The Last Ballad(71)

She leaned over the banister and called down to him.

“Will you bring the phonograph upstairs and leave it in the bedroom?” she asked.

Richard appeared at the bottom of the stairs and looked up at her. He’d removed his jacket and had folded it over his forearm.

“Why?” he asked. “We’re about to go to bed.”

“I want to hear music,” she said. He sighed and draped his jacket over the stair rail and walked into the sitting room. Katherine crossed the hallway and went into the bathroom. She set the record on the vanity and closed the door behind her.

The rain had dampened her hair. It now lay flat against her forehead. She pushed it away from her eyes and removed the pins and allowed it to fall down around her shoulders. She ran a brush through it, and then she moved it behind her ears. She leaned toward the mirror and unscrewed the backs from her diamond earrings, all the while listening to Richard downstairs in the sitting room. He’d have to move the desk beside the cabinet to unplug the phonograph, and then he’d have to lift it. He was muttering something, but she didn’t want to hear him, so she turned the faucet and ran water in the sink.

When she walked into their bedroom, she found Richard bent over and reaching behind the bureau to plug in the phonograph. He’d left it sitting atop a low dresser beneath the window. She slid the record from its sleeve and put it on. The sound of static was nearly indistinguishable from the light patter of rain against the window. The song’s opening notes filled the room.

Here is a flower within my heart

Daisy, Daisy

Planted one day by a glancing dart

Planted by Daisy Bell.



Richard stood with his hands on his hips and stared at the phonograph.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“It’s an old song,” she said.

“I know,” he said. “Why are you playing it?”

“I was thinking of it tonight.”

He smiled. “It was a great night, wasn’t it?” he said. “Quite a party.”

“Yes,” she said. She lifted her right hand and unclasped the bracelet from her wrist and placed it in the jewelry box. She reached behind her head and fumbled with the clasp on her necklace. She felt Richard’s eyes on her.

“Do you need help?”

“No.”

“Are you feeling all right?” he asked. “You’ve been quiet tonight.”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just tired.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she said.

“You seem upset,” he said. “Is it Claire?”

“I don’t know,” Katherine said, her fingers still struggling with the necklace.

“Is it the wedding? Are you sad that our little girl is getting married in a few months?”

“Of course I am,” she said. She finally unhooked the clasp. “But I’m not. I’m happy for her. For them. They’re a good match. He has a fine family.”

“I suppose so,” Richard said.

Katherine turned away from him and reached behind her back for the dress’s zipper. She felt Richard’s fingers close around hers, and she dropped her hands to her sides and let him unzip her.

“Then what is it?” he asked.

“Tonight,” she said, “I heard you talking with those men.”

“Which men?”

“Hugo Guyon and that other man,” she said. “I don’t know who he was.”

“He’s an attorney,” Richard said. “For Loray.”

“I heard you.”

“What do you mean? What did you hear?”

“They’d burned the cakes,” Katherine said. Across the room, their closet door was open, and she stared into it. Dresses and suits hovered there in the dark. “And Ingle called me into the kitchen. He was frantic.” The phonograph’s needle skipped and then caught.

Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do

I’m half crazy all for the love of you

It won’t be a stylish marriage

I can’t afford the carriage



“Ingle didn’t want to serve the cakes,” she said, “but there wasn’t any time to bake more. I couldn’t find you to ask you, and I didn’t want to ask Claire because I didn’t want to upset her. I was trying to laugh at Ingle’s fussiness, but I didn’t want to do the wrong thing and ruin the night. I looked at the cakes and told him just to cut away the tops and frost them. And then I heard voices outside, and I heard your voice. You were talking about the strike.”

“I’m sorry, Kate,” he said. “I didn’t mean for you to hear us. I was telling Guyon about what happened to the Lytles. I let him know that what’s happening down at Loray has upset a lot of people, Claire included.”

“I heard what you said.”

Her dress slid off her shoulders and fell down around her ankles. She stepped free of it and stood in her slip with her back to him.

“What did I say?” he asked.

“They were talking about the poor woman who’d lost her baby, the woman in Bessemer City. I don’t remember her name. You said that her son was better off dead, that she couldn’t take care of him anyway.”