Different Drummers (5 page)

Kathleen tried without success to block out the picture of her family staring up at her from the dockside. “Yes, I am missing them. More than I ever thought I would. I do want to tell you about them but perhaps some other time. It's been a long, long day for me. Would you mind if go to bed and we discuss this another time?”

“No, you go right ahead. I reckon I'll just sit out here a spell longer. I do just have to say I'm as sorry as I can be that I didn't write to your momma. It mattered to me more than I let on. But I never had much schoolin', never did learn to read and write.”

“That's all right. It doesn't matter.” Kathleen felt the need for contact, a touch of any kind, and put her hand on her mother-in-law's shoulder. “Goodnight and thanks. I'll see you tomorrow.”

She showered quickly, in no mood now to take that long soaking bath she'd dreamed about as she'd waited outside Gus's in the scorching heat.

Before getting into bed she stared out the window at the full moon. It was rising above the trees, covering her mother-in-law's garden with a mantle of silver. The Carolina night was alive with a cacophony of sounds, the familiar mingling with the unknown. The chirping sound she attributed to what must surely be hundreds of crickets, and she recognized the croaking sound of frogs. An owl hooted in a tree close by and received an answering call from another owl far off in the distance.

She stretched out on the bed and closed her eyes, trying to block out the little room. Her mind raced through the day, searching for something she could concentrate on, some happy incident or surprise to bring her a measure of comfort, however small. Tears slipped from under her eyelids when nothing came to mind, unless you counted her mother-in-law's unexpected friendliness at the end of the day. But Kathleen had expected more, so much more.

While she waited for sleep, she tried to imagine Otis Conroy joining her father and his mates in the Ring O' Bells for a glass of beer and perhaps a game of darts, but the idea was too ridiculous. She'd have to make up something when she wrote to her family tomorrow.

* * *

The next morning Kathleen stayed in her room and very quietly unpacked one of her suitcases. From the snatches of conversation coming under the door, it was apparent Otis planned to give Selma a lift to Gus's on his way to the sawmill. As soon as she heard the car pull out of the driveway, she dressed and left her room to start her first full day in Eddisville. She was touched by her mother-in-law's obvious effort to appear more presentable. The wiry graying hair, so wild-looking yesterday, had been coaxed into a neat bun at the nape of her neck and she wore a cotton plaid dress. And there was that gentle smile again as she set a plate before Kathleen.

“Mm, this looks good. I don't think I've ever had this, though.” Kathleen looked at the gooey mound on her plate along with the fried eggs and streaky bacon. “What do you call it?”

“They're grits. Ain't you never had no grits?”

Kathleen shook her head.

“Well, I reckon you're in for a treat. And here's some jam for the biscuits.” Her mother-in-law placed the jar by Kathleen's plate. “I made it with the strawberries I grew in my garden last year.”

“I didn't expect you to cook my breakfast, Mrs. Conroy,” Kathleen said as she forced down the grits. “I don't want to be too much trouble and I'll try to help you any way I can.”

“Then you can start by not callin' me Miz Conroy. I'd like it if you'd call me Beulah.”

Kathleen buttered her biscuit and reached for the jam. “I'd like that too. Mrs. Conroy sounds too formal. I just didn't know what else to call you.”

She sighed as she stared out the kitchen window toward the road. “I hope Bob comes today. I can't wait to see him.”

* * *

An hour later, Beulah walked in with the mail. She handed Kathleen an envelope. “This must be for you. Nobody round here gets much mail except maybe Otis, but I can tell this ain't for him.”

Kathleen's heart beat a little faster as she recognized her mother's handwriting, and almost snatched the envelope out of Beulah's hand.

“Yes, yes, it is for me. It's a letter from home.”

Seeking a measure of privacy, she excused herself and sat on the front steps. This was her first letter from home and she held it close to her breast, savoring the moment, then she tore open the envelope. There were five pages, one from each member of her family.

Her father said business was picking up at the bakery and they were already taking lunchtime orders from the local factory. Mum wanted to know Mrs. Conroy's likes and dislikes, so she'd have an idea what to say when she wrote to her. Did she, for instance, play bridge? And incidentally, had Kath found out why the woman hadn't replied to her other letter?

Nina said she'd turned Kath's bedroom into a sewing room. Seemed a shame to leave it like it was. It could be years before she returned to England. Oh yes, she was saving the best news till last. The Yanks were finally leaving Brenton. Looked like Kath had bagged hers just in time. And, by the way, had she sent the nylons yet?

Dorothy said she'd sat by Ron Velnes on the bus the other day. He'd told her he might be going to Canada to visit his sister who'd married that Canadian during the war. Ron used to laugh a lot but was more serious these days. Did Kath think he was still carrying a torch for her after all this time?

Kevin said he'd gone up to Beacon Hill last Sunday and heard the cuckoo call six times. Did Kath remember how they used to walk up there, even on rainy days?

They all wanted to know about her new home. Was it as fine as she'd imagined? What were her in-laws like? Did everyone speak with lovely soft southern accents?

After the sixth reading of the five letters, Kathleen looked up and stared off into the distance. It was early June and her father's roses in the garden at the back of the bakery would be in full bloom. She could almost smell their scent mingling with that of the freshly baked bread. And if she listened really hard, she could hear the jingle of the bell over the door as people came and went inside the shop.

She didn't hear Freddie Conroy pull up in his pickup truck and jumped when he tapped briefly on his horn. She looked up, hardly seeing him through her tears. If he noticed he made no sign but instead gave her a huge grin.

“Mornin', Kathleen. Do you feel like goin' for a ride? Don't think I told you, but I work at the sawmill along with Otis. I'm workin' the night shift so I've got the time. I'd like to show you somethin' of Eddisville. There ain't all that much to see, but still and all, there's more than you saw yesterday.”

Kathleen eased the letter into her skirt pocket. “Oh, yes please. I'd like that. Just give me a minute while I let Beulah know.”

What a godsend this was. The prospect of spending the day confined to the house had filled her with dread. Now a respite had presented itself in the form of Freddie.

“Well, I dunno,” Beulah said when Kathleen told her. “What'll I tell Bobby if he comes while you're gone?”

“We shouldn't be gone all that long. If he does come, you can just say Freddie is showing me around.”

She grabbed her purse, determined to go. “Please understand, Beulah. It's just for a little while.” She turned and left before Beulah could raise any more objections.

“I could hear what Beulah was sayin',” Freddie said. “I don't mean to cause no trouble, but I felt, well, sort of sorry for you, when you got here yesterday. Just between you and me, this branch of the Conroys ain't never gonna put themselves out all that much to give you a decent welcome. I guess I just had it in mind to show you a bit of good old-fashioned Southern hospitality.”

Kathleen couldn't help but notice the truck had been washed and spruced up. “Don't worry about it, Freddie. As far as I'm concerned, you're heaven-sent. I don't know what I would have done all day if you hadn't asked me.”

He smiled as she took a seat beside him. “Well, OK. I was thinkin' you might like a tour of our town. We'll take a drive along some of our ritziest streets and then there's a few places of interest you might like.”

When they came to a broad tree-lined avenue, Freddie slowed his truck to a crawl. Here they were, the beautiful homes with the wide columned verandas, just like she'd seen in the movies. She'd imagined all along Bob would live in such a house and felt an ache deep down as if she'd been cheated. In fairness to Bob she had to allow he'd told her no such thing and only her own silly romantic imaginings had led her to think so.

“This here's Petrie Avenue, one of our prettiest streets. That house on the corner there belongs to the Simpson family. They own a lot of the land hereabouts and have a nice home at the beach. I work for old man Simpson some, and once or twice I've gone to the beach to tend to his shrubbery.”

Kathleen craned her neck. “Is that a swimming pool at the back of his house?”

“Yes ma'am, it sure is. There's money in that family. Oh, and this house next door belongs to William Tate. He owns
The Eddisville Gazette
. That's the town newspaper.”

“You mean a little town like Eddisville has its own newspaper?”

“Well, it's not a daily like they have in big cities like Columbia. The
Gazette
comes out on a Friday. The whole town gets it though. It's full of news about everyone hereabouts, and lots of other stuff some folks find interestin'.”

They turned from Petrie onto Vine Road. “Old Doc Parker lives in this house. He comes from up north somewhere and owns the clinic downtown. He's kinda nice, even if he is a Yankee. He'll do what he can for you and give you a fair price. If you ever get sick, Kathleen, this is the man you need to see.”

He smiled at her. Kathleen would have said, if anybody had asked her, that Freddie Conroy was a very ordinary looking young man, a nice face but the sort who wouldn't stand out in a crowd. That was until he smiled. His face changed when he smiled, giving him one of the gentlest looks she'd ever seen.

After Vine Road they drove down Fairfax Avenue, Freddie singling out particular houses and giving snippets of information about the owners. Then, slowly, as if he'd guessed Kathleen didn't want to leave this small but elegant part of town, he turned his truck onto the main street. He pulled into the parking lot of Todd's Bar and Grill. “Come on, let's get a hot dog or somethin'. We might see some of them people I've been tellin' you about. Everybody eats in here.”

It was lunchtime and the restaurant was crowded. There were about six tables in the center and booths around the side. In the corner stood a jukebox. All eyes turned in their direction.

“They're all lookin' at you and wonderin' who you are,” Freddie whispered as he guided her to a table closest to the cash register. “See their faces. You're creatin' quite a stir.”

He fiddled with the salt and pepper shakers in the middle of the table. “I don't want you to think I'm gettin' fresh or nothing, Kathleen, but you really are somethin' else. There ain't nothin' like you anywhere around these parts. No sir, nothin' like you from here all the way to Atlanta.”

Freddie Conroy was like a breath of fresh air and Kathleen believed him when he said he wasn't trying to be fresh. He was one of that rare breed who is totally without guile. What a miracle he'd turned up to befriend her at this dark moment in her life. What would she have done without him? It was easy to see why he'd picked the table next to the cash register. When people stopped to pay for their meal, he introduced her.

“This is Kathleen, Bobby Conroy's wife from England,” he said to each one. He said it proudly, almost as if the very fact she was here in Eddisville was all his idea. People smiled and nodded, some shook her hand, and some stopped to say a few words, to wish her well in her new country.

At Freddie's recommendation, she ordered a hot dog all the way, french fries, and a glass of iced tea. He put some money in the jukebox and played “Long Ago and Far Away.” His enthusiasm was infectious. She returned his smile and hummed along to the music. Was it possible she was actually enjoying herself? After her dismal arrival yesterday and the ghastly incident at the table with her father-in-law, she could hardly believe it.

Freddie looked toward the door. “Here comes old man Tate. Remember now, he owns
The Eddisville Gazette
. He's always in a hurry. I ain't never seen a man rushin' around as much as he does.”

They watched as Mr. Tate hung his hat on the rack close to the register.

“Just a cup of coffee, Johnny, please,” he said to the youth behind the counter. “I don't have a lot of time and can see how crowded you are. I can't see an empty table anywhere.”

He was a heavyset man who appeared to be in his middle fifties. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the beads of perspiration from his brow while his eyes searched the room and came to rest on their table.

“What say, Mr. Tate,” Freddie said. “You're welcome to join us. Anyways, I think I have a piece of news for the
Gazette
.”

“Much obliged to you Freddie.” He smiled at Kathleen as he eased his bulky frame into the chair. “Morning, young lady. I don't believe we've met and it doesn't look like Freddie's going to introduce us.”

Freddie pretended indignation. “Yes I was. You haven't given me a chance yet. This here's Kathleen and she's my news. She's Bobby Conroy's brand new wife, all the way from England. I was the very first person she spoke to when she got off the bus yesterday, and I was the one who drove her to Bobby's house.”

Kathleen squirmed a little at Freddie's lengthy introduction but it was easy to see the men were on friendly terms, in spite of the obvious difference in their ages and backgrounds. Did she imagine the slightly raised eyebrows and questioning look that seemed to flit across Mr. Tate's face when Freddie mentioned Bob?