Kathleen was a little puzzled. Something about the man she had just danced with was familiar. Her mind, accustomed to ferreting out details for her stories, searched her memory and came up with nothing.
To her utter surprise, when it came time to change partners again, she found herself in Johnny’s arms.
“Where did you come from? I didn’t see you here.”
“You’ve been too busy to look.”
When Willie began to sing, “Thanks for the Memory,” Johnny’s arms tightened around her just a fraction. They didn’t talk. Kathleen couldn’t have carried on a coherent conversation because she was flooded with conflicting feelings: resentment that he had stayed away for so long and gratitude that he was here and holding her. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the wonderful feel of him, his breath in her hair, the warmth of his hand on her back and his heart beating against hers.
The dance was over before Kathleen realized it. They stood together in the crowd waiting for the next song.
“How are your feet holding out?” Johnny asked. “You’ve danced every dance. We can sit this one out.”
“They’re still all right.”
“If you don’t want to polka, we’d better move over to the side.” The song was the “Beer Barrel Polka,” and some of the dancers were showing off. He took her hand, id she followed him to the side of the dance floor.
“I’ll use a couple of my tickets and you can sit out if you’re tired.”
“I’m not that tired.”
Words dried up between them, and they watched the dancers. Dale Cole was dancing with her husband. Theresa was dancing with Doug Klein from the funeral home. Millie was there and didn’t lack for partners. Kathleen saw Judy taking pictures of the band for the Gazette. Later she was dancing with a cowboy with sandy hair and sideburns. After one dance with Theresa, Jude mingled with the crowd, explaining about the iron lung.
“We’re going to have a tag dance, folks. This is the way it works.” Pete’s voice came over the microphone. “All you men without a partner give your ticket to the gate keeper and come on in. For the next twenty minutes you can tap a gent on the shoulder and take his partner. After you’ve been tagged, you can tag another gent. Now this is going to be fun. Turn the lights down, boys. Everyone enjoy the dance.”
Pete watched, thinking that Harry Cole might lead Dale off the floor and was relieved when they started dancing. Cole was playing the big dog. He had swallowed hook, line, and sinker Jude’s line about his run for public office the day he had come to the clinic to give notice that Dale was going to quit. Pretty clever of Jude. If it had been left up to Pete, he’d have just rearranged the bastard’s face. Pete waited until a dozen couples had exchanged partners before he tapped Harry on the shoulder.
“You’re tagged. My turn with this pretty woman,” Pete said cheerfully.
Harry looked at him first with surprise, then as if he’d like to run him through with a rapier. Pete paid him not slightest attention, just elbowed him aside and took in his arms. They moved away from the stunned man.
“Why? Why, did you …do that?” Dale gasped.
“Because I wanted to dance with you.” Deep in the crowd, he tightened his arm around her. Pete was a strong dancer and he followed him easily. “Is it so wrong to want to dance with you?”
“He’ll be furious.” The distress was notable in voice.
“I gave him the chance to get off the floor if he didn’ want to be tagged.” Pete moved his cheek against her hair.
“He …never thought anyone would want to with me.”
“He was wrong! I’ve been waiting for the chance.”
“You’ll be stuck with me.”
“I hope so. Are things going all right?”
“I guess so.”
Johnny tapped him on the shoulder. “Go away.”
“Not on your life. Give up, man, or I’ll deck you.”
“I’ll be back, Dale.”
Pete looked for Kathleen, knowing that they would dance for only a minute or two before someone cut in. He tapped her partner on the shoulder and took her in his arms.
“How ya doin’, sugar?”
“Good. Johnny saw you dancing with Mrs. Cole. Her! husband is giving you dirty looks. He looks mad enough to chew nails.”
“Is that why Johnny cut in?”
“I don’t know. Someone cut in on him.”
“That bastard beats her. Did you know that?”
“I’d…heard—”
Pete was tapped on the shoulder by the man in the tweed coat. When he took Kathleen’s hand she noticed he a deep white scar across the back of his hand. A man le knew at the plant in the city had one like it. She to look up into his face, but they were too close.
“Hello, again.” His voice was a mere whisper in her ear.
“Do I know you?”
“Name’s Robert Brooks.”
“Kathleen Henry, but you knew my name.”
“The announcer said, ‘Kathleen, the pretty redhead.’ He was right about you being pretty.”
“Thank you.”
Johnny tapped the man on the shoulder. His arms dropped reluctantly from around Kathleen, and he moved away.
“Who is that guy?”
“He said he was Robert Brooks.”
“He’s been watching you like a hawk.”
“Maybe I remind him of someone.”
Johnny had to give Kathleen over to another partner. He looked for Pete and found him dancing again with the nurse from the clinic.
“I wish you …hadn’t—” Dale was saying.
“Why hasn’t he cut back in?”
“He’s too…angry.”
“Godamighty, Dale. As bad as I wanted to dance with you, I’d not do anything to get you hurt. What’s the matter with that son of a bitch?”
“He’s always been like that.” Her voice quivered.
It was the last few minutes of the dance before intermission. The lights were turned down even more. Pete pressed his cheek tightly against hers.
“You don’t love him, do you?”
“I’ve forgotten what love is.”
“Leave him. Dale, honey. I’ll take care of you and the boy.” They were barely moving now.
She stirred in his arms and looked up at him. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Yes, I do. I’m in love with you. Don’t ask me why. I just am. I’ve given this a lot of thought. I’ve been looking for a woman like you all my life.”
“You can’t be!“
“I am! He’s made you feel that a man wouldn’t find you desirable. Godamighty! I should beat the hockey out of him just for that. I damn sure will if he hurts you again.”
“Please. I’m married to him. He’ll take Danny.”
The music ended, and seconds later the lights came on.
“Thank you, Mrs. Cole,” Pete said loudly enough for those nearby to hear.
“Intermission,” Willie was saying. “We need time to smoke and wet our whistles. We’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”
Pete turned away when he saw Harry walking across the floor toward his wife.
Chapter Twenty-two
There’s a fellow out there slappin’ the shit out of his woman.”
The piano player, a veteran, leaning heavily on his cane, came in from outside where he had gone to smoke.
“What did you say?” Pete jumped to his feet.
“Some no-good fart-knocker is out there beatin’ up on a woman. Somebody’s got to do somethin’. Hell, I can’t do nothin’ with this bum leg,” he added, as Pete shot out the door.
In a shadowed corner away from the door Harry was holding Dale against the wall with his forearm against her throat. His other hand was fastened in her hair.
“You’re a worthless slut. You’re a goddamned trashy whore. You’ve been carryin’ on with that mouthy son of a bitch. You’ve disgraced me—” He slapped her, his hand against her cheek making a loud clapping sound.
�
��Get away from her!” Fury tore through Pete, shutting off his breath. He started to speak again, choked, and gulped down spittle and air. He grabbed Harry by the back of the neck.
“Bast—ard! I—ought to kill you!”
Harry was snatched back so suddenly that he stumbled and never had a chance to regain his balance. Pete’s fist slammed into his mouth, knocking him off his feet. Blood splattered over his white shirt.
“Get up, you shithead. You’re goin’ to know what it’s like to get some of what you’ve been givin’ her.”
“No! Please…” Dale caught Pete’s arm.
Pete was too angry to hear her pleading. He shrugged her arm away, reached down, and grabbed Harry by his coat and hauled him to his feet. He backed him against the building and slapped him first on one side of the face and then the other, rocking his head back and forth. Blood from Harry’s nose ran freely down over his mouth and onto his shirt. Pete continued to slap him, cursing him with every blow. Harry hung almost limp against the building.
“You sorry, rotten piece of horseshit. You’re not fit to lick her shoes. Try picking on someone who’ll fight back, you low-down, stinkin’ coward!”
“Hey, fellow, that’s enough.” Willie put a hand on Pete’s arm. “Leave enough of him for the sheriff.”
Pete stepped back, and Harry slumped to the ground.
“What’s going on here?”,Sheriff Carroll, his flashlight illuminating the area, came out the door of the school. Johnny was behind him.
Pete went to where Dale leaned against the building, her face hidden in the crook of her arm. He put his hands. on her shoulders and turned her toward him.
“I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry. I caused this by dancing with you, didn’t I?”
Dale stood with her head bowed. “He would have found another excuse.”
It was some time before the men watching Dale realized that she was crying. There was no contortion of her features, no quivering lips, only a soundless outpouring of grief as tears crept down her cheeks.
“He’ll kill me now, and Danny will be alone with him,” she said hoarsely.
“What happened here, Mrs. Cole?” Sheriff Carroll asked.
“He was—angry with me,”
“Did he hurt you?”
“He slapped me.”
“This isn’t the first time,” Pete said. “I’ve seen bruises on her, around her neck, where he’s choked her. He’s a yellow coward. A man who beats a woman is as low a son of a bitch as there is.”
“Looks like you taught him a lesson. Mr. Cole, can you get on your feet?”
Pete didn’t wait for Harry to move. He reached down, hauled him up, and leaned him against the wall.
“Put the yellow-backed, belly-crawling shithead in jail. He’s not man enough to fight anybody but a woman.”
“I can’t arrest him because he slapped his wife. There’s no law against it.”
“Now that’s a hell of a note!”
“Can’t help it, son, that’s the way it is.”
Harry came out of his daze and away from the wall. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, held it to his nose, and pointed a shaky finger at Pete.
“He attacked me.”
“You’re lucky he got to you first,” Willie said. “I’d of broke your damn neck. Wife beaters are at the bottom on my list of human beings.”
“Who are you to judge?” Harry sneered.
’Take over for me in there, Willie.” Pete put his arm around Dale.
“Yeah. It stinks out here.”
“If you even think about doing this again, I’ll strip the hide off you and feed it to the buzzards.” Pete shoved Harry back up against the wall.
Harry stiffened his legs and with a show of defiance moved from the wall. “Let’s go home, Dale.”
“She’s not going.”
“She’s my wife.”
“Dale?” Pete held her arms and looked into her face. “I’ll find a place for you. You don’t have to go with him.”
“I’ve got to. Danny.” The look of hopelessness in her eyes tore at Pete’s heart.
“You and Danny. Make the break, Dale,” Pete pleaded. “I promise you that he’ll not hurt you or Danny ever again.”
“Come on, Dale. You’re only making things worse for yourself.” Harry turned to the sheriff. “I have a standing in this town. You arrest this ruffian, or I’ll have your job.”
“You can have it anytime you want, Harry,” Sheriff Carroll said calmly.
“Mr. Cole to you. I’ll be down Monday morning to file charges.”
“I’ll be out of town all next week, Harry.”
“Come on, Dale.” Harry moved away, fully expecting Dale to follow. When she didn’t, he turned. “Come with me now or you’ll be on your fat ass out in the street tomorrow morning …without Danny. Don’t expect to see him again. I’ll not have him corrupted by trash like you’re hanging around with.”
Pete looked at Dale, waiting for her answer. She was staring at Harry as if she had never seen him before. Slowly she shook her head.
“I’m through with you, Harry. You’ve hit me, shamed me and Danny for the last time. I wish I never had to see your mean face again.” There was a fearful tremor in her voice.
“That does it! You been screwin’ this—”
“Say it, and you’ll be swallowing teeth,” Pete threatened. The men standing around, even Johnny and the sheriff, grinned.
“Well, it seems you’ve made your choice,” Harry sneered. “I’ll get my son and take him home.”
“The boy belongs with his mother,” Pete said, with his fist drawn back. “Stay away from him.”
“I’m taking my son. The law will back me. Isn’t that right, Sheriff?”
Sheriff Carroll looked steadily back at Harry. “The boy stays with his mother.”
Harry exploded in a rage. “You’ll be sorry for this.” He pointed his finger at the sheriff. “I’ll ruin you! I’ve got influence in this town.”
“We’ll see how much influence you have after folks find out how you treat your wife.”
Harry was too angry to comprehend the sheriff’s words. He pointed a finger at Pete.
“As for you, you’ll wish you’d never come to this town, this county or this state.”
“Go home, Harry,” Sheriff Carroll said firmly. “You’ve caused enough trouble here tonight.”
Almost choking on his fury, Harry stumbled off into the darkness.
“Sheriff, will you go with me and Mrs. Cole to get some things for her and the boy?” Pete asked when Harry had left.
“Why sure. Be glad to.”
“Where is the boy, Dale?” Pete asked gently.
“In the playroom.”
“Do you know him, Johnny?”
“No, but I’ll find him.”
Pete came close, and whispered. ’Take him to Jude’s. We’ll be along.”
Kathleen was dancing with the man in the tweed coat again. Johnny waited for the dance to end, then beckoned for her to come to the side of the dance floor.
“What’s going on? Where’s Pete?” Kathleen asked him. “Someone came in and said he was in a fight.”
“It wasn’t much of a fight. Dale Cole’s husband was slapping her around, and Pete lit into him like a tornado.” Johnny chuckled. “Pete’s a caution when he’s riled up.”
“Good for Pete.”
“Mrs. Cole is leaving her husband. Pete asked me to find her boy and take him to Jude’s. Do you know him?”
“I’ve seen him, but from a distance He goes to Emily’s grandmother’s house after school. Emily is right over here.” Kathleen tilted her head toward a pretty blonde girl. “She’ll help you find him.”
“That fellow in the fancy coat is still watching you.” Johnny had started to walk away, but turned back. “How many times has he danced with you?”
“I haven’t counted them.” Kathleen felt a little thrill that Johnny might be jealous. “He’s kind of good-looking and real n
ice. He hardly says a word.”
“He’s a stranger around here. I wouldn’t get too friendly with him. I’ll get Emily and find the boy.”
After Johnny left, Kathleen sat down and slipped off her shoes, a hint that her feet were tired. Paul came and sat down beside her.
“Tired, huh?”
“My feet feel like they weigh a hundred pounds each.”
“Addie said you’ve danced every dance.”
“She got me into this. I’m thinking seriously about putting a wicked spell on her.”
Paul chuckled. “I just bet she’d handle it.”
“People turned out, didn’t they? They know how important the clinic is to the town.”
“We’ve made a tidy sum for the clinic tonight. The donation jar over there is stuffed. Someone put a couple of hundred-dollar bills in it.”
“No kiddin’? That’s great. Usually when someone donates that much they want credit for it.”
“The booths did well, but the dance took in the most money.”
“It’s a good band. Is Willie and the Chicken Pluckers really their name?”
“It was Will Hartman and the Boys. They’ve got a good gimmick going with the hillbilly outfits. If I were them, I’d capitalize on it and keep the theme and the name permanently.”
“Even with a gimmick, the music was good.”
“Someone said Pete got into a fight outside. I’d hate to tangle with that bruiser. Being in the navy for sixteen years, he’s probably fought his way out of a hundred bars.”
“Johnny said it was because Mr. Cole was slapping his wife. I hope the sheriff files a report, then we could put it in the paper. Maybe the Gas and Electric Company will transfer him out of here or, better yet, fire him.”
Paul’s homely face lit up in a smile. “I’ll talk to Sheriff Carroll.”
Emily and Johnny came by. Emily held the hand of a small blond boy.
“Emily is going with me,” Johnny said as they passed. “Danny is more comfortable with her. He doesn’t know me.”
“Anything changed between you and Johnny?” Paul asked after Johnny left.
“Nothing has changed. I intended to see Mr. Fairbanks again this week, but he’s away for a few days working in the city. I don’t want to talk to Junior.”
After the Parade Page 25