The Stolen Marriage

by Diane Chamberlain

  “Maybe,” I said.

  He didn’t respond. He suddenly seemed removed from me, from the room, his eyes closed, head bowed, as he beseeched the Lord and the universe to open the doors between two worlds. I sat still, listening to him talk to God. Suddenly, his voice changed.

  “Yes, I see,” he said to the air, his eyes still shut. “Yes. Yes.”

  I sat still, wondering what he was seeing behind those closed eyelids.

  Finally he opened his eyes. “Walter says you must help,” he said.

  Walter again? “I don’t know a Walter,” I said. “You mentioned him the other day, but I don’t—”

  “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “He knows you. Possibly he’s your spirit guide? Many of us … those of us who are very fortunate, anyway … we have spirit guides. Walter may be yours. We may never know his exact connection to you, but he has a definite sense of what it is you need to do. You must help at the polio hospital, not only to save the children. You have to help there to save yourself.”

  I stared at him. Yes, I thought. Yes.

  “All right,” I said, and I smiled. “I will.”

  59

  It was one thing to say I would become a nurse at the new hospital. Another thing to make it happen.

  Reverend Sam had loaned me a huge black umbrella for the walk to the bus stop and once I arrived home, I called a taxi to take me out to the camp, four miles away. The driver was an older man with thinning gray hair and a prominent nose.

  “Lots of activity out there today, Miz Kraft, even with this rain,” he said. “Gonna hurt my business though.”

  “Why will it hurt your business?” I asked.

  “No one’s gonna want to come to Hickory with them polio germs here. It’s already bad, since there’s so many cases ’round about.”

  “I think people are overreacting,” I said.

  “I told my daughter to get my grandkids out of town for the summer,” he went on as though I hadn’t spoken. “They’re heading out to Myrtle Beach. They’ll stay there till this blows over.”

  He reminded me of Ruth with his talk about the polio germs, and he kept it up the whole way to the camp.

  I could hear the pounding of hammers and the growl of chain saws as soon as we turned onto the muddy red dirt road that led to the stone building. Cars and trucks were parked everywhere on the weedy grass and among the trees. The rain had let up, but the day was still dark and threatening. The taxi driver was correct though: the weather hadn’t deterred the work and the camp was alive with activity. A long wooden structure had already gone up near the original stone building and men were working on the roof, hammering and sawing. I could see that Zeke was one of them, his wet shirt stuck to his back. A line of men, all of them dressed in khaki pants and blue shirts, were digging a trench under the watchful eye of a man with a shotgun. They had to be the prisoners Dr. Whims had mentioned at the meeting the night before. A truck from the phone company was parked near the stone building, and behind me, men cut down trees and cleared brush.

  I felt overwhelmed, standing there gawking in wonder, clutching the closed umbrella at my side. I needed to find the person in charge of hiring and wasn’t sure who to ask. I didn’t know where Henry was working, but he must have spotted me because the next thing I knew, I saw him walking toward me. His shirt was soaked, and his hair, darkened by the rain, was plastered to his head.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked as he neared me.

  “I have to work here, Henry,” I said. “As a nurse.” I held my chin up, daring him to tell me I couldn’t. “I can’t sit home with all this going on, and while I’m happy to gather donations or whatever, I want to help in a more direct way.”

  He stared at me as though he couldn’t believe I was defying him.

  “You’re helping the way you can.” I filled the silence. “I want to help the way I can.”

  I saw the muscles in his jaw tense. “The best way you can help is by getting our house up and running so we can move the hell out of my mother’s home,” he said, his words measured and slow as if he wanted to be certain I understood them. He rarely cursed—it was an indication of how angry he was—but I wasn’t going to back down.

  “I need more than that,” I said flatly.

  “Why can’t you be satisfied fixing up a house? Making it beautiful? Making it your dream house, for pity’s sake? Most girls would be thrilled.”

  Violet, I thought. Violet would love every minute of it.

  “I’ll work on the house,” I said. “I promise I will. But this is a more pressing need.”

  “You’ll create problems with my mother, Tess,” he said, wiping his hands on the rag hanging from his belt. “I’m sorry, but I can’t allow it. I have enough to deal with as it is without adding the bickering between you and Mama.”

  Two men carrying huge coils of black cable over their shoulders walked past us, and we had to take a few steps out of the way to make room for them. I waited until they passed to speak again.

  “I’m going to work here.” I spoke quietly to avoid making a scene.

  “You sound like a disobedient child.” His cheeks were growing red and I had the feeling I was testing him to see exactly how far his anger could go. “Where’s this sudden willfulness coming from?” he asked.

  “I’ve been talking to someone about it,” I admitted. “He’s … a sort of adviser. He knows I’m a nurse and want to help, and he encouraged me. He said I really have to do it. Work here.” To save myself, I thought. Yes.

  Henry narrowed his eyes at me. “Who is this ‘adviser’?” he asked.

  “He’s a minister,” I said, though I recalled Reverend Sam telling me he was no such thing.

  “What church?”

  I thought it best to dodge the question. “His name is Reverend Samuel Sparks, and I—”

  “That charlatan in Ridgeview?” Henry’s eyes widened. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “He’s for real,” I said. “I know that sounds crazy, but I really do think he is.” I felt a pulse of joy shoot through me at the mere memory of sitting with Reverend Sam. “I can’t explain it.” I knew I wore a giddy smile. “You wouldn’t be able to explain it either. I’ve never experienced anything like it before, Henry. I thought it was impossible too, until—”

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” he said, and I knew I shouldn’t have mentioned Reverend Sam at all. It was simply that the man seemed like such a part of my life all of a sudden. An important part of my life.

  “There’s nothing wrong with me,” I said. “I—”

  “You are not working here and you are never to see that quack again, understand?”

  “I can’t promise that,” I said stubbornly.

  Henry pulled the rag from his belt and dropped it on the ground. Taking me by the elbow, he began leading me away from the new building. “We’re going to go see your ‘adviser’ right now,” he said. “I need to give him a piece of my mind and tell him to stay out of our business. And out of your head!” His grip tightened on my elbow.

  “Henry, no!” I said. “He’s an old man. I don’t want you—”

  “I think everything that’s happened has left you more vulnerable than I realized,” he said, walking fast across the muddy clearing while I struggled to keep up. “I didn’t think you were the type to fall for something like this,” he added. “I’m worried about you.”

  I tried unsuccessfully to yank my arm from his grasp. “I won’t go to him again,” I said. “All right? We don’t have to go see him. Please, Henry.” I didn’t want Reverend Sam to have to deal with my angry husband.

  “We’re going,” Henry said. He’d parked the car a good distance from the activity at the camp and I stopped arguing as we picked our way along the muddy road, avoiding the rain-filled ruts as best we could. I felt powerless. I dreaded what lay ahead for us in Ridgeview.

  I finally spotted the Cadillac, its yellow paint splattered with mud. Henry opened my door for me and I got i
n.

  “Please don’t make a scene,” I begged as we drove down the rutted lane. “He’s a gentle man. He’s elderly. And he’s very kind. You don’t need to argue with him. Please.” I felt terribly protective of my friend. Henry had never struck me as the violent type, but the way he was talking and behaving right now, his anger filling the car, I worried he might actually try to harm the old man.

  Henry said nothing as he pulled onto the main road leading away from the camp. The skies opened up then and rain battered the windshield.

  “You know, Tess,” he said, as we headed toward Ridgeview. “I knew all along you were different,” he said, his eyes on the road. “I knew you had ideas that wouldn’t let you fit in very well with my family.” He glanced at me quickly. “But I never realized until now that you’re crazy.”

  60

  Reverend Sam opened the front door as we climbed the steps to his porch, rain thrumming onto the umbrella Henry held over both our heads. Sam must have seen us coming. I only hoped he could also see the apology on my face. I held Henry’s arm as much to keep him from charging at the man as to maintain my balance on the slick stairs.

  Reverend Sam smiled at us and I felt affection for him. He was coming to feel like a father to me. At the very least, a dear friend.

  “This must be your husband,” he said.

  “Yes. Henry, this is Reverend Samuel Sparks. And Reverend, this is Henry Kraft.”

  “Kraft Fine Furniture,” Reverend Sam said, and he held out his hand to Henry, who ignored it.

  “I want you to stay away from my wife,” Henry said, closing the umbrella with an angry snap.

  “Henry,” I said, my fingers digging into his arm more forcefully than I’d intended. “I approached him. He didn’t—”

  “Please come inside, Mr. and Mrs. Kraft,” Reverend Sam said, stepping back to make room for us to pass.

  Henry hesitated and I gave a little tug on his arm. Reluctantly, he leaned the umbrella against the house. Then we walked inside and I tried to see the dimly lit living room through his eyes. The mélange of furniture. The ashy scent of the fireplace.

  “Let’s go to my office where we can chat.” Reverend Sam began leading us down the hall.

  “There’s nothing to chat about,” Henry said, but he followed close on Reverend Sam’s heels with me still clutching his arm. “You have no right interfering in our family’s business,” he said. “It’s not your place to—”

  He stopped mid-sentence. Reverend Sam had opened the door to the anteroom and the skeleton looked out at us in all its bony glory. I was torn between laughter and terror, unsure what Henry’s reaction would be.

  “What the hell?” he said, his voice much softer than I’d anticipated. “What is wrong with you, old man?”

  “Come in, come in.” Reverend Sam ignored the question as he motioned to us to enter.

  “It’s all right,” I said, tugging Henry’s arm again. “This is the anteroom. His office is on the other side.”

  Henry glanced dubiously at me as we walked past the skeleton and the skulls and the artifacts that had probably been stolen decades earlier from old Indian burial sites. He had nothing to say until we were seated in the inner office. Then, suddenly, he had plenty.

  “I don’t want you to talk to my wife again,” he said, once he had gathered his composure. “She’s vulnerable. She’s been through a difficult time these past few months, and—”

  “All right, sir,” Reverend Sam said.

  “Don’t fill her head with nonsense and don’t tell her she should do things I’ve told her she can’t do.”

  The old man nodded. “I understand, sir,” he said. He listened to Henry go on and on about how Reverend Sam had overstepped his bounds and how he was a trickster and how he—Henry—wouldn’t allow him to take advantage of me. Reverend Sam kept nodding and yes-sirring. I hadn’t seen this subservient side of him before and I found it both sad and distressing. I liked the Reverend Sam who seemed to have all the answers, not the colored man who could be cowed by the white furniture magnate.

  “You see, Mr. Kraft,” Reverend Sam said, once Henry finally stopped for breath, and I thought I saw a spark of mischief in the old man’s eyes. “It’s hard for me not to help someone when I feel an instant kinship to that person, as I did with your wife,” he said. “Especially when the contacts from the spirit world begin flooding me.”

  Henry made a sound of disgust. “That’s enough,” he said, getting to his feet and holding his hand out to me. I took his hand reluctantly and stood up.

  “Particularly when her spirit guide, Walter, appeared to me.” Reverend Sam continued without budging from his seat behind the desk.

  Henry suddenly let go of my hand as if it burned him. “What?” he asked.

  “We discovered your wife has a spirit guide named Walter,” Reverend Sam said calmly. “And Walter was quite insistent that your wife follow her heart and become a nurse at the polio hospital.”

  The color had drained from Henry’s face. I’d only seen him that pale once before: the day he came to pick me up at the police station after the accident. He leaned his hands heavily on the reverend’s desk as though holding himself up.

  “Henry?” I touched his shoulder, alarmed by the change in him. He looked quite ill.

  Henry narrowed his eyes at the man. “Who the hell are you?” he said slowly, enunciating every word. He sounded both suspicious and shaken, and he turned to me. “We’re leaving,” he said, not waiting for an answer as he stood up straight again. He gave me a tug toward the door. “We’ll let ourselves out,” he said, without looking back at Reverend Sam. We walked through the anteroom and into the hallway, where he let go of my hand and marched resolutely ahead of me toward the front door as if he couldn’t wait to get out of that house.

  Once on the porch with the door closed behind us, he seemed to gather his strength again.

  “That,” he said, pointing toward the house, “was ridiculous. I can’t believe you fell for his nonsense. What a colossal waste of time. You’re not to talk with him again, do you understand?”

  Now that I knew he wasn’t about to keel over from a heart attack or worse, I felt annoyed by the way he was talking to me. I wasn’t his child. “I can’t promise that,” I said.

  He looked at me as if he couldn’t believe my obstinacy. “Just get in the car,” he said. “I’m taking you home before I go back to the camp.” He plowed down the steps and onto the front walk.

  The rain had once again stopped and we were quiet in the car. I stared out the side window, sitting as far from Henry as I could get. I would see Reverend Sam again if I wanted to. I wasn’t Henry’s prisoner. I simply wouldn’t tell him. I never should have told him in the first place.

  When we parked in front of the house, I reached for the door handle.

  “Wait,” he said, and I turned toward him. “I don’t understand this, Tess,” he said. “I don’t understand why you’d go to Ridgeview, of all places, to talk to an old man who is completely off his rocker.”

  “Who is Walter?” I asked. “It obviously meant something to you when he—”

  “He just caught me by surprise,” he said, waving away the thought with his two-fingered hand. “Don’t try to throw this back on me. Tell me why you went to see him.”

  I didn’t want to get Hattie in trouble. “I heard someone in town talking about him,” I said, “and it made me think about Lucy. I wanted to ask her to forgive me. I know it’s crazy sounding. I know that. I don’t even believe in a … a spirit world. At least I didn’t. But now, after talking to Reverend—”

  “He’s a quack, Tess. You were taken in. I’m sorry.”

  To my horror, I began to cry. “He knew who Andrew was, Henry,” I said. “He communicated with Andrew. He—”

  “Stop it!” He held up a hand to cut me off. “That’s really enough. Do you hear yourself? Do you hear how crazy you sound?”

  “He … acknowledged our son,” I said. “He acknow
ledged that we had a son. That I had a baby. He understands my grief. I lost our child and you don’t even acknowledge that he existed!” I let out a sob. “I’m so lonely, Henry,” I said. “You don’t touch me. You don’t love me. I don’t love you! I don’t want to live this way for the rest of my life. I want you to let me out of this marriage. Please.”

  To my surprise, he reached toward me. Pulled me to him. I melted into him, too weak and weepy at that moment to do anything else.

  “I’m sorry,” he said after a moment, and I knew that I had gotten through to him. “I’m so sorry, Tess.” He stroked my back. I wept against his shoulder, the scent of his aftershave fighting to come through the sweaty smell of his shirt. My own body shuddered with the end of my tears. It felt good to be held. I sank deeper into his arms.

  “It will get better when we’re in our own house,” he said finally, “but I can’t be more to you than I am right now.”

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “Many marriages survive this way,” he said, not answering my question. “Quite honestly, I think my own parents’ marriage was rather … loveless.”

  “Don’t you want more than that?”

  His smile was sad. “I want us to be happy together. Or at least, content. I know you want to be a nurse at the hospital, but that’s not in the cards. It’s not worth the battle with my mother, Tess, for either of us. This afternoon, you can use my car to gather donations, all right? Let’s go in the house and have some lunch. Then you can drive me back to the camp. They have a list of people who are donating all sorts of items and they need drivers to pick them up. You can help that way.”

  I sighed, not wanting to fight any longer. “All right,” I said, though I wasn’t finished with this argument. Today I’d be an obedient wife and help with the donations. Tomorrow, I’d pick up this battle where we left it off.

  61

  I spent the afternoon dodging rain showers as I collected donations. I drove to the houses on the list I was given and gathered sheets and blankets, towels and hot plates, dishes and glasses and any other sundry items that would fit in the Cadillac—which I drove with great care. Then I brought the donations to the fledgling hospital and stored them in the freshly built cupboards of the two new pine wards. Each time I arrived at the hospital, I was astonished by the progress. The new switchboard was in. Therapy tubs were being set up. The sewer lines were functional. Fire hydrants had been installed on the grounds. Men carried in dozens of donated beds and cribs, lining the walls of the wards with them. Businessmen and carpenters, lawyers and plumbers—so many volunteers!—mucked through the mud, carried wood, cut down green trees as the donated lumber ran out, and hammered on the roof of the building that would eventually become the kitchen. All of them were working toward one end: getting the Emergency Infantile Paralysis Hospital up and running as quickly as possible.