The night after I wrote the letter to Gina, Henry didn’t come home. I had gone to bed while he remained reading in the upstairs parlor, a pattern we’d quickly fallen into. When I woke up at three in the morning, I could see that his bed hadn’t been slept in. Concerned, I put on my robe and slippers and quietly walked to the parlor, expecting to find him asleep in his reading chair, but the room was dark and empty. I padded downstairs and peered into the library, but it too was dark, and when I flipped on the light, I saw that the ashes in the fireplace looked gray and cold. I wandered through the living room, the dining room, the hallway, moving quietly past Ruth’s bedroom so I wouldn’t wake her. The house was ghostly quiet. From the window in the kitchen, I looked into the backyard, silvery with moonlight. Hattie’s little cottage was dark, as was the garage. Wrapping my robe more tightly around my body, I slipped out the back door and down the steps, making my way carefully along the walk as I headed toward the garage. When I reached the building, I peered through the side window. The Buick was there, the one with the worn tires, but Henry’s Cadillac was gone. I saw my frown reflected in the window. Where was he? Where would he go in the middle of the night? Should I be worried?
I shivered as I walked back to the house. Once inside, I stood in the kitchen hugging myself to warm up. Back upstairs, I hesitated in the hall outside Lucy’s room before knocking lightly on her door. I waited a moment, unsure if I should knock again.
“Who is it?” She sounded as though she were speaking into her pillow.
“It’s me. Tess. May I come in?”
There was the rustle of sheets and in a moment she opened the door, a pink tulle hairnet covering her blond pincurls.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Henry’s gone,” I said. “I mean, he never came to bed and now his car is gone.” I glanced down the hallway toward the window that overlooked the backyard. “Should I be concerned?” I asked.
She turned her head away from me, an odd smile on her face. “That’s just Hank,” she said. “He doesn’t need much sleep. He goes to the factory at night sometimes.” She looked at me squarely now. “He likes to work there when there’s no one around. He says he gets a lot done then.”
“But it’s three A.M.,” I said. “He’ll be exhausted in the morning.”
“That’s his problem,” she said, already backing into her room. “He lives his life and I live mine.” She closed the door without saying good night. I stood there a moment, staring at her door, before walking back to the bedroom I still thought of as “Henry’s” rather than “ours.”
It took me a while to fall asleep. When I awakened at six, Henry was sound asleep in his bed, his breathing soft and even. I got up quietly. He could sleep another hour before he absolutely needed to get up, but as I headed for the closet, I heard the creak of bedsprings.
“Good morning,” he said.
I turned to face him, holding my robe tight around my body. “I woke up in the middle of the night and you were gone,” I said. “I didn’t know where you were.”
“At the factory,” he said. “Working on the books.”
“Well, the next time, could you tell me you’re going, please? So I don’t worry?”
He smiled. “I’m not used to having anyone worry about me,” he said.
“You’ll tell me then?”
“The problem is, I don’t usually know I’m going until I make the decision. And by the time I did last night, you were asleep. I didn’t want to wake—”
“You could leave me a note.”
He looked at me blankly for a moment, then nodded. “Fair enough,” he said. “Next time I’ll leave a note.”
I sat down on the edge of the pineapple bed. “Isn’t it spooky there at night, that big empty building?” I shuddered. I’d seen the factory at night from the road. The long two-story brick building was ominous looking, all its many windows like dark eyes staring out into the night.
He laughed. “I’ve been in that building all times of day and night my whole life,” he said. “I know every inch of it. And Zeke lives there, so it’s never completely empty.”
“Zeke actually lives at the factory? How come?”
Henry shrugged. “He’s part maintenance man, part guard, I guess you’d call him. I like having someone there all the time to keep an eye on things. He could get an apartment somewhere, but this works out well for us both.”
“Could I see the factory?” I asked. “I’d like to see where you work.”
“You’ve seen it,” he said. “You’ve been to my office.”
“I mean the whole place. It must be fascinating.”
“Fascinating?” He chuckled. “Sure, I’ll take you around this Sunday. Better to do it when the building is empty.”
“Wonderful,” I said, getting to my feet. I headed toward the closet for my clothes.
“You don’t need to worry, Tess,” he said, and I turned to look at him. “I don’t want you to have to worry about anything. I want you to be happy here. Happy and content.”
For some reason, his words choked me up. There was so much I wanted to say. Are you ever going to make love to me? Will you at least kiss me? Your mother and sister—can you change their attitude toward me? I remembered the new house where we would soon be living together with our child. Things would be different then. Things would be good.
“I am happy,” I lied. “Everything is fine.”