“It’s Saturday,” I said.
“Yes, but I wasn’t there yesterday and I want to make sure everything’s in good shape.”
I must have looked panicky at the thought of being in the house alone with his mother and sister, because he rested a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll be back before you even wake up.”
19
I woke to the sound of muffled voices on the other side of the bedroom door. It had to be nearly five o’clock, the room filled with a dusky twilight. I raised my head an inch from the pillow to try to make out the voices. Henry and his mother? So much for “Miss Ruth” rarely coming upstairs.
“She doesn’t play bridge and I’m hardly going to put everyone in the bridge club through the agony of tutoring her,” Ruth said.
I couldn’t hear Henry’s response, though his voice sounded calm.
“She looks foreign,” Ruth said. “Like a Gypsy. Is she Italian or…?”
I wasn’t sure, but I thought Henry said, “What does that matter? She’s a Kraft now.”
“It matters and you know perfectly well it does,” Ruth snapped. “She’s pregnant, isn’t she?” she asked, and I held my breath. Again, Henry’s response was hard to make out.
“Oh, dear Lord!” Ruth said, and I pictured her wringing her hands, her cheeks growing red. “Soon she’ll be showing and everyone will know. How could you be so foolish, Hank? She trapped you. She’s a gold digger. There were a thousand and one ways you could have taken care of that short of marrying her.”
My stomach clenched at her words. I sat up quietly, needing to hear the conversation more clearly. I needed to know my enemy.
“I’ve married her,” Henry said. “I’ve done the right thing. And keep your voice down.”
“How do you know it’s yours?” Ruth asked. If anything, her voice was louder now.
“It’s mine.” Henry sounded very calm. “And she’s my wife. You can’t change that. You’ll make her feel at home here, Mama.” It was a command. “You’ll take her to your book club and so forth. You’ll help her fit in.”
“Violet’s in the book club!”
“Violet will adjust.”
“I don’t know how you can treat Violet so cruelly!” Ruth nearly shouted. “She loves you so much, Hank. I nearly died seeing my mother’s ring on that girl’s finger! I gave you that ring for Violet, no one else.”
I glanced down at the diamond on my hand. What little light there was in the room seemed to collect in its facets. I felt guiltier than ever for wearing it.
Ruth wasn’t finished. “Violet knew I always intended the ring to go to her,” she said.
“You never should have told her that.”
“She’s loved you since you were children.”
Henry made a derisive sound. “She’s loved me from the day she realized I was wealthy, Mama. Not before.”
“She helped you plan your new house! Why did you let her do that if you didn’t intend to marry her?”
“I don’t love her,” he said.
“And you love this … this Italian Catholic gold digger?”
I winced.
“She trapped you and you fell for it,” Ruth continued.
“I’m done talking to you about this,” Henry said, “and I don’t plan to discuss it with you again. She’s my wife and I expect you to accept that and treat her with respect.”
“You’ve humiliated me,” Ruth said, and this time her voice was soft. Quivering. I heard a sob escape her. I thought of my last conversation with my own mother. Her words had not been exactly the same, but their meaning certainly had been. I bit my lip. I suddenly felt sympathy for Ruth. Her plans for her son, for her family’s future, no matter how misguided, had been upended. I understood how that felt.
In a moment, Henry walked into the room. It was dim enough that he didn’t see me sitting up in the bed, and he started when I spoke.
“I overheard some of your conversation with your mother,” I said.
He’d been walking toward the dresser and I saw him turn to face me. “I wish you hadn’t.” He picked up his pipe from the dresser and lit it.
“She’s very angry,” I said.
“My mother always overreacts,” he said, turning toward me. He took a puff from his pipe and the comforting sweet scent of his tobacco filled the room. “She’ll be fine.” He glanced at his watch and reached for the doorknob. “It’s nearly time for dinner,” he said. “I’m going downstairs. Why don’t you get up and join me down there and we’ll see what Hattie’s managed to pull together from this week’s rations?”
20
January 26, 1944
Dear Gina,
I’ve been a married woman living in Hickory for only four days and it already feels like a lifetime. It’s not going well, dear friend. I hardly know where to start to tell you about it.
To begin with, my new husband didn’t touch me on our wedding night, or on any night since, for that matter. I’m both relieved and mystified. Relieved because I don’t love him (yet) and feel very little attraction to him—my heart still belongs to Vincent—but mystified because he was so ardent in that hotel room in Washington and now seems utterly passionless around me. Perhaps it’s the baby? I don’t know, and I don’t feel comfortable enough with him to ask him outright.
Henry is very generous, however. He gave me money to spend on new clothing, since I’d brought so little with me, and yesterday he directed me to the most exclusive shop in Hickory’s cute little downtown. The sort of shop where I feel like an imposter. I turned myself over to the saleslady and let her select outfit after outfit for me. Soon I will have to break down and buy maternity clothing, but for now, my girdle still hides my condition and no one is any the wiser. I had fun shopping, actually, but I would have had much more fun if you had been with me.