Timeless

CHAPTER 6

1935

T he hardest moment of Harriet’s life was no longer the moment when Deborah Wilson ran off after Harriet kissed her in a cornfield when they were twelve years old. They’d been walking through the field that autumn, loving that they could hide amongst the tall stalks just before harvest, and they’d been playing hide-and-seek with rules about how far they could go in the seemingly endless field. Harriet had been searching and searching, but eventually, she’d given up and yelled her defeat into the sky. She’d heard Deb’s laughter then. Deb had been the one to find her, tugging on Harriet’s pigtails until she turned around to face Deb, who’d still been laughing at her. She’d been so pretty, so happy, and Harriet hadn’t been able to hold it in anymore, her feelings for her best friend.

It felt like when they popped corn on the stove. They’d watch it as her mother swirled it around in the pan with oil until, eventually, one of the kernels would pop open. And that was how Harriet had felt in that moment, standing in front of the girl who had always been her best friend: she couldn’t wait any longer, swirling in the oil. She’d leaned in and kissed Deb right on the lips, pulling back just as quickly as she moved into her to check Deb’s expression. Deb had stood there, still and a little in shock, for a long moment. She’d said nothing. Then, she’d turned and run, faster than Harriet had ever seen her run, out of the field and into the expansive front yard of the farmhouse before she’d run farther inside the house itself. Harriet had even heard the screen door slam from where she’d remained.

For the few minutes she’d stood there out in the field, she’d experienced the worst sort of pain. It was pain of the heart. A knee scrape from running around playing with her brothers didn’t even remotely compare to that kind of pain. In those moments, Harriet had worried that she’d not only lost her best friend but that her best friend might tell on her and that she would get in trouble, the kind of trouble that got girls sent away from the farm. Deciding not to take any chances and because she hadn’t felt like she’d been wrong at all to kiss Deb, she’d run into the house after her, took the rickety old wooden stairs two at a time, and burst into Deb’s bedroom, slamming the door behind her and crossing her arms over her chest.

“I love you,” she’d pronounced. “How I know you love me. So, I kissed you. What’s so wrong with that?”

“You can’t kiss a girl how you’re supposed to kiss boys,” Deb had argued as she sat on her bed, holding on to her knees.

“But I don’t want to kiss boys. And I don’t want to kiss other girls. I only want to kiss you ,” Harriet had argued back. “Do you not want to kiss me?”

“I–” Deb had paused. “I don’t know.”

Harriet had smiled then. She’d had a chance. From that moment on, they’d always been together, taking all their first steps as a couple more than as friends. Neither of them had kissed a boy when the other girls had started doing that. They’d kissed only each other until they had turned sixteen. Then, they’d touched one another for the first time, and it had been perfect. Harriet had known before that, too, but she’d known for certain then that Deborah Mary Wilson was the only one for her and that one day, they’d be faced with their impending futures.

That day had come when Deb had rushed into Harriet’s room in tears, telling her that her father had settled on John David as her husband and that they would start planning the wedding and how to combine the family properties. Harriet had held her in her bed since her parents never even went into her room these days. Most of the time, they forgot she existed unless she was gone too long and not around to do her chores. So, Harriet had held her, kissed her, cried with her, and then, she’d touched her, made love to her, and told Deb how much she loved her and that everything would be okay. After, Deb had gone home, and the wedding planning had begun in earnest the next day.

Her old worst moment in that cornfield was now her second worst moment. Harriet didn’t consider the day she’d found out about the wedding as her worst because she’d still thought she could get them both out of it. In her head, she had a plan to run away. They’d find a plot of land that no one owned, and she’d build them a makeshift home out of timber. She’d learned a lot about building things from her brothers. They’d sleep bundled up in each other’s arms to keep warm while, with Deb’s help, she’d work every day on building them something more substantial until they had a one-room cabin in the middle of nowhere, with no one to bother them. They’d make love every night, and they’d tell stories and talk about everything and anything they wanted, never having to work a farm again or marry a man they didn’t love. Something about that felt so familiar to Harriet that she was almost desperate for it.

But that hadn’t happened, of course, and now, she was standing up next to her best friend, watching her cry as she married John David Stevens. People probably thought that Deb was crying out of happiness or joy because she was marrying someone she loved, but Harriet knew the truth. She did her best to hide her own tears, silently sniffling and wiping at her eyes while turning away. To the casual observer, she’d be crying at her best friend’s happiness, but to Harriet, this was the worst moment of her entire life.

When John David leaned in to kiss Deb sweetly, Harriet turned away, and as soon as it was all right for her to do so, she hurried back down the short aisle in the middle of their small community church. The hot summer air hit her face then, yet it still felt cooler than the air inside that stifling church. Harriet had sweat pouring out of her practically everywhere. She worried that it might give her pain away, but just about everyone was fanning themselves and sweating as they poured quickly out of the church .

“Let’s head back to the house for the party,” Deb’s mother told them.

“Harriet?”

She turned to see Lucas standing there, dressed in his best and, likely, only suit, with his wide red tie being just a little too long.

“Yes?” she asked.

“May I accompany you to the reception?” he asked politely.

Harriet couldn’t focus on his question, though, because the woman she loved more than anything had just married a man whom Harriet was more than jealous of. He’d get to fall asleep next to Deb every night. He’d get to touch her. He’d get to kiss her, see her in the morning when her hair was still a mess, and she’d cook his meals, bear his children, and it was all hitting Harriet at once. Before the ceremony, back in Deb’s room, they’d been able to pretend, but they couldn’t pretend any longer. It was over. They had to be over.

They’d only end up getting caught. John David would arrive home early from working in the fields one day, and he’d find them making love or holding on to each other in bed. If that happened, it didn’t matter how good of a guy he was – he’d report them. Everything would be over then. So, she had to find a way to move on with her life, but Harriet wasn’t sure just how that was possible.

“Of course,” she said to Lucas, putting a smile on her face.

Then, she looped her arm through his and allowed him to escort her, trying not to cry because even a few tears now would only turn into sobs, and she’d have to save those for later tonight, when she was alone.

At the reception, which was held out behind the house, the photographer, whom they’d hired at great expense, had a camera on a stand. Deb and John David were told to stand in the center of the porch. Harriet was off to the side along with John David’s cousin, who had been his best man, waiting for their turn to join them to have their turn in the photo with the new couple. She glared at John David, who had everything that she’d ever wanted.

“All right, here we go,” the photographer said loudly. “A few more, and we can all join the party.”

He clicked something while Harriet was looking down at Deb’s bracelet, thinking about how she’d put it there years ago, wishing that it was a ring. She touched the bracelet on her own wrist and tried to think about how they’d both gotten there instead of how Deb now had a ring on her finger from her husband.

They’d been twenty years old, walking hand in hand through the woods down by the river, where some of the men fished occasionally, but it hadn’t been fishing season then, which was why they’d chosen that spot for their walk. They’d gotten really good at watching everyone else in town so that they could figure out how not to be seen or found out. When fishing season ended, they could be in the woods by the river. When it was going on, they needed to be in one of the barns on the old Whitfield property. It had fallen into disrepair and wasn’t in use, so they could bring a blanket and tuck it away behind some old farm equipment, pulling it out whenever they needed. Sometimes, the teenage boys went to smoke by that barn, in particular after school and during the summer nights, so for those times, they had another place to hide, and then another and another, but none of that ever mattered to Harriet as long as they could be together.

On that walk, she’d tugged on Deb’s hand, and they’d sat down by the water where it was rushing loudly to block out their voices in case anyone was out hunting deer or duck. She’d looked around, like she always did, just to be extra safe, and she’d pulled two braided twine bracelets out of her dress pocket. Then, she’d cleared her throat.

“Deb?”

“Yes?” Deb had said.

“Um… I love you.”

“I know. I love you, too.” She’d smiled softly at Harriet.

“I want to marry you. ”

“What?” Deb had laughed a little. “What are you talking about?”

“I know we can’t, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to be your wife and for you to be mine.”

“Harriet, you know if we could, I–”

“I want to get you a ring.” Harriet had held up the plain twine bracelet. “But I know I can’t. For one, I can’t afford it. I have no money. But two, I can’t put a ring on that finger. I thought…” She’d taken a deep breath. “I thought I could give you a bracelet. It’s not much… I made it from twine I found in my pop’s workshop. He won’t notice it’s gone. I thought you could wear it, and I could wear one, too. We could tell people it’s because we’re best friends. They’ll believe that, but we can know it’s something else, something more.”

She’d taken Deb’s hand and slipped the bracelet onto her wrist.

“I… Your wrist is smaller than I thought. Hold on. I need to tighten it.”

“I haven’t said yes there, Harriet Louise Topper.”

Harriet had met Deb’s eyes then, which had been smiling almost as much as her mouth.

“Okay. Well, I apologize for presuming. Deb Wilson, will you marry me?”

Deb had smiled even wider at her and said, “Yes, I will. I’d marry you every day for the rest of my life, if I could, Harriet Louise.”

“Ah, come on, Deb. I called you how you like to be called, and you had to use the middle name that you know I don’t like?” She’d chuckled as she tightened the bracelet.

“You weren’t named after a cow, Harriet,” Deb had argued through her laughter.

“Will you put this on me?” Harriet had asked. “This is supposed to be romantic.” She’d held out the bracelet she made for herself.

Deb had taken it from her before she’d leaned in and captured Harriet’s lips. The kiss had been soft at first, but Deb had deepened it and lowered Harriet to the ground. When Deb had moved on top of her, it had only been then that Harriet had noticed the bracelet on her wrist.

“Can we just say that we’re already married?” Deb had asked. “Like, you proposed, I said yes, and we just got married. I love you.” She’d pressed her lips to Harriet’s neck.

“Yes,” Harriet had replied as she’d wrapped her arms around Deb’s neck and pulled her in for another kiss.

Now, Harriet stood there, watching John David stand awkwardly next to the woman she’d married first. She watched further as he nervously played with his tie and tried to pull it down a bit. Then, his mother had walked up and straightened it again.

“You’re his wife now, Deborah. This will be your job from now on,” the woman said to Deb.

Harriet remembered helping Deb fix her hair, tighten that bracelet, adjust the straps on the shoes Deb had been forced to wear by her mother, and wipe flour off Deb’s cheek with her thumb when they’d been baking pies for the party.

“Now, let’s get the whole wedding group together,” the photographer said.

Harriet moved over to Deb’s side. Things were tense now. They no longer merely fit together naturally how they always had before. Now, she had to leave a few inches between them, and Harriet’s shoulders were at her ears. She didn’t smile. She stood there with a somber look on her face and didn’t care who would see it because she’d explain it away later.

“I love you,” Deb whispered.

Harriet said nothing.

“Uh… I love you, too?” John David asked more than said.

Harriet seethed beneath the surface. Deb’s hand moved a few inches over and tried to connect with Harriet’s own, but Harriet pulled hers away. She couldn’t do this anymore.

“Harriet?” Deb spoke to her once the photographer was finished.

“Deborah, let’s go join the party,” Deb’s father said.

“Papa, I need a moment,” Deb insisted .

“Ask your husband, Deborah,” Deb’s mother told her.

Harriet just swallowed hard, her dry throat scratchy. She knew she’d be crying every night for the rest of her life.