Rosie’s heart fluttered as the wooden doors of the church swung open, ushering in a shaft of sunlight that seemed to pierce through the weight of her uncertainties. The pews were a sea of Sunday bests and hopeful faces, but among them, there was only one she sought.
“Charles,” she said, clutching his arm, “I do believe I see my sister.”
Before he could offer any word of caution or concern, Rosie had already hurried away. When her eyes finally found Izzy, they sparkled with joy.
“Izzy!” Rosie embraced her sister. “I’ve been so eager to see you.”
“And how is married life treating you?”
“Oh, Charles is a dear,” Rosie confided. “He’s sweet and ever so kind.” Though she wished for more, she didn’t want her sisters to know. Not yet, anyway.
“Is he now?” Izzy raised an eyebrow.
“Truly, he is,” Rosie insisted, though the words carried the weight of incompleteness—a story untold, a book with pages still unturned.
The murmur of the gathering crowd hushed as another figure approached, and Rosie’s eyes lit up anew. Ana joined them, hugging them each in turn.
“Ana!” Rosie’s exclamation was a soft gasp of delight. “It feels like years since we’ve all been together.”
“It’s been less than twenty-four hours,” Izzy said, shaking her head.
“Itdidfeel longer,” Ana said. “But here we are, under God’s grace and each other’s gaze.”
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Rosie beamed, her hands clasping those of her sisters. “Just like old times, only...different.”
“Better,” Izzy chimed in, “because now we’re three strong women, each with a husband of our own.”
“Yes,” Ana agreed. “And we’ll figure out how to be good wives. We have no choice.”
As the bell called them to worship, the sisters stood shoulder to shoulder. Each of them hurried to find her husband and join him for service.
Rosie glanced sideways at Charles, standing stoically at the end of the row. Perhaps this public display of unity could ignite a private connection yet. For now, she picked up a hymnal and did her best to sing along.
After the service concluded, Rosie was thrilled to join her sisters again.
“Shall we dine together?” Dr. William Mercer proposed, his gaze sweeping over the group.
“An excellent idea,” Albert Thoreau agreed.
As they walked, Rosie watched Albert, thinking there was something not quite right for Izzy about him, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. Her sister looked happy enough, but there was sadness in her eyes.
Charles, standing a trifle apart, gave a small nod before his gaze met Rosie’s. She smiled at him, taking his arm with her hand. He wanted a wife in public, and he was going to get one.
The three couples settled at a robust wooden table near the window of the diner. Laughter punctuated the meal as stories were swapped, and Charles’s occasional smiles, though fleeting, did not go unnoticed by Rosie.
As plates were cleared and cups of coffee served, the conversation turned to plans for the following day. Izzy, her eyes sparkling with mischief, leaned forward.
“Tomorrow, let’s meet at the general store after lunch,” she suggested. “I’ve been dying to make a new dress, and I can’t imagine doing it without you two.”
“Indeed,” Ana said, her practicality always at the helm. “It’s high time we add some fresh stitches to our wardrobes. What do you say, Rosie?”
“Nothing would please me more,” Rosie replied, the prospect of shared sisterly endeavors warming her like the afternoon sun.
“Let’s each pick a different color,” Izzy chirped, already lost in visions of vibrant fabrics.
“Of the same pattern,” Ana added, ever the organizer.
“Perfect,” Rosie sighed contentedly.
