Different Drummers

by Jean Houghton-Beatty

  “I start next Monday at thirty-eight dollars a week. That’s almost double what we thought I’d get.” She grinned as she sidled up to him, determined to win him over. “Aren’t you proud of me?”

  Bob leaned against the car. “Whew, thirty-eight dollars a week. I never thought you’d get that much. Old man Tate must have taken quite a shine to you.”

  “There’s more,” she said, trying not to babble. “He’s offered to rent us a little dream house at the back of his own lot. I can’t wait to show it to you.”

  He slapped his hand on the hood of the car. “Damn, Kathleen, I told you last night we can’t go movin’ right now. You make it sound so easy but what about furniture and all the other things we’ll need? And anyway, how much is he askin’ for rent?’

  She pushed away the feeling of irritation and hurt. “It’s already furnished, right down to towels in the bathroom. And the rent is only thirty five dollars a month which I’m sure must be a steal.”

  Her smile came back as she added her final piece of good news. “On top of that, he’s letting us have the first month rent free.”

  A frown creased Bob’s forehead. “Why’s he bein’ so nice to you? I don’t get it.”

  “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you all about it later.”

  He folded his arms as he looked at her with grudging admiration. “I have to hand it to you, Baby. When you move, you really move. Shoot, you’re way ahead of me. I ain’t even thought about lookin’ for a job yet.”

  “Mr. Tate said you shouldn’t have any trouble. There are jobs all over. I brought the Gazette home so we can check the advertisements. We’ll find something.”

  “Hm, we’ll see. When does he want you to start?”

  “We settled on next Monday. That’ll give you and me a week together. I told Mr. Tate we’d probably spend a few days at the beach before we settle down.” She smiled, knowing already what his answer would be. Or at least she thought she knew.

  “The beach.” His voice was loud, harsh. “Where in the hell did you get an idea we might go to the beach. I never told you we’d do that. I hate the beach. Can’t stand all that sand.”

  Kathleen flung out her arms. “Damn it, Bob, in one of your letters you said Myrtle Beach was one of your favorite places.”

  She’d read the letter so many times she almost knew it by heart.

  “You wrote about the miles and miles of beautiful sands and how you loved to walk in the surf. Why did you write those things if you hate the beach so much?”

  He gave an exaggerated shrug. “Hell, I don’t know. Why do we say a lot of things?”

  He turned as Beulah gave a loud sigh and started to walk away. “Where’re you goin’, Momma?”

  Beulah stared at her son, disappointment showing plainly in her face. “Kathleen done good today gettin’ that job, Bobby, and findin’ y’all a place of your own. Can’t you see that? Can’t you see you shouldn’t be doin’ all this fussin’. It ain’t right.”

  She pulled her battered straw hat down low over her eyes, then picked up her hoe. “I’m going on out to my garden. I ain’t listenin’ to anymore of this.”

  Kathleen stared after her, filled with warmth and gratitude toward the sad, retreating figure. “Your momma’s right,” she said, turning back to Bob. “We are fussing and I don’t know why.”

  “It’s because you just can’t let me be. For cryin’ out loud, I just got home yesterday.”

  The good news about her job and the beautiful little house she’d found were lost on her now. Apparently Bob didn’t give a damn about either. A trembling anger surged through her at this undeserved treatment.

  “Yes, I can leave you be, but remember I only got here myself last Wednesday. Four weeks ago I was still in England. I think I’ve had a lot more adjusting to do than you and I just don’t understand why you’re acting this way.”

  She ran into the house so he wouldn’t see the tears. For a long time she looked out their bedroom window at Beulah hoeing in her garden. As she slipped out of her best dress and changed into one of her two cotton dresses, she wondered at Bob’s behavior. Had she married a stranger? He’d been home only a day and already they were acting as if they’d been in a bad marriage for years. It had to be he was under some kind of strain. After all, he’d been in the army a long time and maybe he was feeling more insecure than he let on. Maybe men took longer to adjust than women did, especially men like Bob.

  She picked up the box of goodies she’d bought for the family. There were six pairs of nylons for Nina and her mother, a carton of cigarettes for her dad, and chewing gum, chocolate, and canned peaches for Kevin and Dorothy. If she hurried, she could get it in the mail today. Later, when she wrote to the family, she must remember to tell them the reason Beulah hadn’t written was because she’d broken her arm. The lie would stop her mother from pestering her as to why she hadn’t received a letter.

  Bob sat on the front steps, smoking a cigarette. She saw the four butts he’d already smoked scattered at his feet.

  “Now where’re you goin’?” he asked.

  “I’m taking this parcel to the post office to send home.”

  She leaned over and rested her hand on his shoulder. “After supper, please will you come with me to Mr. Tate’s little house and let me at least show it to you? It can’t hurt.”

  He let out a deep exasperated sigh. “OK, we’ll drive over there. Looks like you’ve got your mind set on movin’.”

  He squinted up at her through the cigarette smoke swirling around his face. “Now, I’ve said we’ll go and look at the house, and yes ma’am, I’m gonna look for a job. Is there anythin’ else you’d like me to do?”

  Kathleen shifted the package on her hip. “Tell your momma I’ll be back in time to help with supper,” she said as she turned away and walked down the street.

  * * *

  There was no dining room in the Conroy house so all meals were served in the kitchen. Beulah had used the oven to bake her biscuits, which made the already sweltering room even more unbearable. Everyone except Kathleen seemed almost impervious to the heat. She saw the small thermometer on the wall registered exactly 95 degrees. Her thin dress stuck to her perspiring body and her damp hair clung to her head. She pulled a tissue out of her pocket and wiped her face.

  “Are you OK?” Bob asked, taking her sweating hand.

  “I think so. It’s just so hot, I can hardly think.”

  His face was anxious, concerned. He’d obviously forgotten the argument they’d had earlier, which somehow made the heat easier to bear.

  Otis reached for the salt and pepper. “That bed in your room sure makes a lot of noise, don’t it?” he said. “Seemed to me like I heard it creakin’ and groanin’ for most of the night. One time there I knew for sure them bed springs were gonna crash right through to the floor.”

  He leered at Kathleen. “It didn’t make all that racket when you slept in there by yourself.”

  Selma giggled. “For gosh sakes, Daddy, if you don’t say the darndest things. Y’all just take a look at Kathleen’s face. I declare if she ain’t blushin’ up a storm.”

  Kathleen put a hand to her burning face as four pairs of eyes stared at her.

  It was Beulah who saved her and Kathleen knew it was deliberate. The woman pushed her chair away from the table so violently it slammed into the stove behind her.

  “I forgot to put out these,” she said as she retrieved a plate of sliced tomatoes from the refrigerator and placed it on the table.

  She put her hand on Kathleen’s shoulder. “Pass me your glass and I’ll get you some more tea. You’re lookin’ kinda puny to me.”

  “No, I’ll get it, Beulah.” Kathleen stood, anxious for a chance to move from the table.

  The interruption was enough to stop Otis.

  “I don’t think you know this, Daddy,” Bob said, “but Kathleen got that job workin’ for the Gazette.”

  She slowly filled her glass at the counter while she waited for
Otis’s reply.

  “Maybe one day, William Tate’ll see the light, just like I’m hopin’ this new wife of yours will.”

  Otis selected a toothpick from the small container in the middle of the table and proceeded to work on his teeth.

  “You’re gonna be needin’ a lot of help from Jesus on this one, Bobby. Yes sir, it’s gonna take a heap of prayin’. I was hopin’ you’d do better the second time around.”

  Otis jabbed the toothpick into his back teeth. “I know Francine was no count white trash but one thing I got to say in her favor. She was a Christian. She did wrong by you, Bobby, but she never did wrong by the Lord.”

  Kathleen leaned hard against the counter. Black spots danced in front of her eyes, and the temperature, all in a second, jumped another ten degrees. Bob’s face had turned the color of parchment and his mouth hung open as he stared at his father.

  “Thanks a lot, Daddy,” he said as he slung his chair away from the table and took hold of Kathleen so she wouldn’t crumple to the floor. “Thanks for screwin’ up everythin’. I ain’t even told Kathleen anything about Francine yet.”

  He put his arm around Kathleen’s waist. “Come on, Baby,” he said in a hoarse voice, “let’s get out of here. We’ll drive over to see your house.”

  As they were going out the door, Beulah handed Kathleen a cold wet towel. “Hold this up against your face,” she said. “It’ll ease the faintness.”

  Leaning hard on Bob, Kathleen somehow made it to the car. Once inside, she wiped her face and neck with the towel, then ran it over her arms. Bob got in beside her and pulled out the driveway.

  “Don’t go to the house yet,” she said, her voice cracked and strange. “Drive on out of town. We need to talk.”

  While Bob drove, Kathleen leaned back in her seat, letting the wind hit her full in the face. Eventually Bob pulled off the road and parked the car under some shade trees. He slammed his hand against the dashboard then turned to her, his face stricken.

  “You have to believe me, Baby. I was gonna tell you about Francine. I just ain’t had time is all.”

  “Then tell me about it,” Kathleen said, calmer now she was away from the house and Otis.

  “I met her in a bar when I was in basic trainin’. She seemed real nice, a pretty little thing. But shoot, what did I know? I was just a kid. Anyways, we got married. A month later, when I was on leave, we came to Eddisville for a couple of weeks. Her and Daddy hit it off right away. She was real hung up on his fancy way of preachin’.”

  Bob’s eyes pleaded for understanding. “We hadn’t been married more than two months before she was makin’ eyes at every guy on the base. When I got my orders for England, somethin’ told me she wouldn’t be there when I got back. And she wasn’t. When I came home on leave after the war, she’d disappeared off the face of the earth. I ain’t laid eyes on her since the day I took off again for England. We’ve been divorced since 1946.”

  He opened the car door wide to let in more air. “A couple of years ago I met up with a guy who was in basic trainin’ with me. He said he’d seen Francine in Honolulu. Seems she married some singin’ bartender out there.”

  It was cool under the trees as Bob took the towel from her and gently wiped her face. He traced his finger down her throat, and then unbuttoned the front of her dress. He put his hand inside and cupped her breast.

  “Is everythin’ gonna be OK between us?” he asked as he pulled her close.

  The faintness was gone now and she smiled and stroked his cheek. “Everything’s OK. It was all a long time ago. And yes, I believe you when you say you were going to tell me. We won’t ever mention it again.”

  * * *

  Kathleen’s hand trembled as she placed the key in the lock, then opened the door. She took hold of Bob’s hand as they stepped inside. She held on tight as they walked slowly through the living room and into the bedroom. In the kitchen, they opened and closed the oven door, and peered into the immaculate fridge. She watched his face and was rewarded by a huge grin.

  “This is it, Baby. We’re movin’ in.” He laughed as he pulled her to him. “Daddy didn’t mean to be such a blabbermouth. He didn’t know I hadn’t told you about Francine. Still, I’ll be damned if I’m going to live in a house where he stays awake half the night listenin’ to us while we’re doin’ it.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Two days later they moved from Bennington Street to Petrie Avenue. Bob walked from room to room, checking the appliances, testing the chairs, admiring the little red tiled terrace at the back.

  “Come here, woman,” he said playfully as he sat on the edge of the comfortable bed. Kathleen stood in front of him while he slowly undressed her and tossed each article of clothing casually to the floor. Best of all, the bed didn’t creak when they made love, and even if it had, there was nobody else in the house to hear.

  Later they went to the A&P and bought enough food to fill the fridge, including a bottle of wine to celebrate their first night in their very own home.

  She gave him a sidelong glance as they placed the groceries in the car. “We need to open a bank account. If we put a hundred dollars in a savings account, it’ll be a start. The rest should be in a checking account.”

  “OK, let’s go.”

  In the bank, Bob sat back and looked around while Kathleen filled out the necessary paperwork. They both signed their names and were handed a checkbook as well as a savings book.

  “I’ve got one more stop to make,” Bob said as they pulled up in front of Phillips Hardware. “You wait here. This’ll only take a minute.”

  A Help Wanted sign hung on the door and she saw Bob look at it as he went inside. She knew by now he wasn’t particularly skilled at anything and this job was probably as good as any he could get. He came out with a charcoal grill, a bag of charcoal, and some lighter fluid.

  “This is for the steaks we bought. Bet you’ve never had steaks cooked on a grill over charcoal.”

  “No, I haven’t.” She leaned back, enjoying the comfortable banter. “But I bet they’ll be delicious.”

  He hadn’t mentioned the Help Wanted sign and because she didn’t want to nag, she let it slide.

  They sat on the terrace and drank their wine while the steaks cooked. Kathleen leaned back in the lounge chair, letting the wine go to her head. It didn’t matter now they hadn’t gone to the beach or even that Bob had written that glowing letter about how he loved to walk in the surf. She took a sip of the wine and let out a satisfied sigh. Already they’d made so much progress. Here they were, living in a little dream house in the most affluent part of town, she’d landed a job making more money than she’d ever dreamed of. OK, so she had a father-in-law who was a little bit off the wall, but that was small potatoes now. Otis was no threat to her here on Petrie Avenue. She smiled up at Bob as he poured the last of the wine in her glass. Things always had a way of working out.

  The next few days were idyllic. When they weren’t making love, they busied themselves around the little house. Bob gave her two exquisite Dresden figurines he’d bought for her in Germany, a shepherd and shepherdess, and which he’d forgotten about until he emptied his foot locker. Kathleen was enchanted and spent ages finding the best vantage point. Eventually she placed them ever so carefully, on the sideboard. She bought small frames for photographs of the family and a large one for the wedding photograph of her and Bob. She shopped for new clothes, and from Laura’s Dress Shop on Main Street, she bought a blouse and skirt and two new dresses.

  She’d seen nothing of Mr. Tate since moving in, but on Friday morning when she sleepily opened the door, a copy of the latest edition of The Eddisville Gazette was on their doorstep with a note attached.

  “See you Monday, Kathleen. Hope you like your new home and that you have a nice weekend.” It was signed WT.

  She made a cup of tea and carried the paper out to the terrace. On the second page she found what she was looking for. She was touched by the flowery heading, “Local Boy weds Engl
ish Rose,” and knew her family would love it. The honeymoon picture she’d given to Mr. Tate took up a quarter of a page. The man had been thorough and left out nothing. She smiled to herself as she imagined her dad in the Ring O’ Bells, beaming with pride as he showed the clipping to his mates around the bar. Kevin and Dorothy would take it to school and Mother would show it to her friends. As offhanded as Nina always tried to be, Kathleen knew she’d show the article to her customers in Betsy’s Beauty Parlor. She knew too that it would be posted on the wall of the shop for everyone to see.

  Eventually she turned to the classified advertisement section. Under the Situations Vacant column was the ad for a salesmen at Phillips Hardware.

  Bob joined her on the terrace, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, and a cup of coffee in his hand.

  She held up the paper. “Mr. Tate left this on the step.”

  She turned the paper to the second page. “Take a look at that,” she said with a smile.

  Bob took it from her and looked at the picture, then gave a surprised, happy laugh. “I’ll be damned,” he said. “Everybody in Eddisville gets this paper. We’ll be famous, Baby.”

  After a long look at the picture, he put the paper down, then stood and stretched.

  “I can’t wait to send it home,” Kathleen said as she picked up the paper again. “Mr. Tate didn’t leave out a thing, even put in there about how we met in the Rialto.”

  She looked up at Bob. “Aren’t you going to read it all?”

  “I will in a minute. Feel sorta sleepy still.”

  Irritation surged through her. Maybe he was feeling sleepy, but it wasn’t every day your honeymoon picture was in the paper with a write-up on how you met your wife. But she said, “I’ve never known weather this sultry. I hope it’s not going to get much hotter than this.”

  He stubbed out his cigarette and picked up his cup. “The summer’s just beginnin’. It’ll get hotter in July and then there’s August. They’re our two hottest months.”

  “Oh, Lord. Well, thank goodness we live in this nice house. These trees give us a lot of shade. Why don’t we look at those window fans they had in Phillips Hardware? I saw them in the window while you were in there the other day buying the grill. Don’t you think one might help?”