Different Drummers (25 page)

“Do everything the doctor says, Kath,” her mother said, allowed to have the last word.

“I will, Mum. Believe me I will.”

Mr. Tate wheeled her back to her room, and after he'd coaxed the nurse into bringing them both a cup of tea, he pulled a tiny chamois bag from his inside pocket.

“Here's something I think you'll be pleased to have.” He loosened the little drawstring and pulled out her emerald ring. “I've been waiting to give you this until I thought you were well enough.”

He placed it in the palm of her hand.

“But…but Bob threw it out the car window,” she stuttered. “He threw it into the river.”

“It was clutched in his hand, Kathleen,” Mr. Tate said gently, without batting an eye. Surely he knew she hadn't meant to tell him that.

Looking into his knowing eyes, it would serve no purpose to tell him what really happened. She might have known Bob wouldn't throw away six thousand dollars, not even to hurt her. With her eyes on the road ahead, it would have been so easy for him to pretend to throw the ring through the open window. If he'd lived, would he have given it back to her, or would he always let her think he'd thrown it over the Congaree River bridge? She tried hard to give him the benefit of the doubt, but didn't succeed. As she cast her mind back to those last few minutes before the crash, there was no doubt that Bob meant to keep the ring and sell it.

“Bob had a lot of cash on him,” Mr. Tate said. “Well over a thousand dollars and most of it was in one hundred dollar bills. I've put it in my bank account for you. You can transfer it to yours when you get out of here.”

She must have been looking at Mr. Tate strangely, because he looked worried and said, “Don't upset yourself over this. You've got your ring back and the money's in the bank. That's all that matters.”

“The money will pay for my hospital expenses,” she said. “Freddie told me this room is costing at least twenty dollars a day and it's beginning to mount up.”

Mr. Tate waved his hand airily. “You don't have to worry about any of that either. The guy in the truck had good liability insurance which should cover everything. But if it doesn't, the
Gazette
has a good hospitalization policy for its employees and it'll pick up any excess.”

She handed her ring back to Mr. Tate. “Please put this back in the little bag and take it home with you,” she said. “I think I'll go to sleep now.”

* * *

Kathleen's room filled with flowers. There were at least five bouquets from the neighbors and a huge bunch from the
Gazette
. St. Peter's church sent some, with others from Phillips Hardware and Laura's Dress Shop. Kathleen knew every single person listed on the card that accompanied the two dozen roses from Todd's Bar and Grill.

Lennie Barlow and his wife visited her, along with Bernie, Patsy Ashcraft, and others from the office. Dr. Parker came too, pretending to be there in an official capacity, but he wasn't much of a liar and Kathleen knew it was because he liked her and wanted her to get well.

It took Belle Tate more than two weeks to get up enough nerve to get in her husband's car and come to the hospital. But when one considered how just a short time ago she'd been incapable of even stepping over her own doorstep, it was indeed a great triumph.

Belle brought Kathleen the letter from the U.S. Army offering condolences on the death of her husband. The United States of America had lost one of its finest, the letter said. It also stated Corporal Robert Conroy had a life insurance policy and Kathleen McCreadie Conroy, wife of the deceased, was listed as beneficiary. A check for ten thousand dollars would be sent to her in due course.

It was in the quiet of her hospital room, sometimes in the dead of night, when Kathleen did most of her soul-searching. She agonized for hours, believing Bob would probably be alive today if he'd married someone else, maybe a hometown girl who regularly attended the Holiness Church of Jesus, and didn't mind at all that her husband could hardly read or write, or that his father was some kind of religious fanatic. She'd seen Bob's love for her turn to hate, and felt powerless as one door after another had closed in her face.

And now it was over. All over. A chapter in her life had ended. Bob was dead and she was alive. She remembered again Dr. Parker's words. She wasn't responsible for any of this. She'd done the best she could and it was time to come to terms, time to mend her broken spirit.

There were other times when Ron Velnes wandered, uninvited, through the corridors of her mind. Had he gone back to Yvonne? Not even the talkative Dorothy had mentioned his name, either on the phone or in letters. But then why would she? It certainly wouldn't have been appropriate to mention a sister's previous love while that sister grieved for a newly deceased husband. Did Ron even know she'd been hurt in a wreck or that her husband had been killed? Surely, his mother would write and tell him the news. Would she, though? Her son had once been jilted by this woman who was now a widow, and after all, widows weren't the same as young, untouched pretty girls, were they?

* * *

The doctor removed the cast from her leg on the day she was released from the hospital.

“You won't be turning any cartwheels for a while,” he said, with a friendly smile. “Just have patience. It was a bad break. And don't worry either that you still don't have full use of your left hand. You'll get it back. The muscles will strengthen with time.”

The Tates took it for granted she'd stay with them. She couldn't help but be moved by all the preparations they'd made. In her room she saw the special touches that hadn't been there before. A phone rested on the bedside table and the television from the little house stood in a corner. Belle told her Sarah had made the yellow organdy curtains, and the beautiful hand-made quilt on the bed had once belonged to Mr. Tate's grandmother.

Trying in her own small way to repay the Tates for their kindness, and also because she genuinely cared, Kathleen put her heart and soul into helping Belle overcome completely her fear of the outdoors. Making the excuse she needed someone to lean on, she coaxed Belle into walking short distances with her along Petrie Avenue, and a couple of times they even turned the corner onto Vine Road.

Then came the red-letter day. “I'm going to the A&P to pick up a few things.” Belle assumed a casual pose, but her nervous smile gave her away.

“Do you feel like coming, Sarah? And you too, Kathleen. You can lean on me.”

* * *

Five weeks after leaving the hospital, Kathleen sat on the porch alone, remembering her first full day in Eddisville when she and Freddie had driven past this house.

It was now November and South Carolina basked in the sunshine of a late Indian summer's day. As Kathleen stared down Petrie Avenue, the street of elegant Southern homes disappeared and a winding English lane, shrouded in fog, was there instead. She saw people hurrying along, wrapped warmly against the bone-chilling cold of an English November day. She blinked and the scene was gone.

“What is it, Kathleen?” Mr. Tate asked. He'd just arrived home from the
Gazette
and looked very much like he had that first day they'd met, glasses still perched precariously on the end of his nose. “What're you thinking about, girl?”

She smiled as she felt the yearning taking hold.

“Home,” she said simply. “I'm thinking about home.”

* * *

“I have to go,” she said a few days later. “I'm longing to see my family. And I need to see if I can find that other person, the one who used to be me.”

“Don't search too hard, Kathleen,” Mr. Tate said. “That other person, the one you used to be, is gone forever, and a different but wiser person has taken her place.”

She nodded. “I don't know about being any wiser, but at least I don't have my head in the clouds anymore.”

“We'd like to keep you forever,” Belle said, “but it's only natural you'd want to see your folks.”

Kathleen tried to lighten the mood. “England doesn't seem nearly as far away as it once did. Nina said more people are flying across the ocean these days than are going by ship. The flight only takes twelve hours and she said there'll soon be planes with jet engines that'll fly even faster. And I'll be coming back for visits if you'll have me. You're not getting rid of me that easily.”

Mr. Tate winked slyly at Kathleen before turning to Belle. “Do you remember saying if you ever got up enough nerve to leave this house again, we'd do some traveling?”

Belle smiled. “Yes, but you'll have to give me more time to get used to the idea.”

Mr. Tate's eyes suddenly grew misty. “It's just that we always dreamed of going to the American Cemetery in England to visit Cooper's grave.”

Belle patted her husband's hand. “Yes I know, William. And it's all right. We'll go soon. Very soon.”

Kathleen saw the blush in Belle's cheeks and her eyes sparkled like they did a lot these days.

“And when you come, you'll have to visit us,” she said. “You'll love Chester. It's very old, even has a Roman wall all around the old city.”

* * *

On her last day in Eddisville, Kathleen told the Tates she wanted time alone with Freddie before she left, and after she was packed and ready to go, the two sat together on the porch.

“What am I going to do without you?” Freddie grumbled. “Since you came, Eddisville took on a sort of shine for me. It's all gonna disappear after you're gone.”

She gave him a gentle nudge. “Ah, come on, Freddie. Don't be so downhearted. You've been going pretty steady with Mary Mayhew. She's wild about you and why shouldn't she be? Whoever gets you is going to be one of the luckiest girls in the world.”

She looked at his sweet, sad face. Now was the time. “I've got something for you that's going to put a smile back on that face of yours,” she said.

“I bet you ain't.” He looked determined not to be cheered up.

“We'll see. Walk with me down to the little house. There's something I want to show you.”

When they got near she asked him to close his eyes and she led him by the hand as they walked around to the driveway. Even though the front end of the red Studebaker had been crushed, the body shop in Columbia had put it back together so you'd never know it had been in a wreck. It looked brand new.

“OK, you can open your eyes now,” she said.

They stood in front of the car. Freddie looked bewildered. “I…I don't understand.”

Kathleen reached up and planted a kiss on his cheek. “It's yours, Freddie. I don't know what I would have done without you, and I'll remember you and value your friendship as long as I live. You see, it's not the end of the world.”

Freddie smiled and his eyes crackled. “No it ain't, is it?”

When he took her in the Studebaker for one last spin around the town, she asked him to stop outside the house on Bennington Street. As she looked at the dismal house, she cast her mind back to that first day when she'd stepped down from Freddie's truck and felt the overpowering desperation and strangeness take hold. Was it just nineteen months, or nineteen years since she'd watched Beulah lay down her hoe and walk toward her?

“Good-bye Beulah, I'll never forget you,” she whispered so softly even Freddie couldn't hear.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Kathleen left Eddisville with mixed feelings. How could she be so glad to leave and yet at the same time hate so much to go? They all piled into William Tate's Cadillac. Belle sat alongside William while Kathleen, Freddie, and Sarah were in the back seat. They left purposefully at the last minute so there'd be no hanging about. All the meaningful things had been said the night before, and they'd decided there'd be no long drawn-out good-byes, no tears.

People were already boarding when they arrived at the gate. There was only time for a quick hug all around before Kathleen limped as fast as she could to the plane. From the top step, she turned and waved. Then, as the tears streamed down her face, she let the steward direct her to her seat.

She flew out of Columbia to Atlanta, where she boarded a direct flight to New York's Idlewild Airport.

She had a four-hour wait for the Manchester-bound BOAC plane. While she painfully limped the length of the terminal three times, to exercise her leg, she talked herself into telephoning Ron Velnes.

After all, she rationalized, the opportunity to speak to him, even if only on the phone, might never come again. The least she could do was call and say good-bye.

She leaned against the wall of the phone booth while she attempted to insert her money. Because there wasn't any more feeling in her left hand than when she'd left the hospital, she dropped her coins on the floor a couple of times before finally managing to insert them in the slot.

She gave the Montreal number to the operator and her heart pounded almost out of control as she listened to the repeated ringing of the phone. Just when she'd decided there was nobody home and was about to hang up, a male voice answered that certainly wasn't Ron's.

“May I speak to Ron Velnes,” she said uncertainly.

“He isn't here right now,” the voice said.

“Oh?”

“Can I tell him you called?”

“Yes, please. Would you tell him Kathleen rang.”

“Kathleen?”

“Yes. He'll know me. I'm an old friend of his.”

“Does he have your number?”

“Oh, he won't be able to ring me back. I'm on my way home to England.”

She tried to sound like it didn't matter that Ron wasn't there after all, and hated it when the deep breath she tried to take turned into a sob.

“When he comes in, will you tell him please I called to say good-bye?”

“Maybe you'll get a chance to tell him yourself,” the voice said. “Ron's in England now and I'm subletting his flat while he's away.”

“Everything's all right isn't it?” she asked cautiously. “I mean his family…”

She didn't know how to complete the sentence. After all, how did you ask a perfect stranger over the telephone if Ron had taken Yvonne with him, or anyone else for that matter?

“More or less,” the voice said, in answer to her question. “He badgered his company to send him over there on a two-month assignment. Somebody he knew back in England was almost killed in a wreck and he wants to be there when this person gets home.”

Kathleen's heart soared.

* * *

The huge BOAC plane raced down the runway, and then lifted easily into the New York night sky. Kathleen sat next to the window. Apart from the flight to LaGuardia, this was her first ever airplane ride and her gaze was riveted on the scene below. To her charged imagination, the city lights with their neon signs, so garish from the ground, now became rubies, emeralds, and sapphires. The lighted streets and highways were gold bracelets and necklaces. The huge metropolis stretched below her like a mammoth web studded with precious stones.

At dawn the next morning the plane flew over the Irish Sea and approached the coast of Wales. Kathleen felt for the first time the tearing emotion any wanderer feels at the first glimpse of his homeland. The Welsh hills were covered with snow, turning pink now from the rising sun. A few minutes later the plane was flying low and straight down the middle of the Mersey, almost as if the pilot knew this would thrill her to pieces.

Two short hours later, after going through Customs and Security, Kathleen turned the corner to see her family on the other side of the barrier, all five of them waving madly to welcome her home.

She hobbled as fast as she could toward them.

THE END