The housekeeper stuck her head around the door.
“Dinner’s ready,” she said with a smile.
“Thanks Sarah, we’re coming.”
They walked through the wide foyer with its soft lighting and wide staircase. In the dining room, the table was beautifully set with a crisp white linen tablecloth, crystal, and fine china. A bowl of pink and white carnations was in the center of the table, flanked by pink candles in crystal holders.
When Sarah, as a matter of course, joined them at the table, Kathleen hid her surprise. She hadn’t been in the South long but already knew this arrangement would be unacceptable in most Southern homes. Somehow, it endeared the Tates to her even more.
“I’m sorry we didn’t introduce you to Sarah earlier,” Mr. Tate said, as he poured the wine. “She was sort of behind with her cooking. But anyway, Kathleen Conroy, this is Sarah Belvoir who’s been with us so long, she’s one of the family.”
Sarah was an excellent cook and had prepared what Belle said was a typically Southern meal. The pot roast was fork tender, and there was a thick, rich gravy to pour over the rice. Sarah told Kathleen the dish of lima beans mixed with corn was called succotash. No, Sarah said with a smile, she didn’t know where the name originated. She said the sweet potatoes mixed with brown sugar and pineapple bits were called candied yams, and yes, she’d made the hot yeast rolls from scratch. There was also a tossed green salad and a huge pitcher of iced tea.
When Belle reached for the gravy bowl, a telltale two-inch scar was visible on her right wrist below the long sleeved blouse. Kathleen was startled and averted her eyes quickly, not wanting to offend.
“I haven’t had a chance to thank you for renting the house to Bob and me,” she said.
Belle smiled. “You’re very welcome. It seemed a shame to let it sit empty, but, well, we couldn’t let just anybody rent it. When you came along, you seemed so perfect.”
“What a nice thing to say.” Kathleen was feeling better than she had all day. “Maybe you and Sarah would come and have tea with me on Saturday. Now that I’m on my own.”
“Oh, I couldn’t do that,” Belle interrupted, a trace of panic suddenly coming into her voice. “It’s just that, I’ve, well, I’ve actually never been inside the house.”
“You’ve never…”
“No, you see it was built for my mother, and I…”
“Oh, that’s all right. I understand,” Kathleen said quickly, not understanding at all.
“It isn’t that I don’t want to. It’s just that…” Belle put down her napkin and twisted her wedding ring nervously.
“Perhaps soon I’ll come.”
“Yes, of course.”
Mr. Tate was clearly disturbed at his wife’s discomfort. “Should I get the dessert, Sarah?” he asked.
“No, I’ll get it.” Sarah rose from the table. “Miss Kathleen, would you like some lemon meringue pie?”
The housekeeper was tall and stately looking, regal even. She smiled at Kathleen, but the message written on her face couldn’t be plainer. It was time to change the subject. Kathleen was only too happy to comply. “Yes please, Sarah. I’d love some.”
Kathleen said she’d never tasted anything better than the delicious pie. No, not even in the bakery at home. Sarah promised to give her the recipe so she could send it to her father.
After the initial awkwardness, conversation flowed fast and free, just like around the table at home. Kathleen bathed in the glow of friendship, and tried not to think how great it would have been if Bob had brought her here to live instead of to the house on Bennington Street.
At nine o’clock, Belle Tate took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “I don’t want to seem inhospitable,” she said to Kathleen, “but if you’ll excuse me I believe I’ll go to bed.”
Kathleen looked at her watch. “I’m sorry. I had no idea it was so late. I expect I’d better be going.”
“Nonsense,” Belle said. “Please do stay. It isn’t late at all. Sarah and William will be watching television for a while. I always go to bed early.”
That night, Kathleen had her first taste of American television or of any television for that matter. They watched the Schlitz Playhouse and then Tales of Tomorrow. It was almost eleven o’clock when Kathleen bid Sarah goodnight and Mr. Tate walked with her across his back lawn to the little house.
“I feel I need to explain to you about Belle,” he said. “She sometimes comes across as sort of strange to people who don’t know her.”
“You don’t owe me any explanation, Mr. Tate. I think she’s charming and she was very nice to me. I can see she’s been ill though. It’s still there, in her face.”
He gave a tight smile, and with the nervous habit he had, pushed his glasses back up from the edge of his nose.
“Yeah, but she’s so much better than she was. She’s getting better all the time. She used to be such a happy person and had lots of friends back in the old days. We entertained at least twice a week and Belle was always the life of the party. All of that changed when Coop was shot down.”
Mr. Tate stuck his hands deep in his pockets. “I know millions of others are in the same boat we are. But Belle, she just couldn’t handle it. She had some sort of terrible breakdown. She tried to kill herself more than once. I think she’s over all of that now, but well, she never leaves the house. As long as she’s inside she feels safe and is almost as normal as anybody else. She…she hasn’t been over the doorstep in eight years.”
“Eight years.” Kathleen’s step faltered as she looked up at Mr. Tate.
Her boss stared straight ahead. “That’s right, not even into the yard.”
“I’m so sorry. I don’t honestly know what to say.”
They’d reached the house and Mr. Tate kicked the loose gravel on the path. “You don’t have to say anything. I felt I should tell you though. Living so close to us and all, you’d be bound to wonder. Anyway, everyone in town knows about it. Dr. Parker said not to give up hope. He’s read of cases where people who are housebound like Belle have returned to normal, sometimes even overnight. So, well, you never know. I guess we’re just waiting for that miracle.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
The man who installed Kathleen’s telephone the following week said she was lucky to get on a two-party line as most new customers had to take a four-party.
On Wednesday night, when she knew Otis and Selma were at church, she walked to the house on Bennington Street. Beulah was at the screen door as Kathleen walked up the rickety steps to the porch. Her mind went back to her first day in Eddisville, when she’d stepped out of Freddie’s truck and seen her mother-in-law for the first time. Funny how the unbelievable sometimes had a way of becoming the familiar.
“I was hopin’ you’d come,” Beulah said, beaming a welcome and joining Kathleen on the porch. “Can you stay awhile?” She brought out her can of snuff and twig, and placed her spit cup at exactly the right angle.
Kathleen sat on the wobbly chair. “Just for a bit,” she said. “I needed the exercise.”
She looked keenly at Beulah, seeing beyond the welcoming smile, past those weary eyes in that lined, leathery face. The shoulders seemed bent, not just from hard work, but as if the load she carried was almost too heavy to bear. Tonight though, there seemed to be something else. As if echoing her thoughts, her mother-in-law let out a slight groan as she shifted position.
“Are you feeling OK, Beulah?”
“I guess so. Just got a bit of a pain here.” She rubbed her abdomen. “I’m over fifty now so don’t you reckon I could be goin’ through the change?”
“Probably, but it might be a good idea to pay a visit to Dr. Parker. Freddie said he’s the best doctor in town.”
“Aw, it ain’t nothin’.”
“Maybe, maybe not, but if that pain doesn’t ease up in a couple of weeks, I’m making the appointment for you myself. We’ll go together.”
She reached across and gently took hold of her mother-in-law’s
rough, calloused hand. “You might not care much what happens to you, Beulah, but I do. I care very much.”
With great shyness, Beulah took Kathleen’s other hand and held on tightly. The tender moment seemed to be too much for Beulah and she bent her head as if trying to hide the emotion showing plainly in her face.
“Y’know, life’s funny ain’t it.” Her voice softened to a whisper. “When you got out of Freddie’s truck that day, I don’t mind tellin’ you I thought you was mighty strange and I couldn’t understand a word you said.” She gave a little gentle laugh. “But I’m used to you now. Seems like my own young’uns ain’t caused me nothing but trouble. But you, you ain’t even kin and I guess I can count on you more than anybody I know.”
“You bet you can,” Kathleen said, feeling a warm glow at the unexpected words. “And don’t you be worrying about Bob anymore. He’s going to be fine. Things are bound to get better, you’ll see.”
Kathleen stayed another twenty minutes, and then stood up to go. She hadn’t allowed enough time for the visit and the last thing she wanted was for Otis and Selma to return while she was there.
Beulah picked up the cardboard box by the door. “Here’s some tomatoes and cucumbers for you. They’re out of my garden. Give Belle Tate some of them. I couldn’t see none growin’ when we were over at your place that night.”
“Goodnight Beulah, and thanks,” Kathleen said, already thinking of the tomato sandwich she’d fix when she arrived home. She was already finding out what nearly every person born in the South already knew. Home-grown tomatoes were a hundred times better than the store-bought ones.
* * *
Two days later, Bob telephoned.
“Hey, Baby. I just called Momma and she told me you had a phone.”
“Bob, where are you?” He’d caught her off guard and her voice came out stilted and strange.
“I’m still here in Texas. I had to call to tell you I’m as sorry as I can be that I ran out on you. I knew darn good and well you were gonna find out about me, and, well, I couldn’t stand it no longer. I didn’t know how to tell you old man Phillips fired me and it looked like everything was going up in smoke right in front of me. I didn’t know what else to do except to reenlist.”
He paused, as if waiting for her to say something. “I’ll bet you’re good and mad about all of this ain’t you?”
What was she supposed to say? She could feel her anger dissipating as he talked and being replaced by a deep pity for him and sorrow for them both. She pushed her fingers through her hair and repressed a sigh.
“I’m not mad, Bob. Not anymore. I think I understand now why you did it but hate the fact you deceived me.”
“Yeah, well, I was gonna try and set things right. I thought if I reenlisted, the army would be good for us. It’s a good living and you wouldn’t even have to go out to work. I was hopin’ you could’ve come to Texas, but I just found out I’m flyin’ out of here in a couple of days. I got my orders this morning. I’m bein’ sent to Korea.”
“Korea.” She could only say that one word.
“Kathleen? Are you there?”
“Yes, I’m here. I don’t know what to say. I know you wanted to go to Korea instead of England. It looks as if you’ve finally got your wish.”
“Yeah, well, things are different now. I didn’t have you then. I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is I know I’ve let you down real bad, but I thought if I told you the truth about me, you never would’ve married me.”
His voice sounded hoarse, charged with emotion.
“Them times I went out and left you by yourself. Well, I didn’t want you asking no questions. Things are gonna get better though. I’m gonna start taking classes. Even in Korea there’re places where you can learn.”
She didn’t miss the catch in his voice.
“This is my fault isn’t it?” she said. “I mean that you reenlisted. You were so happy to be home again. You could have found something that suited you, if it hadn’t been for me. But you should have leveled with me, Bob. We could have handled it together.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“Keep in touch with me, Bob, even if it’s only a line or two. Get a camera. Send me some pictures.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that. I’m arranging for my paycheck to be sent to you. Maybe you can save some of it, but I don’t want you going without nothin’. What with the money from your job and all, this should be a gracious plenty.”
Kathleen’s head reeled, and she leaned against the wall to steady herself. How could he be so nice over the phone and yet so unfeeling, callous even, when he was with her.
“A guy from Columbia is lookin’ for a ride home,” Bob said. “I told him he could drive my car to Eddisville, and then you and Freddie could maybe take him to Columbia. This way we’ll get the car home. Freddie can learn you to drive and at least you’ll have a means of getting around. If you have the car maybe you’ll wait for me and not go runnin’ back to your family.”
“You needn’t worry about me. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Well, I sorta knew you’d want to stay. There ain’t nothing in England for you anyway.” She didn’t answer as she struggled to ignore the stab of anger slicing through her.
“Go and see the family when you can,” Bob said. “They think a lot of you, I can tell.”
“Yes, I will.”
“I know I ain’t much good at words, so I ain’t gonna even try. Take care of yourself.”
“You do the same. And don’t try to play the hero over there, Bob. Just come back safe and sound.”
There was a pause and Kathleen could hear voices other than Bob’s on the other end of the line.
“I guess I’m gonna have to go. There’s a line of guys standing here waitin’ to use the phone, and they’re all yellin’ at me sayin’ my time’s up. I’ll be leavin’ the day after tomorrow. I’ll try to call you tomorrow night at seven.”
“I’ll be waiting for your call. Good night, Bob. Take care.”
“Goodnight, Baby.”
* * *
On Friday morning, Bernie Beauchamp stood with hands on her hips and stared down at Kathleen. “You look awful,” she said with a shake of her head. “Don’t tell me. Bob didn’t call last night, did he?”
“He said he’d ring around seven but he didn’t. I couldn’t sleep for thinking about it. I know he’d have called if he could. He’s probably already in Korea by now.”
Bernie poured herself a cup of coffee. “If I were you, I’d write him off. I was married once. He was a deadbeat too, and the best day of my life was when he took the afternoon bus out of here. You married this guy, this hick, and came three thousand miles to be with him. And what does he do for you? He ups and goes back into the army. Now he’s further away than ever.”
She shrugged as she added two spoonfuls of sugar to her coffee. “Still it isn’t any of my business.”
Kathleen longed to tell her she was right, it wasn’t any of her business, but with her self-control in check, she only smiled. When the woman had gone, Kathleen stared down at her typewriter keys.
It isn’t fair, it isn’t fair, she wanted to scream. She felt betrayed and, well yes, trapped.
She could hear her sister Nina’s voice whispering, “I told you so, I told you so.” After all, when she was totally honest with herself, hadn’t it been her insatiable longing to see America that was the real reason she’d boarded the SS Belgravia that fateful day? The handsome American soldier named Bob Conroy had been the icing on the cake. Ever since Bob’s phone call, she’d been filled with more than a small amount of guilt and knew now she’d have to stay in Eddisville to wait for him, no matter how long he was gone. And anyway, things would be different when he came home. Hadn’t he said he’d take classes whenever and wherever he could? He could probably get a decent job and they’d be able to start a family. But Bob had gone to fight in Korea. The government called it a Police Action, yet it was a war, just like any other. What
if he didn’t make it home? What if he was wounded or even killed? What would she do then?
Kathleen typed a long letter to her family and told them her biggest lie to date. Bob had rejoined the army for her sake, she wrote, hoping he’d be stationed again in England. But the unthinkable had happened. He’d been sent to Korea instead. She begged them not to worry about her because she’d already made lots of friends. She made Freddie sound like a saint which wasn’t all that far from the truth. She wrote that all the people on the staff of the Gazette were wonderful, which was almost true too, except maybe for the cynical, outspoken Bernie. But even she could be tolerated on a reasonably good day. Her mother-in-law was really having a time of it, Kathleen wrote. Her broken arm was mending but she didn’t have a lot of feeling in her hand and it made holding a pen difficult. Because of this it might be just as well if her Mother didn’t write to the poor woman as she felt guilty enough for not replying to other letters sent. She sent her apologies and was so outdone because the broken arm was causing all sorts of inconveniences. For instance, she hadn’t attended a single meeting at her garden club since she’d had her accident.
* * *
The following Saturday, an army corporal drove the red Studebaker into the driveway and an hour later, with Freddie at the wheel and Kathleen beside him, the car was headed toward Columbia. A very tired soldier sat in the back seat. When they arrived on the outskirts of the city, Freddie had to shake him awake to get directions to his house.
Kathleen’s first driving lesson started on the way back to Eddisville. Freddie let her drive the car for the last twenty-five miles and because it was automatic drive, with no clutch to worry about, Kathleen managed it easily. Besides, Freddie was a very patient teacher.
He grinned as Kathleen pulled carefully into her driveway.
Different Drummers Page 12
