Different Drummers (3 page)

A taxi pulled up to the curb. “The Hillshire on Fifty-ninth Street, please.”

She stepped inside and readied herself for the thrill of a lifetime—a ride through the dazzling streets of New York in a yellow cab.

* * *

At last in the Hillshire Hotel with Georgina, Kathleen didn't elaborate on the incident in the ship's library except in a passing sort of way. Their time together in New York was short and why waste even a minute of it talking about international politics when there was so much of this wonderful city to see. Perhaps one day she would tell Bob about it. Now was not the time.

Within an hour of arriving at the hotel, she and Georgina headed out again for Macy's to look for that very special dress Kathleen would wear when she came face to face with her mother-in-law that very first time.

“This is pretty.” Georgina held up a periwinkle dress in a silky fabric with matching jacket. “It's your size too, a ten, and it's also fifty percent off.”

“Ah yes, this is it.” Kathleen took the ensemble from Georgina and held it high before taking it to the fitting room. She slipped the dress over her head and pirouetted in front of the mirror.

“You'll have to get it,” Georgina said. “When Bob's mother sees you in that, she'll think her son married a movie star. Besides, the blue is the exact same color as your eyes.”

Kathleen splurged on the wide-brimmed navy blue hat, trimmed with little flowers the same color as the outfit. The high heeled navy shoes she bought had platform soles, ankle straps, and even little detachable pom-poms on the front. She'd wanted a pair this snappy for years.

That night and in the pouring rain they went to the theater to see Audrey Hepburn in
Gigi
. It was still raining three hours later when they hailed a cab to take them back to the hotel. Kathleen stepped out behind Georgina, eyes cast down to make sure her raincoat didn't trail in a puddle. A bright object glittered there, almost covered by the murky water. She reached down and plucked out a ring with a large green stone in its center flanked by what looked like two diamonds.

Back in their room, Kathleen wiped it with a tissue then handed it to Georgina. “What do you make of it? It was in that puddle.”

Georgina held it up to the light. “Somebody's probably tearing their hair out right about now wondering whatever happened to this.”

“You're not trying to tell me that huge green stone's a real emerald, are you?”

Georgina nodded. “I'd almost swear to it. I know for sure the diamonds are real.” She looked up, her eyes bright as the stones in the ring.

“What should we do now?” Kathleen asked. “I can't keep it if it's valuable, but I'm not sure about turning it in at the desk.”

“Me neither. Who can you trust these days?”

Georgina sat on the edge of the bed, still staring at the ring. “I noticed an antique jewelry shop just a couple of blocks away from this hotel. Let's go there tomorrow after breakfast and have it appraised. If it's valuable, we'll have to report it to the police. And if it's worth as much as I think it is, whoever claims it is bound to offer a reward.”

Kathleen grinned. “In that case, how can I say no.”

* * *

The next morning the jeweler examined the ring. “The large stone is a true emerald flanked by flawless diamonds. The setting is definitely foreign.”

He pushed his glasses to the top of his head as he listened to the girls tell him how Kathleen found the ring. “As regards price, well, excuse me for just a minute.” He disappeared into another room, taking the ring with him, returning in a few minutes with a small bottle and a chamois. He cleaned the ring carefully and held it up to the light again before placing it on a small black velvet cushion. He shone a bright light on it for them to see.

”Take a good look at the emerald. Do you see the inner glow deep in the center?”

”Yes,” Kathleen whispered. “There's a sort of fire-glow coming from it.”

The shop door opened and a policeman entered. He ambled toward them and tipped his cap. “Good morning, Mr. Frank, ladies. Now which one of you found this ring?”

Goose pimples popped out on Kathleen's arms. The jeweler had called the police. Surely he didn't think she'd stolen it. She half raised her hand.

“I did. When I stepped out of the taxi last night, there it was lying in the gutter outside the hotel.”

“That's true,” Georgina said. “I was with her and we have other witnesses. The taxi driver as well as the hotel doorman saw her pick it up.”

The policeman pushed his cap to the back of his head. “Oh, I believe you all right. Still, it'll have to be handed over. Something this valuable will never go unclaimed. You'll need to come to the station to fill out some papers. It's just around the corner. Shouldn't take more than ten or twenty minutes.”

“But what happens if nobody claims it?” Georgina asked.

“The rules are if nobody claims it within one year, it's yours.”

Kathleen gulped. “You mean there really is such a thing as finders, keepers?”

The policeman smiled at her and slowly shook his head. “Don't even think about it, little lady. If this ring isn't claimed in one week, my mother wasn't born in Ireland.”

At the police station, Kathleen couldn't recall the Conroys' street address in Eddisville and asked Georgina if it would be all right if she wrote down her address in Chicago. Afterwards they went for a quick lunch in the Hillshire's snack bar. Then, because Kathleen was leaving first, Georgina helped her lug her two suitcases to the sidewalk to wait for a cab.

She held on to Kathleen's arm while she talked. “I don't want to sound like the voice of doom, but be careful, Kathleen. Are you sure somebody will be there to meet you?”

“Of course they will.” Kathleen smiled, trying to reassure herself as well as the sharp-eyed Georgina. “There are only two buses a day to Eddisville from Columbia. It's just a small town. If I'm not on one, then they'll know I'll be on the other. Besides, I can always get a taxi.”

Georgina handed her a piece of paper. “This is my address and telephone number. If you should ever need me, all you have to do is pick up the phone. Now promise me at least that much.”

Kathleen stuck the scrap of paper in her purse. “I promise, but I don't know why you're so worried about me. Nothing's going to go wrong. You seem so, so apprehensive.”

“I know. It's just that I hate to see you go. And, well”

“Well what?”

“You're such a dreamer. In every other respect you're so level-headed. But you've got these romantic ideas about America, and especially the South, as if it's some sort of Shangri La. This isn't the movies, Kathleen. It's the real thing. You think there're magnolias growing outside every house and mint juleps on every table don't you?”

Kathleen laughed. “Don't be silly. I don't even know what a mint julep is.”

Georgina laughed then too. “Neither do I. I guess I'm just as crazy as you are. Somebody offered Bette Davis one in a movie I saw once about the South.”

They hugged as the yellow cab pulled up in front of the hotel.

“Pennsylvania Station, please,” Kathleen said as she stepped inside.

She looked through the rear window and waved to Georgina until the taxi was caught up in the hundreds of other cars on the busy street.

The red cap picked up Kathleen's luggage as she stepped out of the taxi at Pennsylvania Station. After telling him her destination, she followed him through the cavernous building to the right ticket counter. He touched his cap and smiled when she tipped him the two quarters Georgina said were appropriate. She paid her fare, then sat on the nearest bench to look around and people-watch. The train was leaving at three forty-five. She smiled to herself, remembering the tune she'd jitterbugged to a thousand times at the Rialto. “You leave the Pennsylvania Station at a quarter to four, read the magazine and then you're in Baltimore…”

CHAPTER TWO

“Next stop, Columbia.” The train conductor's piercing voice jolted Kathleen awake. She rubbed her eyes and smoothed her skirt with her hands, then gathered her things as the train pulled into South Carolina's capital city. Thirty minutes later she was in the bus station waiting for the bus to Eddisville. In a stall in the ladies' rest room, she changed into the all-important dress and jacket. She applied just a touch of lipstick and silently thanked God for her naturally wavy jet-black hair. She ran a comb through it and let it fall loose on her shoulders, then soaked a paper towel and held it to her sweating face. It was just the first of June, yet already the day was hot and muggy. Before she left the rest room, she crossed herself, more for good luck than out of religious need.

At two o'clock in the afternoon, Kathleen stepped off the bus in Eddisville right in front of a shop with Gus's General Store painted on a sign over the door. She turned back to the bus while the driver helped her off with her luggage. He looked up and down the street as if he too expected someone to meet the bus, then with a puzzled shake of his head, he tipped his hat and hauled himself back into the driver's seat.

Kathleen watched as the bus pulled away and disappeared around a bend in the road.

Deep down she'd known all along nobody would be there to meet her and didn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved. At least it gave her a few minutes to view her surroundings. Across the street was an Eckerd's drug store, right next door to a small Woolworth's almost identical to the one in Chester. On the next block a supermarket had A&P emblazoned across the front. There was a dress shop called Laura's and a few other stores further along.

She sat on her larger suitcase and took off her brand new jacket, then eased her swollen feet out of her beautiful brand new shoes. She wiped her sweating face with a tissue and thought of the deliciously cool bath she'd have as soon as she settled in at Bob's house. And maybe, just maybe, she'd take a dip in the swimming pool, which the Conroys could very well have. If American movies were anything to go by, half the houses in the country had one. And was it any wonder. In weather this hot, a pool was almost a necessity.

She glanced at her watch. Already she'd been here ten minutes and still no sign of anyone who looked remotely like they were here to meet an English girl getting off a bus. She turned to look at the shop behind her, then forced her feet back into her shoes. She'd phone for a taxi. Why hadn't she thought of this before. As she wobbled toward the door, carrying the larger of her two suitcases, three young men sauntered in front of her. With her free hand, she pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at the perspiration on her upper lip.

“Excuse me, but do you know the way to Bennington Street?”

She felt like the foreigner she was when their puzzled expressions told her they were having difficulty understanding her accent.

Suddenly a broad grin split the face of the one in the middle. “Well, I'll be… I reckon you must be Bobby Conroy's new wife from England.”

Kathleen flashed an answering smile and lowered the suitcase to the ground. “Yes, that's me. I was hoping someone would be here to meet me but, well, it's not a big problem. If you'll tell me where I can get a taxi, I'll just go on out to their home.”

All three shuffled self-consciously.

“Ma'am, I'm as sorry as I can be,” said the spokesman for the trio, “but there just ain't no place around here where you can get a taxi. We ain't got no cabs in Eddisville.”

He combed his hair with his hand then brushed at some dried mud on his pants. “If you don't mind ridin' in my old beat-up truck, I'll be more than willin' to run you out there. It's not far.”

Kathleen wanted to fling her arms around him. “I'd really appreciate it. Are you sure you don't mind?”

“No ma'am. It'll be my pleasure. My name's Freddie Conroy. I'm second cousin to Bobby.”

He pointed to the blue truck at the side of the building, then picked up her suitcases.

Freddie wasn't kidding about the state of his truck. The shabby upholstery reeked of stale cigarettes and sweat. She watched him place her suitcases carefully in the back before he climbed in beside her. He coaxed the old truck to life and they rattled away. Kathleen stared out the window as they sped past two or three avenues of gracious Gone-with-the-Wind style homes, until they came to the end of what was obviously the extent of Eddisville's affluent area.

“Yes, ma'am,” Freddie said, “Half of Eddisville knows Bobby Conroy found himself an English girl. Word'll be all over town come tomorrow.”

He drove his truck down a street of run-down houses. “This here's Bennington. Bobby's house is the last one.”

Kathleen's stomach tightened into a knot as Freddie turned his truck into the rutted driveway of a dilapidated white frame house. She turned to look at Freddie then back at the house. Surely there was some mistake. This couldn't possibly be Bob's home.

“The place looks deserted,” she said, her voice high-pitched and strange, not like her own voice at all. “Maybe there's nobody home.”

“Oh, they're home all right. That's Otis's car.”

Freddie had already jumped down from the truck and was coming around to her side to open the door. Would she be able to get out? She felt glued to her seat, unable to move.

“Come on, Kathleen. We're here. You're home at last.”

Like an invalid, she let him help her out and watched helplessly while he lifted her luggage out of the back.

“Beulah's most likely out back in her garden,” he said. “You be careful in them high heels. There's ruts in the ground. You don't need to be hurtin' yourself when you only just got here.”

He took her arm as they walked around the side of the house. “See, there she is. That's Beulah, Bobby's momma.”

The woman, her back bent over the land, was weeding vegetables. She turned around at the sound of Freddie's voice. Leaving her hoe in the ground, she wiped her hands on her skirt, brushed her forearm across her sweating brow and walked toward them.

Kathleen saw a face registering no emotion, aged too soon, and withered and lined from too many long days under a burning sun. She dredged up a semblance of a smile and held out her hand that she tried hard to keep from trembling.

“I'm Kathleen, Bob's wife. I hope you got my letter I'd be arriving today. I, well, you don't seem as if you were expecting me.”

The woman's hand was rough, like sandpaper. Her face still showed little expression as she gave a barely perceptible nod.

“Yeah, we knowed you was comin'. Figured as how you'd find your own way out here. Nearly always somebody settin' outside Gus's to tell you the way.”

Freddie shifted from foot to foot. “I reckon I'll be gettin' on back to town. It sure was nice meetin' you, Kathleen. Welcome to Eddisville.”

Beulah Conroy nodded to him. “I'm much obliged to you for the favor.”

Kathleen clasped her hands behind her back to keep from grabbing his arm, to stop herself from begging him to take her back to the bus stop. Instead she smiled at him, a tight sort of leer.

“Yes, thank you very much.”

Freddie climbed into his truck, put it in reverse, and backed out of the driveway. He threw up his hand in a wave before he guided his truck onto the winding road and disappeared from sight.

“I guess we need to go in and get you settled,” the woman said as she picked up one of her daughter-in-law's suitcases and walked ahead. Kathleen looked neither left nor right. All she saw was the woman in her ratty gray skirt and sleeveless blouse, which showed her sagging upper arms. Varicose veins bulged from the bare legs, and her back was bent forward with the seeming weight of years of hard work and hopelessness on her shoulders. She opened the screen door and held it for Kathleen, who struggled in her brand new high heels up the rickety wooden steps.

Strange cooking smells greeted her as she entered the stifling house. The dismal room in which she found herself was made even gloomier by the brown paint on the walls. There was a sofa against the wall with a print of huge yellow and orange flowers. Two mismatched chairs were across the room with a floor lamp between them. To the left was a small kitchen with an unfinished table and four chairs pushed against the window.

Kathleen's mother-in-law walked ahead then opened the door of a room at the end of a narrow hallway.

“This is y'all's room. I cleaned out this chiffarobe so you'd have somewhere to put your stuff.”

The woman tucked a strand of her straggly graying hair into her battered straw hat. “There don't seem to be much else I can do right now so I guess I'll be goin' back to my garden while you sort yourself out. My husband Otis, Bobby's daddy, is asleep in the next room so I'd be obliged if you wouldn't make no noise.”

Kathleen gave a little nod. “Yes, thank you. I'll be fine now.”

The woman moved toward the door. “Selma'll be home soon. That's Bobby's sister. When she gets here, it'll be time to eat.”

She held on to the doorknob for a few seconds, her face working as she looked at Kathleen, then to the floor as if struggling to think of something to say. When she abruptly turned and left the room, Kathleen closed the door quietly behind her. She eased her feet out of the crippling shoes, then took off her hat. Through the open window she watched her mother-in-law lumber back to her garden and pick up her hoe. She began weeding her vegetables, as though her daughter-in-law from three thousand miles away, whom she'd never even seen until fifteen minutes ago, had never even arrived.

Tears of self-pity welled up in Kathleen's eyes as she turned from the window and lowered herself onto the bed. She suddenly remembered Bob's letter, the one which had said how much his mother loved to garden. In her mind's eye she'd seen a genteel Southern lady, woven basket over her arm with gardening gloves on her elegantly manicured hands, and wearing a huge brimmed hat to guard her delicate skin from the searing summer sun. This lady had been cutting roses to arrange in her exquisite lead crystal vases. Kathleen could have screamed with laughter. Bob had meant a vegetable garden. There was nothing wrong with that of course, but never could she have conjured up a picture of Beulah Conroy tending it, never in a million years. Looking back she had to ask herself why she had taken it for granted Bob's home would be, well, at least elegant. She'd noticed his strange way of talking, his drawl, but lots of people in the movies talked that way. And in his American soldier's uniform, it was all part of his charm.

This had to be some kind of horrible dream and soon she'd wake up. She'd either be on the Belgravia with Georgina, or even back in Chester with her family. But who was she kidding? Smells didn't come into dreams, and the odors of the house, of mustiness and stale sweat, combined with the strange cooking smells coming from the kitchen, seeped even here into the bedroom.

The faintness eased as she lay still, eyes focused on the peeling ceiling. Finally, she swung her legs to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. Self-pity wouldn't solve anything. There had to be a better way. She stood up and smoothed the wrinkles out of her dress with her hand. She opened the door and saw the tiny bathroom at the end of the hall. At the same moment the door of the next room opened and a man stared at her uncomprehendingly. Otis Conroy appeared to be in his late forties and bore a faint resemblance to his son. He was clad only in the briefest of shorts, which left nothing to the imagination, but seemed unaware or unconcerned by this.

“Who are you and what are you doin' in my house?”

Kathleen blinked and stuck out her hand. “Good afternoon, sir. You must be Bob's father. I'm Kathleen. Kathleen from England. I'm Bob's wife.”

His hand was limp and clammy and it was all she could do not to snatch her own hand away. Slowly and deliberately his eyes roamed over her body until he eventually looked up and at the same time let go of her hand. His eyes were light brown, almost amber. There was a fervor in their depths, a zeal she'd never seen in other eyes. The unsmiling mouth was thin lipped, giving his face an almost cruel look. His voice surprised her by sounding perfectly normal.

“So you're Bobby's English wife. I'd forgotten this was the day you'd be arrivin'. I hope you found everythin' to your likin'.”

“Why yes, yes I did. Thank you.”

He looked down at his almost naked body. “I guess I need to be puttin' on some clothes as it's gettin' close to suppertime. If you're plannin' on goin' outside, you can tell Beulah I'm ready to eat.”

After one last appraising look, he stepped back into his room and closed the door.

On suddenly unsteady legs, Kathleen made her way to the vegetable garden.

“Mrs. Conroy, your husband. He said he's ready to eat.”

Her mother-in-law wiped her calloused hands on her skirt. “I was hopin' he'd sleep longer than this. I reckon I'd better get in there and start supper. It ain't gonna cook by itself.”

She picked up her hoe and walked away from the vegetables toward Kathleen. “Ain't you got nothin' else to wear except that fancy outfit and them high heels? Clothes like that ain't good for nothin' round here, except maybe for church.”

“Why yes, yes I do. I'll just freshen up and then change into something more comfortable. I have some sandals and a dress.”

She stayed in the bathroom a long time, splashing the cool water on her face and letting it run over her arms. When she looked in the tiny cracked mirror over the sink, the same face she'd always had stared back at her. It comforted her. She'd almost expected to have metamorphosed into something entirely different from the Kathleen McCreadie she'd known.

She whispered to her reflection. “Come on Kath, don't go to pieces. It won't do a bit of good.” She even winked at herself, then, because it helped, gave the face in the mirror a great big smile of encouragement.