The Wedding Dress (19 page)

“You went to see
that
dressmaker, didn’t you?” Mother pulled away from Father, her jaw set, ire forming in her eyes.

Emily stepped back, into Phillip. The confidence and courage she’d inhaled before entering the library evaporated. “I did, yes. Miss Taffy Hayes. She is going to make my gown.”

“You have a gown.” Mother’s taut tone belied the decorum of a Southern lady. “We’ve paid Mrs. Caruthers, Emily. Her gown cost your father seven hundred dollars.”

“Taffy’s gown, along with dresses for all the bridesmaids, will only cost five hundred.”

“Five hundred dollars. For all those dresses?” Mother grabbed Emily by the arms. “I’ll not have you walk down the aisle in a shoddy dress with the seams coming undone.”

“Mother’s right. You get what you pay for, Emily.” Father didn’t wink at her this time.

“Father, Miss Hayes will not deliver shoddy work. You should’ve seen the designs she sketched for my gown. Before I even arrived.” Emily absently rubbed the tingle from her arm.

“Excuse me.” Phillip interjected his presence in the room. “To devil with the price of wedding dresses. Your daughter, my fiancée, spent sancown. three hours this afternoon with a Negro woman, in her establishment, in their business district. The news is all over the Highlands and Red Mountain by now. What were you thinking, Emily? You could’ve been raped or kidnapped.”

“Raped or kidnapped? By whom? Good men, fathers and sons, trying to earn a decent living? I found the people kind and cordial, good folks just like us. Are you telling me Birmingham society is whispering a sigh of relief for my safety? Or because they are disappointed I wasn’t maimed?”

“They’re whispering over your utter stupidity.”

“Phillip,” Father said. “Let’s calm down, get our wits about us.”

“My wits are fine, Howard.” Phillip paced in short circles, his hands on his waist, holding back his blazer. “I’m not so certain about your daughter.”

“Insult me again, Phillip, and I shall leave the room.”

“What were you thinking, going to the colored district? Convicts work there, right downtown where you were.”

“Chained together, overseen by men with guns and whips. I could’ve walked down that street naked and been safer with those colored convicts than with those white guards, I tell you. And dare I say half the smarmy businessmen of Birmingham.”

“Emily.” Mother looked as if she might faint.

“Phillip’s the one who brought up rape, Mother.”

“You mock me.” Phillip faced Emily, his expression stern and set. “I’ll not have you going about the city, into the colored district, because you get a wild idea about a new frock. We are the Saltonstalls.”

Emily sank slowly into the horsehair parlor chair. “I meant no disrespect to the Saltonstall name, Phillip.” She fidgeted, wrapping her hands in the folds of her skirt. “Nor to the Canton name, Father.”

“But you didn’t think, Phillip said.”

Emily snapped her eyes to him. He must stop insulting her. One more time and she’d—

“Tell them the rest, Emily,” he said, taking a cigarillo from his waistcoat pocket. “Tell them you didn’t go alone.”

“Indeed I didn’t.” Emily stood as Phillip prepared to strike his match. Gently she cupped her hands around his, took the match, and lit it for him. Smiling, gazing into his eyes, she touched the flame to his cigarillo. “I had an escort.”

“A
male
escort.” Phillip lowered his lit cigarillo, holding on to the cold gl so te you get int in his eyes. Emily blew out the match, squeezing his hand. She didn’t know much about men, but she’d learned a few things about Phillip. Without fail, he responded to her touch. To her batting eyelashes. “Y-you worsened the situation, Emily.” Phillip’s handsome features softened. “When you travel with a man we do not know.”

“Who was your escort?” Father asked, his tone low and steady.

“A kind old man I met on the street corner after Mother took the trolley. I called him Mr. Oddfellow because he never gave me his name.” Because his name was divine. Something beyond earth. At least that’s what Emily surmised on the ride home.

“Emily, what has gotten into you?” Mother’s tone sounded exasperated. “It must be the stress of the wedding.” She slipped her arms around Emily’s shoulders. “Maybe you should go lie down. I’ll have Molly bring up a cold cloth for your head.”

“I don’t need to lie down, Mother.” Emily turned to Phillip. “How did you know I went to the colored district? How did you know about Mr. Oddfellow?”

“I have my ways.” Phillip dragged on his cigarillo so the ashes on the end burned a bright orange. “But if you must know, I saw you with my own eyes.”

“Were you following me?” Emily gently pushed him around to face her. “For what reason?”

Father stepped close. “Phillip?”

“I have people, friends of the Saltonstalls, employees and workers. They watch out for us.”

“But you said
your
eyes saw me.” Emily narrowed into him.

He grinned, a cocky, sideways grin that caused bubbles to rise in Emily’s middle. “I saw you enter the cab, alone, with your Mr. Oddfellow. He wore a hideous purple ascot.”

“What were you doing downtown at two o’clock in the afternoon?” Emily said.

“I was on an errand.”

Mother sighed and collapsed into her chair. “Was everyone on errands this afternoon that took them to another part of town? Howard?”

“Not me, Maggie. I was in my office as usual.”

“Phillip, what kind of errand?” An image of Emmeline filled her thoughts. “There’s nothing in that part of town but a print shop and furniture store. You send your
people
to do menial tasks.”

“I occasionally do my own bidding. Do you think I just sit in my office and make demands of others?” He planted the cigarillo between his lips, seenwn bidding smoke puffing about his face, his chest rising and falling with each shallow puff.

“If you saw me, then why didn’t you call out to me?”

“It was too late.”

“Emily, stop badgering the man.” Mother stood, smoothing her hand over her skirt, plumping her hair. “I don’t know why you have to be so defensive.”

“And I don’t know why you have to defend him instead of your own daughter.”

“All right now.” Father stepped between Emily and Phillip. “This sounds like a young couple’s quarrel. Phillip, Emily is a fine, levelheaded girl. Even more so than some men I know.”

Thank you, Father
. Emily glared at Phillip. He was hiding something. Something deviant.

“Phillip, I’m sorry for the trouble Emily may have caused you.”

“Not to worry, Mrs. Canton. We have connections. We’ll make sure any rumors are squelched.” Phillip sauced up his grin and Emily felt weak. When he shot her a brown-eyed wink, she breathed deep, tucking in her shirtwaist and smoothing a wild hair away from her face.

“Good, good.” Mother patted Phillip’s arm. “Now, Emily, I want to settle the issue of the dress. You will wear the gown Mrs. Caruthers made. As will your bridesmaids, I don’t care the cost. That is the end of it.” Mother started for the door, hitting the carpet hard with her thick heels. “Howard, I’ll see to supper. Phillip, you’ll dine with us, of course.”

“Thank you, but not tonight, Mrs. Canton. I’m otherwise engaged. Perhaps tomorrow.”

“Otherwise engaged? On a Thursday evening?” Emily watched as Father closed the library door behind him and Mother. “Are you going to the Phoenix Club?”

Hues of the pink and orange sunset broke through the shade tree limbs and settled in the tense pockets of the library. The breeze snuck through the open window and inspected Father’s papers, lifting them from his desk, then back down again.

“I’ve made arrangements with some friends. Wainscot and Powell. We’re having a gentlemen’s night. I’ll not have many once we’re married. We’re coming up on the social season, then the holidays, and our wedding will be here before we know it. This might be my last chance.”

Wainscot, the friend of willowy Emmeline. “I see. I didn’t know you regarded marriage as such a killjoy. Whatever made you propose in the first place? You’re getting married, not being carted off to prison.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Emily, and you know it.”< s kn/di/span>

“I know nothing but you barging in here and accusing me of all kinds of misbehavior. I know nothing but you dancing in the shadows with—”

“Not that again. We’ve been over and over the dance with Emmeline. She was feeling faint and wanted fresh air.” Phillip tightened his words. “Do you believe you’re marrying a fool, Emily? If I did fancy that narrow waif, and I do mean if, I’d hardly carry on with her at my own engagement party.”

“No, I suppose not.” See, she was being girlish and immature. How could she doubt him?

Phillip’s eyes flashed as he grabbed Emily and pressed himself into her, drawing her up on her toes, kissing her with a consuming fervor. He held her so tight she couldn’t inhale. Or escape his hold.

His lips explored hers until Emily couldn’t tell where hers ended and his began. “Come away with me tonight, Emily. Be with me.”

“Phillip—” She pressed her palms against his chest. “Remember your good Christian upbringing. I’ll be yours soon enough. Nothing good will come from sneaking off with you.”

“Besides appeasing my hunger?” The fierceness of his tone cooled Emily’s passions.

“Phillip, I’m not a two-bit dance hall girl. We’ll be married soon enough.”

“I’m sorry, you’re right.” He released her and fell back against the window. “I apologize, my love.”

“Goodness, what will come over you when I’m completely yours and we’re not arguing but speaking sweet nothings?” Emily bent forward to see his face, smiling.

“Yes, well . . .” He stared at the cigarillo burning between his fingers, reaching for Father’s ashtray. He dashed out the smoking stick. “I must be going.” Phillip took her hand into his. “But, Emily, do not go to the Gaston Hotel again. There are laws, dear, laws we must abide by, whether we like them or not.”

So, the conversation had come full circle. Emily withdrew her hand from his and moved behind the wingback chair.

“Do you know why I was so long at Miss Hayes’s this afternoon? Because she felt like a sister to me. As if I’d known her my whole life.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing. What on earth could you have in common with a colored dressmaker?”

“Fashion and fabric. Books. Music. Jesus. We spoke of fall afternoons and love for our families. We’re both sad over the injustices in our city, with chain gangs, with women’s votes, with separate but equal. We talked about weddings, marriage, ss, he injand babies.”

Phillip laughed, slipping his arm around Emily and twirling her around the room. “Now you’re talking. Marriage and babies.”

As the issues of her heart came alive with her words, Emily felt open and vulnerable to Phillip. Though she’d known him her whole life, she’d never expressed her fears and dreams to him. Or shared her thoughts on the world, people, faith.

“You’re trembling.” Phillip stopped turning about, his voice soft and a bit bewildered.

“Phillip, do you truly want to marry me?” She kept her right hand locked in his, her left arm looped about his neck. “Do we truly
know
each other?”

“Emily, oh, sweet Emily.” Phillip cupped the back of her head and kissed her forehead. “You’re something else, Emily Canton. Of course I want to marry you. But I must stand by my own conviction. I can’t have my fiancée going to a colored man’s hotel or working with a colored dressmaker. People talk. It’s bad for business.”

“I won’t change my mind. Miss Hayes—Taffy—is making my gown. Phillip, it’s beautiful. The one Mrs. Caruthers made is horrid.”

“Then if you don’t care about me or yourself, consider Miss Hayes and old man Gaston.” Phillip lowered his hands, letting Emily go. “People will think you’re breaking the law, maybe even stirring up the Negros against the whites.”

“That’s outlandish. Why would I do such a thing?”

“You went to a suffrage meeting, didn’t you?”

“Suffrage is not about stirring up riots.” Emily paced the room. “What is wrong with people?”

“Nothing. We simply like our boundaries and we have the community and the greater good to consider. Phillip and Emily Saltonstall can make great strides in Birmingham
if
we play the game right.”

“I’m sorry, Phillip. I didn’t realize how much it would upset you and your business.” Emily fit her head against his shoulder as he smoothed his hand down the length of her spine. “I’ll not go to the Gaston Hotel again.”

“That’s my good girl.” Phillip lifted her chin with the tip of his finger and lightly brushed his lips over hers. “I came in angry but, Emily, you make me forget myself.”

Emily shied away from his second kiss, pressing her cheek to his chest. Emily had experienced a bit of heaven on earth in the company of the seamstress and she’d not deviate from her course. If she couldn’t go to Taffy, she’d have Big Mike bring Taffy here. To Highland Avenue.

Chapter Twelve

 
Charlotte

 
C
harlotte woke from a sound sleep. Kicking off the covers, she wandered to the kitchen for a glass of water. When she returned to her room, she crawled onto the bed, cupping her glass in her hands, and stared at the dress hanging in the corner.