Different Drummers

by Jean Houghton-Beatty

  Finally, after that first surge of astonishment and sheer joy had subsided enough for her to speak coherently, Kathleen leaned back to look at him and breathlessly asked the question.

  “How did you know where to find me?”

  Ron traced the outline of her face with his index finger. “Your friend Georgina Nightingale telephoned me last week and told me.”

  “Georgina!”

  “Yes.”

  “But, but how did she know your telephone number? I didn’t. I’ve been wanting to ring you ever since New Year’s when I couldn’t make it to Atlanta.”

  He smiled in that same old way. “Maybe she’s a bit more city-wise than you. She said she’d never heard the name Velnes before and bet there weren’t many of them in Montreal. She rang the operator and asked her to check. As she’d suspected, I was the only Ron Velnes in all of the city.”

  “But what could she possibly have told you that would make you leave everything and come to me like this?”

  “She said you’d been ill, that you’d had some sort of emotional breakdown and were coming to the beach to pull yourself together. Carey’s Beach was small, she said, and would be easy to find. A Mr. Simpson was letting you use his place, the third house along south of the pier.”

  Gently he moved a stray tendril of hair from across her face. “She also said your husband has been wounded and is in a military hospital.”

  Kathleen wondered then if Georgina had asked for directions to the beach, not for herself but in the hope she could find Ron Velnes and tell him Kathleen’s plans. Along with the euphoria, she felt a whisper of something akin to pain. Even though her friend had obviously acted on her behalf and with the best of intentions, what could any of this possibly accomplish except to complicate her life more than ever, to say nothing of what it was doing to Ron.

  “I’ve been waiting for you for hours,” he said, his gaze still riveted on her face. “When you finally pulled into the driveway and stepped out of the car, I had this unreal feeling, as if I was dreaming and would wake up any minute and be back in Montreal and you’d be gone. I was plucking up courage to walk up to the house and knock on the door when you came out.”

  She pulled away from him slightly, remembering her little sister’s letter. “But, I thought you were seriously involved with a girl from Quebec?”

  “I was. Who told you?”

  “Dorothy. She wrote to say somebody came in Nina’s shop and told her you’d met someone. I know, too, that your mother came in the bakery and asked Dad if he’d do the catering for a party she planned to throw when you brought your girlfriend to England.”

  Ron’s smile was cynical. “Yes, that’s true, except I think my mother exaggerated a hell of a lot when she talked to your dad, and probably only did it, knowing or hoping somehow you’d find out. She always thought the world of you, Kath. I don’t think she ever quite forgave you for running off with that Yank, as she called him.”

  “Yes, mothers are like that, aren’t they? You really can’t blame her.” She watched a handful of sand run through her fingers. “What happened to your girlfriend?”

  “You did. When Georgina telephoned, I knew right then I’d never stopped loving you. As much as I hated to hurt Yvonne, I told her all about you. Oh, she’d known all along there was someone else, but thought I was over you. I sort of thought I was too, or I was trying. But when Georgina rang, well, I knew there’d never be anyone else for me.”

  Kathleen sat up and reached for her beach bag. When she pulled out a pack of cigarettes, his eyebrows came together in a frown.

  “When did you start smoking?”

  “About three weeks after I got to Eddisville.”

  “You’ve lost weight too.” He put his hands on her ribs. “My God, Kath, you feel like skin and bone.”

  She saw the questioning, concerned look in his eyes.

  “Do you feel like talking about it? I mean your life here.”

  She felt her defensive mechanism coming to the surface but pushed it away.

  “Well, I suppose some of it. It took me a long time to adjust. But I think I’m making headway.”

  There now, she’d told him that much and hadn’t given away a thing, not really. “I’ve had an awful lot of guilt feelings…”

  “But why would you feel guilty? Your husband was the one who went away and left you.”

  “Yes, but you don’t know the whole story.”

  “I thought he was trying to get stationed back in England so you could see your family.”

  “I lied to you, Ron. I lied to practically everyone, trying to save face. I mean how could I write home and tell the family I’d married a man who got fired from his job because he could hardly read or write? You know how Mum is. She’d have had everyone in the family down at the church, lighting candles for me every night. I just didn’t want them worrying and couldn’t bear the thought of their pity. Yours either for that matter.”

  She almost choked on the words. “Especially not yours.”

  Because his face had grown anxious she tried to lighten the mood. “I think this story comes out a lot worse in the telling. I’ve made some good friends. My mother-in-law is such a love. The people I work with are really nice too. My boss, Mr. Tate, is one in a million and so is his wife. And then there’s Freddie…”

  “Freddie? Who’s this?”

  “He’s my best friend and was a godsend when I first arrived in Eddisville. If it hadn’t been for him and the Tates, I don’t know what I would have done. They probably saved me from jumping onto the railroad tracks.”

  She panicked slightly. She hadn’t meant to tell him this much, but his arm was around her shoulders holding her close. She leaned against him.

  “And your father-in-law. Is he as strange as that Montreal paper made him out to be?”

  “Yes, I suppose he is,” she said with a deliberate shake of the head and a wry smile, hoping to give the impression Otis was some sort of buffoon. She longed to tell Ron every awful thing about Otis but felt if she did, he’d kidnap her there and then, and never let her return to Eddisville.

  He held her upturned face gently in his hands, looking deep into her eyes. “Tell me the truth, Kath. Do you still love your husband?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. “I know I care for him because I worry about him constantly. I blamed myself when he reenlisted. Then when he was wounded, everything was compounded. The guilt, along with other things, almost drove me over the edge. But I’m nearly well now.”

  “Come away with me, Kath,” he pleaded. “You don’t belong here. It doesn’t make any sense to me that you should stay.”

  “Maybe it doesn’t, not to you, but I can’t leave. Even though Georgina meant well, she shouldn’t have called you. It wasn’t fair to you or to me. And I wish you hadn’t left Yvonne. Now you’ll have nobody to go back to.”

  “What do you mean? Why can’t you leave?”

  “There’s nothing I can give you, Ron. I can’t just walk away from Bob.” She looked down and pulled a clamshell out of the sand. “I can’t explain it. I still feel compelled to try to make a go of my marriage. You know, try to make it work.”

  “But you just said a minute ago you aren’t even sure you love him anymore.”

  “I’m not. At least not the way you and I love each other. I thought I did once but it was some kind of crazy infatuation, mixed with a longing to see the world. I fell in love with the uniform and the idea of coming to America.”

  “So why are you staying?”

  She turned away from the look of agony in his face and stared out across the Atlantic.

  “Because I owe him at least this much. In spite of everything, him going back into the army like he did, I honestly believe it was shame that made him run away and reenlist. And I was the one who shamed him. How do I know if he’ll be able to cope now that he’s been wounded and nearly lost his leg. Just because everything in Eddisville wasn’t what I expected, and maybe I’ve chang
ed my mind, doesn’t give me the right to walk away. I have to wait until he comes home to see how things are with us.”

  “But Kath, you can’t be expected…”

  “And, in case you’ve forgotten,” she interrupted, “we’re Catholics. Not very good ones I’ll grant you, but you know what the church says about divorce.”

  “But there must be something. Maybe you can get an annulment.”

  Gently she put a finger to his lips. “Listen to me, Ron. We have five days ahead of us. Let’s enjoy them like there’s no tomorrow. And after that, well can’t we just wait and see what comes?”

  She looked earnestly at him, hoping, praying he’d understand. His eyes searched her face for a long time as if he was really trying to see her point of view. Then he smiled his slow, wonderful smile, his eyes crinkling in the corners in that same old way, and she knew he understood what she was trying to say.

  Suddenly she felt light-headed and happy, the way she used to when unexpected things happened. The five days stretched in front of them, as if they would last a lifetime.

  “Where are you staying?” she asked as she looked down the beach at the row of about fifteen houses.

  “There’s an old inn over that rise. It’s about two hundred years old. I couldn’t believe it when I found it. It’s a fabulous place. Some enterprising soul built six log cabins and scattered them in the grounds behind the main house. Apparently, they stay fully booked but there was a cancellation. I was lucky enough to get one of the cabins.”

  He reached for her hand and smiled. “Will you come to my cabin with me? I have a very mysterious package waiting in my suitcase for you.”

  “You’ve bought me something? But you shouldn’t have.”

  He laughed. “No, I didn’t buy you anything. Come on. Let’s go and see what it is.”

  With arms tight around each other, they walked the half mile to his cabin. When Ron handed her the package, she saw Georgina’s handwriting on the label. It was addressed to Ron but down in the corner, Georgina had written “for Kathleen.”

  “Well, go on, open it,” Ron said. “I’m as anxious to see it as you are.”

  “You mean you don’t know what it is either. But you…”

  “It came by express mail. When I talked to Georgina on the phone, she said she’d planned to send it to you but thought it would be nicer if I gave it to you.”

  Kathleen’s eager fingers waded through layers of tissue paper until she finally pulled out a tiny green velvet box. Her breath caught in her throat as she remembered a rainy night in New York when two newfound friends were returning to their hotel from the theater. She had looked down as she stepped out of the taxi and seen the shiny object glittering there.

  Slowly now, with fingers trembling, she lifted the box’s dainty lid. The superb emerald, flanked by the shimmering diamonds, winked up at her.

  When she looked up and saw Ron’s wide eyes looking from her to the ring, she told him as briefly as she could the story behind the ring.

  “There’re two envelopes enclosed, as well,” he said, “It looks as if one’s from the New York City Police Department and the other from Georgina.”

  Kathleen read the note from the Police Department first. It was short and to the point, stating that as no person had come forward to ask for the ring, Kathleen Conroy could consider it her own.

  “I just can’t believe it,” she whispered. “Nobody claimed it after all.”

  Judging from Georgina’s letter, she’d been just as surprised as Kathleen that the ring hadn’t been claimed. She had almost forgotten all about the incident. The ring had probably been smuggled into the country, she’d written. Did Kathleen remember when the jeweler mentioned it had a foreign setting? And when you got right down to it, nobody in his right mind would report the loss of a ring that was so obviously hot. She said she hoped Kathleen wouldn’t mind but she’d taken the liberty of having the ring appraised. The most reputable jewelry store in Chicago had valued it at six thousand dollars.

  Kathleen looked at the smoldering emerald, fascinated once again by the way it glowed from deep inside when held at a certain angle toward the light. She slipped it on her finger, knowing from before it would be a perfect fit.

  “What do you think, Ron?” She raised her hand closer to his face. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.”

  But Ron wasn’t looking at the ring. He was looking at her. “Please don’t go,” he said, his voice was suddenly hoarse with desire. “Stay with me tonight.”

  She was in his arms then, her longing for him touched with just a hint of restraint, or some feeling she couldn’t quite put a name to. But she was a woman now, she told herself, not the foolish adventure-seeking girl she used to be. If she didn’t snatch at this one chance of happiness, would it ever come her way again? They were together at last in this isolated place, light years away from the outside world, and Kathleen knew she would never love anybody in the world like she loved this man.

  Later, in the gathering twilight, they had dinner at an elegant little restaurant overlooking the Atlantic. Then, around midnight, arms wrapped around each other, they walked along the beach, listening to the waves as they swished against the shore, and watched the clouds traveling across a sky teeming with stars.

  That night was the first of five nights of heaven. During the days they were like any young people at the beach. They found surfboards in Mr. Simpson’s house and carried them out into waist-high water. They shrieked with laughter when that special big wave bore down on them and they rode it to shore. Sometimes they went for long drives, exploring the quiet beauty of the low country, or traveling north to the razzamatazz of Myrtle Beach. At night, while they danced to all their favorite tunes on the tiny dance floor of the lodge, the last splinter of Kathleen’s illness slipped away.

  * * *

  Even though they’d known all along the exact hour they’d say good-bye, it came with an awful abruptness, as if a door was about to suddenly close.

  “This is my address and telephone number in Montreal,” Ron said as he pressed the piece of paper into her hand. “If you need me for anything, anytime, you must promise to call me right away.”

  “Ron, I’m so sorry…”

  He kissed her on the mouth to silence her. “Please Kath, don’t be sorry. I’d give everything I own to scoop you up right now and take you away. It wouldn’t matter where just as long as nobody could ever hurt you again. I can see though there’s nothing I can do to change your mind. But please, don’t regret this time we’ve had. I knew what I was getting into when I flew down here. You’ve got to believe me when I tell you l wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

  He drew her close to him for the last time. “I’ll always love you, Kathleen McCreadie. Always. No matter what happens to us or how far away from each other we are, we’ll have this time to remember. It was magic. I want you to find a haven in memory like I will.”

  He put his hand gently under her chin and lifted her face, then looked deep into her eyes. “You’re not sorry are you?”

  She smiled at the most wonderful man in the world. “No, I’m not sorry. I’m glad. And yes, I’ll remember these five days as long as I live.”

  Hardly able to tear themselves away from each other, they clung together for one final moment. Kathleen finally stepped inside her car and headed back toward Eddisville, while Ron drove toward the airport at Myrtle Beach.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Kathleen returned to Eddisville healthier than she’d been in ages. Ron Velnes had done that for her and she didn’t regret one minute of those few precious days at the beach. In her house on Petrie Avenue and in the dead of night, she relived every single moment they’d spent together. In that lonely bed, she could feel again his strong arms enfolding her, and she whispered his name over and over in the dark of her room.

  Sometimes, in the cold light of day, the Catholic side of her rose unwanted to the surface
and she wondered fleetingly if there had been a Catholic church in the little town, would she have gone to confession.

  * * *

  Lennie Barlow called to Kathleen as she returned to her desk with a cup of coffee. “Telephone call for you, English. Sounds like your father-in-law to me.”

  “Can you come over right away?” Otis asked. “Somethin’ bad’s happened to Beulah. She’s out cold. I…we’ve tried shakin’ her but she just ain’t comin’ around.”

  Kathleen felt a tightness in her chest. “Have you called Dr. Parker?”

  “Not yet.”

  She wanted to scream at Otis for his stupidity. “I’ll do it then. He needs to get to your house right away. Just as soon as I’ve called him, I’ll be on my way.”

  * * *

  Beulah had been placed on the bed that Kathleen and Bob had used. Even though she looked as if she’d closed her eyes to take a short nap, Kathleen knew her mother-in-law would never open them again.

  “It looks like her heart just gave out,” Dr. Parker said, pulling the sheet up over the dead woman’s face.

  “Yeah, there just ain’t nothin’ else we can do.” Otis’s obvious attempt at remorse wasn’t fooling anyone. “Soon as I seen her lyin’ there in her garden, I knew Jesus had called her home.”

  He sighed. “Beulah was strange at times, mighty strange, but there ain’t no doubt in my mind she’s already crossed that mighty river. Yes sir, I saved her myself so I reckon I should know.”

  He turned to his daughter. “Selma, honey,” he said, evidently forgetting himself and using his favorite term of endearment for his daughter. “Why don’t you let the doctor take a look at your rash. You’d save yourself an office visit. You can’t even look at poison ivy without breakin’ out.”

  Dr. Parker’s face had disgust written all over it. “For chrissake Otis, what is it with you? Your wife hasn’t been dead an hour and you ask Selma to consult me about a rash?”

  He pushed Otis out of the way and strode past them both into the hall to use the phone.

  Before Beulah’s body was taken away, Kathleen went into the bedroom where she lay. Gently she turned back the sheet that covered Beulah’s face, then she took out her rosary and knelt beside the bed to pray. She didn’t know Otis was standing in the bedroom doorway and as she crossed herself, his gasp of alarm startled her.