Different Drummers (19 page)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Kathleen kept within the speed limit as she drove south on Highway 17. Her eyes darted from side to side as she took in the sights and at the same time watched for the highway sign that would indicate her turn-off. And suddenly there it was. A sign at the side of the road indicated she should take the next left. It said, “Carey's Beach 2 Miles.”

Georgina had called last night to say there was no way she could come to the beach after all. She was literally swamped with work. Kathleen had practically convinced herself it didn't matter after all that her friend was unable to make it. Each day now she felt better than the day before. She didn't need anyone. Still, as other cars passed her, filled with people, laughing and talking to each other, she couldn't help but feel a pang of loneliness. She glanced at the letter on the seat beside her. It was from Bob and even though it was only four lines long, he'd written it himself. She'd been touched when she read it. He said he couldn't wait to see her and the next few weeks couldn't go fast enough for him. Her hands gripped the wheel tightly as she stared at the road ahead. Maybe things really would be better when he came home. She'd soon find out. The day loomed ever nearer.

A sort of whoop escaped from her lips when she drove over the last little rise and there was the wide, wonderful sea straight ahead. She took a deep breath as that special scent of wet sand and everything that went with it rushed to meet her.

Mr. Simpson's place was easy to find and she maneuvered the car carefully into the small driveway. She found the door key under the fifth pot of geraniums, right where Mr. Simpson said it would be. She carried her suitcase into the house and placed it in the front bedroom overlooking the water.

Within ten minutes, she'd placed her few groceries in the fridge, and changed into shorts and a halter-top. Unable to wait another minute, she opened the French doors and walked onto the deck. Then with beach bag over her shoulder, she practically danced down the wooden steps that led directly from the house to the shore. The tide was out and the almost empty beach stretched for miles on either side of her. Never had the South Carolina sun felt so wonderful. She yanked off her sandals and ran with them in her hand across the sand to the water's edge. She shaded her eyes against the glare and looked out across the shimmering sea. Six or seven pelicans, flying single file, passed right in front of her.

She thought of her family on the other side of that vast water. The bakery would have been closed for hours by now. What were they doing right this minute? Were they all sitting around the table the way she remembered? And were they, maybe, talking about her?

Her thoughts drifted to Ron Velnes. Was he already in England with his French-Canadian girlfriend or were they at this very moment walking hand in hand along the streets of Montreal? And did he once in a while think of Kathleen McCreadie, the girl he used to know.

“A penny for them, Kath,” said the voice behind her.

She stood absolutely still, even afraid to breathe. She could have sworn…

“You can turn around. I'm not a ghost.”

She whirled to face him, and the sand shifted beneath her feet as she gazed into the grave, loving eyes of Ron Velnes. She raised a hand as if to touch his face then slowly lowered it.

“Ron, I…”

“I had to come to you.” His voice was ragged with emotion as he reached for her. And, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she walked into his arms.

He murmured her name over and over into her hair.

She lifted her face to his, unable to stop the tearing sobs of joy. All she could do was let him hold her, knowing if he let her go, she'd crumble to the ground. They went down on their knees still clinging to each other, while the gentle tide licked their toes. All that mattered was this moment, this place. This safe, safe place. Kathleen had almost forgotten how it felt, the most wonderful feeling of all, the sheer unadulterated thrill of being in the arms of a man she knew loved her more than anything in the world.

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 changed 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.”