Yellow Rose Bride

by Lori Copeland

  “A Steinway,” Franz said. “Her father bought it for her. Oh, how she loved to play. But we lost everything after the war, and we had to sell the instrument in order to make ends meet.” He smiled warmly at his wife, adoration glowing in his eyes. “She did love that piano.”

  “It was nothing, really. Other people sacrificed more,” Audrey insisted. “So many lost families, husbands, sons. What’s a piano compared to someone’s life? I never missed it. Ever.”

  “Audrey Schuyler! You’re such a fibber!” Franz teased. “I’ve seen that look in your eye when that piano’s mentioned. It meant a great deal to you.”

  “Go on now,” Audrey said, swatting at her husband as he caught her hand and held it. They held hands for a moment like young lovers.

  A knot formed in Vonnie’s throat. Oh, to have a love like that. The kind of love that weathers the hard times and flourishes in the good times. The kind that only grows sweeter as the years pass.

  “My wife didn’t just play the piano,” Franz said. “She mastered it. She attended the Sorbonne, you know, and would have played concerts had I not begged her to marry me.”

  “Begged?” Audrey scoffed. “More like I chased him down shamelessly and pleaded with him to marry me!”

  Franz laughed. “When we married, her parents gave her the Steinway as a wedding gift. It was a beautiful instrument, one of a kind. Ivory keys, a fine finish, and a tone that couldn’t be matched. When she played, even the birds stopped their singing.”

  “Why did you sell the piano?” Vonnie asked, though she knew the story well.

  “Like many families after the war, land lay without crops, homes were burned, there was no food. When I came home, there was no work.” Franz patted his wife’s hand lovingly. “So, we had to sell Audrey’s beautiful piano.”

  “Judge Henderson bought it,” Audrey said. “Paid a handsome price for it, too. Enough to keep us going until we could get a good garden in and put food aside. It was a few months before Franz could get work, so selling the piano was the only choice.”

  “Ach,” Franz inserted. “The judge bought it for his daughter, but that Carolyn had no touch. She just pounded it—I’ve heard her!”

  Vonnie lifted her cup to mask a smile. Carolyn was quite atrocious at the keys. Tone-deaf, Teague said when he heard her. But Carolyn was possessive about that old piano. She wouldn’t hear of it being sold.

  “Yes, no one could match my Audrey. When she played, it was like the angels touched the keys. That Miss Henderson, she flitted away from that piano and on to some new fancy, just like she does the boys,” Franz said.

  Audrey laughed at Franz’s irritation, and Vonnie joined her.

  “Young people,” Audrey said, “are more fickle than when we were girls, aren’t they, Cammy?”

  Cammy looked up. “Pardon?”

  “I said the young aren’t like we used to be, are they?”

  “No,” Cammy murmured. “I suppose not.”

  The afternoon passed by uneventfully. The talk turned to local gossip. For a while, Vonnie endured the conversation centered on the community’s newest engagement, that of Adam and Beth. After a while, she quietly excused herself and disappeared into the kitchen to make more tea.

  It was growing late when Vonnie finally stood up. “We should be going, Mother. It will be dark soon.”

  Nodding quietly, Cammy set aside her teacup.

  “So soon?” Audrey protested. “Why it seems you barely got here.”

  Cammy smiled wanly. “I must confess that I tire easily these days.”

  “It’s been so good to see you,” Audrey said, reaching out a hand to her old friend. “Come back soon.”

  “I will,” Cammy said, leaning to kiss a sunken cheek.

  Audrey caught her face and held it momentarily. Gazing up at Cammy, she said softly, “I pray for you every night. Teague is in a far better place, you know. It’s you who’s hurting.”

  Cammy’s newfound resolve momentarily crumpled. “Oh, Audrey…I don’t see how I can go on without him,” she whispered brokenly.

  “Of course you can.” Audrey squeezed her hand. “Teague would be ashamed of you if you didn’t try.”

  Audrey’s strength was depleted. Vonnie felt guilty for having stayed so long. Franz walked them out to the buggy.

  “I hope we didn’t tire Audrey too much.” Vonnie helped Cammy onto the seat, then arranged a warm blanket around her legs.

  “Not at all,” he returned. “It’s good for her to see old friends. You come back. Soon.”

  “We will,” Vonnie promised. She turned, kissing Franz on the cheek. “The visit has been good for Mother, too.”

  The sadness in Franz’s eyes reminded Vonnie that Audrey’s days weren’t long, and he too was grieving.

  It was late as they turned down the lane to the Flying Feather. Much of the trip had been made in silence, Vonnie and Cammy involved in their own personal thoughts.

  “You know, Momma, we’re lucky to have each other. We’re not alone. God is watching over us. We need to have faith. I know it’s hard, but faith is only a word if we don’t practice it.”

  Cammy studied the horizon, a glint of moisture in her eyes. “I know. But it’s easier to speak of faith when all is well.”

  Gathering twilight bathed the countryside as carriage wheels sang along the road. Vonnie slapped the reins, urging the horses to a faster pace. “It’s in times of trouble you utilize that faith.”

  “I know Audrey’s not here for long,” Cammy admitted. “It’s so sad to think of Franz and what her passing will do to him. He would do anything for her.”

  “I know, Momma.” Vonnie didn’t want to think about it, either. Franz and Audrey were so much a part of each other, as Teague and Cammy had been.

  “People are kind. They want to say something to help. They say, ‘Oh, I know how you feel,’ but in fact, they haven’t the slightest idea how it feels—the pain—” Her hand came up to touch her heart. “The pain never goes away.” Biting her lip, she struggled for composure. “When Audrey’s gone, Franz will be alone, but I have you.”

  She patted Vonnie’s knee and then left her hand there, as if to reassure herself that her daughter was indeed beside her.

  They were nearly home before she spoke again.

  “You know, after your father came home from the war, he never wanted to talk about it. Always said it was too painful.”

  “I know.” That had puzzled Vonnie, since most men who’d been in the war were prone to talk about their exploits, or at least brag that they were at Bull Run, or had taken part in some other important battle.

  “Daddy didn’t talk about it at all, even to you?”

  “He told enough for me to understand why he hated it so. He wanted to put it out of his mind. I remember Franz mentioned something in passing one day, and Teague was rather curt in telling him never to speak of the war in his presence. I thought he was unnecessarily sharp with Franz, but he said it was a time he wanted to forget.”

  “What was Daddy like, then?”

  A smile curved Cammy’s lips. “Oh, he was a rascal when he was young, that father of yours. Wherever there was a party, he got there early and stayed late.”

  She smiled and paused. Then her face sobered. “But when he came back from the war, he was a different man. The death, the blood, the loss—I’ve heard others talk about it. It’s not something a man wants to recall.

  “But when he finally began to come around, he was more like the old Teague. He got those ostriches and seemed to like what they gave him, as if life would get better somehow. He started back to church. His faith just grew stronger day by day. It was amazing to see the miracle of God’s love working in that man. Yet so changed. Slower to laugh, never touched a drop of liquor after that. After a while he started working again, and began building the farm.” Her eyes grew distant. “Other than the terrible rift between him and P.K…. I always hated that. I believe that deep in his heart, Teague hated it, too. There was a
time when he and P.K. were close as brothers.” She sighed. “We had a good life together.”

  Vonnie let Cammy out at the front door of the house, then drove the buggy to the barn, where she handed the team to Roel.

  “Be sure and give them some extra oats,” she called.

  The aging ranch hand tipped the brim of his hat politely. “Sí. Buenas noches.”

  “Good night.”

  Cammy had already disappeared to her room when Vonnie entered the kitchen. She decided not to push the issue. That her mother had ventured out for an afternoon visit was enough for today.

  Climbing the stairs to her attic workroom, Vonnie realized that she was too tired to sew, but the Wilson dress still had a few final touches to be added.

  Flipping on the light, she took off her coat and hung it over the hook. Cammy still preferred the use of coal-oil lamps throughout the house, but Vonnie insisted on electrical lighting in her workroom. Teague had contacted the Electrical Light and Ice Plant and paid for the wiring as a surprise for her eighteenth birthday. He had teased her, saying since it looked like he had an old-maid daughter on his hands, he wanted her to bring in some money.

  Smoothing her hair, she automatically stepped to the window to look down on the pens. The birds were settled for the night. Moonlight drenched the barn and the outbuildings. All appeared peaceful and serene. Only the emptiness in her heart reminded her of the startling upheaval that had so recently shaken her comfortable existence.

  She found her thoughts returning to Franz and Audrey. So much in love, they would be lost without each other.

  So much in love.

  The way she and Adam had been once. She could close her eyes and see the determined set of his jaw. She knew the way his eyes darkened when he was serious, the joyful lilt of his laugh, knew all his moods. They had walked hand in hand, sharing their dreams.

  He had been so intense, so determined they belonged together.

  “Promise me,” he had urged. “Promise we’ll stay together forever.”

  “I promise…I promise.”

  Well, forever hadn’t lasted long and it had been her fault. She leaned her head against the cool glass of the windowpane. Her inner musings turned to God. “What if I have to make Beth’s dress?” The thought made her sick, yet she knew Beth would ask. “If she asks me, Father, help me to make it as lovely as I can. Take this hurt and anger from me, and fill me with Your grace.”

  She stood by the window a while longer, feeling surrounded by God’s love. Then a coyote howled in the distance and the moment passed.

  Snapping out of her thoughts, she sat down at the sewing machine and attempted to pass the ivory thread through the needle with shaking hands.

  Adam, for all purposes, was gone. The marriage was over—never began actually. So why was she pretending she had “rights” to Adam Baldwin—God-given rights.

  As surely as Cammy had laid Teague to rest, she must now lay Adam’s memory to rest.

  Her resolve quickly crumbled and she laid her head on her arm and bit back scalding tears of remorse.

  Chapter Seven

  Blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes, Vonnie pinned a seam to Jane’s slim figure. With a deep, weary breath, she smoothed her hair, tucking the errant strand back into place.

  She straightened and circled Jane slowly, examining the wedding dress with a practiced eye. The long train was unadorned. The front of the white satin dress was plain, with three tiny flounces edged with silver at the bottom.

  Honiton-point lace was arranged in three flounces, and long trails of orange blossom, with buds and foliage, carried down on either side of the flounced space. Two more trails were brought across the sides at a short distance below the hips, lightly tied together in the center where there was a small droop, and then allowed to fall to the edge of the dress.

  The long-pointed bodice was fashioned of white-and-silver brocade, and more Honiton trimmed the top of the bodice to form the upper part of the sleeve. A small wreath of orange blossom was carried all the way around the bust, with a miniature bouquet on each shoulder, and a larger one in the center, mingled with white heather.

  The matching Honiton-lace veil would allow Jane’s face to be in full view, and would be worn with a small orange-blossom wreath placed on her hair. Tool Bennett had spared no expense on his daughter’s wishes.

  “Well?” Jane said anxiously.

  Vonnie made another slow orbit, while Jane stood on the stool wiggling her fingers.

  “Stand still. Don’t fidget.”

  “I’m trying. I’m really trying not to move a muscle. Well?”

  Vonnie laughed, unable to stretch out the suspense any longer.

  “I think it might be the most lovely dress I’ve ever made,” she finally admitted.

  “Oh!” Jane clapped her hands together in delight, then yelped as a pin pricked her. “Can I see it?”

  “No. Not until I have the seams stitched in permanently and that last bit of lace tacked to the hem. Then, and only then, will I unveil the mirror. And remember, the day of the wedding I’ll replace the artificial blossoms with real ones.”

  “I can’t stand the suspense a moment longer!”

  Laughing, Vonnie took another tuck in the waist seam. “It’s a rule. Like the one about a groom not seeing the dress or his bride on their wedding day. It’s considered bad luck.”

  “Oh, rules are silly.”

  “Whatever you say,” Vonnie said, her mind already racing ahead to how little time there was before the wedding and how she was going to schedule Jane’s last fitting in with the rest of the work she had to finish in the next month.

  “Are you all right, Vonnie? Is your mother doing any better?”

  “Stand still,” Vonnie murmured around a mouthful of pins.

  “I can’t, I’m too nervous.”

  Vonnie began marking the seam lines in the dress. “Mother is having a hard time adjusting. It’s very difficult for her. She and my father were very close.”

  Jane sighed. “It’s so sad—I hope Edward and I have that kind of marriage.”

  “What kind of marriage is that?”

  “Oh, you know. The kind where Edward can still make me smile when I’m old and wrinkled—a grandmother.”

  “Lift your arm. Careful,” Vonnie said as she methodically adjusted pins. She tried not to think of the dreams she’d once had for marriage and children. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had come courting. Was it Peter Kinsley? Surely not. It was nearly a year ago that Peter had escorted her to the Christmas ball. In spite of her best intentions, Adam was always on her mind. I’m sorry, Lord. My duty is here, taking care of Mother. Adam is betrothed. Why can’t I accept that?

  “There, now step out…carefully.” Vonnie extended a hand for support. The white silk Honiton flowed over the stool as Jane gingerly stepped out of the gown.

  “It feels wonderful to move again,” Jane stretched her hands toward the ceiling.

  “Will you be wearing the dress afterward? Many wedding dresses are kept and never worn again, but others are being worn on special occasions these days. I’ve seen brides who plan to wear their wedding dresses to dinner parties after the wedding.”

  “I plan to put mine away for my daughter.”

  “Oh, your daughter, huh?”

  Jane smiled. “Edward and I want lots of children.”

  “I’ll pray you’ll be blessed with a whole houseful.”

  Taking her day dress down from a hook on the wall, Jane pulled it over her head, settling it around her hips. She had a perfect hourglass figure, one that would enhance the wedding gown’s beauty.

  “The attendants’ dresses are simply exquisite, Vonnie. The new cut on the neckline was exactly what they needed.” She smoothed her hair, then began buttoning the front of the bodice. “I don’t know how you do it. You’ve such an eye for design and color. You must have been born with a golden needle in your hand.”

  Carrying the dress across the room
, Vonnie carefully draped the yards of silk and lace over the form that had been adjusted to Jane’s measurements. “I’ve been making dresses since I got my first doll. I fashioned them from bits and pieces of material and lace Mother gave me. It was what I always did,” she mused.

  While most children played with dolls, Vonnie had idolized Charles Frederick Worth, an English tailor who became the couturier, or designer, for the Empress Eugenie, consort of Napoleon III.

  Teague had provided her with any information he could order about the famous designer, hoping to encourage her gift with needle and thread.

  Worth had been the first designer to show dresses made of fabrics of his own choosing. Before, dressmakers had used fabrics provided by their patrons. He was also the first to display his designs on live mannequins, or models.

  “I sort of drifted into dressmaking, and then my sewing evolved into designing and sewing bridal gowns. I’ve been very fortunate that my gowns have been so widely accepted,” she admitted. “I’ve been truly blessed.”

  “Fortunate to be accepted?” Jane made a face. “Most women would die for a Vonnie Taylor gown!”

  Vonnie’s gaze skimmed her sewing room as if seeing it for the first time. Long tables she used for cutting materials lined two walls. It was here she drew patterns and measured hems.

  Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the other two walls, framing the one large window that looked out across the Taylor acreage. Teague had accidentally painted the window sill one year, and she’d not been able to open the glass to allow a breeze. Separate shelves held various bolts of silk and lace, and cut dress pieces with patterns still pinned to the material. Her father had made a large Peg-Board to hold spools of thread and to hang her scissors and measuring tapes on.

  One long shelf was divided into boxes that contained laces and ribbons and other trims, including ostrich feathers.

  Her reputation for creating unique hats was unparalleled. She had been successful dyeing feathers for more flamboyant trims to adorn capes and cloaks.

  Drawers beneath the cutting tables were divided, one to hold buttons, another beads and pearls. The work area was efficient, easy to keep neat, and allowed her to accomplish the sometimes tedious work with a minimum of effort.