The Stolen Marriage: A Novel
Diane Chamberlain
JUNE 1944
PROLOGUE
Hickory, North Carolina
It’s a terrible feeling, being despised. From the moment I set foot in Hickory, I felt the suspicion, distrust, and outright hostility of most of the people I met. Even my new sister-in-law regarded me with disdain. When Henry told me Lucy was just a few years younger than me, I thought, How wonderful! We can be friends. But we were not anywhere close to being friends.
I was making my bed one bright June morning when I heard footsteps in the hall outside the room I shared with Henry. Lucy pushed open the door, walking into the room without knocking, and I tightened the sash of my robe. Neither Henry nor I was happy about living with his mother and sister. In a month or so, we would move into our own home. I hoped that would make things better. Our marriage. My relationship with my mother-in-law, Ruth. My heavy heart. I hadn’t been happy in so long. I doubted a new house was going to fix what was wrong with me.
Lucy flopped down on Henry’s bed in her coral linen blouse and tan capris. She held a long white envelope, thick with its contents, in her hand.
“Can you drive me to Adora’s house in the Buick?” she asked, holding the envelope in the air. “I want to drop off the money for the headstone.”
“I thought your mother was going to take the money to her,” I said as I tucked the chenille bedspread beneath my pillow. Adora was Ruth’s former maid, and her little grandson was one of the first victims of the polio epidemic sweeping through Catawba County.
“She asked me to do it.” Lucy patted her hair as if making sure every strand was in place. She was a pretty girl, her dark blond hair perfectly coiffed in a wavy bob. Her blue eyes lit up when she smiled, although I rarely saw that smile directed at me. “Mama doesn’t like going to Colored Town,” she continued. “But the cab drivers don’t like going there either, and we have that car sitting right here in the garage. Please?”
I was surprised by the request. Lucy never made a secret of her disdain for me. Plus, gas was rationed. We didn’t drive anywhere unless it was absolutely necessary, and we certainly never drove the Buick. It hadn’t been out of the garage in the five months I’d lived in Hickory. Henry had told me right from the start that I wouldn’t be driving as long as the war was going on. I knew how to drive, but the Buick needed new tires and with rubber being rationed it would be a while, if ever, before Henry would be able to get them.
“I’m sorry, Lucy,” I said, straightening up from making the bed. “You know Henry said I can’t use the car.”
“That’s ridiculous.” She studied her nails. They were painted coral and perfectly matched her short-sleeved blouse. “The car’s sitting right there,” she argued. “It still has gas in it. So its tires are old? It’s not like Adora lives on the moon. We’ll make it to her house and back with no problem.”
“Henry said—”
“You’re so afraid to do anything on your own!” she interrupted me, those blue eyes darkening. “And why do you still insist on calling him ‘Henry’? He’s Hank. Henry sounds ridiculous.”
“He introduced himself to me as Henry, so he’ll always be—”
“He was putting on airs. Come on,” she pleaded. “Please take me. Please?”
I sat down on the dressing-table bench, facing her. “Maybe we could mail the money.” I motioned to the envelope. “Adora’s family is still under quarantine, aren’t they? You won’t even be able to go into the house.”
“I’m not mailing thirty-eight dollars!” she snapped. “I’ll just leave it on their porch for them.”
Maybe I should do it. This was a chance to forge a relationship with my sister-in-law. All my attempts at friendship with her had failed, but maybe with only the two of us in the car, I’d stand a chance. We could chat as we drove. We could stop someplace for a milkshake on the way home.
“All right,” I said. “Now?”
“If you can bring yourself to get dressed.” She nodded toward my robe.
“Of course.” I wouldn’t be ruffled by her sarcasm. “I’ll just be a minute.”
Once Lucy left the room, I began dressing. Stockings, girdle, slip, a yellow skirt and white blouse. I missed the dungarees and scuffed saddle shoes I used to wear before marrying Henry, but those casual clothes would never do now.
Lucy was waiting for me next to the detached garage that stood behind the house. I couldn’t help the jittery nerves I felt as I opened the double garage doors and approached the driver’s side of the car. I was disobeying my husband. I hoped he never had to know. When Henry was angry, I was never sure if he would yell or simply fall silent. Either way, he would be upset to know what I was doing right now.
I opened the car door and slid onto the mohair bench seat, while Lucy got in on the passenger side. She was holding a second envelope, this one large and tan, and it bore a white address label. I’d seen those manila envelopes with their white labels around the house from time to time and thought they had something to do with Henry’s furniture factory. I was too focused on the car to ask Lucy why she was bringing this one along.
The Buick came to life instantly when I turned the key in the ignition and pressed the starter. I’d worried Henry might have siphoned the gas out of the tank for the Cadillac, but that didn’t seem to be the case. I felt rusty as I explored the dashboard and pedals and gear shift. Lucy seemed to scrutinize my every move, unnerving me. She would report back to her friends. My moronic sister-in-law couldn’t figure out how to drive the Buick, she’d say, and her friends would agree that I was the most insufferable creature in all of Hickory, the girl who had tricked Henry Kraft into marrying her.
“Make sure you put it in ‘reverse’ and not ‘drive,’” Lucy said.
How stupid do you think I am? I thought, but I said nothing and my hand trembled slightly as I shifted into reverse, my foot pressing hard on the clutch. I backed slowly out of the garage and down the long driveway.
“Turn north when we get out to the street,” Lucy commanded.
“North?” I asked. “That’s the wrong direction.”
“We need to make another stop.” She held up the manila envelope. “I have to drop this off at someone’s house.”
I stopped the car before it reached the street. “Where does this someone live?” I asked.
She hesitated. “Just on the other side of the river. We’ll go out 321.”
I laughed. “No, we will not go out 321,” I said. “You said we’d go to Adora’s. Period. We shouldn’t be in this car to begin with.”
“It’s five minutes away, Tess. We drive to this fellow’s house. Leave the envelope in his mailbox and then drive to Adora’s. Adds ten minutes total to the trip. What’s the big deal?”
I looked down at the gas gauge. We were fine as far as gas went. What was the big deal?