“Six would have been plenty,” she said more to herself than to him.
“More is better,” he replied curtly, dismissing her sentiment as though swatting away an irritating fly.
“Later today,” Izzy ventured, desperate to change the subject, “I am meeting Ana and Rosie at the general store. We’re to select fabrics for new dresses. We want to work on them together.”
“You will enjoy that,” Albert said dryly. “I do hope that you will all choose something appropriate.”
“Of course,” Izzy assured him.
“Make sure you return before supper,” he instructed.
“Absolutely,” she replied, her acquiescence automatic, the dutiful words of a woman well-versed in obedience.
As lunch concluded, Izzy excused herself, her movements stiff and deliberate. She longed for the simplicity of flour-stained aprons and the honest work of kneading dough, but she must live in her husband’s world.
“Isabelle,” he called, a command veiled as an invitation. She paused, turning slightly, her posture taut with anticipation. “Remember, you needn’t worry about the cost at Watson’s General Store. I have an account there. Charge anything that suits your fancy.”
“Thank you, Albert,” Izzy replied. She watched his figure retreat into the cool darkness of the house. It felt good to be able to walk around town on her own, something she’d never experienced before. Soon, she and her sisters would have time together, and she couldn’t wait.
The walk to the general store was a taste of autonomy as she navigated the streets of Hope Springs. She passed women in aprons, men tipping hats, and children playing with hoops, all under the watchful eye of the mountains looming in the distance.
Upon reaching the store, Izzy found Rosie waiting, leaning against the wooden post of the awning with a patient smile.
“Ana’s running late, as usual,” Rosie said with a teasing lilt, her eyes crinkling at the edges.
It wasn’t long before Ana hurried up to them, breathless, her cheeks flushed with exertion. “Forgive me,” she panted, straightening her bonnet. “William was telling me about his morning over lunch. He went into a great deal of detail about how to stitch a wound. Soon, I’ll be helping him in the infirmary.”
“Sounds useful,” Izzy said softly.
They entered the general store together, the bell above the door announcing their arrival with a cheerful jangle. Inside, rows of fabric bolts offered a spectrum of colors and textures. Izzy liked the idea of making a dress of her own because she could wear it when the other dresses felt too fancy for an occasion.
Izzy listened intently as her sisters chatted.
“Anything here catching your eye, Izzy?” Rosie inquired, pulling her from her reverie with a gentle nudge.
“Many things,” Izzy responded. When her sisters chose a fabric that came with many patterns, she chose the same fabric in a different color. At least she would feel like she was still a part of their lives if they dressed similarly.
After their purchases were made, the three sisters walked the short distance to Ana’s house to spend their afternoons together.
Soon, the scent of sugar and flour mingled in the air as Izzy helped Ana roll out dough for the cookies they decided to make. As they worked, Rosie’s laughter filled the room and Izzy couldn’t help but think about the laughter they had shared every day of their lives. Until now. Now they lived apart, and it was still strange to Izzy.
“Isn’t this just the best part? The anticipation of tasting what we’ve made,” Ana said, her voice rich with contentment as she placed a tray into the oven.
“Yes,” Izzy replied. She watched as her sisters chatted and sewed, their hands deftly threading needles and gathering fabric. They created with purpose, their every stitch an assertion of identity. As Izzy worked on her dress, she wondered how Albert would feel about her wearing it. It didn’t matter though. She was sewing with her sisters, and that mattered.
“Your stitches are perfect, Izzy,” Rosie commented, oblivious to the turmoil behind her sister’s quiet demeanor.
“Thank you,” Izzy said. But perfection in sewing felt like a paltry achievement when weighed against the silence she kept about her husband’s coldness.
As the afternoon waned, Rosie glanced at the clock and sighed. “Time to head back and start supper. How quickly the day slips away.”
“It really does,” Izzy agreed, folding her sewing neatly. She wrapped the remaining cookies, hiding them in plain paper as if to mask the sweetness they contained.
“Shall we do this again tomorrow?” Ana asked, hopeful.
“Yes,” Izzy replied, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “I’ll come after lunch.”
“Good,” Ana beamed. “It’s settled then.”
