Child Bride

by Jennifer Smith Turner

  “No.”

  “But church is a big part of a family’s life.”

  “I know … but he said I shouldn’t go, so I don’t.”

  “You do whatever Henry says?”

  “Yes. Aren’t I supposed to?”

  “The question is—is that how you want to live?”

  “No, it isn’t. But I don’t know how to change things. I tried once, had that reading job at the library, did some work at Ginny’s beauty shop. But he snatched it all away from me.”

  “Nell, I think Henry is a kind and tortured soul at the same time. He’s never had much, and going North held so much promise for him—at least in his mind. I don’t think he’s achieved the life he thought he’d find there—filled with great success, a large family, and a close circle of friends.”

  “We certainly don’t have any of that.”

  “My best advice—you have to be the woman you’re meant to be. You can’t allow yourself to disappear in his shadow. That’s not who you are, not who your daddy wanted you to be. Find yourself, Nell. I know you can.”

  SUNDAY MORNING SNUCK up on me like an old friend I hadn’t visited with in a long time but was uncertain about seeing. I was lying in bed, listening to Momma hum the hymns that she and the other church women would raise their voices to sing during the service today, leading everyone in heavenly hallelujahs, yes Jesus, praise the Lord, and amens. I could hear my brothers and sisters as they got dressed in their Sunday best and prepared the little ones for the day of worship and fellowship. My heart was racing, but my limbs were numb. I pulled the covers over my head, pressed my eyes shut, and tried to silence the deafening noise of family greeting a Sunday with such certain joy and familiarity.

  “Baby Girl,” Momma said as she poked her head into my room, “why aren’t you up and dressed? We’s got to get to church. I need to be there early with the choir.”

  “Not going,” I mumbled from under the covers.

  “Of course you’re going, now get up.”

  I didn’t move, just curled myself into a knot and rolled against the wall, hoping she’d leave me alone. But she sat on the bed and started to rub my back, just the way I remembered she’d do whenever I was hurt or sad or scared. She kept right on humming and then patted my head with the palm of her hand. It was that gesture, so comforting and gentle, so full of the warmth I’d missed for the past two years, so full of both her and Daddy’s essence, caring for their Baby Girl with unconditional love, that brought the torrent of tears. I heaved and gasped for air in my chest, wiggled over to her, pulled my head out from the covers, and buried my face in her lap.

  “Baby Girl, calm down,” she said as she handed me her hankie to wipe my face and blow my nose. “Why don’t you want to go to church?”

  “It’s not church, Momma. I don’t want to go home!” I howled and sank my head into her lap again.

  “We talked about this. You’re a wife and momma now; you belong with the family that you done made. Now I need to leave—we’ll bring your little ones with us. Pull yourself together; people want to see you.”

  She got up to leave before I was finished crying; it felt as though she was disgusted with me for being pitiful. But then she bent over, hugged me, and said, “I’ve never known scared to be in the same place as you, Baby Girl. I want to make you feel better, but there’s not much I can do. And this isn’t where you belong anymore. Everything Daddy and I taught you is right here and here.” She tapped my head and heart. “It’s up to you to not give it all away like some orphan who’s been robbed of her last worldly possession.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  CHURCH HAD BEEN ON MY MIND EVERY DAY SINCE I returned from seeing Momma. The way she’d looked at me, never saying anything in reprimand but knowing all along that I was not doing the things she expected of me. The truth of that was weighing heavily on me. It was as awkward as moving around with the new baby that was forming in my belly, my ankles swollen, my stomach uneasy again all day. Momma hadn’t made a fuss with me, she had just told me to be true to how she and Daddy had raised me, to remember that we should be thankful for all God does for us. She told me that I needed the right tools to bring this message to the children, her grandbabies.

  “I want to go to church,” I said to Henry on Saturday night, as I watched him polish his Sunday shoes. The words were out of my mouth before I could catch them, ball them up in my fist, and shove them in the pocket of my cotton dress.

  When he heard my words, he stopped and glared at me. “What’d you say?”

  “It’s time I started to attend church, to meet other women, to pray to the Lord in his house. It’s time, Henry.”

  “What about the babies?”

  “They’re welcome in the Lord’s house too.”

  “How old are you?”

  “What?”

  “I said, how old are you to be making statements like this to me? You’re just a child yourself. You’ve been acting different since you been back home.”

  “I’m old enough to be your wife and these children’s momma, old enough to be carrying another child inside of me. Old enough to cook and clean all day. Momma wanted to know what our church was like. There was nothing I could say. It made me ashamed. Church is an important part of a family’s life. I won’t let you deny me that any longer. I’m going to church!”

  My voice echoed round the apartment, ricocheting from wall to wall, claiming its territory. Henry’s nose flared for just a moment, reacting to the unexpected strength of my words as though they were too pungent, making his eyes water. I held my breath, not certain if he’d lash out at me, but I steeled my back, ready to fight if necessary.

  He studied my face as though he were trying to hear the conversation between Momma and me and said, “What’d you tell Momma and the others about me?”

  “The truth,” I said with my chin thrust in the air. “I spoke with everyone about our life, even Miss Parker.”

  In the early days of our courtship I had often felt as though I had Henry’s full attention, as though I were the only person his eyes could focus on, mine the only voice his ears wanted to hear. I’d lost that sense somewhere between the bus trip north and the ensuing isolation that had become my life. Yet at this moment I felt fierce attention coming from him as he contemplated what I’d said to my family.

  “What’d you tell them?” He stepped to within an inch of me. Hot air coming from his nostrils stung my cheeks as he clenched and unclenched his fists. “What!” Spittle hit my face as he shouted.

  I began to back away, gaining more distance between our bodies so the force of his anger had someplace to go. But something inside made me stand firm. Maybe it was the recollection of Momma’s words, or Miss Parker’s advice about being the woman I was meant to be, or the new life squirming inside of me while the other two children played on the floor, reminding me that my life was about to get smaller yet again. For an instant I heard Daddy’s voice telling me that he loved me, that I always made him proud. I took a step toward Henry, with my hands on my hips, and said, “I gave up my home and family to come here with you and be your wife. I’m having your babies, cleaning this tiny place we call a home, cooking your meals, taking care of your manly needs. And all the while you treat me like a prisoner or, worse, your personal slave. The slaves were freed a long time ago! I won’t be treated this way any longer. I deserve better, and I intend to have better. That’s what I told the family.”

  “How dare you speak poorly of me. Easy for you to do that without me there to keep you in your place. Woman, you’re lucky to have a man at all, never mind one as good as me. You got food on the table, a place to lay your head, regular loving, and a family to care for. What more do you need? Do you know how many woman out there want what I have to give?”

  “I don’t know out there at all, since you snatched the outside world away from me, keep me locked away like some bird you torture by clipping its wings. How would I know if anyone wants you or not? All I know is that things
need to change around here, or else!”

  “Or else what? You threatening me?”

  “I’m telling you! I can’t live this way any longer.”

  “You’re the one who went around lying, doing things at Ginny’s and the library, disobeying me. I’ve never done a thing like that. I go to work, come home, take care of you and the babies. I do what a man supposed to do for his family. You stepped out. How do I know you weren’t looking at another man?”

  “You know I wasn’t! Don’t try to turn this around. We need to make this marriage work for both of us, not just for you.” Exhaustion was beginning to seep into my veins. I wanted to keep up the argument and force Henry to change at that very moment, but I knew the only thing I could possibly change was myself.

  The children were both crying as the harsh words we spewed at one another disturbed their playing. They wailed above our shouts, so loudly I thought the neighbors might start banging on the floor to get us to quiet down or else call the police, thinking a murder was taking place in this apartment that was normally so quiet.

  Henry looked at the children as though he were about to say something to them, then looked at me. His shoulders sagged as he rubbed his eyes. He sat down on the foot of the bed and picked up the shoe-polishing materials again. I could see him start to disappear into the leather, dirty cloth, polish, and newspaper laid on the floor to hold his work. Or perhaps it was the children and I who were doing the disappearing. In a voice so quiet I could barely hear him, he said, “What do you want? I don’t know how else to be.”

  “I want to go to church. I want the children to be christened. I want Sunday to be our family church day. That’d be a start.”

  THE CHURCH WAS ten blocks from our house, a quick walk if you’re a man strolling alone. However, with a pregnant wife and two children in tow, it became an ordeal for Henry. He shouted over his shoulder, “Hurry up. You’re going to make me miss the opening hymn.”

  Junior, April, and I trailed behind Henry. I alternated between carrying April in my arms and on my back, while yanking Junior’s hand as we raced to keep up. I thought, I need a baby stroller. The few times Henry and I had taken the children out he had always carried them, leaving me free to wander beside him and enjoy being outdoors. Today my feet felt like two small tree stumps thudding against unforgiving cement. The children became low-hanging fruit ready to drop to the ground at any moment. My face stung from the wind of Henry’s energy pushing past his back to my nose. My hair was matted to my forehead in streams of sweat.

  “Henry, slow down,” I panted. “We can’t keep up with you. Slow down.”

  “Keep up, woman. You wanted to come to church—well, this is it.”

  As best I could determine the church was divine, but as I looked around through the film of dust that had collected on my eyes and the stinging sweat that I tried to sop up with my dress, everything seemed blurred. When we’d left the apartment, I’d thought the three of us looked to be in good shape, but compared to the women, children, and men in their Sunday best, we looked as if we should’ve had tin cups in our hands.

  Henry greeted the minister who stood at the top of the steps. He said hello to the other church-goers, then disappeared inside. He never looked back for me or the children. He was the butler making a targeted entrance, and I was the weary field-hand hoping for a chance to enter the big house and see the master.

  “Hello—Miss …?” The Reverend extended his hand to me. He was wearing a dark blue suit, a starched white shirt, and a blue tie with a small, gold, diamond-shaped pattern running down the center. He had a full round belly bursting against the buttons of his suit jacket, straining the threads. His face was round and dark as a blackberry; his warm smile reached from one deep-set dimple to the other.

  “Mrs. Bight,” I said. “This is Junior and April, our young ones.”

  “You would be Henry’s family, wife and children, then?”

  “Yes, we are.”

  “My, my. Mrs. Leonard, come here and meet Mr. Bight’s family.”

  “Henry’s family?” A tall, slender, elegant woman walked up to the Reverend. She put her arm through his and looked at me. She had on the most beautiful Sunday hat I’d ever seen. It looked to be silk, with crinoline billowing around the sides and trailing down the back of her neck. Her dress matched the light green color of the ribbon on the hat, and her white gloves extended to her elbows. A small purse at her wrist and high-heeled shoes completed her Sunday attire. “Hello, dear. Such a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to our church. The Reverend and I are so happy to finally meet Mr. Bight’s family.”

  “I’m glad to be here. Henry tells me about your husband’s sermons.”

  “Mrs. Leonard, perhaps you could show Mrs. Bight to the ladies’ room. She may want to, well, tidy up a bit before taking her seat with her husband,” the Reverend said.

  “Of course,” Mrs. Leonard responded.

  Only then did I feel the shabbiness of my Sunday attire—old dusty shoes with a broken buckle, a cotton house dress that had seen too many washings and was now sporting a wet, dark area down the front, my hatless head with wind-blown hair sticking up in all directions. As I watched her examine the babies and me, the corners of my eyes started to sting. “I’m sorry,” I whispered to my feet. “We don’t belong here, not like this. Maybe next Sunday.”

  Mrs. Leonard touched my shoulder. “You belong here, Mrs. Bight. And your children as well. This is the Lord’s house—all are welcome.” She hugged my shaking frame and led us downstairs.

  We passed through a large open area with tables and chairs arranged in banquet style. “We have lunches and dinners here,” Mrs. Leonard told me, “and in here is the playroom for children too young to sit through the church service.” She pointed to a room off to the right, which had toys, books, and small tables. There were several children in cribs, and a young woman was sitting with them, reading from bible storybooks. “Junior and April can stay here, if you like. Or you can keep them with you and Mr. Bight during service.”

  “I think they’ll stay with us.”

  “That’s fine, dear. Now here is a closet with some dresses; there’s probably something in your size. And on the shelf are children’s clothes. If you look in the boxes on the floor, you’ll find all manner of shoes. Surely a pair or two will fit you and the children.”

  I didn’t move to the closet.

  When she looked over her shoulder and saw the look on my face, she said, “It’s all right, dear. We all have needs sometimes, and the Lord provides. The church is a place where we take care of one another. Why, I’m sure in no time at all you and Mr. Bight will be adding to this collection for someone else in the church to benefit from.”

  I inched closer to the closet, keeping my eyes fixed on hers. “Well, there may be something—for the children, of course.”

  “Take your time. I’ll be in the kitchen, right through those doors to the left. When you’re ready, just get me and I’ll show you our powder room.”

  The closet was stuffed with pretty dresses, men’s suits, jackets, coats, children’s clothes, shoes in all colors and sizes lined up neatly on the floor, and hats on the top shelf. There were more clothes in this closet than I’d ever seen, even in our house back on the farm, where a dozen people lived on and off. I settled Junior and April on the floor and touched one of the dresses. The material was soft. It slid through my fingers like water flowing from a well pump. Then I began to run my hand over the fabric of all the dresses. It was like being in the library, feeling the bindings of books against my fingertips, except the cloth was delicate, inviting in a new way. I began to imagine myself dancing, twirling in one dress after another while others admired me.

  I picked out clothes for the children, with shoes to match. Then I found just the right dress for me. It was sky-blue, with a ribbon around the waist and a row of buttons down the back. It was the finest one in the closet, the very first one I had touched. I didn’t know if the things would fit, but aft
er Mrs. Leonard got us settled in the ladies’ room, we tried everything on. It took my breath away to see how we looked—like a real family dressed properly for church. We managed to look almost as good as we had when we went to church with Momma and the family. Even then, I’d had to borrow clothes for me and the children. But those clothes were farm fabrics, worn thin in the seams, still carrying the scents of hard work and dirt. These items had the smell of Northern progress, the promise of more.

  “Now let me help you with your hair—if you don’t mind, that is,” Mrs. Leonard offered.

  I immediately thought about Ginny. She and the girls had stopped coming by the apartment to visit. It was gradual, the way one minute you have a full glass of water and then slowly the water empties from sipping and natural evaporation. With each visit there was less and less to say. I only had the daily goings-on with the children to discuss, while the girls’ lives were as full as ever with stories about their customers and the neighborhood. I think at some point they just decided we had lost anything in common and that sitting in my tiny apartment had become stifling. So the glass emptied, like the other glasses in my life—the library, my family, even Daddy. All that was left was a collection of empty drinking vessels resting on a shelf, smudged with lip and fingerprint memories.

  Mrs. Leonard’s fingers were gentle in my hair. She didn’t have the professional lilt to her movements as Ginny had, but it was comforting to let someone else manage my hair again. “When is your baby due?”

  “In a few months.”

  “Three children—my, my. You and Mr. Bight certainly have a full house.”

  “Henry wants a large family. At least seven children.”

  “Seven!”

  “Henry says a man and a woman should bring lots of young ones into the world. Back home you needed to have as many children as possible to work the farm. But here in the city, I don’t know why so many children are needed. But Henry says we should keep making babies.”

  “What do you say?”