37
The Catholic church was a small granite building on the corner of Tenth Street and McComb, and as soon as I walked inside I felt the embrace of the stained-glass-infused light. I dipped my fingertips into the holy water font and blessed myself, then walked to a pew halfway to the altar. A woman knelt in one of the pews near the front of the church, but otherwise I was alone. The heady, musky scent of the air filled my lungs. It filled all of me, actually, right to the tips of my fingers.
Vincent, I thought to myself. I made so many mistakes. Forgive me. I love you. I miss you.
Near the altar, a priest walked from one side of the church to the other, genuflecting as he passed the tabernacle. His pale blond hair was combed back from his forehead and he looked quite young from where I knelt. I wished I could talk to him, but I couldn’t bear the thought of being berated again. I was tired of being made to feel small and guilty. I studied the priest, trying to glean if he might, by some miracle, be the first person who really understood who I was at my core. I was human. I made mistakes, like everyone else. The only problem was that my mistakes came with terrible consequences.
I pulled Gina’s letter from my handbag and read the painful middle paragraphs one more time in the dim light of the church.
I know you told me not to give you any information about Vincent, and I’ve driven myself crazy trying to decide if I should tell you this or not. I know you feel as though you hurt him terribly and that he might never recover from the blow, so I decided I should tell you what I know. I hope it eases your worry about him and doesn’t add any pain to your situation.
When you first left, he called me often and pleaded with me to tell him where you were and of course I said nothing. Then his calls stopped. Yesterday, I bumped into Rosemary Tomasulo and she told me that Vincent is now working at that Harriet Lane Hospital for Children at Johns Hopkins and he likes it. She also said he’s seeing a nurse who works there and is really happy. I know how much you loved him, Tess, so I hope you can be happy for him. And I hope it isn’t a mistake for me to tell you all this. Please forgive me if it is.
I sat still, my eyes closed. The pain I felt was intense, as though my heart were squeezing itself dry. I had to make myself be happy for Vincent. It was good he’d found someone so quickly, I told myself. Someone to take his mind off how I’d hurt him. Yet thinking of him in love with another girl tore me apart.
Clutching the letter in my hand, I suddenly felt the bubbly flutter of life in my belly. It made me gasp, the sound echoing in the still air of the church, and the woman kneeling in prayer turned around to look in my direction. I smiled, lowering my head but too awed by what I’d felt to be sincerely embarrassed. I pressed both my hands protectively over my belly.
“I’ll take care of you, little one,” I whispered. “I’m giving you a father. That’s the important thing. You and I … No matter what happens, we’re going to be all right.”
38
March 9, 1944
Dear Gina,
You were right to tell me about Vincent. It hurts beyond belief to know he’s with someone else, but I’m happy for him. I only hope she treats him better than I did. I want the best for him. I’m also delighted that he’s working at a hospital for children. Pediatrics has always been his passion and he is so good with the little ones.
I still have no idea how I’m going to finagle this trip to Winston-Salem, and the exam is less than a week away. I’m apprehensive about mentioning it to Henry again. I think I will simply have to disappear for a few days. He disappears all the time, working at the factory all night long, so now it’s my turn! Wish me luck.
Love,
Tess
39
I left very early the first morning of the exam. I dressed as quietly as I could and tiptoed out of the house after leaving a hastily scribbled note for Henry on the night table. I’d barely slept and only hoped I would be able to stay awake for the examination.
Dear Henry,
Imagine working for years on a beautiful design for a dining room suite, and it’s finally perfected and ready to be taken to market. Before you can do that, the furniture must be inspected for craftsmanship, but you can’t get an appointment with the inspector. All your hard work stands in the balance. No one can see this beautiful thing you’ve created because you can’t accomplish this one final step.
All right, maybe this is an awkward analogy but it’s the best I can do at this early hour. I have to take that exam, Henry. I’ve worked hard to get to this point and I am determined to take this final step and be able to call myself a registered nurse. I know that means nothing to you, but it means everything to me.
I’m taking the train to Winston-Salem and I have reservations at a hotel. I will try to call you at the factory when I arrive. I’ll be perfectly safe and will return on Thursday.
Fondly,
Tess
Outside, the wind nearly knocked me off my feet and I was glad to find the cab already waiting for me in front of the house. The driver let me off at the train station and I joined a few men on the platform. They all appeared to be wearing business suits beneath their long black wool coats and I felt out of place—I was certainly the only person on the platform with knitting in her suitcase. I ignored their curious gazes as I shivered in my own coat, my handbag and the exam handbook cradled in my arms.
The train was late and that only made me more nervous. What if I didn’t make it to the exam site on time? Would they still let me in?
“Tess!”
I turned to see Henry rushing toward me from the parking lot. Oh no. I had the feeling my fellow passengers were going to witness a scene. I stood my ground as though my shoes were encased in concrete.
Henry reached me and wrapped his good hand around my arm. He leaned close to my ear. “Why didn’t you tell me you were doing this?” he asked, his voice low enough that only I could hear him.
“You would have tried to stop me,” I said, attempting to wrench my arm from his grip without being too obvious about it. “Please, Henry. Let me go. I have to do this.”
He shook his head. “You’re not getting on a train,” he said. “I won’t allow it. Not in your condition.” He bent over and picked up my suitcase, but I didn’t budge. “I’ll drive you,” he said. “Come on.”
I thought I must have misunderstood him. “You’ll drive me? Where?”
“It’s in Winston-Salem, right?”
“You’ll…” I could hear the train whistle as it approached the station and wondered if I should snatch my suitcase away from him and run to board the train.