Free Kathy Little Bird by Nancy Freedman, Benedict Freedman Page B

me, “Who is this dude anyway, Kathy?”
    “A friend,” I said, looking at Abram.
    “That’s what I am to you?” Abram said. “A friend?”
    I turned away from the look in his eyes, then whirled around and lashed out. “You were my ticket out of here. But you were a pretty slow boat, and an express came along.”
    I linked my arm in Jack’s.
    Abram continued to look with a hard, scrutinizing gaze into my face. “I don’t believe you, Kathy.”
    “Well, that’s your problem, isn’t it? You’d better go pray about it.”
    “I will,” he said, simply.
    “Come on, Jack,” I said, smiling at him, “we’ve got a lot of traveling to do.”
    Jack smiled back, but there was a wild gleam in his green-gray-blue eyes. “How about I take just a second to teach this neighbor lad a lesson?”
    “I’m not your enemy,” Abram said.
    “Ha!” Jack said gleefully. “Afraid of getting your pretty face messed up?”
    For the first time Abram assessed Jack and made a sincere effort to explain things to him. “This is as wrong for you as it is for Kathy. I’ve known her since we were children. She’s headstrong. She won’t admit it now because it doesn’t fall in with her plans, but she’s in love with me.”
    Jack snorted at this calm assertion. “So much in love with you that she marries me!”
    “Praise the Lord, you understand.”
    “I understand you are a raving lunatic.”
    Sweat broke on Abram’s forehead; a desperate note crept into his voice. He said to me, “Before God it’s true that we love each other, and you know it’s true. Now, while the marriage has not yet been consummated and there’s still hope of annulling it—tell him, Kathy.”
    “Save your breath for your prayers, Abram.”
    “Consummated?” Jack Sullivan roared. “For your information, my man, it will be consummated before the hour’s out.” And giving me a tug, he pulled me toward the car.
    “Kathy,” Abram called.
    That final plea was too much for Jack. He spun around and socked Abram square in the face. Abram saw the blow coming but made no effort to avoid it or raise his hands to fend it off.
    He stood there and took it. A thin red stream curled from a nostril. He didn’t seem to notice because he didn’t bother to wipe it away. This indifference infuriated Jack. He danced around him, looking like an angry hornet. As he struck attitudes, pantomiming feints with his fists in front of him, I saw that he was a small man.
    And I saw something else. I saw that he looked foolish with his fancy footwork, jabbing at Abram. Abram stood like a rock, taking the punishment. It was as though he didn’t feel it, as though he was unconscious of it. His eyes never left me.
    His eyes said, “You know I’m right. Come back, you can still come back.”
    His eyes said, “I love you.”
    He was probably right. He generally was. One fourth of July a firecracker didn’t go off. I wanted to investigate, but he held me back. I was so mad I screamed and hollered. Then the thing went off in a stream of flame. Yes, Abram had been consistently right all down the years I’d known him. He was probably right now.
    I probably did love him. But that had nothing to do with anything. I was a married lady. I was Mrs. Jack Sullivan. And Abram would have to get used to the idea.
    I kissed Jas good-bye, but he was mad at me for not marrying Abram, and he wiped my kiss off. I got in beside Jack,and we started up. We went slowly, as we were pulling the trailer and two horses. I stuck my head out the window to wave good-bye to Abram. He was standing in exactly the same position. I waved, but he didn’t wave back. I leaned out farther and blew kisses to show them how happy I was.
    I turned on the radio and, with my head against Jack’s chest, began to hum along. I felt close to tears, but just then I found a really neat station. They were playing a Patsy Cline single. It was just last March she died in that terrible plane crash, and they dedicated a lot