Peter was no longer helping in the warehouse. Baseball season had begun in the high school, and Anna was surprised to learn that Peter, despite being small and slender, was the star catcher on Edenton High School’s baseball team. That meant he had practice after school every day. Anna missed his industriousness, but she had little work for two boys now that the heavy lifting was over, and to be truthful, Peter was never going to be an artist. He was technically competent and created detailed renderings of car engines and tractors, but he lacked Jesse’s passion and creativity. Anna thought Peter would make a fine engineer someday.
She was rarely alone in the warehouse these days, whether Jesse was there or not. People stopped in during the day to watch her progress. Teenagers came by after school. Housewives running errands stopped in to watch and chat. And the men. The tiresome men. They stopped in during their lunch hours or after work, and they were curious and often critical. The women were kind, accepting of anything Anna chose to do in her painting, but the men all had opinions. They seemed to enjoy telling Anna what she was doing wrong, as if they could possibly know. She ignored them. The movers and shakers—Mayor Sykes, Mr. Fiering, and Billy Calhoun—were still distressed about having the Tea Party front and center, but they complained about it less now, at least to her, so she guessed they’d come to realize it was out of their hands.
Two men had not returned and for that Anna was grateful: Theresa Wayman’s father and Martin Drapple, whom she hadn’t seen since the day he’d slapped his wife. He was wise to stay away. She had no need of him now that the canvas was on the wall, anyhow. Some of the women asked her if she’d paint portraits of their children. She had no time for that, but she was both flattered and taken aback by the requests. Martin was the portrait artist in Edenton. Everyone knew that, and she had no desire to harm his career.
March 8–9, 1940
Anna awakened at three Friday morning, unable to go back to sleep because all she could think about was how much she wanted to go to the warehouse and get back to work. After tossing and turning for half an hour, she finally got out of bed, dressed, tiptoed out of the house, and drove herself to the warehouse in the dark. The dirt road was black and silent, the woods too late for the cicadas, too early for the birds, and she fought her nerves as she drove through the trees. Walking into the suffocating pitch-blackness of the warehouse was even more of a challenge, but once she turned on the lights, her heartbeat began to settle down and the mural came to life in front of her in all its half-painted glory.
She painted until nearly nine A.M. It was as though some force were under her skin that wouldn’t let her stop, and she was filled with the joy of creating. But then, suddenly, all the steam seemed to go out of her body and she was utterly exhausted. What she wouldn’t give for a bed to climb into! She remembered that Jesse was working on the farm this morning, so she had the warehouse to herself. Sitting down next to her worktable, she leaned forward and rested her head on her arms, and before she even had a chance to think, she was asleep.
“Wake up sleepyhead!”
Dazed, Anna lifted her head from her worktable. It took her a moment to get her bearings. She was in the warehouse and Pauline stood in front of her, a garment bag in her arms.
“Oh, my.” Anna rubbed the back of her stiff neck and looked up at Pauline. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. What time is it?”
“Nearly noon,” Pauline said. “And I’m taking you to lunch at the Albemarle, though you look like you need a nap more than a meal. You work way too hard, Anna.”
“I can’t go to lunch.” Anna pushed her chair away from her worktable and stood up. She held her arms wide to display her paint-stained pants and smock. “I’m hardly dressed for it.”
“That’s why I brought you one of my skirts and blouses.” Pauline shoved the garment bag into Anna’s arms, then looked worriedly down at her oxfords. “Your feet and bare legs will be hidden by the table, I hope,” she said.
It had been a while since Anna had visited with Pauline. If her friend had gone to that much trouble to get her out of the warehouse, she should go, exhausted or not. She carried the garment bag to her small bathroom at the far end of the warehouse, where she changed into Pauline’s skirt and blouse. They hung a bit loosely on her, but what did it matter? They would do.
Pauline drove them to the Albemarle Restaurant on Broad Street, where they both ordered the platter with chicken salad, tuna salad, a bit of candied apple, and a slice of American cheese. They chatted about this and that and then Pauline gave her a secret-looking smile.
“I have news,” she said, her cheeks flushing. “I’m expecting a baby! Karl is over the moon about it.”
“Well, my goodness!” Anna said. “How wonderful!” She was surprised by the confusion of feelings that came over her. Joy for her friend’s happiness. Excitement at the thought of a new baby in their midst … although she would certainly be back in New Jersey by the time the child was born. And envy. That surprised her. Did she want to have a baby? Or was she just concerned about losing Pauline’s friendship as her priorities changed? It made Anna glad she’d decided to join Pauline for lunch today. She had to nurture her friendships. They were too easy to lose. “Your mother must be thrilled,” she said.
“Oh, she is! And Karl and I are coming over to dinner tonight to celebrate, so I wanted you to know ahead of time. You’ll join us, of course.”
“I’d love to.” She always enjoyed it when Karl and Pauline came to dinner, although she was so sleepy today she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stay up for much merriment.
Pauline chatted for a while about her plans for a nursery, but then abruptly changed topics, leaning across the table toward Anna.
“People are talking about you and the colored boy, honey,” she said quietly. “You need to be careful.”
“Pauline!” Anna was stunned. She felt sorely disappointed. “First of all, I consider Jesse an art student who has also become a friend.” She remembered telling Jesse about her mother. How he’d listened. How he’d truly heard her. “And second,” she said, “I don’t care what people say.”
“Well, you should care,” Pauline said. “Karl told me how someone painted”—she leaned forward to whisper—“those words on the warehouse.”
“That was weeks ago. Nothing’s happened since then. Probably just some hoodlums out causing trouble. I don’t want to live my life in fear.”
“It’s different here than where you came from.” Pauline’s voice was quiet but earnest. Her dark blue eyes held such grave concern that Anna felt taken aback. She could tell that her friend was sincerely worried about her.
She let out a long sigh. “People keep telling me that,” she said. “But I can’t change who I am, and I think you’re silly to worry. I’m five years older than Jesse, for heaven’s sake. I adore him like a little brother. He may not look like a kid, but he is a kid and he acts like one.” She sat up very straight. “I plan to continue ignoring such catty talk.”
“Your intentions may be pure,” Pauline said, “and his may be pure. But it doesn’t matter. People still believe what they want to believe and you’re only inviting their criticism.” She cut a corner of her slice of cheese and lifted it to her lips without taking a bite. “And it can get worse, dear.”