There was the rustle of sheets and in a moment she opened the door, a pink tulle hairnet covering her blond pincurls.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Henry’s gone,” I said. “I mean, he never came to bed and now his car is gone.” I glanced down the hallway toward the window that overlooked the backyard. “Should I be concerned?” I asked.
She turned her head away from me, an odd smile on her face. “That’s just Hank,” she said. “He doesn’t need much sleep. He goes to the factory at night sometimes.” She looked at me squarely now. “He likes to work there when there’s no one around. He says he gets a lot done then.”
“But it’s three A.M.,” I said. “He’ll be exhausted in the morning.”
“That’s his problem,” she said, already backing into her room. “He lives his life and I live mine.” She closed the door without saying good night. I stood there a moment, staring at her door, before walking back to the bedroom I still thought of as “Henry’s” rather than “ours.”
It took me a while to fall asleep. When I awakened at six, Henry was sound asleep in his bed, his breathing soft and even. I got up quietly. He could sleep another hour before he absolutely needed to get up, but as I headed for the closet, I heard the creak of bedsprings.
“Good morning,” he said.
I turned to face him, holding my robe tight around my body. “I woke up in the middle of the night and you were gone,” I said. “I didn’t know where you were.”
“At the factory,” he said. “Working on the books.”
“Well, the next time, could you tell me you’re going, please? So I don’t worry?”
He smiled. “I’m not used to having anyone worry about me,” he said.
“You’ll tell me then?”
“The problem is, I don’t usually know I’m going until I make the decision. And by the time I did last night, you were asleep. I didn’t want to wake—”
“You could leave me a note.”
He looked at me blankly for a moment, then nodded. “Fair enough,” he said. “Next time I’ll leave a note.”
I sat down on the edge of the pineapple bed. “Isn’t it spooky there at night, that big empty building?” I shuddered. I’d seen the factory at night from the road. The long two-story brick building was ominous looking, all its many windows like dark eyes staring out into the night.
He laughed. “I’ve been in that building all times of day and night my whole life,” he said. “I know every inch of it. And Zeke lives there, so it’s never completely empty.”
“Zeke actually lives at the factory? How come?”
Henry shrugged. “He’s part maintenance man, part guard, I guess you’d call him. I like having someone there all the time to keep an eye on things. He could get an apartment somewhere, but this works out well for us both.”
“Could I see the factory?” I asked. “I’d like to see where you work.”
“You’ve seen it,” he said. “You’ve been to my office.”
“I mean the whole place. It must be fascinating.”
“Fascinating?” He chuckled. “Sure, I’ll take you around this Sunday. Better to do it when the building is empty.”
“Wonderful,” I said, getting to my feet. I headed toward the closet for my clothes.
“You don’t need to worry, Tess,” he said, and I turned to look at him. “I don’t want you to have to worry about anything. I want you to be happy here. Happy and content.”
For some reason, his words choked me up. There was so much I wanted to say. Are you ever going to make love to me? Will you at least kiss me? Your mother and sister—can you change their attitude toward me? I remembered the new house where we would soon be living together with our child. Things would be different then. Things would be good.
“I am happy,” I lied. “Everything is fine.”
28
After church that Sunday, I met Violet’s father, Byron Dare, the district attorney prosecuting Henry’s friend Gaston. He was a pompous, handsome man with a full head of white hair and a syrupy Southern accent that set my teeth on edge.
He approached us on the sidewalk in front of the church as we were heading toward the car. He stepped directly in front of us, blocking our path.
“I’ve been too riled up to speak to you before now, Hank,” he said to Henry. “You broke my little girl’s heart. You toyed with her all these years. You—”
“Now is not the time, sir,” Henry said, his hand reliably at my elbow. “You haven’t met my wife, Tess. Tess, this is Hickory’s fine district attorney, Byron Dare.”
The man didn’t so much as glance in my direction. “Is it the Joyner case?” he asked. “Was that why you cooled toward my Violet?”
“Of course not,” Henry said.
“I know Gaston Joyner is a longtime buddy of yours, but I’m just doing my job,” Byron Dare continued. “You shouldn’t hold that against Violet.”
“It has nothing to do with your job,” Henry said, “and Violet will be fine. Now, if you’ll excuse us. Mama and Lucy are waiting for us in the car.” He tugged me away before the man could say anything else.
“I’m sorry about that,” he said to me as we walked away. There were red blotches high on his cheeks and I knew he was angry.
“It was like I was invisible,” I said, as we neared the Cadillac.
“He’s a monumental jackass,” Henry said, opening the car’s rear door for me. I always insisted Ruth ride in the front seat when she was with us. “He thinks he’s more important than everyone else.”
“What took you so long?” Lucy asked. “We’ve been waiting ages.”
“Mr. Dare wanted to talk to Henry,” I answered, as Henry slid into the driver’s seat.
Lucy laughed. “Oh, I bet he did,” she said.
“I’m going to give Tess a tour of the factory this afternoon,” Henry said, most likely to change the subject.
“How thrilling,” Lucy said sarcastically.
“I’m looking forward to it,” I said.
“And well you should,” Ruth said. “That factory’s been the Kraft family’s bread and butter for many years.”
I barely heard her. Coming toward us on the other side of the street was a police car and I leaned forward to try to make out the driver’s face. Henry gave a little toot of the car horn and waved, and as we passed the car I got a clear look at the driver. It was definitely the same young officer I’d suspected of following me on my way to town the other day.
“Do you know that policeman?” I asked Henry. “When I walked to town the other day, he kept driving past me, over and over again.”
“It’s Teddy Wright,” Lucy said. “I’ve known him forever. Everybody knows everybody in Hickory.”
“I felt like he was following me,” I said. “It was the strangest thing.”
I saw Lucy and Henry exchange a look in the rearview mirror. I was certain it wasn’t my imagination.
“He was probably just on patrol,” Henry said. “Keeping an eye on things.”
“On another subject, girls.” Ruth turned to look over the seat at us as Henry started the car. “The box supper is Saturday night at the Presbyterian church. Hank, can you bring us three of your small boxes to fill and decorate?”
“Sure,” he said.
“What’s a box supper?” I asked.