The Wedding Dress (22 page)

“I just love to see the fabric against a girl’s skin.” Taffy’s slender, dark hands tucked and pinned with quick skill. “What do you think, Mrs. Canton? This ivory satin is lovely with her skin tone and the rich chestnut color of her hair.”

Taffy spoke so respectfully, kind and gentle. Not like that boisterous, arrogant Caruthers woman.

When Taffy stepped aside, Emily caught her reflection in the mirror. The dress, her wedding dress, came to life. This was exactly how she pictured herself as a bride. The gown was light, easy on her shoulders. The round neck sat just below her collarbones. Not up under her chin, desperate to cut off her wind.

The skirt, or what Taffy had fashioned so far, just barely touched her shoes in front while the back swept around to a petite train.

“I have in my mind to add two flounces over the skirt, like this.” Taffy demonstrated with a run of fabric. “Sort of swag down to give the skirt some character and depth. I figured an empire waist will accentuate your figure”—she smiled softly—“and I’ll sew it up with pearls.”

“And the bodice?” Mother’s condescending tone drew a sharp glance from Emily.

“Same material as the skirt but with lace. The sleeves will be lace and silk. I do love to work in silk. My, my, Mrs. Canton, Miss Canton is as pretty as a Gibson Girl, even more so, I declare, with that thick hair and hourglass figure.”

“The gown is lovely, Taffy,” Mother said. “What I can see of it.”

“I’m glad you like it. I haven’t sewn for a—” Taffy pursed her lips. “For a wedding in a while.”

“What color gowns do you sew for colored brides, Taffy?”

“Emily.” Mother snapped her shoulders back, dropping her folded arms.

Emily looked at her mother in the mirror. “I mean no disrespect. I’ve never been around a colored girl before.”

“Colored girls what can afford a wedding dress, and there ain’t many, like white satin or taffeta. Some choose ivory. Most of them get married in their church dress. If they have a little bit of money, they might get married in a new walking suit.”

There was no envy in her voice. Just a resolve, a resolution, to the way life was for colored girls in Birmingham.

ignare, w“Most of the poor girls in this city marry in their church dresses,” Mother said, as if to minimize Taffy’s confession. “It’s not restricted to coloreds.”

“I didn’t say otherwise, Mrs. Canton.” Taffy stood back, taking in the shimmering fabric. “Mr. Saltonstall will be weak-kneed when he sees you walking down the aisle.”

Mother ran her hand along the skirt, taking in the dropped neckline. “It’ll make more of an evening dress.” Her gaze lowered to the straight skirt. “Maybe you can change into it for the reception.”

“Mother, no—”

“Emily, we can’t tell Mrs. Caruthers ‘never mind,’ now.”

“Caroline Caruthers? She’s a fine seamstress. We were taught by the same woman, Madam Sinclair.”

“See there, Mother.” Emily ran her hand over the silk waist. “Mrs. Caruthers’s dress makes me feel as if I’m carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. I’ll suffocate in it. Faint on Father’s arm.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Emily.” Mother walked to the sewing room door. “Taffy, please excuse us. I’d like a moment with my daughter.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Taffy walked to the door with her measuring tape around her neck, stabbing the straight pins into the cushion strapped around her wrist.

“There’s cake and milk in the kitchen,” Mother called after her. “Tell Molly I sent you down.”

Emily stepped off the stool when Taffy closed the door. “Don’t, Mother. I know what you’re going to say.”

“Then why are you behaving like this?”

Emily walked to the window and peered out. She wasn’t sure she knew the answer. In the yard below her window was the tree where Daniel surprised her two months ago.

Since seeing him at Newman’s, she thought of him now and then, just memories she’d shove aside. But with her next breath, Emily knew she missed him. Something about the day, about being fitted with Taffy’s dress, stirred her longing for him.

When she looked at Taffy, listened to her talk, Emily felt a kinship with the older colored woman. More than just a common faith in Jesus, but a sense of feeling . . . trapped. Locked in by society, expectation, and the wants of others.

“Emily.” Mother touched her arm and bent her head to see Emily’s face. “Tell me, dear, what are you thinking to have that expression on your face?”

Smili3">e yong, Emily tapped the windowpane. “Remember when we first moved here and Howard Jr. and I dug up the backyard to make a fort?”

“Mercy, I do.” Mother pressed her hands to her cheeks. “I’d just joined the garden club and was to host my first meeting. My prize lawn and roses were destroyed.”

“We were terrified.” Emily laughed, pointing to a far willow tree. “We hid up there trying to decide if we were going to run away or not. We just knew Father would strap us.”

Mother smiled. “But you two didn’t mean it. I knew you didn’t.”

“You told Father you handled it and he merely gave us a stern look at dinner and reminded us to behave, that we lived among a different kind of people.”

“Something we can never forget. Something you must remember now, Emily. Is it our society that’s bothering you? Our friends?”

“I do admit, Mother, it feels as if you and Phillip, even Father, are trying to fit me in a mold so society will like me.” Emily moved away from the window, the soft swish of the silk around her legs. “It’s my wedding. I want to wear a gown I love. I don’t care if the seamstress is the one the Woodward or Campbell girls used. Or if she’s colored.”

“Now, you listen to me.” Mother’s heels thudded as she crossed the floor. “You will wear the gown Mrs. Caruthers made, and that is the end of it. As soon as the wedding is over, you may change into this gown Taffy is making.”

Emily faced the mirror, sighing. She’d met defeat. “Mother, are you happy?”

“You’re vexing me a bit at the moment.” Mother’s light tone betrayed her scowl.

“Are you happy with Father?”

Mother’s cheeks pinked. “Don’t I look happy?”

“Has he ever been unfaithful to you?”

Mother inhaled sharply. “Mercy, girl, what a thing to ask. Certainly not.” She fussed with the satin and silk still draped over Emily. “Your father and I were cut from the same cloth. He escorted me to my debutante ball, and I don’t think he ever left my side. This gown
is
quite lovely. Gracious, I believe Taffy sewed with gold thread.”

“Do you think I’m cut from the same cloth as Phillip Saltonstall? Is he a man like Father?”

“He’s a very powerful man from a very powerful family. He adores you, Emily. I’m very proud and happy for you. This is a good match. For you, for our families. Even for Howard Jr. You and Phillip will be quite the couple of our Magic City. In fact, I was speaking to Delpeamoment.la Branton at bridge club and she’s decided to attend suffrage meetings with her daughter because of you. If the future Mrs. Saltonstall believes in suffrage, she will too.”

“How foolish. I’ve been to a few meetings. I’m not even sure I believe in suffrage. She should believe in a cause because her heart tells her, not the future Mrs. Phillip Saltonstall.” So now she was responsible for the convictions and actions of others?

“Oh, my dear, you are your father’s daughter.” Mother softened, her smile fresh with love. “So forthright at times.” She kissed Emily’s cheek. “You’re going to be very happy with Phillip. He’ll be a wonderful husband. He’s quite handsome, don’t you think?”

“Mother, I saw him with another woman.” The confession released a valve in her heart. “The day we first met with Mrs. Caruthers, when I leaned out Loveman’s window.”

She’d been pondering Phillip and Emmeline for quite a while. In the evenings Daniel’s letters tucked under her bed called to her. But she could not very well read them if she didn’t want Phillip involved with another woman. Weren’t love letters the same? Emily involved with another man? Daniel? Even if it was only in the privacy of her own heart?

“Goodness, Emily. Phillip knows everyone. He’s twenty-eight years old, with friends all over the city.”

“It was the woman who attended our engagement party with Herschel Wainscot. Emmeline Graves.”

“Emmeline Graves? Why, she’s barely off her mother’s bosom. Never you fear. A man like Phillip is looking for a woman, not a girl.”

“Mrs. Canton, Miss Canton,” Taffy called from the other side of the door. “Might’n I come in? If Miss Molly served me any more cake and milk, with such kindness, I might never leave.”

“Yes, do come in. We’re ready. Now, please fashion this into a reception gown for Emily.” Mother headed to the door. “I’m going to check on luncheon.”

Taffy went to work with a glance at Emily as she stepped up on the stool.

“Fashion this into a wedding dress, Taffy.”

The colored woman worked in silence for a moment, pinning and measuring. “What situation have you gotten yourself into, Miss Canton?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Once in a while, the Lord gives me night visions—”

“A dream?”

“A dream . . . yes. I . he dsee dresses. Made one for Mr. Gaston’s daughter a few years back. The night before you visited me, I saw a gown. When I woke up, I put it down on paper. You’re wearing it right now.”

“What do you think it means, Taffy?” Emily bent to peer into her eyes, her heart trembling in her chest.

“I’m sure I don’t know. I can only guess that you’re going to need the courage of heaven to wear this dress.”

Chapter Fourteen

 
Daniel

 
I
t was late. Friday night. After a long, hard week at school, Daniel arrived at the Italian Garden, comforted to find his friends gathered at a table in the corner. With a nod at the maître d’, he started toward them.

“Daniel.” Ross shook his friend’s hand. “We thought you forgot us, chum.”

“Midnight, Ross? Can’t you find a more decent hour to socialize?” Daniel took his seat, then greeted the man on his right. “Alex, can’t you talk sense into him?”

“No, and seeing as you’ve been his friend longer, you should know better.” Alex smiled, clapping Daniel on the back. “Besides, the theater has just let out as well as the symphony.” He nodded toward the front of the restaurant. “All the pretty ladies should be coming through that door any moment.”

“With their escorts, I imagine.” Daniel barely glanced at the couple entering the restaurant and instead, reached for the menu. “I’m famished.” After the school week, he’d spent his Friday evening not in the company of a soft, lovely dame but attempting to launder his own clothes. He was exhausted. But his compassion for the “weaker” sex, who tended such arduous chores, rose ten notches.

Ross zipped the menu from Daniel’s fingers. “Escorts can be fathers, brothers, uncles. Don’t keep your mind so closed, Ludlow.”

“I’ll keep that in mind if a girl enters who’s so gorgeous she makes my heart forget my stomach.” He snatched back his menu, flopped it open, and started to read.
If Emily Canton walked in
. . . “I warn you, my stomach is very important to me.”

“How’s life at the Ridley, chum?” Alex said.

“Decent. There’s a grandmotherly lady who likes to bake me cookies. Leaves them at my door for when I come home from the institute.”

“There you go. You don’t need a wife now.” Alex motioned for the waiter. “A round of waters and some bread to start with—give us a minute to figure out the rest.”

at “Starving, Al?” Ross put away his menu.

“You made Danny and me wait until almost midnight to eat, Ross. What do you figure? I could eat a horse.”

Ross smacked his palms together. “I’m going to polish off a large plate of spaghetti and meatballs, then I’m going to dance the Navajo Rag with the cutest girls in the joint until the sunlight glints off the top of Red Mountain.”

“I’m not dancing with no glue shoe.” Alex sat back, took his pipe from his jacket pocket, and propped it between his lips without lighting it. “I don’t care how pretty she is. She’s got to know how to dance.”

Daniel grinned. “That pipe makes you look like your father, Alex.”

“Good, I hate being twenty-three. You should hear the way the senior bank managers talk to me. Like I was a snot-nosed child. The other day one of them patted me on the head.”

Ross tipped back his chair as he laughed. “Bide your time. In a few years you’ll be patting the new tellers on the head.”

“I pray not.” Alex slipped his pipe back into his pocket. “It’s humiliating.”

“How’s it with you and Georgette, Alex? Are things getting serious?” Daniel closed his menu, deciding on the linguini dish. He moved aside for the waiter to set down the bread basket and the waters.

“I think so. But who knows? How can you tell who’s the one?” Alex took a slice from the basket and bit off an entire half. He gazed at the boys and tried to speak while chewing. “I told you I was hungry.”

Daniel took a piece of bread and set it on his plate. “If you find the answer, let me know.”

“Cheer up, chum, there’re other women besides Emily Canton.” Ross craned his neck to see the girl sitting at the neighboring table. “She’s a looker there.”