He grinned. “Yeah, I guess it will. It’ll make it a lot easier on us when we’re in the sack together.”
Now was the time. “Phillips is advertising in the Gazette for a salesman, probably to work behind the counter. Here, you take a look. ‘Phillips Hardware looking for dependable salesman…’”
As he held the paper, she looked over his shoulder and read it to him, trying to give it emphasis.
“What do you think?” she asked as she folded the paper. “It wouldn’t be so bad until something else comes along.”
He gave her a long, unfathomable look, and for a second she expected him to say yet again how he needed some time to settle down. “OK, I’ll go over there and get us the window fan and have a word with old man Phillips.”
Within the hour he was back, struggling through the door with the fan encased in a huge box, and an envelope between his teeth.
“Come on. Let’s fill out this application form before we mess around with the fan. You do it because you write so pretty.”
The form called for usual things like name and address. Where it said “previous experience” he told her to write “machine shop, U.S. Army.”
She handed him the fountain pen. “That’s it. All you have to do is sign your name, and return it to Mr. Phillips.”
After he’d written his name, he folded the form and put it in his shirt pocket. “I guess I might as well take it back now and get it over with,” he said, his face oddly grim.
“Don’t be so nervous, love.” She smiled encouragingly. “It’s only a job. If you don’t get this one, there’ll be others.”
He was gone an hour. When she heard the car door slam, she ran to the window. She saw his smile and knew he’d been hired.
“He’s offerin’ twenty-five dollars a week to start. When I told him that ain’t nothin’ like you’ll be makin’ at the Gazette, he told me he’d be givin’ me a raise in six months. Well, we’ll see about that. I’m guessin’ I’ll be long gone from there by then.”
She kissed him lightly on the cheek to let him know she was pleased. “I’ll bet you will. Something better’s bound to come along, but this is a beginning, isn’t it? When do you start?”
“The week after you do. That’ll give me a week to do some fishin’.”
* * *
On Saturday morning Bob said he was going to call at his parents’ house and invite them to dinner that night. Even though Kathleen dreaded the thought of suffering through another evening with Otis, there was nothing she could say. They were his parents after all. But why was she worried, she asked herself. Otis would have no control over her here. This was their house, hers and Bob’s.
The afternoon was hot and humid as she prepared the little table on the terrace. Because she wasn’t a very good cook yet, and didn’t want anything to go wrong, she asked Bob to cook steaks again on the grill. She made a salad and baked five large potatoes in the oven.
Kathleen was strangely moved at the obvious effort Beulah had made to look her best. She was dressed as if she was going to church.
“You look lovely, Beulah,” she said, taking her mother-in-law’s hand and giving it a little squeeze.
Selma was in her usual tight skirt with an extra low-cut top. “I declare,” she said, “if this ain’t the cutest little house I’ve ever seen.”
Bob turned to Beulah. “What do you think, Momma?”
“I like it Bobby, I think it’s real nice. But there’s just one thing missin’. You just ain’t got no place to put a garden.”
Kathleen deemed the meal itself to be a success. Bob regaled them with stories of going ashore on the beaches in Normandy, and Otis discussed his church in a matter of fact way that surprised her. Even Beulah managed to get in a few more words about how her vegetables were really growing up a storm and she’d be bringing them tomatoes by next week for sure.
“Shoot, I clean forgot,” she said, as the meal ended. “This letter came for you, Kathleen. It’s probably from your folks.”
Kathleen looked at the envelope and saw Georgina Nightingale’s name and address printed on the flap.
“No, it’s from my friend in Chicago. The envelope feels stiff. I’ll bet she’s enclosed some of the snapshots she took.”
There were ten of them, some taken on the ship and others while they were in New York. Selma studied each picture carefully as Kathleen handed them to her, making various comments before passing them along. When she came to the last one, she gasped.
“Well, if that don’t beat all. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that man Kathleen’s dancin’ with’s a nigger.”
“What do you mean?”
Kathleen practically snatched the picture from her hands. “Why, that’s one of the students we met on board. He’s from Bombay and was on his way to Syracuse University.” She looked around wildly. “It’s just a dance, for gosh sakes.”
“Well, I’ll be,” Otis said, as he took the picture from Selma and stared wide-eyed at the photograph. “You mean he’s pure African?”
“No, he isn’t African. Bombay’s in India, not Africa.”
Otis leered. “It don’t matter. He sure looks like a nigger to me. And just look at you, kickin’ up them heels to beat the band. Can’t you just imagine what must have been goin’ through the minds of them women you’re sittin’ with? What did other people on the ship think?”
“They didn’t think anything about it. One of them took the picture. Here, let me see.”
She flipped like lightning through the pictures. “Yes, see here. This is Georgina Nightingale. She took the picture.”
Kathleen stared at them. “Why are you looking at me like that? Does everybody round here think like you do?”
“Yeah, I guess we do,” Bob said. “We don’t do that kind of thing in the South. We don’t hold with dancin’ with niggers.”
Otis peered closely at the picture. “And if you don’t mind my sayin’ so, he certainly is holdin’ you in a mighty suggestive way.”
Kathleen rose from her chair, her hands balled into tight fists at her sides. She glared down at Otis, all fear of him forgotten.
“Yes I mind you saying so. My own father wouldn’t speak to me in such a way, and I’ll be damned if I’ll take it from you. He’s not a religious man, my dad, not in the same way you are, but he never taught me to hate. Maybe you haven’t thought about this, but what are you going to do if you get up there one day and find yourself face to face with a negro, a colored man who says he’s God?”
Otis’s face was a mask as he shook his head slowly from side to side.
“What did I tell you, son? You married a heathen.”
“Hold on a minute, Daddy,” Bob said. “There just ain’t no call for you to be talkin’ like that. Kathleen ain’t no heathen and she probably ain’t no nigger-lover either. There ain’t none around where she comes from so she just don’t know much about them.”
Otis looked at his watch in elaborate fashion, as if trying to think of a reason to leave.
“I reckon it’s time we were goin’. We have to get ready for church tomorrow. Before we go I just want to say we ain’t in no position to be judging Kathleen. I guess Bobby’s right. She is his wife and new to these parts. It’s just gonna take time. Come on Selma, honey. Get your things together.”
Even in the midst of her misery, Kathleen noticed again how very seldom he spoke to Beulah and addressed only Selma when the three were together.
Nearly to the car, Selma stopped and half turned toward the house. “Well, shoot, I forgot to pick up my pocketbook.”
“I’ll get it,” Kathleen said hastily, anxious now for them to be gone. “I think I saw it on the terrace.”
After she retrieved the purse from the bench, she hurried back through the house. When she reached the front door, Otis stood on the tiny stoop alone. The others were already at the car, which was hidden from view by the high shrubs. His piercing amber eyes seemed almost to glow in the dark as he looked her over in t
he same way he had that first day in the hallway when he’d walked out of his bedroom in his underwear. His eyes again lingered on her breasts as he took a step toward her, causing her to lean her back against the wall.
“Kathleen, honey, I ain’t never seen the likes of you. When you get mad, your face gets all flushed and your eyes just sparkle up a storm. These, these,” he said, reaching out and placing his hands over her breasts, “they sorta stick straight out like nothin’ I’ve ever seen before.”
Turned to stone, the heat from his hands burned through the soft fabric of her dress. A thin trickle of spittle drooled from the corner of his mouth. Her body felt weighted and it took great effort to raise her leaden arms and knock his hands away. But the movement broke the spell.
“Keep away from me, you bastard. Keep away. Don’t touch me with your filthy hands, ever again. If you do, you’ll be sorry.”
She spat the words at him, her voice shaking with loathing.
He smiled his ghastly smile. “Don’t worry, no one’s ever gonna know. And if I know you, you ain’t gonna tell either.”
Bob called from the car. “Daddy, come on. Momma and Selma are ready to go.”
Otis walked toward them. “I was just tellin’ Kathleen we’ve got no hard feelings for her. Like I said, it’s just gonna take time to learn our ways. Here’s your pocketbook, Selma, honey.”
He turned around to look at them. “Night y’all.”
He sat behind the wheel, Selma at his side and Beulah in the back seat, silent once more. “Will we see y’all in church tomorrow?”
“I don’t know, Daddy,” Bob said. “We may make it. We’ll see how it goes.”
“It’s a good thing Jesus never waits to see how it goes,” his father said. “It’s up to you.”
Hypocrite, hypocrite!!
Kathleen wanted to scream out the words but all she could do was raise her arm in the semblance of a wave as the car pulled away, its rear lights disappearing into the night mist. On shaky legs, she made it to the terrace.
Bob spoke to her through the screen door. “Don’t stay out there too long, Baby. Them mosquitoes’ll eat you up. And don’t be payin’ too much mind to what Daddy says. It’s just his way. I think deep down he kinda likes you.”
Obviously sorry for the insulting way he’d spoken to her earlier, his tone now was soft and caring. She wanted to answer him in kind, to take away the harshness and fear of the last fifteen minutes, but her mouth was so dry her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She could still feel the heat from Otis’s hands through the thin gauze of her dress.
“I guess I’ll be goin’ to bed,” Bob said. “Don’t you be long now.”
She heard the unmistakable whine of a mosquito a second before it landed on her arm. She swiped at it before moving into the safety of the living room.
The pack of cigarettes lay on the coffee table. She usually didn’t smoke but took one now. Leaning back in the chair and inhaling only slightly, she watched the blue smoke rise lazily toward the ceiling. Then, knowing she had to let go of the incident with Otis, she turned on the floor lamp and pulled out Georgina’s letter.
* * *
That night, Kathleen spent another sleepless night. In this little house that she’d thought of as her haven, her sanctuary, Otis was everywhere, and she relived the incident on the stoop a hundred times. What unsettled her more than anything else was this detestable man was her father-in-law. Was she condemned to spending the rest of her married life trying to think of ways to avoid him?
Somehow, she made it through Sunday. She’d made up her mind that if Bob suggested church at the Holiness Church of Jesus, she would pretend to be unwell. Bob, though, was a late sleeper, so she closed the bedroom door and cleaned the little house until it shone.
CHAPTER SIX
The new red-and-white striped dress was a perfect fit. On a whim, she tied her hair at the nape of her neck with a matching red ribbon. As she viewed herself in the mirror over the dresser, she bet not a soul would guess the strain she’d been under all weekend. She did a couple of twirls for Bob.
“How do I look?”
“You look all right to me.”
She caught the surliness of his tone. He’d never liked the idea of her taking this job and now that her first day was here he couldn’t help but show his insecurity, or whatever it was he was feeling.
“I’ll probably be home around five,” she said. “Mr. Tate said Monday is the slowest day. I’ll have a lot to tell you tonight.”
“Yeah, OK.”
She reached up and pecked his cheek and walked out the door.
* * *
Her first day at The Eddisville Gazette was everything she’d hoped for. Patsy Ashcraft said she’d be leaving on Friday, which should give Kathleen plenty of time to learn the ropes.
She met cynical Bernie Beauchamp, the woman whom Mr. Tate said did society, fashion, and stories of local interest. There was a slightly superior air about her but she was friendly enough and brought Kathleen her first cup of coffee. Lennie Barlow, the full-time reporter who doubled as photographer, told her proudly he was the only Yankee on the staff, and if she ever felt homesick to come to him because boy, did he know the feeling. All the staff were nice and went out of their way to make her feel welcome. By lunchtime, the jittery feeling she’d had since Saturday night gradually slipped away.
There wasn’t a lot to do that first Monday, except listen carefully and make copious notes of everything Patsy said. At the end of the day, she breezed along the streets toward Petrie, her feet hardly touching the ground. For the first time since she’d arrived in Eddisville, she was oblivious to the searing afternoon heat. She’d made some friends today and couldn’t wait to get home and tell Bob.
She shoved away the little wave of disappointment when she saw his car wasn’t in the driveway. Surely, he couldn’t have gone far. And even though his manner had been surly when she’d left that morning, he was bound to be anxious to hear how her very first day on her very first job in America had gone. She changed out of her good clothes, then made sandwiches from Sunday’s roast, sliced a tomato on some lettuce and put both plates back in the refrigerator. She poured herself a Nehi, picked up a magazine and headed for her favorite lounge chair on the terrace to wait for Bob.
An hour later, she began to feel uneasy. What could have delayed him? She searched the house for a note but could find nothing. In the gathering dusk she saw the first firefly of the night, followed quickly by another and then another. As darkness settled around the house, she convinced herself he’d been detained somewhere. That would explain why there was no note. She longed for a phone. If the car had broken down or for any reason at all, at least he could have called her.
The hours dragged by until finally at midnight, Bob’s car pulled into the driveway. She held on tightly to the latch of the screen door as she watched him stumble out of the car and weave his way unsteadily up the path toward her.
“I didn’t mean to be this late, Baby,” he said, slurring his words as he brushed past her and stumbled toward the sofa. “Some of the guys and me went fishin’ but the fish weren’t biting. Lonnie Pendleton had a couple of jars of moonshine. So, well, we just sort of sat by the lake and drank.”
She cleared her throat and gave a little cough. It wouldn’t be easy to get any sense out of him tonight. “What’s moonshine?” she asked, unable to think of anything else to say. “I’ve never heard of it.”
Bob raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “You ain’t never heard of moonshine? You sure don’t know much, do you. It’s corn liquor, brewed in a still.”
He wagged a finger at her and grinned dizzily. “It’s against the law to make it, so don’t you go tellin’.”
“I wish you’d left me a note,” she said, barely able to keep the irritation out of her voice. “I didn’t know where you were and I worried, you know. And God only knows how you managed to drive home. You could have wrecked the car and been hurt or hurt someone else.
”
Had he heard a word she’d said?
She closed the front door and turned off the porch light, then went into the kitchen to make sure the coffee pot was switched off. In that short time, Bob had fallen asleep on the sofa, or maybe he’d passed out. She couldn’t tell. His hair was tousled and a loose curl fell across his forehead. Already he was tanned from the summer sun and she had to admit again, even in her frustration and hurt, he was one of the handsomest men she’d ever seen.
He and Ron Velnes.
Her mind jolted. Why had she suddenly thought of Ron? He was part of her past now and that’s where she wanted him to stay. But his memory persisted and she saw again the pain in his eyes when he’d taken her in his arms and kissed her outside the church on her wedding day. She remembered Dorothy’s letter. She’d said Ron was thinking of going to Canada to his sister’s home. Kathleen wondered if he’d gone.
She looked again at her husband. Rather than try to drag him to bed, she removed his shoes and left him where he lay.
* * *
The next morning Bob was still there but woke as Kathleen moved about the room as noisily as she could, still angry from the night before.
Eventually he raised his hand and rubbed his temples. “Is there any coffee made?”
“No, I drank tea. You’ll have to make your own.”
She picked up her handbag and headed for the door. “I’ll be late if I don’t leave now.”
“OK,” he said, still half asleep. “How about me cookin’ some barbecued ribs on the grill tonight?”
Obviously, he was one of those men who couldn’t say he was sorry but tried to show it in other ways.
“Do you know how to do them?”
“Sure I do. I’ll get the ribs from the A&P, make some slaw, and open a can of pork and beans. This’ll make up for me stayin’ out last night.”
She stood in the doorway. “Let’s just forget about last night. Next time, though, leave me a note and then I won’t worry.”
Different Drummers Page 9
