“We need to do it as soon as possible,” he said. “Tomorrow. We’ll tell our folks afterward that we eloped.”
It was too soon. How could I marry someone else when I was so deeply grieving Joe?
He sensed my hesitation and spoke before I could even voice it. “If we wait any longer, Addie, your pregnancy will start to show,and people will whisper. We don’t have time to let our mothers plan a wedding.”
He was right. If we were going to do this convincingly, we had to do it right away.
“It’s a wonderful solution,” Marge said.
I looked up to see her standing at the end of my bed. I hadn’t even realized she’d come into the room.
It was the only solution, as far as I could tell. The only solution that would let me keep my baby without subjecting it to a life of shame.
I took the tissue Marge handed me, wiped my eyes, and looked at Charlie. “You’re so kind, Charlie. You’re such a good man. You deserve someone who will love you better than I can.”
“I’ll love you enough for both of us.”
Oh, God, I prayed he was right. I drew a ragged breath and said the words I’d been so sure I’d never say. “All right, then, Charlie. All right. If you’re sure you want to, I’ll marry you.”
23
adelaide
1943
The very next day, we went down to city hall, got a license, and said our vows before a justice of the peace, with his secretary and receptionist as witnesses.
I wore a white suit that Lucille loaned me. It was too large, but I borrowed Marge’s white belt, and it gave it a stylish peplum effect. Marge and Lucille both wanted to come to the wedding, but I wouldn’t allow it. Charlie’s and my parents would be crushed that we were getting married without them present; to learn that we’d invited anyone else would just add insult to injury.
Charlie bought me a bouquet of orchids and baby’s breath. I didn’t think to get him a boutonniere, but Lucille cut a white rose from her garden, and I pinned it to his lapel.
“I now pronounce you man and wife,” intoned the justice of the peace—a tall, lanky man in his mid-fifties, with thinning gray hair. Charlie kissed me. I fought back the feeling of being smothered by his mouth.
We took the train to Biloxi for our honeymoon, and called our parents from the hotel.
The reaction was an odd mixture of delight and outrage. “Howcould you elope?” my mother cried. “Virginia and I have been planning your wedding since you two were born!”
“That’s exactly why we did it,” I said.
“We didn’t want a big fuss,” Charlie added. “We figured we’d save a lot of money this way.”
We checked into a beachside hotel and ate crab at a local restaurant. I didn’t have much appetite. Morning sickness now seemed to hit at random times of the day.
I thought about pretending to be too sick to perform my marital duties, but Charlie seemed heartbreakingly eager. My mother’s advice for handling things you’d rather not do ran quite unromantically through my mind: might as well get it over with.
I put on my nightgown in the bathroom—it was a gift from Marge, a sheer blue peignoir set with sparkles, an outfit better suited for an experienced seductress than a reluctant bride, but it was all I had. I could feel my face flaming as I walked into the bedroom wearing it. Charlie was waiting for me in bed.
He was nervous. His hands were clammy, and he had a sheen of perspiration on his upper lip that moistened my face when we kissed. The preliminaries were bumbling, and as for the actual consummation... well, it was over almost before it began. To make matters worse, I cried.
“Did I hurt you?” Charlie asked.
“No,” I said.
“Then what’s wrong?”
You’re not Joe. I didn’t say it, of course, but Charlie was no dummy. After all, I was pregnant by another man, a man I’d loved and planned to marry, a man whose death I was grieving.
Poor Charlie—he didn’t know what to do. He looked like he was about to cry himself.
