The Stolen Marriage

by Diane Chamberlain

  “Don’t you want to see what we cooked for the box supper?” I asked, knowing even as I spoke that my timing was poor, and I wasn’t surprised when he walked right past me as if he hadn’t heard.

  * * *

  The following evening, still in a foul mood, Henry drove us to the Presbyterian church. I spotted Violet the instant I entered the huge, smoky hall that had been set up for the event. She and Henry exchanged a look, and I thought there was an unmistakable message in that exchange, one I couldn’t read. Then she glanced at me with an amused sort of smile, and I turned away quickly, shaken. You’re being paranoid, I told myself.

  Ruth, Lucy, and I delivered our boxes to a long table at the front of the room where a few dozen other gaily decorated boxes were already on display. On the wall above them, someone had hung several war bond posters of soldiers and their weapons caught in the act of fighting an unseen enemy. AIM TO WIN!, one of the posters proclaimed. ATTACK! ATTACK! ATTACK! read another.

  As he often did in public, Henry took my elbow and guided me to a table where I sat with him and Ruth and Lucy and a few of Ruth’s friends whom I didn’t recognize. Henry lit his pipe and I wished I could have a cigarette, but I never smoked in front of Ruth. I didn’t want to give her one more thing to criticize about me.

  Violet sat on the other side of the room with a few of her friends. She was dressed in royal-blue taffeta, and the light from the overhead fixtures pooled in her pale blond hair. People gathered around her table and she seemed to be in control of them all, laughing one moment at something one of them said, giving instructions to someone else the next. She was the magnet in the room. The white-hot center. I spotted her father, Byron Dare, and his wife at a separate table. They were hard to miss because people kept clapping Mr. Dare on the back, loudly congratulating him on winning the Joyner case.

  Mayor Finley, whom I remembered meeting the first time I attended the Baptist church, stood at a podium at the front of the room, gavel in hand, and I guessed he would be presiding over the bidding. He slammed the gavel on the podium a few times to stop the chatter in the room and sent a warm smile into the crowd. I recalled liking both him and his wife in our brief meeting at the church.

  “As with last year,” he said, once he had everyone’s attention, “we’ll dispense with the usual rules that govern the traditional box supper, given that so many of our young men are fighting for our freedom rather than being here to bid on these beautiful boxes and consume their contents with the ladies who made them. In other words, high bidders, both men and women, will simply enjoy the meals inside the boxes they win as they purchase war bonds and stamps, knowing their bids will support our boys and our country.”

  He spoke a while longer and then the bidding began. The first box was auctioned off for twenty-three dollars after some brisk bidding, and I suddenly realized that the name of the woman who cooked the meal and decorated the box would be announced. Of course. What had I expected? Given my unpopularity in town, I feared no one would bid on my box and I would be humiliated. Worse, I worried about humiliating my husband.

  Lucy’s box went to Teddy Wright for fourteen dollars. As he walked up to the front of the room to collect his box and war bond and stamps, it took me a moment to recognize him as the policeman I’d thought was following me the day I walked to the post office. Out of his uniform, he looked very young, no more than twenty, and he had a simple sort of handsomeness about him with his sandy hair and blue eyes. When he turned around to walk back to his seat, he winked at Lucy with a grin. And then—I was sure of it—he glanced in my direction, and the smile left his face.

  “And here we have this lovely box created by Hank Kraft’s new bride, Tess Kraft,” Mayor Finley announced, holding my lace-and-bead box in the air. “Who will start the bidding?”

  I didn’t have time to feel nervous before Byron Dare leaped to his feet. “You know, Arthur,” he said to the mayor in his syrupy drawl, “I’m an old-fashioned kind of fella. I like a box supper where we get to dine with the gal who did the cookin’. So I’m goin’ to just preempt any other bid and pledge one hundred dollars for that box … as long as I also get the honor of dining with the young lady who made it.”

  A hush fell over the room except for one small word uttered by Violet.

  “Daddy?” She nearly whispered it, and her father pretended not to hear her. I kept my gaze on Mayor Finley, but I could have sworn that every head in the room turned to look at me. I plastered a false smile on my face. Next to me, I felt Henry stiffen.

  “Well, good for you, Byron,” Mayor Finley said. “One hundred dollars going once. Going twice.” He slammed down the gavel. “Looks like the district attorney will be dining with Mrs. Henry Kraft tonight.”

  Mr. Dare looked toward us with a victorious smile. I thought his gaze was on Henry rather than me. There was a war going on between these two and I was not going to be a pawn in it.

  When the bidding for boxes was over, Byron walked toward our table, my decorated box nestled in the crook of his elbow and a glass of some sort of liquor in his hand. He held out his free arm to me.

  “Mrs. Kraft?” he said. “Let’s find ourselves a nice quiet little spot to enjoy your fine cookin’.”

  Henry leaned close to whisper in my ear. “You don’t have to do this,” he said.

  “I’m all right,” I whispered back and got to my feet. I took Mr. Dare’s arm and he led me to a nearly deserted corner of the room. I sat down across from him at a table already set with paper plates and silverware and studied his head of bushy white hair as he lifted the top of the box.

  “Let’s see what we have here,” he said, removing one of the thick slices of ham and unwrapping it on a paper plate. “Well, ain’t this pretty,” he said, studying the ham. “What do you call it?”

  “Stuffed ham,” I said. “It’s a specialty in Baltimore where I come from.” Maybe I could win him over. He was a very different man tonight than the one who’d completely ignored me at church the day he went on and on to Henry about how he’d hurt his daughter. This evening, he was ingratiating, his eyes on mine, his smile unrelenting. Maybe I stood a chance with him. I’d spent my whole life being liked. I’d even been thought of as popular in high school and nursing school. Why did I allow myself to be so intimidated here? “It’s fun to make,” I added.

  He spooned a couple of the small potatoes onto my plate. “Hank got himself a real looker, didn’t he?” he said. “You look like you could be on stage or in the movies,” he added. “Do you know who Dante Rossetti is?”

  I shook my head. “No idea.” I poured myself a glass of lemonade from the pitcher on the table.

  “He’s an English artist famous for his sensual paintings of beautiful women with exceptionally thick, long hair,” he said, cutting a corner from his ham and lifting it to his mouth. “I’d wager that’s how your hair looks when you let it down.”

  I squirmed ever so slightly in my seat, forgetting my idea about winning him over. He was too slick. “Shall we eat our supper?” I asked. I looked across the room to see Henry dining with the mayor and his wife. I’d completely lost track of Ruth and Lucy.

  “Have I made you uncomfortable, Mrs. Kraft?”

  “Not at all.” I smiled.

  “Please accept my apology if I have.” He bowed his head slightly. “That wasn’t my intention. In Baltimore, maybe gentlemen aren’t as free with their compliments.”

  “I’ve never been compared to a painting before,” I said awkwardly.

  “Dante Rossetti,” he repeated. “You must give him a gander sometime.” He chewed a bite of ham, his gaze riveted on my face, and I feigned cutting my potato with great interest. “A booming town, Baltimore,” he said. “Hickory must seem like a sleepy little backwater to you.”

  “Not at all,” I said. “It’s lovely.”

  He sipped his drink. “Tell me about your people,” he said.

  “My … family?”

  “Yes. Your kin. Are they all in Baltimore?”<
br />
  “I’m afraid I lost both my parents,” I said. “And I was an only child.” I wouldn’t let myself think about the rest of my “kin”—Mimi and Pop and Vincent.

  “Oh, now that breaks my heart to hear,” he said. “The thought of my little girl growing up without a daddy or mama…” He shook his head. “I’m sorry you had to come up that way.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “My father passed away when I was very young, but I lost my mother just recently. So I actually grew up with a lot of love and support.” I didn’t want him to see me as some pathetic little orphan.

  “Good, that’s good.” He nodded, popping another bite of ham in his mouth. “Now how exactly did you meet our lucky Hank?” he asked, once he’d swallowed. “Where was it that you swept him off his feet?”

  Oh, I didn’t like this man! I had to find a way to take control of the conversation, sooner rather than later. He was fishing for something and I had no idea what.

  “Washington, D.C.,” I said.

  “And when was that?”

  I nibbled a piece of ham. “Quite a while ago,” I said evasively.

  “Well, well.” He sat back from the table and observed me with a one-sided smile. “Who would have guessed that Hank Kraft had a little something like you on the side all this time.”

  Stunned, I set down my fork, bristling. “I think you have a mistaken idea of my relationship with my husband,” I said. “We’ve been friends for a long time, and sometimes friendship can turn into something deeper. I believe that’s all you need to know.”

  He looked surprised that I’d actually defended myself. I was finished playing his game. I was tempted to get up and march away from the table, but that was the coward’s way out. Instead, I smiled prettily at him. “So,” I said, “I think you’ve gotten in your hundred dollars’ worth of insults,” I said. “Now why don’t you tell me a little about your work?” I asked. “It must be fascinating.”

  Slowly, I saw a look of respect replace the surprise on his face. “Very well,” he said. “Where shall I begin?”

  33

  Before we left for church the following morning, Lucy and I piled the leftovers from our box supper meals into a hamper for Adora and her family. We planned to drop the food off at their house on our way. I was so glad this was to be my last church service. I always found the service lacking compared to what I was used to, and I ended up daydreaming about Vincent before I could stop myself, wondering as I always did how he’d reacted to my letter. He must truly hate me now.

  Henry drove us to the Ridgeview neighborhood, which now felt familiar to me, although I would never let him or my in-laws know I’d been there before. What would they think of me taking the bus to “Colored Town,” walking up the dirt road to Reverend Sam’s house, mine the only white face for miles around? I smiled to myself at the thought. Reverend Sam was my sweet secret.

  For the first time, Ruth insisted I sit in the Cadillac’s front seat with Henry.

  “In your condition,” she’d said, “you really should get the roomier seat.”

  Now that my “condition” was being openly discussed in the house, I guessed I was going to be treated with deference.

  We’d had a bit of a spat that morning, Henry and I. While I was fixing my hair at the dressing table, I told him about the licensing exam. When I explained that it would be given over three days in Winston-Salem, he simply stared at me in the mirror, his hands frozen on the tie he was knotting at his neck. I was not as apprehensive as I’d expected to be as I waited for his response. There was nothing he could say that would keep me from that exam. I still had a tiny bit of my own money left from my account in Baltimore. It would be enough for the trip, but just barely.

  “You can’t do it,” he said, his hands working once again on the knot. “I thought we’d settled that already.”

  “It’s so important to me, Henry,” I said, tucking a stray lock of my hair behind my ear. “I’ve worked hard for this.”

  “No,” he said simply. “No further discussion needed.”

  Yes, I thought to myself. Further discussion is definitely needed. But I knew it would have to wait.

  Since it was a Sunday, downtown Ridgeview was quiet. Only the churches seemed alive with people. It was fairly warm for February, and the churchgoers crowded the sidewalks dressed in Sunday finery.

  Henry turned onto the long dirt road that probably still bore my footprints from my second visit to Reverend Sam. We passed the tiny crumbling houses on either side of us until we reached the house that had stood out to me the first time I was in Ridgeview—the small yellow house with white trim and new-looking shingles on the roof. The house that looked so well cared for. Henry stopped the car in front of it, and I guessed this was where Adora lived.

  “We’ll stay in the car,” he said to me as Ruth and Lucy started to get out.

  The front door opened and two children—a little girl about four years old and a boy slightly older—ran onto the porch and down the two steps toward Ruth and Lucy, the screen door slamming behind them. The children were dressed for church, the little boy in a miniature suit and bow tie, the girl in a pink dress that flounced around her legs as she ran.

  “Miss Lucy, Miss Lucy!” they both shouted, and I was surprised when Lucy set down the basket and leaned over to hug them. I so rarely saw any warmth from her.

  Honor, in a pink dress and matching hat, opened the screen door. She shouted something to the children I couldn’t understand and the boy turned around and headed back toward the house while the girl took Lucy’s hand and walked with her, happily swinging her arm. Honor looked past Lucy and Ruth toward the car, unsmiling. I waved, an automatic gesture of friendliness. She didn’t wave back, but turned her attention to Lucy and Ruth as they walked into the house.

  “The children are Honor’s?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Henry said.

  “They’re so cute. What are their names?”

  “Butchie and Jilly.”

  “Is Honor’s husband overseas?”

  He nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Del. Though they’re not technically married.”

  “Even though they have children?” I asked. That seemed appallingly wrong to me. But really, in my odd set of circumstances, who was I to judge?

  “It’s not our business,” Henry said.

  “He helps out though, I hope.” I thought of how fortunate I was that Henry had stepped up to the plate when I got pregnant.

  “Not our business,” he said again.

  “Their house is very cute,” I said. “It looks like a brand-new roof.”

  Henry didn’t say anything for a moment. “Zeke and I put the roof on,” he said finally. “We look after Adora.”

  As if on cue, a heavyset woman stepped from the house onto the porch. She clutched the railing as she slowly descended the two steps to the ground. Wearing a broad smile, she walked toward us. She was dressed in a matching pale blue skirt and jacket trimmed with navy piping. An enormous blue hat laden with faux flowers sat on her head. She waved as she got close to the car.

  “Roll down your window,” Henry said, and I did. He leaned past me to smile at the woman as she neared the car. “Happy birthday, Adora,” he said. He was so handsome when he smiled. It made me realize he didn’t smile very often.

  “Thank you, Mr. Hank,” she said, but her eyes were on me. “I told Miss Ruth I wanted to meet your new wife.”

  “Hi.” I smiled. “I’m Tess.”

  “Oh, she’s a pretty thing, Mr. Hank!” Adora said. She wore thick glasses and I could see myself reflected in them. “He taking good care of you, honey?”

  “Yes,” I said, “he is.”

  “You lucky you done landed with this family,” she said. “Kindest folk there is.”

  I managed to hold on to my smile. “Yes,” I said.

  “I seen that ham you made,” she said. “Ain’t that somethin’? I never seen nothin’ like it.”

  “Get in the house, Adora, before you
freeze,” Henry said, even though the day was hardly cold.

  “He’s the boss.” Adora gave me a wink. “You take care of him for me, hear? I knowed him since he was nothin’ but a little tadpole. He tell you that?”

  “He said you worked for his family for a long time,” I said. I remembered that she’d saved his life somehow, but this didn’t seem like the time to bring that up. I knew it wasn’t Henry’s favorite topic.

  Honor opened the front door. “Mama, get in here!” she shouted. “We need to get ready to go.”

  “Looks like I got two bosses,” Adora said with a shrug.

  “Have a good birthday, Adora,” Henry said.

  “Nice meeting you,” I said.

  I watched her walk slowly back to the house as I rolled up the window.

  “She’s sweet,” I said.

  Henry glanced at his watch. He seemed suddenly impatient, his gaze on the porch of the house as we waited for Lucy and Ruth to return to the car.

  “You’re going to need new clothes,” he said suddenly, out of the blue. “Given your condition,” he added, nodding toward my stomach, and I wondered if I was showing now more than I thought. I had on my panty girdle today in an attempt to mask my bulging middle for the church crowd, but maybe it wasn’t up to the job.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “I’ll leave you money tomorrow morning,” he said. “Get whatever you need.”

  “All right,” I said. “Thank you.”

  We were quiet for a moment. Then suddenly, he spoke again.

  “I’m going out tonight,” he said. “Gaston Joyner and his wife are leaving tomorrow. I want to spend some time with him before he goes.”

  “That’s good news, right?” I asked. “Good that they’re leaving? Will they go back to Pennsylvania where they got married?”

  He shook his head. “They’re driving all the way across the country to the state of Washington, so I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again.”