Different Drummers by Jean Houghton-Beatty Page A

more adjusting to do than you and I just don’t understand why you’re acting this way.”
    She ran into the house so he wouldn’t see the tears. For a long time she looked out their bedroom window at Beulah hoeing in her garden. As she slipped out of her best dress and changed into one of her two cotton dresses, she wondered at Bob’s behavior. Had she married a stranger? He’d been home only a day and already they were acting as if they’d been in a bad marriage for years. It had to be he was under some kind of strain. After all, he’d been in the army a long time and maybe he was feeling more insecure than he let on. Maybe men took longer to adjust than women did, especially men like Bob.
    She picked up the box of goodies she’d bought for the family. There were six pairs of nylons for Nina and her mother, a carton of cigarettes for her dad, and chewing gum, chocolate, and canned peaches for Kevin and Dorothy. If she hurried, she could get it in the mail today. Later, when she wrote to the family, she must remember to tell them the reason Beulah hadn’t written was because she’d broken her arm. The lie would stop her mother from pestering her as to why she hadn’t received a letter.
    Bob sat on the front steps, smoking a cigarette. She saw the four butts he’d already smoked scattered at his feet.
    â€œNow where’re you goin’?” he asked.
    â€œI’m taking this parcel to the post office to send home.”
    She leaned over and rested her hand on his shoulder. “After supper, please will you come with me to Mr. Tate’s little house and let me at least show it to you? It can’t hurt.”
    He let out a deep exasperated sigh. “OK, we’ll drive over there. Looks like you’ve got your mind set on movin’.”
    He squinted up at her through the cigarette smoke swirling around his face. “Now, I’ve said we’ll go and look at the house, and yes ma’am, I’m gonna look for a job. Is there anythin’ else you’d like me to do?”
    Kathleen shifted the package on her hip. “Tell your momma I’ll be back in time to help with supper,” she said as she turned away and walked down the street.
    * * *
    There was no dining room in the Conroy house so all meals were served in the kitchen. Beulah had used the oven to bake her biscuits, which made the already sweltering room even more unbearable. Everyone except Kathleen seemed almost impervious to the heat. She saw the small thermometer on the wall registered exactly 95 degrees. Her thin dress stuck to her perspiring body and her damp hair clung to her head. She pulled a tissue out of her pocket and wiped her face.
    â€œAre you OK?” Bob asked, taking her sweating hand.
    â€œI think so. It’s just so hot, I can hardly think.”
    His face was anxious, concerned. He’d obviously forgotten the argument they’d had earlier, which somehow made the heat easier to bear.
    Otis reached for the salt and pepper. “That bed in your room sure makes a lot of noise, don’t it?” he said. “Seemed to me like I heard it creakin’ and groanin’ for most of the night. One time there I knew for sure them bed springs were gonna crash right through to the floor.”
    He leered at Kathleen. “It didn’t make all that racket when you slept in there by yourself.”
    Selma giggled. “For gosh sakes, Daddy, if you don’t say the darndest things. Y’all just take a look at Kathleen’s face. I declare if she ain’t blushin’ up a storm.”
    Kathleen put a hand to her burning face as four pairs of eyes stared at her.
    It was Beulah who saved her and Kathleen knew it was deliberate. The woman pushed her chair away from the table so violently it slammed into the stove behind her.
    â€œI forgot to put out these,” she said as she retrieved a plate of sliced tomatoes from the refrigerator