Different Drummers (6 page)

“So, you're an English girl, married to one of our local boys. This surely is news. Welcome to America, Miz Conroy.”

“Thank you, sir. I'm pleased to be here.”

“Will you and Bobby be settling down in Eddisville when he gets out of the army?”

“I don't know yet. It's too early to tell. I'm hoping he's already on his way home. He could even get here today.”

Mr. Tate looked at his watch. “I'm supposed to be heading out toward Beaufort in ten minutes, otherwise I could interview you now.”

He pulled a small red book from his shirt pocket and flicked through the pages. “Let's see if we can pick a date here. Yep, this'll do. Can you come by our offices next Monday at eleven o'clock? And bring a photograph of yourself. If you don't have one, we can take one. After all, what's a story about a new girl in town without a picture to show what she looks like?”

Freddie beamed. “Ain't this great, Kathleen? You'll be a celebrity, in the paper an' all, and you only just got here.”

“I didn't expect this,” she said. “I've never had my photograph or anything else about me in a newspaper before. It'll be something I can send home to my family.”

“Right then, we'll expect you Monday.”

Mr. Tate smiled, then drained his coffee cup. “I wouldn't be as rushed as I am, if Patsy Ashcraft wasn't in the family way. You know her don't you, Freddie? Well, she's out more than she's in these days. I don't suppose she can help that but I'm having the hardest time finding someone to fill her shoes.”

As he replaced his little red book, he gave Kathleen a quizzical look. “This is a long shot, but what kind of work did you do in England? There isn't one chance in a hundred is there that you can type and maybe take shorthand?”

“Why yes, I can do both. Before I left England I was a secretary with a large pharmaceutical company.”

Mr. Tate leaned forward. “Is that a fact? Still, I don't suppose there's a snowball's chance in hell you'd be interested in getting a job, especially so soon after getting here?”

Kathleen twirled her empty glass. “To tell you the truth, I hadn't thought about it. But I enjoy working and I'm sure the money will come in handy.”

“Do you think you might like to work for a weekly newspaper?”

“Why yes, yes I would,” she said, trying not to sound too eager. “But I know absolutely nothing about the newspaper business.”

“It wouldn't take long to learn.” Mr. Tate's smile was encouraging as he looked at her over his glasses. “I could interview you on Monday, the same time we do the story on you.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I'm not promising anything mind you, and then again, there's the chance you won't like us. But seeing as how you're coming in anyway…”

His voice trailed off as he looked at his watch again. “You think on it, young lady,” he said as he stood up and reached for his hat. He pulled a business card from his hatband, one of half a dozen planted there. “My phone number's on here. Give Patsy a call just as soon as you can.” He put his hat on. “I really have to go. Good-day to you both.”

“Well, I'll be,” Freddie Conroy said as Mr. Tate practically fell out the door in his haste to be gone. “You're only in town five minutes and already you've been offered one of the best jobs in Eddisville, for a woman anyway.”

Kathleen looked up from the card. “Ah, come on Freddie, I'm only going for an interview. And besides, I'm a foreigner, brand new in town. Why would he pick me over a local girl? And yes, it sounds like a nice job, but it couldn't be that good.”

Or could it
?

Of course she hadn't got the job yet but stood as good a chance as anyone. At least, just thinking about it made tolerating the outlandish Otis Conroy until Bob arrived seem easier.

When Freddie paid for their meal at the counter on their way out, Johnny Mayhew smiled at Kathleen and said he was real glad to meet her. Kathleen replied the feeling was mutual.

“Y'all come back now,” Johnny shouted as they headed out the door.

After they left Todd's, Freddie drove quickly through a rundown neighborhood that he unfeelingly referred to as “nigger town.”

Kathleen wanted to know more about segregation in the South, but not now. This time was for her, this short time before evening when Otis Conroy would again be at the dinner table. William Tate's offer had raised her spirits and while the truck rattled along toward Bennington Street, she chatted and laughed with Freddie as if they'd known each other for ages. And all the while she kept her hand in her skirt pocket and fingered the sacred letter from her family.

Supper that night was different from the previous evening. Selma arrived at the last minute and began talking directly to Kathleen right after Otis had said the blessing.

“I stopped in Todd's today for a Nehi and it seems like everybody's talkin' about you. Johnny Mayhew said you've stirred up the whole town.”

Kathleen turned crimson as she buttered one of Beulah's delicious biscuits. Then she told them about the conversation with Mr. Tate and how he planned to interview her for a job as his secretary at the same time he did the story on her and Bob for the
Gazette
. Even though she was smiling at Beulah, Kathleen felt Otis's eyes on her, willing her to look at him.

His voice trembled with intensity. “You'd better be keepin' away from William Tate. There's somethin' evil about that man.”

She did turn to look at him then. “Evil? Why, I don't think I've ever met a nicer, friendlier man.”

“Yeah, that's the way the devil comes across. He fools you by being nice and friendly-like. Tate's a newspaperman, and he don't think like the rest of us.”

Otis's thin lips pulled back from his yellowing teeth in a sort of grimace. “He wrote a column just four months ago saying he sometimes has trouble believing there's a God. Said he's an agnostic. He put enough in his paper that day to send him straight to hell.”

He picked up his glass of iced tea. “Call his paper tomorrow and tell them you won't be comin' in after all. There ain't nothin' good can come out of you workin' there.”

Kathleen rose from the table. “Surely it can't do any harm to be interviewed,” she said. “And anyway, I'd like them to do that story about Bob and me. It's for my family, you see. It'll be something to send home.”

She stepped back, then eased her chair under the table. “If you'll excuse me, I need to unpack some more of my things.”

CHAPTER THREE

Kathleen lived from hour to hour, watching the clock, and waiting for Bob. While she was still in England, he had sent her a snapshot of himself standing beside an almost new red Studebaker convertible which he'd bought the very week he'd arrived in Texas. When she'd shown the picture to her family, even Nina had been impressed. Kevin had said you'd have to wait a long time before you'd see anyone in Chester driving around in a car like that. Kathleen now constantly walked the length of Bennington Street, waiting for the red car to turn the corner with Bob at the wheel. She fantasized how it would be. The minute he walked through the door, he'd take her in his arms and hold her so close she'd almost die from the wonder of it all. He'd stroke her face and tell her everything was going to be all right. Then, after they'd made love in the quiet of their bedroom, she'd tell him they'd have to find somewhere else to live. Oh, he'd be well aware of his father's strangeness. This had to be the reason he hadn't been more straightforward when her family had questioned him about his home.

* * *

On Sunday, Kathleen's fifth day in Eddisville, Bob still had not arrived. Surely this would be the day he would come. It just had to be.

The family took it for granted she would attend morning service at the Holiness Church of Jesus and she was curious to see Otis in the role of preacher. The church was a medium-sized white wooden structure on the edge of town. It was on a grassy slope surrounded by huge live oaks, draped with moss. The heavy scent of honeysuckle mingled with the sweet, rich smell of new-mown grass, while climbing red roses almost covered the white picket fence that bordered one side of the church. Kathleen had never seen a hummingbird in her life, except in books, but now stood enchanted at the sight of six or seven of them darting among the roses. And all the while a mockingbird sang its tiny heart out on the church's gabled roof. She whispered to Beulah that she'd never seen a more beautiful spot in all her life.

The interior of the Holiness Church of Jesus reminded her of a theater. There was a stage with pots of flowers placed every couple of feet along its curve. The happy chattering throng was different altogether from the congregation of Our Lady's in Chester, who always spoke in whispers behind hands placed over mouths. Kathleen sat next to the aisle with Selma and Beulah beside her. She saw Freddie Conroy six rows in front waving wildly to attract her attention. He touched the shoulder of the older woman beside him who turned and also waved. He mouthed the words “this is my mom.” Kathleen smiled and waved discreetly back.

Pastor Homer Conroy led the church in prayer, followed by the adult choir, dressed in their pale blue satin robes, singing a gospel song. The music was toe-tapping, not like the serious hymns sung at home. Kathleen clapped in time with the music, just like everybody else, and smiled at Selma and Beulah to let them know she was enjoying herself.

When Pastor Conroy called upon his brother to speak, Otis strode to the lectern, his Bible clutched tightly to his chest. His gaze swept the congregation before he stretched his arms outward and upward in praise. He closed his eyes.

“Praise the Lord.” His voice echoed around the church.

”Praise the Lord,” the congregation responded.

“Hallelujah,” shouted Otis.

“Hallelujah,” came the answer.

Kathleen felt the mood change as everybody fixed their gaze on her father-in-law. With his Bible flat in the palm of his hand and raised on an outstretched arm above his head, he paced from one side of the stage to the other, warning of the Antichrist, the Mark of the Beast, and Armageddon. Everything was falling into place, he said, just as foretold in the Bible. The Jews had returned to the land of Israel and the Second Coming was at hand. Kathleen saw the raised hands as Otis promised eternal life to the faithful and everlasting torment to those who hadn't accepted Jesus Christ as their personal savior.

His sermon was drawing to an end and his voice changed to a screaming whine.

“Thank you Jesus, my blessed savior. Thank you for savin' me from the fire that'll never be quenched. I am born again. Yes, my Jesus, I am truly born again, and on my way to heaven.” He stretched his arms outwards to the congregation. “What are we, brothers and sisters?” he shouted. “I say, what are we?”

“We're born again,” the congregation sang out.

Otis's voice grew ever louder. “Come to the Kingdom of God, brothers and sisters. This is a happy day. Yes, indeedy, this is a happy day. Come to the front, brothers and sisters. Come down to the front and receive Christ as your personal Savior.”

The piano played softly as one after another rose from their seats and walked slowly to the front to kneel before Otis. His voice all of a sudden became softer, more subtle.

“Lord Jesus, wash my sins away. I've lived the life of a sinner and I now give myself to you, Lord Jesus. Jee-sus, Jee-sus.”

He walked among the kneeling people, laying his hands on the head of each one. “Lord Jesus, bless this sinner.”

Kathleen felt something twist deep inside her as Otis turned from the stage and looked directly at her. Then, with shoulders hunched like an animal stalking his prey, he crept up the aisle toward her. When he stopped beside her, she sat tense and still, staring straight ahead.

His voice rose once again to hysterical pitch as he placed his hands on either side of her head and moved it slowly from side to side.

“Brothers and sisters, you see beside me a true sinner. She's a Papist, a Catholic, and comes from far across the sea. Just the other day, she flat out told me she didn't know the meanin' of them wondrous words, to be saved and to be born again.”

Kathleen's face burned as people turned in their seats and craned their necks to get a better look.

“Now, you think on that awhile,” Otis said after a loaded pause. “You think of that big empty space in your life if you hadn't been born again, didn't even know what the words meant.” His clammy hands trembled with excitement as they gripped Kathleen's head. Then he lowered them and reached for her hand.

“I'm gonna lead her down to the front where we'll all pray for her eternal soul. It'll be up to us to make her see the light.”

The unnerving look of ecstasy on his sweating face contorted his features, and she could smell his stale breath as he leaned toward her.

“Come, girl. Let's you and me walk the glory road together.”

Her ears began to sing but her fixed smile didn't waver as she pushed his hand away. She didn't miss the flash of anger in his wild eyes as he placed his hands again on her head, one on each side, pressing hard until she felt he would crush her skull. He tried to raise her out of her chair by pulling her up by the head.

“Lord Jesus, save this unfortunate sinner. Bring her into the fold.”

He pulled her head over to his chest and the buttons on his jacket pressed into her cheek. “Cast out them Catholic demons, Kathleen, and come on down to the front. Jesus and eternal life in the Kingdom of Heaven is no more than a short walk away.”

The congregation became a blur as Kathleen wriggled free from his grip, then held on to the seat in front as she wobbled to her feet.

“Get out of my way,” she hissed through clenched teeth, “get out of my way.”

Startled, he backed off, giving her enough room to get through.

“Go to hell, Otis,” was all she could think to say as she pushed passed him on legs of straw, walked up the aisle and out of the church.

She took deep gulps of the sweet-scented air, as she made her way down the long church path and onto the road, unaware of even the direction she was taking. About five minutes passed before she became dimly conscious of Freddie Conroy's truck driving slowly alongside her.

He stopped and opened the door on the passenger side. “You feel like ridin' a while?” he asked.

“You're as white as a sheet,” he said as she climbed in silently. “Todd's ain't open on a Sunday so let's get a Coke at my house.”

He waited until she had closed the door then eased away from the curb. “Land sakes,” he muttered, almost to himself. “I ain't never seen the like.”

Kathleen hardly heard him. “How dare he do that to me,” she said, her face working anxiously. “How could he humiliate me like that in front of all those people?”

Freddie fiddled with his rear view mirror before he answered, as if searching for the right words.

“Otis, well, he is sort of strange, I gotta grant you that, and I have to say he came on to you pretty strong in there. He thinks he's been handpicked to save the world. He's always been hooked on Jesus, ever since he had his callin' years ago. I go to that church to please Momma. She hangs on his every word. She says he's done a power of good for people round here in need of the Lord.”

Kathleen looked straight ahead. “I'm not saying he hasn't. But that doesn't mean he can press my skull so hard I see stars, or speak to me as if I'm not even human. When he grabbed me like he did, I just wanted to die.”

She looked at Freddie's serious face as he turned the car into his driveway. “You're not going to let this affect our friendship are you? So far, you're the only friend I've got around here.”

He switched off the ignition then turned to face her. The gentleness of his gaze was unexpected. “Of course I'm not. Come on, let's go in and get that Coke.”

Kathleen noticed the floor plan of Freddie's house was identical to the house on Bennington Street, but the similarity ended there. This house was light and airy, with pretty curtains at the windows. They sat in the spotless kitchen and drank their Cokes.

Freddie asked her questions about England as he made an obvious effort to calm her. She told him all about Chester and her family, the bakery, the way she'd loved to go dancing at the Rialto. And all the while, her brain hammered with questions that had no solutions. What would Otis Conroy have to say when she went back to the house on Bennington Street and how in the name of God could she possibly spend another night in that house without Bob.

She sipped her Coke. “Thanks for taking me under your wing, Freddie. I honestly don't know what I've have done without you.”

“Don't even think about it. Any fool could see you've been dying inside ever since you got here. When I dropped you off at Bobby's house that first day, you looked like you could've fainted clean away. I don't know what you expected but I could see it wasn't that. You ain't got no friends here yet, and being so far away from home and all…”

His voice trailed away as he pushed his chair back from the table, picked up their empty glasses and took them to the sink.

“What about you?” Kathleen asked. “Surely you have a girlfriend or two tucked around Eddisville somewhere?”

He grinned self-consciously. “I date Mary Mayhew some, but it's nothin' serious. You met her brother, Johnny, the guy behind the counter in Todd's.”

* * *

Half an hour later, when Freddie turned into the Conroy's driveway, a bright red Studebaker convertible was parked next to Otis's old car.

“That's Bob's car! He's home, Freddie! Bob's come home!” She jumped down from the truck and ran into the house, leaving a smiling Freddie to back his truck out of the driveway and head back down Bennington Street.

She hardly noticed Otis's stern, disapproving face, or Selma standing beside him. She had eyes only for her handsome husband, his face weary from his long drive, his hair flopping across his forehead. She stood in the doorway, drinking in the sight of him, and then walked into his arms.

“You've come at last,” she said softly. “I was beginning to think you'd never get here.”

His arms went around her, holding her close. “Hello, Baby,” he said, stroking her hair. “I came as fast as I could. I drove straight through, hardly even stoppin' for a sandwich. I couldn't wait to see you. I ain't thought of nothin' else.”

He held her at arm's length, his eyes searching her face. “You're just as pretty as ever, Baby.”

She smiled and placed her hand gently on his cheek, at the same time aching for the privacy of their room. Just a few minutes to have him all to herself was all she needed.

When Otis cleared his throat loudly, Bob colored and set her slightly away from him.

“Daddy's been tellin' me about the service this mornin' and how you didn't seem to like it all that much.”

“Don't you be treatin' this like it ain't nothin', Bobby,” Otis said in a shaky voice. “She blasphemed me in the church. In front of my congregation, and to my everlastin' shame, she blasphemed me. And then, when I'd promised her salvation and eternal life in the hereafter, she turned and walked out.”

“What do you mean, I blasphemed?” All Kathleen could remember were his hands pressing her head and the sickening humiliation of it all.

“You told me to go to hell. Right there in the sanctity of our church, you told the man who was trying to take you to Jesus to go to hell.”

She pursed her lips to stem the flow of words, to stop herself from saying even a saint would have trouble coping with the likes of him.

“I'm sorry if I offended you. I didn't mean to. I shouldn't have said what I did, but you took me by surprise.” She gave a slight shrug. “It's not as blasphemous where I come from. It's just well, more a figure of speech. Well, not quite that, but it isn't taken as literally as it obviously is here. I didn't want to go to the front and blurted it out without thinking.”

Otis didn't hear her. “You see, Bobby, you see what you married and brought into this house. You never did tell me she was a Catholic. I thought all along she was a Christian.”

Bob's face darkened. “No, I didn't tell you she was a Catholic. When you're away from this place for a long time, things like that don't matter as much as they do here. Not everybody in the world is as gone on this stuff as you are.”