“I could hear what Beulah was sayin’,” Freddie said. “I don’t mean to cause no trouble, but I felt, well, sort of sorry for you, when you got here yesterday. Just between you and me, this branch of the Conroys ain’t never gonna put themselves out all that much to give you a decent welcome. I guess I just had it in mind to show you a bit of good old-fashioned Southern hospitality.”
Kathleen couldn’t help but notice the truck had been washed and spruced up. “Don’t worry about it, Freddie. As far as I’m concerned, you’re heaven-sent. I don’t know what I would have done all day if you hadn’t asked me.”
He smiled as she took a seat beside him. “Well, OK. I was thinkin’ you might like a tour of our town. We’ll take a drive along some of our ritziest streets and then there’s a few places of interest you might like.”
When they came to a broad tree-lined avenue, Freddie slowed his truck to a crawl. Here they were, the beautiful homes with the wide columned verandas, just like she’d seen in the movies. She’d imagined all along Bob would live in such a house and felt an ache deep down as if she’d been cheated. In fairness to Bob she had to allow he’d told her no such thing and only her own silly romantic imaginings had led her to think so.
“This here’s Petrie Avenue, one of our prettiest streets. That house on the corner there belongs to the Simpson family. They own a lot of the land hereabouts and have a nice home at the beach. I work for old man Simpson some, and once or twice I’ve gone to the beach to tend to his shrubbery.”
Kathleen craned her neck. “Is that a swimming pool at the back of his house?”
“Yes ma’am, it sure is. There’s money in that family. Oh, and this house next door belongs to William Tate. He owns The Eddisville Gazette. That’s the town newspaper.”
“You mean a little town like Eddisville has its own newspaper?”
“Well, it’s not a daily like they have in big cities like Columbia. The Gazette comes out on a Friday. The whole town gets it though. It’s full of news about everyone hereabouts, and lots of other stuff some folks find interestin’.”
They turned from Petrie onto Vine Road. “Old Doc Parker lives in this house. He comes from up north somewhere and owns the clinic downtown. He’s kinda nice, even if he is a Yankee. He’ll do what he can for you and give you a fair price. If you ever get sick, Kathleen, this is the man you need to see.”
He smiled at her. Kathleen would have said, if anybody had asked her, that Freddie Conroy was a very ordinary looking young man, a nice face but the sort who wouldn’t stand out in a crowd. That was until he smiled. His face changed when he smiled, giving him one of the gentlest looks she’d ever seen.
After Vine Road they drove down Fairfax Avenue, Freddie singling out particular houses and giving snippets of information about the owners. Then, slowly, as if he’d guessed Kathleen didn’t want to leave this small but elegant part of town, he turned his truck onto the main street. He pulled into the parking lot of Todd’s Bar and Grill. “Come on, let’s get a hot dog or somethin’. We might see some of them people I’ve been tellin’ you about. Everybody eats in here.”
It was lunchtime and the restaurant was crowded. There were about six tables in the center and booths around the side. In the corner stood a jukebox. All eyes turned in their direction.
“They’re all lookin’ at you and wonderin’ who you are,” Freddie whispered as he guided her to a table closest to the cash register. “See their faces. You’re creatin’ quite a stir.”
He fiddled with the salt and pepper shakers in the middle of the table. “I don’t want you to think I’m gettin’ fresh or nothing, Kathleen, but you really are somethin’ else. There ain’t nothin’ like you anywhere around these parts. No sir, nothin’ like you from here all the way to Atlanta.”
Freddie Conroy was like a breath of fresh air and Kathleen believed him when he said he wasn’t trying to be fresh. He was one of that rare breed who is totally without guile. What a miracle he’d turned up to befriend her at this dark moment in her life. What would she have done without him? It was easy to see why he’d picked the table next to the cash register. When people stopped to pay for their meal, he introduced her.
“This is Kathleen, Bobby Conroy’s wife from England,” he said to each one. He said it proudly, almost as if the very fact she was here in Eddisville was all his idea. People smiled and nodded, some shook her hand, and some stopped to say a few words, to wish her well in her new country.
At Freddie’s recommendation, she ordered a hot dog all the way, french fries, and a glass of iced tea. He put some money in the jukebox and played “Long Ago and Far Away.” His enthusiasm was infectious. She returned his smile and hummed along to the music. Was it possible she was actually enjoying herself? After her dismal arrival yesterday and the ghastly incident at the table with her father-in-law, she could hardly believe it.
Freddie looked toward the door. “Here comes old man Tate. Remember now, he owns The Eddisville Gazette. He’s always in a hurry. I ain’t never seen a man rushin’ around as much as he does.”
They watched as Mr. Tate hung his hat on the rack close to the register.
“Just a cup of coffee, Johnny, please,” he said to the youth behind the counter. “I don’t have a lot of time and can see how crowded you are. I can’t see an empty table anywhere.”
He was a heavyset man who appeared to be in his middle fifties. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the beads of perspiration from his brow while his eyes searched the room and came to rest on their table.
“What say, Mr. Tate,” Freddie said. “You’re welcome to join us. Anyways, I think I have a piece of news for the Gazette.”
“Much obliged to you Freddie.” He smiled at Kathleen as he eased his bulky frame into the chair. “Morning, young lady. I don’t believe we’ve met and it doesn’t look like Freddie’s going to introduce us.”
Freddie pretended indignation. “Yes I was. You haven’t given me a chance yet. This here’s Kathleen and she’s my news. She’s Bobby Conroy’s brand new wife, all the way from England. I was the very first person she spoke to when she got off the bus yesterday, and I was the one who drove her to Bobby’s house.”
Kathleen squirmed a little at Freddie’s lengthy introduction but it was easy to see the men were on friendly terms, in spite of the obvious difference in their ages and backgrounds. Did she imagine the slightly raised eyebrows and questioning look that seemed to flit across Mr. Tate’s face when Freddie mentioned Bob?
“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.”
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