Scarlett Rose's Arc

Chapter 21 of 57

Friday morning the sickness eased enough for Scarlett to keep down dry toast and half a cup of weak tea. Rose watched her chew and then set a laptop on the kitchen table. "You have two days," Rose said. "I fly out Sunday. You are not picking a wedding dress off a website after I'm gone." "I can't stand in a shop for three hours." "Then we go for one hour. I called ahead. She's holding four for you." Clayton came in from the barn with straw on his sleeves. He kissed the top of Scarlett's head and looked at Rose. "Take my truck," he said. "Bucket in the back seat in case." The boutique sat on the corner with striped awnings and two dresses in the window. Scarlett sat on a velvet bench while Rose worked the racks. The shop owner brought water and did not comment on Scarlett's pale face. Rose held up three gowns and shook her head at each one. The fourth was lace, fitted through the bodice, with a long train and a veil that fell like water. A diamond necklace hung on the hanger beside it. Rose held it up and did not speak, which was how Scarlett knew. Scarlett stepped into it behind the curtain. The shop owner pinned the waist. Scarlett looked in the mirror and put a hand flat against her stomach, where nothing showed yet. "It fits now," she said. "It won't in three months." "She can let out the seam," Rose said. "She already told me. Pick the date first. Then she knows how much room to leave." Scarlett thought about the greenhouse. She thought about the citrus already in bloom and what the yard would look like when the wildflowers came up along the fence line. She thought about how big she'd be in June. "April twenty-ninth," she said. Rose wrote it on the shop owner's pad. The shop owner nodded and marked the dress with a tag. She brought out a bouquet sample, blue roses and purple lilies bound with ribbon, and held it against the lace. "That," Rose said. "Exactly that." Scarlett looked at herself in the mirror one more time. The room did not tilt. Her hand stayed on her stomach. "Put it on hold," she said. "I need to show Clayton the date before I sign." They drove home with the receipt folded in Rose's purse. Clayton was on the porch with the bloodhound at his boot. Scarlett handed him the paper. He read it once. "April twenty-ninth," he said. "Is that enough time?" "It's eight weeks. I'll make it enough." He pulled her against his chest. Rose stood on the step behind them, already thumbing through her phone, making a list only she could see.