Being a perfect size eight was an advantage because it meant she had a good selection of off the rack dresses to choose from—which was good because the wedding was only six weeks away. Lucas had wanted to wait until spring break, but she had been adamant that the wedding needed to be over and done with before it was time to study for midterms. It wasn’t the real reason, of course, but it was a valid one.
After a small breakfast, she drove downtown to a big bridal emporium that carried a huge selection of discount wedding dresses. The saleswoman had seemed shocked that she was by herself, but Carolyn didn’t have a lot of girlfriends, and she wasn’t ready to talk about the wedding with her mothers. Besides, Carolyn knew exactly what kind of dress she wanted and she was fully aware that any good citizen of Green Valley, her mothers included, would try to talk her out of it.
“Do you have any idea what you are looking for?” the attendant asked with a smirk.
“Something tea length, preferably lace or with a good amount of lace detail. It has to be white, and I would prefer a sweetheart neckline and cap sleeves.” That was a lie. The dress Carolyn had had her heart set on for many years was something she had seen in a catalog so many years ago, and it was strapless. But it wouldn’t be allowed and it would not make Lucas happy either. He had expressly said, “No strapless.”
The attendant was back in a flash, with a variety of dresses, some that were exactly what Carolyn had asked for, and some that were obviously the attendant deciding that she knew best. She hung them all in an oversized fitting room, and motioned for Carolyn to follow her.
Carolyn stood there, waiting for the attendant to leave, but the woman shut the door behind them, closing herself in there with her. “You’re going to need some help, and since you didn’t bring anyone with you—”
“I’m fine.” Carolyn opened the door, and stared at the petite woman giving her the Carolyn Atwood death stare. “If I need help, I’ll let you know.”
“Fine.” With pursed lips the woman made her exit, but not before grabbing a dress from the back of the pile and hanging it on the front. “Make sure you try this one first. I know it’s not exactly what you wanted, but it’s a perfect style for your classic look. I think you’ll find that I know what I’m talking about,” the woman said with a wink, as she finally left Carolyn in peace.
The “perfect dress” turned Carolyn's stomach just looking at it. It was lace, and that was about the only thing it had going for it. Ankle length, with a high neck that fastened in the back with a trail of pearl buttons, it had long sleeves that puffed a bit at the top before tapering into very fitted lace sleeves. Not only that, but it wasn’t white, it was an ivory that was so dark it was almost a very drab tan. The woman was right, the cut was very classic and flattering, and would be nice for a February wedding, but just the sight of the dress gave Carolyn anxiety and made her want to burst into tears. With the exception of the lace and the pretty pearl buttons, it might as well have been the uniform of Filmore.
“No!” Carolyn said out loud to herself in the empty dressing room. “No!”
She was done with that look. She was done with anything that reminded herself of the girl she had once been. The girl who had no voice, who had been stifled and molded into a robot of the prophet’s choosing. When she had moved to Green Valley, she had reinvented herself, and put all that behind her. Her mothers had promised. They had promised she could wear what she wanted, eat what she wanted, and be what she wanted, and never have to answer to anyone ever again. She had come a long way since fleeing Filmore, and worked hard to re-invent herself. It had not been as easy as one would imagine. Glaring at the dress, she stuffed it back in the back of the pile, and sat down on the tufted bench in the dressing room, rage filling her as hot angry tears streaked her face. Damn the memories.
It took them over a week to travel to Green Valley, as the path they took was long and winding, just in case the prophet or his many henchmen were out looking for them. Her mother reasoned that they wouldn’t spend more than the first day or two chasing them, so once they got to the other side of the Mississippi River, they could take a more straightforward route. Carolyn didn’t mind the delay. She was sore from her last meeting with the prophet, and the long car ride was hard on her at times, but it gave her bruises time to heal, so that by the time they finally made it to Green Valley, she didn’t look like she had been in a bar brawl and lost.
Her mother entertained them with stories of her childhood, keeping up a constant stream of chatter about the people of Green Valley. It was as if she were afraid of silence. Any time there was a lull in conversation, her mother would pop up and exclaim, “It sure will be good to see Bishop Miller. My, he was just getting ready to take over the place when we left. It’s been a very long time. Shame what happened to his first wife though, she was a lovely woman.”
Or….
“My, I wonder what those Randall wives are up to these days! They always were a lively bunch. Owen sure had his hands full!”
Her father would sometimes grunt in response, but he mostly stayed silent. Carolyn noticed his eyes never left the rearview mirror, and she wondered if he was hoping they would be caught before they ever made it there.
Her mother was in a rare take charge mode, continuingly flaunting the assets of their new home, and building it up in their minds as if it were some sort of nirvanic utopia. Carolyn didn’t mind. To her, it was. A hut under a bridge would have been paradise as long as it was far, far away from the prophet.
The more her mother told them about her hometown, the more annoyed her father seemed, and the more excited Carolyn got. There was no dress code, her mother said, other than modesty. She had already allowed them to ditch the heavy monochromatic prairie dresses that covered them from neck to ankle in favor of long flowy skirts in colorful patterns, and light white blouses with lace collars. Carolyn had never in her life owned something so bright and colorful, and she instantly felt cheered. Their hair had been freed from the long and intricate braids that were uniform in Filmore, and hung free down their backs in long waves. Her mother had even promised her she could get a haircut once they were settled. Carolyn had never had more than two inches trimmed, and her hair fell below the waistband of her skirt when left down. She could hardly wait to be free of it.
Despite the church’s teachings that they shouldn’t be bothered with earthly vanities, and that adhering to a strict dress code would leave them more time to keep their mind on spiritual matters, Carolyn had never been able to stifle her attraction to the frilly feminine dresses with their bright colors and heart shaped necklines, with their big hats and matching shoes. Once she had saved pennies and nickels until she had enough for a ninety-seven-cent bottle of polish at the pharmacy in the city. She had managed to sneak away from her mothers long enough to buy it, and it had been her most prized possession for years. A pale pearlescent pink, it was almost unnoticeable on her nails, but she had known it was there, and it made her happy—until one day, Billy Baker had run into her at Bible study, spilling the contents of her purse throughout the hall. She had watched in horror as the bottle rolled across the slick floor, coming to a stop at the prophet’s feet. Her bottom clenched at the reminder of the harsh punishment he had meted out on her backside in front of all her peers. She had been angrier when he poured the contents of the bottle out in front of her than she had been at any whipping. She had never painted her nails again.
One day, she vowed silently, I will own a bottle in every color, and a dress and shoes to match, and I will never again wear wool pantyhose under a thick dress in hundred-degree weather, telling myself that it’s godly to suffer. I will chop my hair up to my shoulders and never wear a braid again. The only black clothing I will ever wear is a little black dress or a pair of black lace panties. I will reinvent myself to be a true southern belle, the kind I always wanted to be, and I will never cower in fear of anything or anybody as long as I shall live.
“Hello!” The shrill voice coming from out
side the dressing room belonged to the bridal attendant. “Everything okay in there? Do you need help with those buttons?”
“No, Ma’am!” Carolyn called back. Coming here on her own had been a bad idea. And trying on anything other than her dream dress was an awful idea as well. She had come too far in becoming her own woman to go backwards now. She wasn’t compromising her dream wedding dress. Not for Lucas, not for anyone. Decision made, she rummaged through the pile until she found it. The woman had done one thing right. She had managed to find and add Carolyn’s dream dress in among the pile of taffeta and lace travesties. A quick glance at the lining confirmed that if it didn’t fit perfectly, Carolyn herself would be able to make the necessary alterations. Not giving herself a chance to re-think or second guess, she took it, without trying it on, and marched past the sour faced attendant to the cash register, put the dress on her credit card and drove back to the dorm.
Chapter 3
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Lucas asked his wife as they set the table with three places for dinner.
“Yes.” She looked anything but.
“You don’t look okay.”
“That’s because,” Rosa said with an unamused glare, “it’s the tenth time you have asked me that since you got home ten minutes ago.”
He looked up with an unabashed grin. “True. I think you might be handling this better than I am.”
“Not really. I’m just quieter than you,” she admitted. “You’re a regular nervous Nellie at times, Lucas.”
“Sorry. I’m worried about you, truth be told. I tend to overcompensate.”
“Well, stop worrying. I’m fine. Or I will be, if you do your job.”
“My job? What job would that be?”
Rosa stretched, arching her back as she reached back and rubbed her bottom ruefully. “The one where you boss everybody around and keep them in line.”
Lucas laughed at the reference to the small reminder spanking he had given Rosa this morning. In her second trimester now, her sickness was dissipating, but her emotions were running wild. She had all but begged Lucas to administer small daily spankings to keep her from earning bigger ones. They had quickly learned that the hormones were messing with her pain tolerance, and he had to be a lot gentler than usual. She was bruising super easily these days, but he had read that that could be normal.
“Oh, that job.” He smirked, coming around the table and patting her ass first, then her growing belly. “Don’t worry, I’ll remember. You remember that your job is to be on your best behavior.”
“Yes, Sir. I’ll try. I hope you told her that, too.”
“I did. Several times. She's very aware of what will happen if she chooses not to obey. But you, my dear, need to worry about your own backside, and let me worry about Carolyn’s.”
Rosa gave a troubled sigh. “I’m trying. I’m really trying. I’m trying to leave high school in the past and look towards the future. But to tell you the God’s honest truth, I never once envisioned a future for myself that included sharing a home and a husband with Carolyn Atwood.”
Lucas pulled her close, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I know, sweetie. I can honestly say it's not what I envisioned either. It’s God’s plan though, and he knows best.”
Rosa scrunched her nose and grimaced at the mention of His plan. She knew once Lucas believed something was God’s plan it was the be-all, end all in any situation. “Are you certain?”
He sighed heavily. He hated that she was struggling with this. “Completely. We’ve been over this. And I really honest to goodness think Carolyn’s changed. And I told you why I think she acted the way she did.” Lucas hadn’t gone into detail, not wanting to tell Rosa what he knew when Carolyn herself didn’t know he knew yet.
At the mention of Carolyn’s dark past, Rosa softened. “Yeah, that does make sense. I hate the thought of anyone growing up that way.”
“Mm-hm,” Lucas agreed, watching the transformation. His wife had a temper, especially where her high school nemesis was involved, but she also had the kindest, most compassionate heart of anyone he knew.
The doorbell rang at that exact moment, and Lucas sent up a silent prayer of thankfulness for perfect timing.
Carolyn was more nervous than she had ever been in her life. One would think she was having dinner with the queen of England, instead of with Lucas and Rosa in their modest home in Green Valley.
She wanted so badly for everything to go well that she had spent several agonizing hours shopping for the perfect general neutral baby gift as a peace offering for Rosa. She had dressed in the most modest outfit in her closet so as not to annoy Lucas. But she was nervous, and if there was one thing she knew about herself, it was that when she was nervous, her defenses went up. And when her defenses went up, her claws came out.
Smoothing the skirt of her dress one last time, she took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.
Thankfully, Lucas answered, greeting her with a big hug, and looking genuinely happy to see her.
She tried to focus on Lucas, but her eyes were trained to where Rosa stood lingering in the distance. Rosa looked happy, and peaceful. Marriage and pregnancy seemed to agree with her. Hopefully, her attitude would match her serene glow.
Lucas finally let go, and ushered her in. “Welcome to our home. I mean, um, your home, too, soon enough, I suppose.” He cleared his throat nervously, and Carolyn squirmed. If mild mannered Lucas were tripping over his words it did not bode well for the night as a whole.
“Rosa made a lovely dinner for us all to enjoy, and we can discuss, our, um, plans for the weekend, and wedding plans too, I mean.”
Each time he fumbled, the lump in Carolyn's throat grew larger. Surprisingly, it was Rosa who set the room at ease, stepping forward graciously, and pulling Carolyn into a short hug. “Hello, Carolyn. Welcome, again. How was your drive? Did you hit any traffic on the way? Have you seen your parents? Are they excited about the wedding?”
With so many questions fired at her, Carolyn didn’t have time to be nervous. Thankful for the distraction, she took a deep breath and fired off her answers. “The drive was fine. The traffic was to be expected for a Friday afternoon. I haven’t seen my parents yet. Yes, they are excited about the wedding.” Or they will be, she corrected silently, once I tell them. “How are you feeling? Are you having morning sickness? Will you find out what you’re having? Do you have ideas for names?” Carolyn figured the quickest course of action was to counter Rosas questions with some of her own.
Talking about the baby seemed to quickly ease the tension in the room, and Carolyn was fine with that. She could talk about babies all night and day if that was what it took. One thing she had learned emulating the ladies of the south was how to fake it in uncomfortable situations. Nobody could fake it quite like a southern belle.
Rosa answered her rapid-fire questions with ease and oohed and aahed over the baby gift Carolyn had chosen, a sweet grey and yellow blanket and a small stuffed elephant. Lucas’ response to the entire exchange was adorable. Carolyn swore his chest puffed out as he looked at them both with approval, as if to say, “See, this is going to be great!”
For a split second, her eyes met Rosa’s and to her amusement, Rosa rolled her eyes and hid a small smile.
The entire exchange took two minutes, but it eased the tension that had been palpable and lent an air of ease and familiarity to the evening, at least until they sat down to dinner.
Rosa had cooked. A simple beef roast with potatoes and carrots, a green salad and some crusty rolls. It was heavier fare than what Carolyn usually ate, but it was good.
“Do you cook every night, Rosa?” Carolyn inquired softly, sipping from her glass of ice water.
“Mostly. Sometimes Lucas barbeques. Lately, we eat a lot of sandwiches.” Rosa admitted with a grimace. “The first trimester was hard. I was sick a lot, and it’s hard to cook when you can barely eat.”
“I understand that. I’m a decent cook, I’d love to tak
e over dinners for you a few times a week.”
“That would be wonderful,” Rosa accepted graciously. “And, Carolyn, you are more than just a decent cook. One of the best in the county to hear some of the church ladies talk. And they don’t give credit in that area easily.”
With each word spoken between the two of them, Lucas’ head bounced back and forth, tracking the conversation. When he saw that it was staying amicable, he looked proud like their being able to engage in courteous chit-chat was somehow his doing.
Carolyn was the one to catch Rosa’s eye this time, and the two of them shared a knowing smile.
“I’m going to grab some more gravy,” Lucas announced as he stood, nodding as if the fact that he was leaving the two of them alone in the room was some big accomplishment for the three of them as a family.
“So…” Rosa whispered across the table. “Men are so clueless sometimes.”
Carolyn’s smile was wide as she nodded her agreement. She wasn’t sure Lucas would be thrilled that the common ground they had found was agreeing that he was a doof, but common ground was common ground.
“Want to mess with him?” Rosa whispered, conspiratorially. “Just a little?”
“Yes, please. What do you have in mind?”
“Well, are you familiar with the stories of Beth Ann, Mollie, and Ben?”
“I think so.” Carolyn nodded. She hadn’t been in town at the time, it had all happened shortly before she had moved to Green Valley, but some of the tales of Beth Ann’s courtship and the feud that ensued were the stuff legends were made of.
“Follow my lead,” Rosa said with a wink, just as Lucas entered with a large gravy boat in hand.
It was humorous how engaged Lucas was in making sure the gravy hit his mashed potatoes just right, and how happy he looked when he finally took a bite, looking as if for him heaven was in achieving the perfect potato to gravy ratio.
Rosa was nonchalant, stirring her own potatoes around on her plate and frowning at them—refusing to make eye contact with either Carolyn or Lucas. “So, Carolyn? What kind of food do you like to eat? What don’t you like?” She paused, and nudged Carolyn’s foot under the table with her own. “Do you have any food allergies?” She looked up then, blinking innocently, as if she were really just making small talk, while somehow managing to give the impression that she was filing the information away for future reference.
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