I smiled at the woman. “I’ll be back,” I said, and I followed Ruth down the hall.
I was still smiling when we walked into the kitchen, but as soon as Ruth turned to face me, I knew I had nothing to smile about.
“Tess,” she began, “you need to get the idea of being a nurse … of working at all … out of your head.” Her voice dripped with false kindness. “You’ll be too busy being a wonderful wife to your husband and a devoted mother to your children. In time, perhaps we can find a role for you on the board of the factory, if you want to be involved. That will be plenty for a good Christian woman. All right, dear?” She smiled, resting a hand on my arm.
“I liked nursing,” I said. “I think I’m good at it.”
“Listen to me, Tess.” Her voice was tighter now. “You don’t know this new social landscape you’re in and it’s up to me to help you negotiate it, so that’s what I’m trying my best to do. The last thing you want to do is let Mrs. Wilding out there think you’re anything like her niece Grace,” she said. “Grace is a very selfish, wild party girl who refuses to settle down and everyone in town knows it. She drinks, for heaven’s sake. So now they’re all in there talking about how Ruth Kraft’s daughter-in-law is a party girl. Surely that’s not what you want, is it?”
How ridiculous, I wanted to say. I felt as though she was waiting for me to agree with her. Maybe to apologize. But I wasn’t going to kowtow to this woman. “I don’t see the harm in meeting another nurse,” I said. “I’m just going to ask Mrs. Wilding how I can get in touch with her niece. That’s all.”
“Don’t you dare,” Ruth threatened, but I walked past her, through the hallway and into the dining room, only to discover that the meeting had disbanded in my absence and Mrs. Wilding was nowhere to be found. The only people who remained were a few of Ruth’s close friends and Violet and her entourage. As soon as they saw me, they headed for the front door. Already riled up from my conversation with Ruth, I followed after them. It was time to put an end to this chill between Violet and myself.
“Violet, wait,” I called. “Please.”
She had reached the open door, but she stopped as her friends continued out onto the front steps. She turned to face me. “Yes?” she asked.
I smiled at her and spoke quietly. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry if my marrying Henry hurt you in any way,” I said. “We both have to live here, and we’ll be seeing each other all the time. I’d really like it if we could at least be friendly with one another.”
She tilted her head to one side. Her pale blond hair spilled to her shoulder and the blue of her eyes was translucent and arresting.
“You are in way over your head,” she said.
I’m sure I looked puzzled. I had no idea what she was talking about. Did she mean I was a girl from modest means trying to fit into a wealthy family? In that case, she was right. “I don’t understand,” I said.
“Henry told me everything.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Just what I said.” She put one hand on her hip. “He told me how you seduced him. How you trapped him into marrying you.”
I was too dumbfounded to speak. I was sure I was gawking at her, my mouth agape.
“I guess my mistake was not letting him have his way with me,” she said, tipping her head to the other side now. “I thought he’d like a girl who valued herself enough to save herself for marriage,” she added. “Apparently I was wrong.”
She flounced her skirt as she turned to walk down the steps, and she didn’t look back. Her friends surrounded her as they sailed down the brick walkway toward the road. If she had turned around, she would have seen me standing immobilized on the top step, stunned, humiliated … and very, very angry with my husband.
25
Henry actually laughed that night when I told him what Violet had said. “She’s angry,” he said. “She’s trying to hurt you. Ignore her.”
“Did you really talk to her about us?” We were in our bedroom and I was sitting on the pineapple bed in my robe.
“Briefly.” He stood at the dresser lighting his pipe, enjoying his last smoke of the evening. “But I never put the onus on you,” he added. “What happened was a mutual decision. A mutual mistake. And that’s what I told her.”
“It really isn’t any of her business,” I said.
“She thought we—Violet and I—would end up married,” he said. “I suppose I expected that as well, not that I had any deep feelings for her or anything of that sort. We never discussed it, which I know made her a bit batty, but I wasn’t ready to make any sort of commitment. Still, when I suddenly married you, I felt I owed her an explanation.” He tapped his pipe on the edge of the ashtray and headed toward his bed.
“I can’t help but feel that I derailed your well-planned-out life, but really, Henry, it’s a noble thing you’re doing. Giving our child a name.”
“Nonsense,” he said, getting into bed. “I don’t deserve any medals.” He sounded annoyed and I knew he wanted to be finished with this conversation. I wasn’t quite done, though. In spite of Violet’s attitude toward me, I felt sympathy for her. She’d wasted years on a man who didn’t love her and suddenly lost him to a stranger. No wonder she seemed to detest me.
“I wish you hadn’t told her I was pregnant.”
“Folks are going to know soon enough, Tess,” he said, lifting his book from the night table. “And on another subject, you should never have walked out on Mama when she was talking to you.”
Ruth was furious with me. She was so angry, in fact, that she hadn’t spoken to me since the meeting that morning. I saw that as a bit of a blessing.
“She told you, I guess,” I said.
“Yes, she told me,” Henry said. “I know she can be a challenge, but you’ve got to endure it until we move out. Speaking of which, let’s go see how the house is coming along tomorrow morning before I go to the factory, all right?”
I nodded. I’d been to the property only once since arriving in Hickory. All there had been to see at that time was the foundation, and it had been impossible to envision the finished house. I’d been disappointed, knowing it would be a long, long time before we were able to have a place of our own.
He raised his book a couple of inches in the air. “Ready to read?” he asked.
I nodded, slipping under the covers, and lifting A Tree Grows in Brooklyn from my side of the night table. Finish it, my mother had told me. Tonight, I would.
26
February 17, 1944
Dear Gina,
I was so happy to hear from you and to learn that Mac is well and safe, even if he’s not writing you the newsy letters you’d prefer. He’s wise. I doubt any news he has from over there is news you would really want to hear. Yes, your life does sound a tad routine, but you are fortunate. Mine is anything but.