finial. At the foot of the bed, under a quilt, is that same hope chest, which for so long held no hope at all. And to have ever imagined this—all of this, any of this—well, she could never have stuffed it all into that chest and had room to close the lid. She slides her hand under his arm, but can’t look at him. Just as when he proposes, she simply says, “Thank you, Charley.”
cd
As their present to Charley and Emma, and to stave off the sadness of the impending separation, Joe and Mrs. G decide to throw a party for the bride and groom. Three days before the wedding, they, Gretchen, and the rest of the boys scrub the common areas, string lanterns in the back, set up tables, and put the small beer on ice. Mrs. G outdoes herself in the preparation of the food, helped in the endeavor by her new great friend Mary Miller. Emma invites some folks from church, family who are going to be at the wedding, and some old friends. Several of Charley’s siblings and buddies from work join the fellows from Mrs. G’s to round out the party. It’s not long before someone starts a sizeable fire in the fire pit, and a little band forms with an accordion, a Jew’s harp, two harmonicas, and a few sets of spoons. Soon after that the dancing starts. Charley, of course, is the first one out, dancing a bit of a jig and then—after Emma laughs and shakes her head “no” at his wordless invitation, but continues to clap in time with the music—grabbing up Mrs. G to start a reel as the other dancers join in.
Later, within the general gaiety of the party, Charley notices his roommate staring ardently across the yard; Charley follows the direction of his gaze and at the other end of it discovers Cousin Lil, who is blushing prettily and keeping her eyes on the ground, except for when she feels emboldened enough to glance in Joe’s direction. From a distance, Charley catches Emma’s eye and nods first toward Joe and then to Lil. Emma sees what he means immediately, and walks over to Joe while Charley strolls to Lil and stands beside her. “Are you enjoying yourself, my dear?”
Lil is startled from her surreptitious flirtation, and her color goes from pink to deep red as she is caught out. “Oh, very much so, Cousin Charley. It’s a wonderful party.”
“Well, look who we have here,” he says in false surprise as Emma approaches with Joe beside her. Charley makes the introductions between the two, neither of whom is capable of coherent speech or even, with the distance closed, of making eye contact. “Emma and I are going to get a glass of lemonade, if you’ll excuse us.” Over at the refreshments table, Emma sips lemonade as she and Charley watch the unfolding scene with conspiratorial delight. Joe and Lil have found their tongues again, though both still appear to be fascinated by the ground between them. Joe glances over at Charley and Emma long enough to offer a look of pure thanksgiving, and Charley winks at him. She isn’t blonde, and her nose is rather more round than pert, but Lil is lovely nonetheless and, indeed, has a light, tinkling laugh.
Charley takes in the music, the light from the fire and the lanterns, the yard filled with his friends and future relatives, and thinks he might burst. Instead, he slips his arm around Emma’s waist, boldly proprietary, and squeezes. She leans in against his shoulder and he feels rather than hears her sigh. Heaven.
cd
The wedding itself is a small, mid-week affair. It is a rare day in July of low humidity and a fresh breeze. Emma, resplendent in her lovely new dress, carries a nosegay of white rose buds and purple violets. Charley is in his suit, cleaned and pressed for the occasion, his mustache freshly trimmed and his hair damp combed. Joe, of course, stands for Charley, and Lillie Dietz, her childhood friend, for Emma. Among those on the bride’s side are Mary’s sister Katie Schlegel, down from Baltimore, and Katie’s freshly smitten daughter Cousin Lil. On Charley’s side are several of his many siblings: his older sister Margaret and brother Jacob; younger brothers Harry, Louis, and Billy; and Lizzie, the baby of the family.
Father Mendelsohn celebrates the brief ceremony. When he asks, “Who gives this woman in marriage?” it is Mary who answers, since there are no male relatives to stand in for the late Dr. Miller. No one in attendance offers any reason why the two should not be joined in holy matrimony. When Father Mendelsohn at last gives his permission, Mr. Charles Joseph Beck, age twenty-six until September, turns to the newly minted Mrs. Emma Lucretia Miller Beck, thirty-seven the previous February, and, for the first time, kisses her.
Midday, Passion Sunday,
16 April 1933
The day started as a soft, cool spring morning with a pale blue sky and transparent wisps of clouds. After breakfast, changed out of church clothes, the children stormed out of the house into the warming day and a sky of stacked, sculpted cumulus clouds, edged here and there in gray. Emma brings Tommy down after his nap, freshly diapered, and puts him on Lillie’s lap as she sits on the garden bench. Lillie nuzzles the top of his head, his hair still warm and tousled from his nap, and breathes in the scent of soap and innocence that babies exude. He alternately tugs at the covered buttons of her blouse and chews on his fist, drooling with the latest erupting teeth. She watches the children urging each other higher on the swings, or playing tag through the yard, and notices that the wind is picking up.
Charley somehow convinces Francie and Charley Boy to abandon tag and help him assemble some lattice for the vegetable beds. Every so often she hears his voice through the general ruckus: the Swede saying, “Vas dere any pie in de vagon?” or another rough-sounding character, “Hey, lady, there’s a hole in your stocking!” accompanied by his own uproarious laughter. She knows without seeing that Francie and Charley Boy roll their eyes at each other with every freestanding punch line. Emma has already reeled Margaret and Eleanor back inside to try to catch up on the loads of laundry missed this morning. It should be Lillie in with Emma, but Ferd, seeing that she isn’t feeling well, volunteers the girls and himself as her stand-ins, which simply makes her feel worse. Thank heavens Chloe is here tomorrow. We’ll be back on schedule in no time.
Jeanie wanders over, frustrated with the game she doesn’t quite understand and keeps losing, and grasps onto Lillie’s skirt, leaning back and then pulling herself forward. Tommy is entranced by this, and Jeanie starts blowing bubbles at him each time she pulls herself in close. Tommy just goggles at her as he continues to chew on his fist.
Lillie observes this with a quiet smile, but all she can think about is finding a comfortable position and being able to catch her breath. The solidness of Tommy leaning against her is just making it worse. She closes her eyes, breathes in deeply, and turns her face toward the freshening breeze.
Ferd comes out of the house lugging the first load of wet sheets to hang on the clothesline; when he glances over, he sets the basket down and goes to her. “Lillie?”
“Ferd, why don’t you take these two, and I’ll start hanging the laundry.”
He leans over and takes Tommy from her. “Are you sure?” She nods as he continues to scan her face. “You look pale.”
“I think I just need to stand up and stretch.”
Ferd tucks Tommy under his arm like a football, which always makes the baby gurgle with a drooly laugh, and guides Jeanie away with a gentle hand at the back of her head. “Why aren’t you playing tag?”
Jeanie pouts. “They’re mean. They said I was too little to play right.”
“Well, let’s just go see about that.”
Lillie almost groans as she stands up from the bench, and pauses again to take stock. Her ribs are just as sore as everything else, but no more so, and they all feel sound. But she needs to rethink the wisdom of trading children for laundry as soon as she bends to grasp the first heavy, wet sheet. Hanging laundry is a chore in the purest sense of the word, but it’s something she regularly
