Different Drummers

by Jean Houghton-Beatty

  She looked earnestly at Kathleen. “Do you really think we could go one day?”

  Maybe it was a trick of the light over the bed, but Kathleen was sure she could see a sparkle in Beulah’s eyes that wasn’t there before, and yes, her face did have just a hint of color. “I hope so, Beulah. When you’re well, and Bob comes home, maybe the three of us can scrape up enough money to make the trip.”

  The easy chatter helped to keep Kathleen’s mind off the house on Bennington Street and its terrifying secret.

  “I hope Bobby gets home before somethin’ bad happens to him,” Beulah said. “Maybe then you two could be startin’ a family and givin’ me some grandbabies.”

  “I don’t think it’ll be too long before the war’s over.” Kathleen was deliberately casual. “Surely it can’t last much longer.”

  Beulah’s words had jolted her. What kind of father would Bob make and what would life be like with a couple of children? When he came home from Korea, would things be the same as they were when he left or was it possible they could lead a normal married life? She pushed her doubts to the back of her mind.

  “I don’t want you comin’ tomorrow night,” Beulah said. “Ain’t you already done more than a body could ask for. You got your job to think about and I’m doin’ great. Get yourself an early night.”

  * * *

  The next day was the first day of work in the New Year. After Kathleen had spent half an hour explaining to Lennie and Bernie why she hadn’t gone to Atlanta to meet her friend, she buried herself in her work, trying not to think about Ron Velnes leaving today to go back to Montreal.

  When she arrived home that evening, she could hear her phone ringing even as she reached the stoop. This had to be one last call from Ron, it just had to be. Suddenly all thumbs, she fumbled frantically with the key in the lock, until she finally opened the door and dashed to the phone. In spite of their last awkward telephone conversation, and her resolution that very morning, she longed to hear Ron Velnes’s voice.

  “Hello?” Oh please God, let it be Ron.

  “Hello, Kathleen.” Otis’s detestable voice came down the wire.

  “Yes?” That one questioning word was all she was able to utter.

  “Are you going to see Beulah tonight?”

  “No. She seems a lot better and insisted I not visit. She said I needed an early night.”

  “Well then, how’d it be if I stopped by your house for a spell tonight. We need to be talking about Beulah and some other things.” His voice sounded wheedling, cringing.

  “No, no, you can’t come here,” she blurted out. “I’m, er, well, I’m going out.” Her voice was shaky and he’d be bound to notice but she didn’t care. She’d do or say anything, just as long as he didn’t come to the house.

  “Don’t you reckon we need to get together and talk some?” he said.

  “What do you want, Otis?”

  “Well, I, uhm, it’s just that what you saw or what you thought you saw in this house yesterday morning wasn’t like it must’ve seemed to you. And we, Selma and me, well y’know, you ain’t thinkin’ of tellin’ no one about it are you?”

  She listened to the desperate voice, with its disjointed sentences, obviously struggling in vain to come up with something plausible. She stared at the wall and saw again the sweating bodies, the tangle of sheets, and knew the sight would stay with her forever. Her mind worked like lightning. Was it conceivable he could harm her? Because she knew his awful secret and because he knew she did, he was probably capable of anything.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She was surprised at the sudden deadly calm of her own voice, but knew instinctively this was the only way to handle the situation.

  “I was in your house looking for Beulah’s glasses and I found them. That’s all I cared about. And anyway, whatever you do behind your own closed doors is no business of mine.”

  Kathleen heard the rasping exhaling of breath. “Well now, that’s mighty Christian of you,” Otis said. “Selma and me, we know just how much you think of Beulah and promise we’ll be takin’ real good care of her when she comes home. Yessir, there ain’t no doubt about that. We’ll be giving her the best of attention and inviting people to come to see her an’ all. We’re gonna fix up the place real nice so she’ll be comfortable.”

  He began to talk faster, babbling almost. “And like you say, anythin’ that goes on in a body’s home is their own business. Knowin’ that you feel like this, I promise you Beulah’s gonna be gettin’ the best of care.”

  A bargain! He was telling her he’d take good care of Beulah so long as she, Kathleen, told no one what she’d seen. She hadn’t known she was capable of such loathing for anyone.

  “You’re right, Otis. Beulah does mean a lot to me and it’s good to know she’ll be taken care of.”

  “Well now, ain’t that great. I know she’s gonna be wantin’ you to come visitin’. So will we be seein’ you over here some?”

  “Yes, I’m sure Freddie Conroy would be glad to come with me. He thinks a lot of Beulah too.”

  She replaced the phone in its cradle, letting her hand rest on the receiver while she stared unseeingly out the window. She and her father-in-law each had a hold over the other. Otis obviously knew his horrible secret was safe with Kathleen as long as he took good care of Beulah. And Kathleen, for her part, knew Beulah would be looked after and she herself would be safe as long as she never breathed a word of what she had seen.

  She had just made a bargain with the devil.

  * * *

  Within two weeks of her surgery, Beulah was well enough to be released from the hospital. It was a Sunday and because Otis would be at church, Kathleen and Freddie went to pick her up. In spite of the doctor’s serious prognosis that the cancer might return, Beulah was positively jaunty.

  “Ah, what does he know,” she said from the back seat of the car as they drove home. “I got plenty of good years left in me yet.”

  Freddie grinned at Kathleen, obviously as thrilled as she was at Beulah’s cheerful frame of mind.

  “Sometimes doctors can be wrong,” Kathleen said. “They know a lot but they don’t know everything. There have been cases…”

  “Sure there have,” interrupted Freddie. “We got a woman in the church who more than twenty years ago was given just two years to live. And guess what? Just last week she took her first airplane ride to San Francisco.”

  Beulah chuckled. “Is that a fact? Well, I’ll be doin’ one better than that. I’m gonna get well and strong so I can take my first airplane ride with Kathleen and Bobby. We’re all goin’ to England to see her family.”

  When they arrived at Bennington Street, Kathleen could hardly believe the changes that had been made to the home in so short a time. Beulah’s room had been painted baby blue with curtains to match. And painting was well underway in the rest of the house. Half of the living room was now a soft shade of yellow with cans of paint stacked in the corner.

  The refrigerator was full of food. There was even a roast in the oven, on low. In this respect at least, it looked as if Otis intended to stick to his end of the bargain.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  All through January, every time the phone rang, Kathleen hoped it would be Ron. But it never was. Then again, why would he call? It would be a miracle if she ever heard from him again. Had he met somebody else while he was in Atlanta? Oh, he’d told her he’d love her forever, but New Year’s Eve was a romantic time and Atlanta a very glamorous city. Anything could have happened. In a way, she hoped he had. God knows he deserved it.

  There were days though, when she forgot all about her pledge to herself that she would try to forget him. Sometimes she longed to pick up the phone and talk to him, or even write a letter. But Ron had left no phone number, no address, and Montreal was a big city. How could she ever find him there? In a desperate effort to locate him, she wrote a letter to Dorothy. She got as far as the post office and was about to drop it in the box when she ya
nked her hand back. Was she out of her mind? There was no way she could let Dorothy know she wanted to get in touch with Ron Velnes.

  The weekly letters still came from home, sometimes with snapshots enclosed. Kathleen tried to ignore the lurch in her heart as she looked at the pictures of Kevin and Dorothy. They’d changed so much since she’d been gone. Kevin was going to be a heartbreaker, she was sure of it, and little Dorothy was already turning into a beauty. Her dad wrote that four little tables had been placed in the corner of the bakery and afternoon tea was now being served. But here was the best part, Nina had written. She now had her very own shop. What used to be one-half the bakery’s overlarge storeroom had been refurbished into an ultra-modern hairdressing salon. It was good for the bakery business too of course because after the women had their hair done, it was only natural they’d pop in the bakery for a cup of tea and a cake.

  Kathleen also kept up a regular correspondence with Georgina Nightingale, telling her only the good things of course. But as time passed, she opened up more and more to Georgina, writing in a sort of off-hand way about Otis’s fiery brand of religion. Because of the all-important outfit she’d bought to impress her supposedly snobbish in-laws, Kathleen hadn’t told Georgina of the shock she’d received when she first laid eyes on Beulah. But later, she wrote of her affection for her mother-in-law, and when Beulah became ill, Georgina was one of the first to know.

  There was no way of course she’d ever tell Georgina the real reason Bob had gone back into the army. Instead she told the same old lie, that he’d reenlisted with the hope he’d be posted to England. But the ever-alert Georgina seemed able to read through Kathleen’s lines, and Bob’s name was hardly mentioned in her own letters.

  Unable to resist the temptation, Kathleen had told Georgina about the phone call from Ron Velnes, and how she’d planned to meet him in Atlanta for New Year’s Eve, until Beulah’s illness changed her plans. Afraid Georgina would get the wrong idea, Kathleen was careful to stress Ron had gone to Atlanta on business. The temptation to meet someone from home was strong, she’d stressed, and as their relationship had developed into one of friendship anyway, she didn’t see anything wrong with it.

  Georgina had obviously missed any article that might have been printed in a Chicago paper regarding the woman who’d died in Otis’s church. Or if she did, she didn’t mention it.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  In March, Kathleen received a call from the army. She sat in a chair close by the phone and leaned her head against the wall when they told her Bob had been wounded in his leg. It was too early to give a prognosis, they said, but every effort was being made to avoid amputation. He was in a hospital in Korea, and yes, they’d be back in touch with her as soon as they had further news.

  Kathleen hung up the phone and stared at the floor for a long time. She finally slipped a jacket over her shoulders and crossed the yard to the Tate house.

  Mr. Tate surprised her by sounding matter-of-fact. “It could have been a lot worse,” he said. “Bobby’s still alive and it looks as if now he’ll be out of the whole rotten mess.”

  “Yes, I know,” Kathleen muttered. “But what if they have to amputate? I don’t know if he could handle that.”

  She took a cup of coffee from the ever-faithful Sarah.

  “You’ll need to get in touch with his family,” Belle said.

  Kathleen nodded. “I suppose it’ll be all right to tell Beulah. She seems to be getting stronger every day. I’ll tell her what you said, Mr. Tate, that it’s better than staying on the battlefield.”

  She tried to keep her voice steady. “I think a lot of this is my fault. I mean Bob reenlisted because he got fired from his job. It made him terribly insecure. And now he’s been wounded and may even lose his leg.”

  She picked at a rough spot on her fingernail. “None of this would have happened if he hadn’t married me.”

  Belle reached for her hand. “You’re wrong, Kathleen. None of this is your fault. It’s ridiculous to blame yourself. Ever since I’ve known you, I’ve admired your strong outlook. Don’t lose it now, right when you need it.”

  Kathleen clenched her fists tight at her sides. She tried to smile and knew she wasn’t quite making it.

  “I’m not as tough as I make out. Deep down I’ve always been a big phony. Every time I go two paces forward I seem to fall three paces back.”

  She felt breathless, as if she’d just run a mile. “These last few weeks I’ve had an awful case of the jitters. I hardly sleep at all and I’m on edge all the time.”

  She pulled at her wedding ring. “I have this strange feeling I’m losing control.”

  To her horror, the deep breath she tried to take turned into a sob and in a second she was in Belle Tate’s arms, crying harder than she’d ever cried in her life.

  Eventually she stood up and looked at herself in the mirror over the fireplace. “I can’t go to Bennington Street looking like this. What’s Beulah going to think? My eyes are swollen and I look as if I’ve been crying for a week. I need to look cheerful so Beulah won’t worry.”

  “Nonsense,” Belle said. “You look fine. Tell Beulah you have a cold. Besides, you’re entitled to cry. You’ve just found out your husband’s been wounded.”

  Mr. Tate nodded. “Belle’s right, Kathleen. You don’t have to keep that British stiff upper lip for our benefit. That’s probably part of your problem. Scream if you want to. God knows, you have a right.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Tate. It’s just that…”

  Belle finished the sentence for her. “It’s just that you don’t want people feeling sorry for you, isn’t it?”

  Feeling more tears at the back of her eyes, Kathleen could only nod. Miserable as she felt, she couldn’t help but see the improvement in Belle since she’d first gotten to know her. There was an openness, an assertiveness that wasn’t there before.

  “Get your coat and I’ll drive you over to Bennington Street,” Mr. Tate said. “You don’t need to be driving over there by yourself, upset as you are.”

  Otis Conroy answered their knock, a toothpick protruding from the side of his mouth. He stared at them as if they were strangers, his eyes distant and unwelcoming.

  “If you’ve come to see Beulah, you’re wastin’ your time. She’s asleep.”

  Kathleen shivered in the cold air and dug her hands deep into her pockets. “We haven’t come especially to see Beulah. Not today. We’ve…I’ve had some news about Bob.”

  Otis’s hostile expression didn’t change as he waited to hear what she had to say. “Well, ain’t you gonna tell me what it is?”

  “Can we come in for a minute?” Kathleen asked, her teeth chattering. “It’s freezing out here.”

  “You can’t stay long.” He opened the door just wide enough to let them pass. “Selma and me are about to leave for church.”

  “We don’t plan on staying one second longer than we have to,” Mr. Tate said, matching Otis’s cold tone.

  “What’s happened to Bobby? He ain’t been busted has he, or gone AWOL?”

  Every time Kathleen saw Otis he said or did something that made her hate him more. Why hadn’t his first thought been Bob might have been wounded or even killed? Mr. Tate’s only son had been killed at another time, in another war, and yet he still grieved for him. How could two men be so very different?

  “Well, has he been busted or gone AWOL?” Otis repeated.

  Kathleen shook her head. “He’s been wounded in his leg. There’s a chance they may have to amputate. The man on the phone said they’d be back in touch.”

  Like lightning Otis changed his tack. He stared out the window for a full minute, as if digesting what Kathleen had just told him, then turned back to look at them.

  “Bobby Conroy’s gonna be OK.” His strange eyes smoldered. “I’ve been wonderin’ and wonderin’ what Jesus had in mind for Bobby, and now I know. I hear Him tellin’ me right this minute, even as I’m lookin’ at you, that He wants my son up there in the pulpit, si
de by side with me. Yes sir and hallelujah, if we ain’t gonna be preachin’ together. And all in the name of the Lord.”

  Kathleen turned away. She was used to Otis and his bizarre ways by now, and most of the time, nothing he said or did surprised her. But if he thought Bob would want to preach in the Holiness Church of Jesus, he could think again. Bob had never shown the slightest interest in his father’s type of religion. Hadn’t he even married her in a Catholic church without thinking twice? He’d probably laugh right in Otis’s face for even suggesting such a thing. If there was one thing she could be sure about Bob, it was this.

  Selma came into the room. “Did I hear y’all say something about Bobby being wounded?”

  Otis, always cautious now in front of Kathleen about how he spoke to his daughter, never called her “Selma honey” anymore.

  “Kathleen says Bobby took some flak in his knee. He’s going to be fine though. There ain’t no doubt in my mind about that.”

  “The army telephoned me,” Kathleen said to Selma. “They…”

  “We ain’t got no time to be discussin’ that now,” Otis said. “Selma and me need to be gettin’ on over to the church. I’ll tell her on the way.”

  He looked at his watch. “We don’t want to be late. Get your coat, Selma.”

  After three days of agonizing doubts, Kathleen said a prayer of thanks when the military called to say Bob wouldn’t lose his leg after all. He was being transferred to a hospital in Hawaii for extensive physical therapy.

  She thought often of Otis’s wild talk of Bob preaching with him in the Holiness Church of Jesus. Even though she’d scoffed at the idea when Otis said it, a small seed of doubt was creeping into her mind, and the more she thought about it, the bigger the seed grew. She’d seen with her own eyes how Otis’s hypnotic style could sway a whole congregation to fever pitch. Was it possible he could do this to Bob? She couldn’t help but see the irony of it. If Otis had been an everyday preacher or minister, taking care of his flock, and doing all the things expected of a man of the cloth, she couldn’t have been more proud. But Otis wasn’t any of these things. He was a sexual pervert. He was also mad as a hatter but crafty enough to hide it. Was it possible Bob would believe his father’s wild talk about having a one-on-one chat with Jesus, the topic of conversation being Bob preaching alongside his daddy?