"What if I am?" she challenged, still laughing.
"Lurielle, you know I've got no problem with that. I told you I was gonna pump you full strong sons. Are you happy with this farm of yours?"
She closed her eyes, envisioning that lovely little lake once more, the willow stretching down to get her fingers into the water. It would be a perfect backdrop, the loveliest pictures, a beautiful memory to look back on for the rest of her long life.
"Yes," she whispered.
"Well that's good enough for me. Most important lesson granddaddy taught me. Happy wife is a happy life. And you can take that to the bank."
* * *
She did, as a matter of fact.
"I can't believe you went and put that much on a credit card. Darlin', where's your head?"
"What?! It'sourwedding! This isn't our first dinner date, I am capable of paying for things."
"Bluebell, theinterest!"
She collapsed against him as he pulled a glass from the cupboard in the kitchen, mumbling under his breath and clucking his tongue as ifhewere the wet hen.
"You make it sound like I'm not going to pay off the balance!"
"Oh, you're going to pay off the balance. I'm going to write you a check and you're going to march that cute little behind yours to the bank right now and deposit the total into your account and pay it off today. We're not carrying a dime of debt on this wedding, Lurielle. I refuse. It's like granddaddy used to say, a pauper will borrow from tomorrow to pay for today’s meat. If you can't pay for your steak on Sunday, there'll be no supper."
"Are you being serious? You can't just do a transfer? I have to go to the bank with acheck? I feel like I'mmarryinggranddaddy right now."
The look he leveled on her was positively mutinous, and she had to sink into a chair before she fell over from laughing so hard again.
"Yes, Lurielle. A check. None of this app transfer nonsense. I want a paper trail in hand, with hard records of everything."
If he hadn't been so adamant, she would have never left the house that afternoon, heading off to the bank. She might not have stopped off for a smoothie from the juice bar, near Applethorpe Manor. If she hadn't been in the juice bar, swinging her arms as she waited for her order, she might never have noticed the little corkboard of advertisements, a collection of business cards from local vendors, advertising their services.
Skilled dressmaker/custom weavings/knitting and crocheting
All of your fiber craft needs
She snapped a photo of the card, sending an email inquiring into the custom dress claim, providing the measurements taken from the shop in Bridgeton, a photo of a dress she'd found online, one that was only offered in pale pink and not made in her size, along with her preferred color of choice.
By the time she was home from the bank, the seamstress, Philomel, had already responded, thanking her for the foresight to send ahead her measurements, along with a price quote. She had an appointment for a fitting the following week.
Lurielle went outside, staring up at the winter sky as she bounced on her toes, her eyes burning with tears. She’d never beenthatgirl.
It was a fucked up reality when little Elvis girls sat at their lunch tables, eating their crisp greens and perfectly balanced meals, attempting to outdo one another over their future weddings. She'd always been the odd one out, and would sit at the periphery of those conversations – by herself but just close enough to the group to not draw too much untoward attention. She would listen to her schoolmates talk about the ornate hairstyles they wanted, gowns with trains requiring fifteen attendants just to carry, the outlandish parties they would throw, the entertainment they would provide.
It had all sounded like a circus to her. Lurielle had never been able to imagine herself as the star of one of those big days. She'd never been able to picture her adult self in a fancy dress with fancier hair, could not imagine the sort of elf with whom she would stand beneath the binding tree. It had occurred to her, in one tearful therapy session, that even as a little girl, she hadn't liked the sight of herself in the mirror.How could you imagine yourself as the star of a happily ever after if you didn't want to see yourself in the first place?
She’d never been that elf who dreamed of her wedding, with plans and expectations, who envisioned herself in theand theylived happily ever afterending. Now, for the very first time in her life, she was, and it was as exhilarating as it was terrifying.
Cambric Creek was entering that winter stasis, but come spring, it would be beautiful.Shewould be beautiful. And even though it felt as if all of their wedding planning got off to the rockiest start imaginable, everything that had been placed in her path was exactly as it was meant to be.
Ris
She'd known something was wrong the day he never responded to her afternoon text.
It had been one of those annoying days, when annoying people came to her with their annoying problems, invariably problems of their own making, as if she could pull out a magic wand and make their annoying incompetence magically disappear. She had messaged him, set her phone down, and then was instantly swept up in an hour and a half's worth of other people's nonsense. When she returned to her desk at last, Ris flipped the phone over, blinking in confusion.
Her message had been unread.
