit up. Although she didn't hear any sound, she knew she must have cried out from the pain in her chest, because both Mr. Tate and Sarah sat straight up and were beside her in an instant.

“Thank God. Oh, thank God,” Mr. Tate said. He sounded as if she'd just returned from the dead.

“You keep your eye on her, Sarah, while I get the doctor. For heaven's sake, Kathleen, don't move, and keep calm whatever you do.”

William Tate himself was anything but calm. In his haste to leave the room, he tripped over his chair and banged into the door. H
is glasses fell off the end of his nose. He turned and smiled to show her he was all right, before picking up his glasses and hurrying out.

Even though it hurt to smile, Kathleen grinned weakly at Sarah who grinned right back. Kathleen thought she could see tears in Sarah's eyes.

“Can I have some water, please Sarah?” she whispered, her mouth so dry she could hardly swallow.

“Sure you can, honey.”

Sarah held the cup with the bent straw so she could take a sip.

Terrified of the answer, she knew just the same she had to ask.

“Sarah, is Bob all right? He was in the car with me…”

“Yes I know.” Sarah's voice wasn't reassuring. “Just you hang on till Mr. Tate comes back with the doctor. Try not to talk.”

The door opened and Mr. Tate came in accompanied by a middle-aged man in a white coat.

The doctor bent over her.

“Hello, young lady,” he said. “So you decided to wake up at last.”

“Is my husband all right?”

The glance the doctor threw Mr. Tate and Sarah told Kathleen all she needed to know.

“He's dead isn't he?” Her throat felt tight and she blinked away the tears when the doctor gravely nodded.

She'd never seen Mr. Tate looking so anxious. “I'll tell you all you want to know just as soon as the doctor's examined you. Sarah and I will be right outside the door.”

A nurse came in to join the doctor as Mr. Tate and Sarah left the room. Kathleen lay still while the doctor checked her vital signs, pressing everywhere and asking at the same time did she feel any pain. He explained she had a compound fracture in her leg but it was mending nicely. The lack of feeling in her left hand was due to injuries sustained to her head but should come right in time.

“That'll do for now,” he said at last. “You're probably going to feel sleepy for the next two or three days, but it'll wear off.” He patted her shoulder. “I'll get your folks.”

Mr. Tate came in alone and sat by her bed. A dark stubble shadowed his cheek, and his eyes were red and puffy. She'd never seen him in such a rumpled shirt. It wasn't like him to look so scruffy.

“I have to know, Mr. Tate,” she said, “did Bob suffer?”

Her boss shook his head. “He died at the scene. I don't think he even knew what hit him.”

He looked at her uneasily over his glasses, probably expecting her to cry. Kathleen wondered why she didn't go all to pieces and start screaming hysterically like a wife was supposed to do. Her husband had just died, for God's sake. Probably just a delayed reaction. Shock or something. And anyway, she was just too tired to cry, too tired to even think.

“Poor Bob,” she whispered. “Poor, poor Bob.”

“Hush now. It wasn't your fault. Don't blame yourself.”

“It all happened so fast, I can't remember much. Just flashes. It was raining hard, and Bob and I, we….”

“Hush now,” Mr. Tate said again. “Don't tax your mind too much. It'll all come back to you. You're right about one thing, though. It was a hell of a wet afternoon and there was no way you could have avoided that pickup truck. The guy ran a stop sign and pulled out right in front of you. He said he couldn't stop.”

“Neither could I.” She remembered seeing the truck approach the intersection in the pouring rain. “I slammed on the brakes but nothing happened. I think they locked and I slid right into him. Is he hurt, the driver of the truck?”

“No. He walked away without a scratch. He's got good insurance, though. Most of the front end of your car is bashed in and it was towed away to a body shop. They're taking a look at it.”

He tugged nervously at his tie. “But you don't need to be worrying about that now. That's the least of our worries.”

Her leg throbbed and she wished she'd thought to ask the doctor could she have some medicine for the pain.

“How long was I unconscious?”

“Three days.”

“
Three days.
”

Mr. Tate loosened his tie some more. “Yeah. You had the wreck on Saturday and it's Tuesday now. Thank God you're all right.”

“Has Bob been…”

“Buried? Yes. The funeral was yesterday. Homer Conroy and Freddie's momma took care of it.”

“That was very kind. I'll have to thank them,” she said woodenly.

“Yes, well, Homer did everything just right. He's nothing like Otis, even though they're brothers.”

“Did Otis come?”

“No. He was contacted but, well he just didn't come.”

She grimaced. That was right on track for Otis. He wouldn't have come because Bob would be no use to him anymore.

“Did anybody call my mother and father?” she asked.

“Yes, Belle and I called them right away. You were hurt bad, Kathleen, and they had a right to know. Just as soon as you're able, we're going to get you to a phone somewhere in the hospital, so you can talk to them yourself.”

“They'll be worrying themselves sick about me. Did, did you tell them about Bob?”

“Yeah, so you don't have to worry about going through all of that. Either Belle or I have called them every day since you had the wreck, and your father's been on the phone to us a couple of times.”

She couldn't bear to think of her family worrying about her. She had a mental picture of them gathered around the phone, horrified when they heard the awful news. It would be all over Chester by now and a special mass had probably already been said for her at Our Lady's. Every day people would come into the bakery to ask how she was. She visualized the women in Nina's shop, talking about it while they had their hair done.

“Nina's trying to get an emergency American visa,” Mr. Tate said, “but there's so much red tape, it'll take weeks. She probably stands a better chance of getting into Mecca than being allowed into the United States right now, what with all this better-dead-than-red hoopla going on.”

He scratched the stubble on his chin. “The Immigration Department sent the hospital all kinds of forms to fill out, to prove you were in a bad accident. It's real complicated and who knows how long it's all going to take.”

Mr. Tate leaned toward her. “Your mother asked us to make sure a priest visits you. She said you'd like that.”

Kathleen smiled. “That sounds like Mum. She's always trying to make a good Catholic out of me.”

She felt herself becoming drowsy. Mr. Tate was becoming fuzzy and her eyes were closing.

“I wish I could stay awake,” she said, aware she slurred her words. “But I can't. I'm just so sleepy. Please go home and get some sleep, Mr. Tate. You look like you could use it.”

* * *

The next time Kathleen opened her eyes, dawn filtered into her room. Now that she was awake, she'd try to stay that way. She realized then that she wasn't awake after all. She must still be asleep and dreaming of Ron Velnes because here he was sitting in a chair beside her bed. It had to be a dream because there was no way he would have known she was in a hospital. But when Ron leaned over and placed the whisper of a kiss on her poor bruised face, her hand went up of its own accord to touch his hair.

“You're in my dream aren't you, Ron? You think I don't know this but you're not fooling me. I know a dream when I see one.” And the dream smiled.

“Welcome back, Kathleen,” Freddie Conroy said softly. “You called me Ron. Guess you must have been dreamin' about someone you know.”

The dream evaporated, leaving her lost and lonely. But Freddie smiled and she squeezed his hand.

“I wondered when you were going to come.”

He pretended indignation. “I've been comin' every day, but you didn't know it. The doctor told Mr. Tate only family was allowed to visit, and Mr. Tate told the doctor him and me were just about as close to family as you could get. So, they let us both come.”

She'd never seen Freddie's smile so sad.

“Bob's dead,” she said.

“Yes, I know.”

He pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose. “Don't you be thinkin' it was your fault,” he said in as firm a voice as he'd ever used with her. He sounded more frightened than anything else. “The doctor told Mr. Tate you'd better not think any such thing. If you do, it'll bring on a setback.”

“I'm not blaming myself,” she said. “I'm still trying to remember exactly what happened. It's all so fuzzy, but the doctor said it'll come back to me and not to worry about it too much.”

* * *

After Freddie left, she stared out the window. She hadn't remembered fully what happened prior to the accident until now, but in the stillness of her room it all came back. There'd been a terrible row. The scene was vivid now and Bob once again flashed her ring in front of her face before he flung it out the window into the river below.

She touched her lip and knew the swelling came not from the accident but from the blow Bob had dealt her with the back of his hand. They'd grappled for control of the wheel, even with conditions on the road so bad.

How had she ever come to such a low point in her life? The dazzling soldier she'd fallen madly in love with had turned out to be her worst enemy. Well, maybe not quite her worst. Surely that dubious title went to Otis Conroy, her husband's father.

The first feeling of guilty relief crept slyly into her mind.

She was released from her dark thoughts when a nurse breezed through the door.

“So, how are we doing today?” she asked in the placid manner of nurses everywhere.

“All right,” Kathleen said, “except I don't seem to be able to keep my eyes open for very long.”

“You're doing fine,” she said. “We're going to have you sitting in a chair tomorrow.”

“What time is it, nurse?”

“Try not to talk while the thermometer's in your mouth, honey.” The nurse placed two fingers on Kathleen's pulse and looked at her watch. “It's just on midnight.”

She shook the thermometer and put it away. “A Mrs. Tate called a couple of hours ago. Told me to tell you she's coming to see you just as soon as she can get up enough nerve to get in William's car, whatever that means.”

Kathleen smiled, knowing if Belle could manage that, she'd be flying high.

Within a few days, Mr. Tate pushed Kathleen in a wheelchair to a hospital phone so she could call England.

Telephone calls across the Atlantic were expensive and all the time she'd been in the United States, Kathleen had never once telephoned her family. They had all decided early on that unless there was an emergency they would write to each other rather than pay the added expense of using the phone. She listened now, heart beating like a drum, to the almost forgotten but very distinct sound of the ringing of an English telephone.

“Hello,” Frank McCreadie said, from all those thousands of miles away.

“Hello, Dad,” she croaked. “It's me, Kath.” Her throat constricted from the unexpected surge of emotion at hearing her father's voice.

“Kath? Kathleen? Is it really you? Just a minute love, you try to hang on while I get the others.” He shouted now in his excitement.

“Dorothy, Tina, get your mum and Kevin quick. Kath's on the phone. Our Kath in America. Come on Dorothy, get a move on.”

She talked to them all in turn. Her mother and Nina sounded all choked up. She hardly recognized Kevin, his voice deep now, like a man's. Dorothy's voice sounded refined, more dignified than before.

Probably because they thought it would upset her, nobody mentioned Bob had been killed in the wreck, and she couldn't bring herself to either. No, she hadn't seen Bob's father. He'd moved to another part of the country. But yes, she lied, he'd telephoned several times. Eventually, their father interrupted, saying as wonderful as it was to talk to Kathleen, it looked like she'd end up paying a bloody fortune for the phone call, and it was time to say good-bye.