We spent the rest of the day making plans in his office. Henry had locked the office door, opening it only to answer questions from a few employees and to speak briefly to the custodian, that colored man Zeke, who seemed overly interested in my presence. Henry sat behind his desk while I perched on the hard wooden chair, making the whole exchange feel like a business transaction. Which I supposed, in reality, it was.
“We need to get married quickly,” he said, “if we hope to convince people that the baby was conceived after our marriage. It’s unlikely anyone will believe us, but at least we can put on a front,” he added with a smile I could only interpret as sheepish.
I nodded, ignoring the feeling of being swept into something outside my control. He was right. If we were going to do this, we needed to do it fast.
“Are you sure you don’t want to wear the ring?” he asked.
I shook my head, looking down at my bare ring finger. There was a slight pale strip of skin where Vincent’s ring had sat for so long. I couldn’t replace it with this new ring from Henry. Not yet. I would have felt as though I were stealing it. Sitting there, I thought about the strangeness of our plan. He seemed almost happy that I’d shown up in his life. He was becoming more attractive to me every minute, especially when he smiled, lifting the downcast look of his eyes. Certainly he didn’t possess Vincent’s head-turning good looks, but he had beautiful, symmetrical features and a gentle countenance. And yet there was no woman in his life? Perhaps he’d been hurt in love. The way I was about to hurt Vincent. My stomach twisted at the thought.
“I’ll pick up wedding bands for us both,” he said, then added with a chuckle, “Obviously, I’ll have to wear mine on my right hand.” He held up his two-fingered left hand.
I smiled, uncertain quite how to respond to his openness about his missing fingers.
“I’ll arrange a roomette for you on the train back to Baltimore,” he said, “and another when it’s time for you to return, which I hope will be very soon.”
“Thank you,” I said. A roomette would make the long hours on the train more bearable.
“We’ll need to get blood tests,” he said, “so do that as soon as you can. Hopefully we can have this all sorted out by next week. Give me your phone number and I’ll call with the details.”
I felt momentarily overwhelmed. He was a take-charge man, no doubt about it, and protective to boot. Already he was taking my needs into account and I didn’t know whether to be pleased or resentful that he thought I needed to be coddled. I remembered the licensing exam I’d been studying for. I’d need to look into the requirements for licensing in North Carolina.
“I’ll want to get my nursing license here,” I said. “Then when the baby gets a little older, I can work.”
He looked surprised. “Tess, don’t you understand?” he asked. “You don’t need a degree or a nursing license, or any other license for that matter. Other than a marriage license,” he added. “You are never going to need to work.”
“I’d be bored.”
He laughed. “I don’t think you have any idea how busy you’ll be with a baby. Although we’ll have a nanny for him. Or her. Of course. But my mother will get you involved in all sorts of clubs and such. You won’t have a minute to breathe once you’re involved in Hickory life.”
“A nanny?” I was stuck on the word. “I don’t think we’ll need a nanny. I don’t know anyone who has one.”
“Well, you’re going to meet plenty of people who do now,” he said. “So listen. Give me your phone number in Baltimore and I’ll let you know when you should come. Bring whatever belongings you want to have with you in Hickory, but you don’t need much. We have department stores and you can find anything you need here.”
“All right,” I said.
“I’m afraid I won’t have time for a honeymoon or anything like that,” he said. “I assume that’s all right with you, given the”—he motioned toward the middle of my body—“pressing circumstances?”
I nodded. Vincent and I had talked about Niagara Falls for our honeymoon. That was the most we could afford and I’d been looking forward to it.
“Once we’re married, we’ll move into the house I grew up in, as I said. It shouldn’t be too awkward. There’s plenty of room. My mother has a bad knee and almost never comes upstairs, where Lucy and I have our bedrooms.” He looked toward the window, thoughtful, then spoke as if thinking out loud. “There’s just a twin bed in my room,” he said, “but I’ll bring in a second twin, and as I said, it will only be six months or so before my new house is ready to move into.”
“Have you cleared this … living arrangement … with your mother?” I asked.
His expression was a little bit haughty. “I don’t ‘clear things’ with my mother,” he said. “I’ve been the man of the house for the ten years since my father’s death. Since I was seventeen.” Apparently, he ruled the roost and was proud of it. I pictured his mother as a sweet woman who bent to her beloved son’s every wish.
“How old is your sister? Lucy?” I asked.
“Twenty,” he said. “She’s in college.”
“You said a girl doesn’t need a degree,” I said, baiting him.
He looked at me. “Are you the argumentative type?” he asked. I couldn’t tell if he was teasing or expressing a genuine concern.
“No,” I said. “I’m just trying to understand.”
“Education is always good,” he said. “Women need to be able to carry on a conversation about something other than diapers and housecleaning. But I can’t picture my sister actually working.”
“Well, I can’t wait to meet her,” I said. A sister-in-law. I imagined having a warm relationship with her that would last all our lives. I knew I was romanticizing my future, but it felt like the only way to endure this huge, irreconcilable step I was agreeing to take.
“And your mother?” Henry asked. “How will she take this? If you want to invite her to the wedding, you can, of course, though it will only be with a justice of the peace. He’s a friend of mine.”
I shook my head. “No,” I said. “I don’t think … She’s not going to be happy about this.” How would I ever tell her about my plans? How would I ever tell Vincent? I would write to him. Somehow, I would have to find the words that would end both our romance and our friendship. I couldn’t bear to think about it. My heart pounded hard in my chest, painfully so, at the thought of writing that letter.
“Tess DeMello,” he said suddenly, looking thoughtful. “Is that your full name?”
“Theresa Ann DeMello,” I said.
He shook his head with an uncertain smile. “DeMello,” he repeated. “I can barely believe I’m marrying an Italian girl.” I could tell that the idea didn’t please him. “You’ll stand out in Hickory with that thick black hair and those exotic big brown eyes.”
“Where I live,” I said, “everyone looks like me.” I raised my chin an inch, challenging him to make an issue out of my heritage.
“Well, it’s all right,” he said, getting to his feet. “You’ll be a Kraft soon enough.”