Chapter 3
There was no wedding, no celebration, not even a proper meal.
That was how our marriage was settled.
On the day we registered it, Frank pulled out a birth certificate from a cabinet and tossed it to me like it was trash.
"Hurry up and get it done, then come back."
He didn't bother with another word.
At City Hall, the clerk looked at us with an odd expression.
A young, decent-looking man marrying a woman with a sallow face who kept her head down and barely spoke.
Anyone could see we didn't match.
Emily's hands kept trembling.
Even after I placed the brand new marriage certificate in her hands, she still looked like she was in a daze.
When we got back to the Warren house, Sophia greeted us with open mockery.
"Well, look at that. The ugly one and the fool really went through with it?"
She leaned against the doorframe, eating popcorn, her face full of disdain.
"Emily, you'll be living by the pigsty now. Keep your distance, and don't bring that stink into my room."
All the color drained from Emily's face. Her fingers tightened around the certificate until her knuckles turned white.
I stepped in front of her and looked at Sophia.
"Watch your mouth."
My voice wasn't loud, but it was cold.
Sophia paused, then put her hands on her hips.
"What, you think you can tell me what to do? You live off us. Want me to have my dad throw you out?"
"Go ahead and try."
I met her gaze calmly.
For some reason, that seemed to unsettle her. She muttered "crazy" under her breath and turned back inside.
I took Emily's hand.
It was rough, covered in calluses, and ice cold.
"Come on. Let's go fix up our place."
Our so-called home was the abandoned storage shed.
It was packed with junk, layered with cobwebs, and smelled of damp and mold.
The ground was uneven dirt, and every step kicked up dust.
This was our new house.
People from the village crowded around the gate to watch, whispering and pointing.
"Frank's too heartless. That's his own daughter, and he lets her live in a place like that?"
"Wasn't it James who chose it? Turned down a good house just to live in a shed. He's got to be a fool."
"Poor Emily. She already had trouble finding a husband, and now she's stuck suffering with that pauper in a dump."
Their words landed like needles against Emily's back.
She lowered her head even more, as if she wanted to disappear into the ground.
I ignored the whispers around us.
I rolled up my sleeves, found a broken broom, and started clearing out the trash.
Dust filled the air, making it hard to breathe.
Emily stood at the doorway, watching me, unsure what to do.
I stopped, walked over, and took the marriage certificate from her hands, then tucked it carefully into my inner pocket.
I looked her in the eyes and spoke slowly.
"Emily, from today on, you're my wife.
"This place may be falling apart, but it's ours.
"I can't change how they treated you before, but from now on, you've got me.
"No one's going to push you around again."
The words came out clumsy, a bit stiff.
But she understood.
She lifted her head suddenly, and the tears she had been holding back spilled down her face.
These weren't tears of grievance or sorrow.
She looked at me, her eyes filled with shock, confusion, and a faint flicker of something else.
She didn't say a word. She turned, found an old dustpan, and started cleaning alongside me.
The two of us worked like dogs, slowly clearing out the broken shed piece by piece.
We hauled out the trash, swept away the cobwebs, then went to the river to bring back clean yellow clay and spread it over the uneven ground.
Frank and the others watched from inside the main room, not lifting a finger.
To them, we were just a joke.
By the time it got dark, the shed finally looked a little like a home.
It was still crude, but at least it was clean.
My back ached so badly I could barely straighten up. I dropped down onto the threshold.
Emily came over quietly and handed me a cup of water.
The cup was chipped. The water, drawn fresh from the well, was cool.
I took it and drank it all in one go.
"Thanks," I said.
She shook her head and crouched beside me, staring out into the dark yard. After a moment, she spoke softly.
"Why did you marry me?"
She had finally asked.
"I'm not pretty, and I don't talk much."
"You are," I cut in.
"The moment I saw you, I knew you were. You carried that heavy sack by yourself and didn't even complain. That's what matters in a life together."
She fell silent, lowering her head to her knees.
I could see her shoulders trembling slightly.
It was late at night. With no bed, we spread some dry straw on the ground.
I took off the only thick coat I had and draped it over her.
"Get some sleep. We've got work tomorrow."
I was just about to lie down when Emily suddenly tugged at my sleeve.
"James," she whispered, "there's a rock under here. It's digging into me."
I paused, then reached over to feel where she pointed.
Sure enough, there was something hard beneath the straw.
It didn't feel like a rock. More like a brick.
Curious, I brushed the straw aside.
There was a loose brick underneath.
I pried it up, and a dull, earthy smell drifted out.
Beneath it wasn't packed soil, but a dark hole.
Using the moonlight, I reached inside.
What I touched wasn't dirt. It was cold, solid, and carved, a wooden box.