The Art of Breathing

by Janie DeVos

  “Now, seeing as how you’re a big high-class lawyer and such, you could probably worm your way out of all that mess. But you know, it just might tarnish that sterling reputation of yours. And who wants to do business with a crooked lawyer?

  “Personally speakin’, I think the whole lot of you is a bunch of no-goods, and I bet a few more people might come around to my way of thinkin’ if they were to find out what really goes on behind closed doors. And you know, Geoff, even if you were to try to take me down by claiming I’m just a moonshinin’ ol’ jailbird, it’s gonna take quite a bit of your time and money convincing folks not to listen to me and continue believin’ in you. And, hey, I don’t have much else to do right now, so I’m game to get into it with you. Shoot, why not?

  “Either that, Geoff, or you get the hell out of here right now and don’t come back. I have a great memory, and what I saw goin’ on with you and your buddies won’t fade from my mind for a long, long time. And who’s got sharper memories than young’uns? I bet those little gals can remember real well, too. Ya think maybe our apple brandy helps to keep the mind clear?”

  I held on to the porch railing in front of me with a death grip. Hearing what Ditty had witnessed made my stomach turn, and I kept swallowing hard and taking deep breaths to keep myself from being sick. As shocking as Ditty’s allegations were, I thought back to those nights when Geoffrey claimed he was working but his explanations just didn’t quite add up. There’d been too many times he’d come in late, with whiskey on his breath and poor excuses for it. I didn’t know whether I had chosen to turn a blind eye to what might have been going on, or whether I had just put too much faith in my husband to believe he would ever do anything to hurt me or jeopardize our marriage. Either way, the realization of what had been taking place during some of his late evenings may well have devastated me at another point in our marriage, but it didn’t now. It just confirmed what I already knew: The marriage was over.

  Geoffrey was standing stock-still, but his face was beet red and his hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists. “You’re a lying son of a bitch, Andrew! Do you really think you can get away with trying to blackmail me?”

  “No, no, Geoff,” Ditty said, sticking the toothpick back into the corner of his mouth. “Like I said, you’d probably win, but the fun of it all is playin’ the game. Shall we have a go at it? I can make a couple of phone calls and get the ball rolling.”

  “Go to hell, Andrew.”

  “Go to Cabot, Geoff. And leave Kate and Donnie be.”

  Geoffrey stared at Ditty as though he was weighing the likelihood that my brother would actually follow through with his threat. Then, obviously deciding it wasn’t worth the risk to find out, he opened his car door and moved around it to get in. “I’ll see you in court, Kathryn. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you raise our son in this hillbilly backwoods town—around these kinds of people! I’m going to fight you for custody with everything I’ve got!”

  “No, you won’t,” I evenly stated. “No, you won’t, Geoffrey, and I’ll tell you why: because Donnie’s too much of an inconvenience for you. He’s a disposable child in your eyes. He’s never held much importance in your life, or value. And if you do try to take him, just to spite me, I’ll fight you with every ounce of strength I have left in this body, and I’ll make it a very ugly public affair. And even if I don’t win, legally speaking, I’ll make sure you lose, professionally speaking. The public will see me as the pathetic wife, stuck away in a state sanatorium, close to death from tuberculosis, heartbroken at being away from her husband and little boy, only to learn her husband tired of the inconvenience of raising their son alone and selfishly sent him away to boarding school. Can you imagine the reaction when folks learn the reason the father chose boarding school was because his son interfered with the man’s extracurricular—and illegal—activities?”

  I walked down the porch steps and stopped about six feet away from my husband. He was absolutely stunned by my defiance. I looked closely at him before speaking again and could see the anger and fear on his face. Despite all of the betrayals, and the lies and deceit, this man standing before me had been someone I once loved. He had tried to love Donnie and me in the same way he had been shown love by his own father and probably his father before him. It was a skewed love, both crippling and cruel, though its destructiveness was unintentional. Suddenly, all of the intense emotions—both good and bad—that I’d ever felt toward my husband were gone, replaced in an instant by one emotion only: pity.

  “Let us go, Geoffrey,” I said, taking a couple of steps toward him. “You know that I’m not what you want in a wife. I never was. First, I was an amusement, then a conquest, and finally, an embarrassment to you. You’ve never liked my humble beginnings, or the fact that I’m proud of where I came from and have always refused to pretend that I’m something I’m not. It embarrasses you that fifty percent of Donnie comes from that same stock, and that he tends to be more like me than you, and feels comfortable here. He’s happy in Howling Cut, and I will be again, too, once I heal some.

  “Let’s part quietly and gently from each other, Geoffrey, for your sake and mine, but most importantly, for our son’s. Then we can each be who we want to be, comfortably and freely, without worrying that we’re hurting each other, or forcing each other to be someone or something we’re not.” I laid my hand on his hand, which was bracing the car door open, creating another barrier between us. “Please, Geoffrey,” I quietly said, “go live your life and let us live ours. He’ll always be your son, and you’ll always influence him. I promise you, he’ll grow up to be a wonderful man. We’ll both see to that.” I waited. Geoffrey still said nothing, but I knew his mind was busy processing all that had been said, and what he stood to gain or to lose should he fight me on this.

  “Kathryn . . .” The anger and the fear had left his face, leaving him looking tired and resigned. “I never meant to hurt you, or Donnie. Nor did I mean for things to turn out this way.”

  “I know that, Geoffrey.” I nodded, squeezing his hand. “I know.”

  He stood there for a moment as though weighing what to say next. Then, obviously deciding that there was not much more to be done, he ducked into the car. “Have your attorney call my office,” he said, searching my face for a moment. I wondered if he was waiting for me to change my mind. I stood there, saying nothing. “Good-bye, Kathryn.” He turned the key to start his car.

  “Good-bye, Geoffrey.” I turned away to start the rest of my life. And the first step in doing so involved calling George Eisenhower.

  CHAPTER 37

  . . . Another Road Begins

  I sat in my car at the far end of the school’s dirt driveway and watched the different scenes of activity going on along the ridge in the distance. It was remarkable seeing how much had been accomplished in just the ten weeks since I’d called George, telling him I’d take him up on his offer to be involved in the building and running of the new rural branch of the Cabot Home for Children. It had taken us little time to break ground, partly because my parents had donated ten acres of land to the project. As a result, George had been able to put all of the government funding into the rapid building of the school.

  Several construction crews were hard at work on the first two of five permanent wooden structures that would make up the facility. There would be a four-story school building, housing first through twelfth grades; two dormitories, one for each gender; plus the administration building, and a gymnasium that could double as an auditorium when the need arose. And because Guinn Timber Products was supplying much of the materials, construction was moving along at lightning speed. The mill was also building the school’s desks, tables, and chairs, so many of the buildings would be furnished nearly as soon as they were completed.

  One of the people helping to move things along was Ditty. He’d thrown himself into the work at the sawmill, and at least for the time being, seemed enthusiastic and grateful about the positive turn his life had taken. He’d se
ttled back into his apartment above the mill’s garage, and though everyone was happy for his return, none of us was willing to bet that his return to his old life was permanent, or that he wouldn’t disappear again one morning. There was no disputing the fact that every now and then, a restlessness, and perhaps a discontentment, pushed my brother out the door and on to parts unknown. It was a part of Ditty that fought conformity, and found the day-in and day-out routines of responsibility painfully monotonous and suffocating. In that regard, he had never quite grown up, and I wondered what calamitous thing might have to happen to finally settle him down. I prayed that nothing would; that the change would simply come with the passage of years, and perhaps through the satisfaction of seeing how his hard work greatly benefited so many people. Only time would tell, though.

  Over and over again, I was amazed at how quickly things could change and had changed for all of us. How seemingly overnight, one thing could be torn down, like my marriage, while another thing could be born, like the school and my new life, all of which seemed to be changing shape with the passing of every hour.

  Checking my watch, I saw that it was almost 7:20 a.m. I needed to get a move on. I had a physics test in one hour at Vance State College for Women. After I’d called George two months ago, my second phone call had been to Vance to get information on enrollment. After reviewing my standing credits, the dean of admissions had informed me that if I carried a fairly heavy load, I could complete a two-year degree in about nine months’ time. By the following week, I was a student there. I had enrolled Donnie in Howling Cut Elementary, as well, and it tickled me that the two of us were study buddies in my parents’ kitchen every evening after supper. Life was certainly full of strange twists and turns.

  Following the test, I had to drive all the way to Cabot to interview three prospective teachers for our new school, which, we prayed, would be open for the summer semester. We knew the dormitories would be ready for our little residents, but we hoped the school would be ready then, too. Because I would still have a couple of months of schooling to complete at that time, George would come and go between the Cabot and Howling Cut locations, until I had my certificate in hand. But once I had it, I would be the official onsite assistant director, and George would only need to come to Howling Cut once a week or so.

  It would seem strange being back in Cabot. It would be the first time since I’d stopped by to pack up some of Donnie’s clothes before taking him out of Penmire. I wondered if I’d feel as separated from it now as I did from my husband. Our divorce was almost complete, due in part to the fact that I’d only asked for child support for Donnie; half of the money from the sale of our house, which was set to close the following week; and for Geoffrey to pay for my tuition. I wanted nothing more from him, though I was determined to make sure that Donnie received all that he needed and was entitled to from his father. Fortunately, Geoffrey wasn’t fighting me on it; obviously he realized that I was asking for far less than the courts would have granted me. And in all fairness, I knew that Geoffrey wanted to provide for Donnie. Just because they weren’t close didn’t mean that they didn’t love each other, and because I would raise Donnie, I made a vow to myself that I would work alongside Geoffrey to ensure that their relationship grew stronger over the years, not the opposite.

  About thirty minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot in front of Vance’s fine arts building. Early though it was, the lot was already filling up. More and more women wanted a college education these days. In the past, our professional career choices had been fairly limited to being a nurse, teacher, secretary, cook in a restaurant, or airline stewardess. But it was a new day and age in 1954, and the opportunities afforded to women were becoming far more numerous, with more and more doors opening up for us all the time. We were taking advantage of them with great enthusiasm and determination, too. But we were well aware that it was still a man’s world, and that no matter how well we performed in our studies or our work, we would be judged more critically than a man. We knew we would suffer resentment at times. But we knew that we were ready and willing to put up with it all in exchange for a better future. And not just for ourselves, but for every girl and woman who might follow, who dared to set even loftier goals for herself, and who aspired to climb to even greater heights than we could ever imagine.

  As I walked through the breezeway, the cold mid-December wind cut through my dark green wool suit, lifting the hem of the flared skirt dangerously. I pinned it against my body with a beige-gloved hand and was glad that I’d not worn a hat that day. I wished I’d taken the time to put on my coat, which sat uselessly on the front seat of the car. Increasing my pace as much as the crowded breezeway would allow, I wove in and out of a throng of female students and finally reached my physics classroom at the very end. Entering the classroom, I saw that there was as much of a commotion going on in there as there was out in the blustery hallway. School would be out for the Christmas holidays in two days, so everyone was excited.

  Finding an empty desk toward the back, I looked up at the wall clock above Dr. Toomey’s desk, and saw that it was 7:56. There were just a few minutes to go before the class bell sounded. Opening my book, I took one last look over some highlighted areas. As I studied again the material I’d read at least a dozen times throughout the semester, I couldn’t help but overhear a conversation between two young women who sat in front of me.

  “He’s cute as a button!” the redheaded girl whispered.

  “I’d call him handsome, not cute,” the blond one corrected.

  “Either way, I’d take him,” Red responded.

  “And I’d let him take me!” Blondie replied, which caused an eruption of laughter in their immediate circle.

  A new arrival sat right next to the blonde. “Who’re you talking about?” She jumped right into the conversation.

  “Our substitute teacher. Some of us had him in our Fundamentals of Physics class last night and he said he’d be here this morning. Too-long-Toomey is out for a while.” Someone snickered over the use of our physics teacher’s moniker, which described the man perfectly; he was long-winded and known for putting students to sleep.

  Smiling as I listened to them, I felt a small spark of envy for their unclouded enthusiasm over all that life might throw their way. I was seven years older than many of them, though in some ways I felt old enough to be their mother.

  Suddenly the piercing blast of the bell sent the students who were still standing scurrying for an empty seat. Just as the bell stopped, the door opened and our substitute teacher walked in with a cup of coffee in one hand and a briefcase in the other. Unlike most of the male teachers, he wasn’t wearing a dark, conservative wool suit, but instead was casually dressed in a pair of light gray slacks and a soft blue turtleneck sweater. There was no fedora covering his thick, rather long wavy hair, and it was quite obvious why this man had the undivided attention of the entire classroom.

  “Good morning, ladies.” He smiled a rather rakish smile, though it wasn’t meant to be such. It was just his laid-back, easy style and the ladies loved it. “Dr. Toomey is a bit under the weather today, so you’re stuck with me—and still stuck with your test, I’m afraid.” Good-natured booing ensued. He laughed as he turned to the blackboard, selected a piece of chalk, and began to write his name across it. But I didn’t need him to write it or to say it. I knew his name well: Philip McAllister.

  I could feel the smile spreading across my face, and I had to keep myself from laughing at the sheer joy of seeing him again. Suddenly, I felt as young and giddy as one of life’s-little-hopefuls sitting all around me.

  Philip turned back to the desk, pushed the buttons to unlatch his briefcase, and pulled out a thick sheaf of test papers. “Would one of you mind—” he began, but stopped short. He finally saw me sitting toward the back. “Well, Mrs. Cavanaugh,” he smoothly stated, but the smile that broke out on his face was as broad as mine. “Would you please help me pass these out?” As I walked to him, I was aware of every
student’s eyes upon me. It was obvious we knew each other. They were just trying to figure out how and why. I moved to within a couple feet of him, and we both stood there, frozen, unsure what to say or do, how to react. I could tell he was as shocked as I, for the sheaf of papers in his hand trembled slightly.

  “Hello, Dr. McAllister.” I smiled as our eyes met. “It’s good to see you again.” I reached for the papers.

  Handing them to me, he softly responded, “Stay after class.”

  “What’d she do?” joked one of the students who was sitting near enough to catch his words.

  “She survived,” he said, so softly that only I could hear.

  “We both did,” I said. “Thank God.”

  * * *

  Three hours later, we finished our third cups of coffee and second pieces of pumpkin pie at Mahaffey’s Diner, just off campus, and finished giving each other an overview of all that had happened since we’d parted ways at Pelham.

  “So my irons in the fire had pretty much gone cold,” Philip continued, “and I took this job at Vance until something else more permanent came along. Actually, I’m subbing both here and at UNCA. I just couldn’t deal with the construction job anymore. It was okay for a while. I enjoyed the physical labor, but I felt like my brain was withering away. So I took my pay and headed back this way. I love the mountains. They . . . well, they get in your blood somehow. Anyway, I found an apartment that I could rent by the month, and put job applications in all over the place, and that’s my story.” He grew quiet, staring at me for a moment. “God, you look good, Kate. You look . . .” His words fell away. “It’s just . . . so damn good to see you.”

  “Philip, let me ask you something. It’s an important question, and I don’t know if you can answer it right now or not,” I said, pushing my coffee aside and resting my forearms on the table.