“All right,” I said. I decided not to ask him any more questions about the coupons. He was right: the less I knew the better. He looked haggard this morning. I propped myself up on my elbows to get a better look at him. “Did you get any sleep at all last night?” I asked.
“Not much.” He gave me a tired smile, then stood up. “I’ve got to get to the factory early this morning and I expect I’ll be there late again tonight. The replacement parts are arriving for the boiler sometime today, at last.”
“What about breakfast?” I asked.
“I’ll grab one of Hattie’s biscuits to take with me.” He leaned over and kissed my forehead. “Thank you for everything, Tess,” he said. He left the room and I settled back down in the bed again, thinking that I had the strangest marriage in the world.
*
I had a wonderful day at the hospital, working side by side with Vincent a good part of the time. I spent most of the morning taking care of Amy Pryor, but I was back with Vincent in the admissions tent for the afternoon. I loved watching him with the patients. Although I wore all of my protective coverings and my hair was tucked under a cap, Vincent wore only his white coat. No mask, as usual, and I thought that made him less frightening to the patients. He had such an easy, earnest style about him. Frantic parents grew calmer when he spoke to them, and he touched the children so gently as he examined them. I watched him with the littlest ones, saying a silent prayer that someday he and I would have children of our own. I knew I wasn’t alone with my feelings. The way he looked at me, sometimes with a smile. Sometimes a wink. The way he touched my arm, my hand, when we moved past each other in the confines of the tent. Touches that were not completely necessary. I was hungry for that divorce! I would give Henry three more weeks. That would make a month since we’d put everything out in the open. If he didn’t agree to start the divorce process by that time, I would have to apply pressure. I didn’t want it to come to that. I was already looking in the paper for rooms to rent in case I was still working at the hospital at that time. Once the epidemic was over, I would return to Baltimore. With any luck, Vincent would be by my side.
*
Ruth was frustrated that night over dinner. “My husband never worked late like this at the factory, night after night after night,” she said. “Hank’s not getting well-rounded meals, and he’s tired every morning. It’s just not right. He’s trying to do too much, working at the hospital as well as the factory.”
I didn’t tell her Henry’s late nights had nothing to do with work of any sort. Instead, I changed the subject.
“Are you looking forward to your bridge game tonight?” I asked. Mrs. Wilding was to pick her up at seven for a bridge evening at one of the country club ladies’ homes.
“Of course,” she said. “Are you sure you won’t join us?” Ever since the people of Hickory had warmed to me, Ruth seemed to view me in a new light.
“I’m sure,” I said. “I’m going to read for a while and turn in early.”
*
Mrs. Wilding picked Ruth up shortly after dinner and I changed into my shorts and sleeveless blouse, an outfit I only wore when Ruth wasn’t around. I settled into the upstairs parlor with The Fountainhead. In the distance, I heard the sound of sirens. From my work in the hospital, I’d grown accustomed to the constant bleating of ambulances, but this shrill, relentless wailing seemed different. More than one vehicle was creating that racket. Maybe more than two or even three. I turned my book upside down in my lap and listened, reassuring myself that the sirens were not close. They were far enough away that I could put them out of my mind almost completely and concentrate on the book.
I’d read a chapter and a half when I heard pounding on the front door. Setting down the book, I headed for the stairs. The pounding was ceaseless and loud and I remembered the agents who’d searched the house the night before. Were they back with the police?
I pulled open the door to find Byron Dare on the porch, the pink sunset sky behind him.
“There’s a fire at the plant!” he said. “I see Hank’s car’s not here. Do you and Ruth want a ride over there?”
For a moment, I wasn’t sure what he was talking about. I never referred to the factory as a “plant.” Then it sank in. The sirens. Henry was there, most likely with Honor, and I felt suddenly panicky.
“Ruth is out, but yes!” I said, grabbing my handbag from the table near the door. “Please take me!”
We raced down the walkway and across the street to his car, and he started driving off before I’d even shut the door.
“How do you know there’s a fire?” I asked.
“I heard the sirens and called the police to find out what was happening,” he said. “Where’s Hank?”
“He’s at the factory, as far as I know,” I said. I twisted my rings around nervously on my finger.
“He probably got out just fine.” Mr. Dare glanced at me. “Don’t worry.”
We drove in silence for another block or so, and the sky darkened. Both of us seemed to realize at the same moment that it was not sundown creating the darkness but smoke, and bits of ash began to settle on the windshield. I swallowed hard and saw Mr. Dare’s fists tighten on the steering wheel.
“A furniture factory would go up like tinder,” he said, more to himself than to me, and I braced myself for what we would find ahead of us.
When we turned the corner, we could see the blaze a couple of blocks ahead of us. The sight was shocking, flame and smoke licking from every window of the massive two-story brick building.
“Oh my God,” I said, my hand to my mouth. I shut my eyes momentarily, thinking, Please let them have gotten out okay.
We drove a short distance farther and saw a crowd of people congregating in the street. They stood en masse, pointing toward the building, lit up by the flames a block away. A policeman stepped in front of the car, holding up his hand to stop us. He walked around to the driver’s side.
“Mr. Dare,” he said, obviously recognizing him. “You can’t get any closer. We have to keep people back.”
I leaned forward so the policeman could see me. “I’m Tess Kraft,” I said. “Hank’s wife. Did he get out okay?”
A muscle in the man’s cheek twitched as he looked toward the building and the flames lit up his eyes. “We don’t know,” he said. “His car is in the parking lot, but we don’t know if he’s inside or out. The fire ain’t under control enough for anyone to go in to look for folks.”
“I want to get closer,” I said, opening the car door.
“No, ma’am, you can’t,” the officer said.
“She’s his wife,” Mr. Dare said, surprising me with his support. “Let her do what she wants.”
I got out of the car and started running toward the factory before anyone could stop me. The sky was black and filled with bulbous clouds of smoke, and the smell in the air was part flame, part chemical. Before I’d gone half a block, I had to stop. It was hard to breathe and my eyes watered and stung. Fire trucks and police cars were parked at crazy angles in the street, and ahead of me I saw the firemen aiming their hoses at flames that licked from the windows. The sound of breaking glass joined the sirens and the whoosh of water and the shouts of the men.