After the wedding, Henry drove us to the Hotel Hickory, where he’d reserved the honeymoon suite. We would spend the night in the hotel. Tomorrow, he’d take me to his house, where I would meet his mother and Lucy and figure out how to fit into this family. I should have guessed by the fact that neither his mother nor Lucy came to our wedding ceremony that it wasn’t going to be easy.
We had dinner in the hotel’s restaurant. The maître d’ led us to a table by the window, and although it was dark outside and our view was only of the streetlights and passing cars, I had the feeling the table was the best in the house. Henry ordered filet mignon and potatoes for both of us. As he had at that restaurant in Washington, Henry had managed to get steak despite the war rationing, and our meal was another reminder that he was no ordinary citizen. But it didn’t matter what was on my plate. Nerves had stolen my appetite. I nibbled small bites of the meat while I studied Henry’s face, trying to get it into my head that he was now my husband. Was this how Mimi felt when she married Pop? Strange and uncertain and scared of the future?
“How did your mother and sister react when you told them you were getting married?” I asked as I cut another tiny morsel from my steak.
Henry looked away from me, a small, hard-to-read smile on his face. “I won’t sugarcoat it, Tess,” he said. “They aren’t happy. Mama has always wanted me to marry a particular girl in town and now her plans for my future have taken an unexpected turn.”
“Violet Dare?” I ventured, and his eyes widened in surprise.
“How could you possibly…” His voice trailed off.
“The boy who drove me to the train station in your Cadillac,” I said. “Mickey? He said Violet Dare was engaged to you. Or at least, she expected to be engaged to you.”
His smile was dismissive. “She’s a dreamer,” he said, cutting a bite of meat.
“Did you want to marry her? Have I broken something up?”
He hesitated, then drew in a long breath and let it out as a sigh, setting down his knife and fork, which, I’d noticed, he used easily despite his missing fingers. “No, you haven’t broken anything up,” he said. “But some people may think you have.”
I thought of the woman who had treated me so coolly in Franklin Carver’s office.
“Jeanetta Gill,” I said.
He nodded. “She’s one of Violet’s friends, yes,” he said. “I’m afraid Violet has many friends.” It sounded like a warning. “And Mama … she was understandably shocked when I told her I was marrying you. I told her I met you on a trip to Washington and that we’ve known each other for quite some time and finally decided to make the move, so let’s keep to that story, all right?”
I nodded.
“Mama can be a difficult person,” he added, “and I’m sorry we’ll have to live with her until the house is built.”
Oh no. This was the first time he’d mentioned his mother being difficult. “And your sister?” I asked.
He picked up his knife and fork again and cut into his steak. “Lucy is a spoiled princess,” he said before slipping a bite of meat into his mouth.
“Did she want you to marry Violet, too?”
He looked out the window into the darkness as he chewed and swallowed. “Everyone expected me to marry Violet,” he admitted. “All of Hickory.” He gave me a determined look. “They will all just have to get used to the idea that it’s not going to happen.”
“Were you officially engaged?” I really needed to know where I stood in this town.
“No.” He looked at me. “I don’t love her, Tess. I never did love her. I can assure you of that.”
“Then why would everyone expect you to marry her?”
He shrugged. “The right age. Right social status. Right family connections. Her father is the district attorney, and—”
“Oh!” I suddenly remembered the name of the attorney Franklin Carver had mentioned in the case against that interracial couple. “Dare?” I asked. “The man prosecuting your friend Gaston?”
He looked impressed. “Very observant!” he said. “Yes, Byron Dare. The district attorney and a big name in Hickory. My father was also a big name, being the owner of Kraft Furniture. Violet and I have known each other since we were children, so it was always assumed we would marry. I never did give her much encouragement, though.”
“The engagement ring.” I looked down at the enormous diamond on my finger. “Did you buy this for her?” I felt sorry for Violet. I didn’t even know her, yet I regretted hurting her.
He shook his head. “It was my grandmother’s. I was saving it for the right girl.” He smiled at me as though I were that girl, but there was a hollowness in that smile. How could there not be?
“They’re not going to like me,” I said. “Your family. Everyone in Hickory.”
“Oh, they’ll like you well enough once they get to know you.”
“You don’t even know me,” I said.
He smiled again. “You do have a point,” he said. Then he reached across the table to cover my hand with his good right hand. “We’ll take things one step at a time,” he said. “You’ll settle in just fine. We’ll have a healthy son or daughter. We’ll move into a beautiful house. I look forward to showing you the plans and the lot where it will be built. I hope you like plenty of trees.” He gave my hand a squeeze. “Be strong now, Tess, all right?”
I smiled. His words were kind and encouraging and I did feel stronger, hearing them.
“All right,” I agreed. “I’ll certainly try.”
* * *
I took a bath in the roomy tub of the hotel’s honeymoon suite. I’d felt less nervous the night we’d made love in Washington. I’d been too tipsy that night to worry about anything. Tonight, though, was different. I felt as though my whole marriage, my whole future rested on this night. Henry and I needed to grow close. We needed to be lovers. Sober, attentive, caring lovers. My heart pounded at the thought. I wished I felt more of an attraction to him. Would lovemaking feel different to me now? Would it hurt less? Was I going to break down after it was over because it was Henry I was married to and not Vincent?
Gina had given me a beautiful blue satin negligee when I first got engaged to Vincent and I put it on once I got out of the tub. I studied myself in the mirror. I’d taken my hair out of its bun and victory roll and the moist air of the bathroom had made it wild with waves that spilled over my shoulders. Tendrils of it curled at my temples, and I tried to smooth it into submission with my hands. Where the negligee fell over my breasts, I could see the curve of my nipples. I shut my eyes. I felt naked. How was I going to get through this? I thought about my mother. What had her wedding night been like? Had she been nervous? We’d never had a chance to talk about that sort of thing and now we never would. Tears stung my eyes and I blinked them away. I couldn’t let myself think about my mother tonight.
I drew in a long breath, turned out the light, and left the bathroom.
Henry was propped up in the bed wearing blue pin-striped pajamas, a book open on his lap. He smiled at me. “You look lovely,” he said.
“Thank you.” I slipped into the bed next to him. My hands and feet felt ice-cold.
“Your hair is quite remarkable,” he said.
I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not. Not everyone found thick, wild black hair attractive. I would pretend he meant the comment in a positive light.
“Thank you,” I said again.
He lifted the book a few inches. “I like to read in bed,” he said. “Do you?”
“Yes,” I said. I’d read in bed since I was old enough to turn the pages.
“Do you have a book with you?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Why don’t you get it?”
I hesitated. This was hardly what I’d expected on my wedding night, but I got out of bed and walked barefoot over to my suitcase. I hadn’t bothered to unpack anything other than my negligee and toiletries, knowing I’d be moving into Henry’s house the following day. I reached beneath a stack of clothes for the Agatha Christie novel I’d been attempting to read over the last few nerve-racking days. I returned to the bed, propped my pillow behind me, and the two of us read for the next twenty or thirty minutes. Or at least Henry read. I stared at the pages but couldn’t concentrate. I wanted to get this night over with.
“Ready for lights out?” Henry finally asked.
“Yes,” I said, setting my book on the night table and switching off the lamp.
“Good night,” he said. A soft glow from the streetlights filled the room and I saw him roll away from me, pulling the blanket up to his neck. I was mystified. Mystified and horribly alone. I stared at the dark ceiling. Was he angry? Or was it the baby? Did the thought of making love to a pregnant woman disturb him? I rested my hand on my stomach. I felt the unmistakable swelling of my belly, and I smiled to myself in the darkness. I was not alone after all. I would never be alone again.