Roses for Mama (22 page)
Trudie’s wedding was set to take place right after the morning church service. The girls were going to dress for the ceremony at the Merrifields’. Angela had come to terms with taking part as Trudie’s bridesmaid, but she was not pleased at the prospect of wearing a gown purchased by Carter Stratton. She would have offered to pay for it, but her common sense told her that this might squander the family’s income for the entire year. Instead, she suffered the humiliation in private, making no comment even to Thomas.
The sun was shining and the breeze gentle as Trudie and Angela hurried to the parsonage following the last amen. Trudie, so excited she was giddy, told Angela breathlessly that she still had not seen her wedding dress.
What if it doesn’t fit?
Angela asked herself. In that event, there was little time to do any alterations.
“Carter made me send all my measurements in a sealed envelope to the seamstress,” Trudie babbled. “Oh, I’m so nervous, I can scarcely think.”
So what did he do about me?
Angela wondered. She had been asked for no measurements.
When the girls arrived at the house, Mrs. Sommers had Trudie’s dress spread out on the parson’s bed. It was truly a magnificent creation. Angela had never seen anything so beautiful. The satin shimmered in the sunlight that spilled through the bedroom window.
“Oh!” cried Trudie, “look at it! It is—it is beautiful—just like Carter said.”
If Trudie had not already been so excited, she may have wept. As it was she giggled like a child, and Mrs. Sommers had to prompt her to hurry and change into the wedding gown. Angela was full of misgivings about what the dress she was to wear would be like, but when she saw it, she was stunned. It was absolutely perfect.
The soft blue satin had folds and folds of skirt. The bodice was fitted and the sleeves puffed and then fitted from the elbow down. A row of delicate pearl buttons in the back went from hip to neckline. Angela wondered distractedly how she would ever get them all fastened in time for the ceremony. She asked someone to go get Louise to help. In the bedroom she slipped out of her summer voile and into the soft depths of the satin.
The dress fit to perfection, accenting her slim waistline, her creamy skin, and her deep blue eyes. She could not believe her reflection in the mirror.
“It—it’s beautiful,” she whispered, and for one awful moment she felt that she would never forgive Carter Stratton. Then Louise burst through the door, panting from her run across the churchyard. Her eyes opened wide and she gasped at the sight of Angela.
“You look like a blue angel!” she cried.
“Don’t talk silly,” Angela said curtly. “I need you to button me. There are more buttons back there than I can count.”
Louise set right to work on the buttons. Even so, Trudie was already waiting, fully gowned and coifed, by the time Louise had Angela buttoned up.
“Oh, Angela. You look beautiful!” Trudie cried. “The dress fits as if it was made for you—oh, how silly of me—of course it was!”
“Thank you,” returned Angela. “What a beautiful gown. And your red hair looks stunning.”
Trudie flushed. “Then I guess my wedding will be the most charming event in the county,” she responded. “Both of us look magnificent.”
They made their way the short distance across the grassy lawn to the little church. Angela could hear the organ playing.
Nervousness brought a flush to Angela’s cheeks. She had never been in a wedding party before. She stepped to the back of the church and waited for the cue from Mrs. Merrifield; then she began the slow procession toward the altar. On her arm were white camellias and blue forget-me-nots. A spray of baby’s breath was tucked in her loosely coiled hair.
As she neared the front of the church her eyes met those of Carter Stratton. He nodded ever so slightly and gave her one of his measured smiles. Angela dropped her gaze. She wasn’t sure of the message in his eyes and she did not want to understand it.
All heads turned when Trudie appeared at the rear of the church. Eyes glowing, she came down the aisle on her father’s arm, her fullskirted gown swishing against the sides of the pews. Her head bobbed under the satin and lace of her veil.
Oh, God
, breathed Angela silently.
May she always be this happy
.
Trudie reached the front amid murmurs of awe, and Pastor Merrifield stepped forward to begin the ceremony.
Angela stood as if in a trance. She watched and listened in a daze, but soon someone nudged her and she realized that Trudie was now Mrs. Stratton. An arm was extended to her and she took it. She hadn’t paid any attention to the man standing next to Carter Stratton and to her surprise she saw that he was a total stranger.
“I’m Carter’s cousin on his mother’s side,” the young man whispered to her as they walked back down the aisle together. “And you are Miss Peterson?”
Angela nodded her head.
“Carter said that I’d be pleased to escort you,” he continued, “but that was an understatement.”
Angela tilted her head and studied him, wondering if he had the same controlled charm as his cousin. But instead Angela saw warm, humorous eyes, held in check by proper manners.
“And your name is?” she prompted.
“Bradley Whitteker,” he responded. “You may call me Brad.”
“I think I shall call you Mr. Whitteker,” Angela returned, but there was teasing in her voice.
They went directly from the church to the Sommers farm. Ladies that Angela did not even know scurried about loading long tables with sumptuous-looking dishes.
The wedding couple and their attendants were ushered to the head table. There were bouquets of flowers everywhere. Angela eased her skirts gently around them. She did not want to chance any kind of soil on the expensive gown that belonged to Carter Stratton. Carter gave a short speech of welcome to the guests, then seated his bride and took his place beside her.
Angela had to admit that it was an impressive event. Everything was done in the most elaborate fashion possible. Her escort behaved himself as a true gentleman and provided her with interesting conversation, seasoned well with a dash of wit. To her surprise, she found herself enjoying the meal rather than enduring it.
At length the feast was over and the crowd started to mill about while the new couple opened their wedding gifts. Angela wanted to escape the crowd and noise for a bit and enjoy some fresh air. She moved away and took refuge under the shade of a large elm. She felt as if her hair were pinned to her scalp. She wanted to pull out the combs and just let the tresses spill about her shoulders, but she told herself that for Trudie she could endure the discomfort a few moments longer.
The day had turned warm. Too warm. Angela longed for a bit of the wind that Trudie had prayed away. The tight bodice fitted her like a corset. She would be relieved when she could slip out of the gown and replace it with her own comfortable voile.
She was tempted to sit down on the cool grass, but she could not risk getting stains on the beautiful satin. She didn’t even dare lean against the trunk of the elm tree. She stood erect, wishing the minutes by so she might be released from her satiny blue prison.
“There you are,” said someone at her elbow. She turned to see Thane studying her.
“Tired?” he asked, concern in his voice.
She nodded her head. “Tired and warm,” she admitted, “and so anxious to—to get out of all this—these layers.”
“You look beautiful,” he whispered, and his eyes told her he meant the words.
Angela felt flustered. Thane had never given her such an intimate compliment before.
“Why, thank you,” she managed, and let her eyelids fall to hide the confusion she felt. “The dress is—is most fashionable.”
“It’s not the dress,” he continued. “Though you do make it look awfully good.”
Her eyelashes fluttered up again. Was this really Thane speaking?
“I noticed you are wearing the cameo,” he commented softly.
Angela nodded. “I like it,” she admitted, lifting the cameo so she could see it too.
He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could get the words out someone called for Angela.
“I must go,” she apologized, begging him with her eyes to understand.
He nodded, but as she stepped away he reached out and took her hand, halting her.
“Angela,” he said, in a voice little more than a whisper. “May I come calling?”
For a moment she did not understand his question. He always came calling. Had always been welcome. Why would he ask—? And then his meaning reached through to her. Thane was asking permission to call—on her. Her heart fluttered within her chest and her breath caught in her throat.
“May I?” he asked again.
She forced herself to look into his eyes. They were pleading. Angela had never seen such a look in his eyes before.
“Please,” he said again, and the pressure on her hand increased.
“I would be honored,” she managed to whisper and lingered just long enough to read the relief on his face before she withdrew her hand and slipped away.
———
Angela didn’t stop to analyze her happiness as she hummed her way through her morning chores. She just knew she felt like singing. Even Louise’s bad temper at the breakfast table did nothing to daunt her good spirits. Angela coaxed the girl into better humor and sent her off to school with at least the scowl removed from her face.
After the kitchen was in order, Angela went to her room and spread the blue gown out on the bed. She carefully surveyed each inch of material. She did not want to return it in soiled condition.
She wasn’t sure what Carter Stratton would do with the dress. Trudie could never wear it. She was much more “full-figured,” her mother called it, than Angela.
When Angela was convinced that the dress was in mint condition, she wrapped it carefully in tissue paper and bundled it into a large box. Tucking the box under her arm, she started across the field to the Strattons’. She wasn’t sure who would greet her. Gus was no longer there. He and Charlie were busy making plans for adding a room to the small cabin.
In answer to her knock the door was opened by a stiff-looking woman in a starched apron. Angela wondered if the woman and the garment had been dipped in the starch together.
“I have a box for Mr. Stratton,” Angela explained with a smile.
“Mr. Stratton is presently on his honeymoon and isn’t expected home for some time.”
The woman even spoke stiffly.
“Yes,” admitted Angela. “I know. There’s no hurry about the box. It can await his return. I would be appreciative if you’d see that he gets it—after he gets home.”
The woman nodded in a short, clipped manner, accepted the box and moved as though to close the door. Apparently the interview was over. Angela smiled her thanks and stepped back. She just had time for a quick glance at the new hallway. Carter had certainly changed things. The walls were papered in a leafy green pattern and trimmed with cream woodwork. The floor was covered with thick sea green pile rugs. Rich tapestries hung at the tall windows, and brilliantly colored pictures almost covered one wall.
“I think I liked it better before,” Angela muttered to herself as she made her way down the brick steps.
She remembered Carter’s words on his wedding day. “You must come and see Trudie often. She regards you as a dear friend.”
Angela thought of the many years she had puzzled over whether she was a friend or foe of Trudie Sommers, but she pushed the thought aside. Perhaps she could be a friend to Trudie in the future, but she did hope that the visits would take place at her own farmhouse, not at the mansion-like house behind her.
As Angela started back across the fields her song returned. She was happy to be going home. Happy that her family was well. Happy that both Charlie and Gus were going to share her yard. But especially happy that Thane was to call.
Thane had sent word with Thomas that he would come calling on Friday night if it was convenient for Angela. She would not have dreamed of turning him down. After all her years of close friendship with Thane, Angela felt strangely nervous and excited.
“Stop it,” she scolded herself, lifting a trembling hand to brush her hair back into a neat knot. But she could not control her feelings. She had never been this agitated when Carter was calling.
Carter! With his name came the painful memory of his curling lips and final cutting warning: “You are all set to be an old maid. No man will marry a woman who brings along three younger siblings.”
The words brought Angela’s hands to a halt. She clutched at the combs she was about to place in her hair.
Carter was right. No man—not even Thane—should be expected to take on a ready-made family.
Angela leaned against the bureau and shut her eyes tightly, but the tears squeezed out from under the lids.
“It wouldn’t be fair. It wouldn’t be fair,” her heart cried. “Oh, God, if only Mama—” But Angela checked her thoughts. For the first time in her life she had been about to blame her mama for not staying with them.
Forgive me
was her next cry.
I didn’t mean it. I didn’t. I know Mama did not will to die. I know she—she wanted to be here for her family. I know that—that she—she trusts me to take her place
.
And with those thoughts, Angela straightened her shoulders, brushed the tears from her eyes, and finished pinning her hair.
She took one more look in the mirror to be sure no traces of tears lingered, then smoothed the skirt of her blue gingham. She preferred her voile, but Thane had always been partial to the gingham.
Thane and I have always been dear friends
, she told herself.
There is no reason for that to change. We can remain friends—I will tell him so
.
When Thane arrived, Sara hurled herself at him, assuming he was there just to see her. He pulled her braids and tweaked her nose and then handed her a small package of sweets. Louise stood by, grinning and blushing, and Thane paid her a nice compliment, gave Derek a playful punch on the shoulder, and turned his attention to Angela.