"Amen," from one and all.
"Let's go down to the kitchen and check up on things. I need a cup of coffee, and maybe a sampling of an hors d'oeuvre or something before starting hair and makeup," giggled MaryAnne.
Delane grabbed the gown and carried it as she followed the girls out the church doors and around to the basement stairs down to the bride's room. She hung it up on the room's door frame, used the diffuser on it a few moments more, then exited the room to join her friends in the kitchen for a sustenance break.
Those next moments were filled with recounting the story of today's "dress miracle," while looking around the fellowship hall, now decorated in delightful Country Shabby Chic, and congratulating Chelsea (although not even in their presence), on having achieved something truly special here. The only interruptions to their pleasant chatter were the oohs and aahs from each girl when sampling the hors d'oeuvres.
Perhaps fifteen minutes passed when Delane suggested that they should probably go get Chelsea, and check on her dad, as well.
Quietly they opened the RV door, and were surprised to see Chelsea and her father sitting across the table from each other, sipping hot cocoa and chatting. Yes, chatting as though nothing unusual had happened that day. The girls knew Chelsea well enough to know that this was all for her father's benefit. If she was calm, he would stay calm. They could tell by looking at her father, that he truly had no idea how badly the wedding gown had been damaged, and that Chelsea was ministering to him by not showing the anxiety dwelling within her.
Immediately letting her know that her gown was great and they were anxious for her to give the final ok on it, they told Chelsea she should probably go down to the bride's room and begin preparing herself for the ceremony. Before standing and leaving with her bridesmaids, Chelsea took her daddy's hand and asked him if he wanted to ask her any other questions about his ceremonial duties as father-of-the-bride. He assured her that he understood her instructions, and told her to go enjoy her day. He did ask that Chelsea send one of the groom's attendants to come assist him when it was time to get dressed. She assured him she would, gave him a tender kiss on the cheek, and left the RV.
The moment she exited and closed the door of the large travel vehicle, she looked fearfully at Delane and asked, "Lanie, what's the true verdict on my gown?" All four of her attendants looked knowingly at each other with huge grins on their faces, then back at Chelsea. When Delane started to answer, Brittany interrupted saying, "No, no, no... Don't tell her. She wouldn't believe you anyway. Chells, you've got to see this for yourself! You've been highly favored by the Lord this day!"
As the other girls chattered all the way back to the church basement, Delane walked behind, glad that she could have these moments free from conversation. While walking, however, she noticed that three or four times before arriving to their destination, Chelsea, whose arms were crossed, extended her right hand to stroke her left side from the lower rib cage down to her hip. Once or twice, Delane probably wouldn't have paid much attention, but this many times gave her reason to think there was something wrong. She immediately flashed back to the fall in the front of the church. Chelsea's father had been dead weight when falling on top of her. Granted, Chelsea's dad had lost a lot of weight during his health struggles, but as tiny as Chelsea was, Delane wondered if her clothes hid any damage at the direct pressure point of that impact. She would ask her when they got back to their assigned dressing room.
Just before reaching the stairs that descended to the basement, Delane jumped in front of the group of girls to take first-in position. She wanted desperately to be already standing next to the dressing room door frame from which the refurbished gown hung, so that she could see Chelsea's honest first reaction to what she'd done to the wedding gown. (The first facial expression always speaks the truth.)
Reverting to childhood practices, MaryAnn said, "Lanie, close your eyes and we'll guide you the rest of the way. We'll tell you when you can open them." The other two attendants began giggling. Keneisha , although laughing, threw out this rebuke, "What are we, like seven years old?!" Everyone but Chelsea responded with laughter. It was obvious that she wasn't convinced that anything of any repair success could have totally reclaimed her beautiful dress. It might be ok. It might even look nice, but these girls were acting like it was even more glorious than Chelsea thought it was when she purchased it. In her own mind the phrase "considering all it's been through" would no doubt be the truthful qualifier for how it would appear now.
Keneisha, MaryAnn, and Brittany each had a hand on either Chelsea's shoulder or arm, as they led her the last three steps down the stairs. At the bottom, they turned right and shuffled, in a cluster, just four steps and told Chelsea to stop.
"On the count of three, open your eyes."
"One, two..., three," they sang in unison.
Chelsea opened her eyes, which widened to a comical size, immediately began jumping up and down, clapping her hands, and squealing with delight! Tears ran mad dashes down her cheeks and dropped off her chin.
"This can't be my dress! My dress was ruined! I saw it! It was ruined!"
Delane was beyond joyful. Chelsea's face was guileless. And, the truth it spoke was as clear as if it had been spoken aloud. "It's gorgeous and thank you, Jesus, it's mine!"
After her trembling hands had lightly touched the pastel field of flowers, and run full circumference around the painted tulle border with its bow and flowing streamers, Chelsea turned slowly to Delane. She said not one word, but walked slowly the few steps to her, put her arms around Delane's neck, clung to her and wept. Delane responded with her own hug and tears. They stood clinging to each other.
After not more than one minute of this, practical Keneisha told the girls all to stop the crying or they would all have splotchy faces with puffy, nasty eyes when the ceremony began. It only took another moment for the girls to agree and dam up the floodgates.
*****
Chapter 9
KiirstiAan's email to me:
You're kidding! You can paint fabric, satin or otherwise?!
True to myself, I did yet another Google search for fabric painting. (What would we do without the Internet?) I ended up getting the most information from an artists' forum. Almost all of them said they had painted on fabrics of varying types, but only with latex paints.
Two artists, though, described their success with watercolors, and one specifically on satin. (I wonder if that's the one Delane read.)
Hey, while I'm thinking about it...
I passed two churches today that looked to be the right size, and had a charm about them. Both of them were on Jeffrey Avenue. They're both medium-sized. One was Jeffrey Avenue Baptist Church, and the other was Christ Covenant Church. You might want to check them out. The Christ Covenant Church looked like it belongs in a travel magazine. You can go see it online, or drive by next time you're in town.
Momma, I hope you're not stressing over the venue locations.
I love you.
My email reply to KiirstiAan:
No, not stressing.
Yeah, I'll go look at both of them tomorrow. I have a doctor's appointment and drive down that street on my way there.
The fabric painting IS pretty amazing, isn't it?
KiirstiAan's email reply to me:
Doctor's appointment? Are you ok?
My email reply to KiirstiAan:
Yeah, Honey, I'm fine. It's just my yearly physical. And, I'm turning it into a fun time. I'm going to meet a friend from church afterward, Charlene. (You don't know her. She and her husband are new to church.) We're having lunch together, then maybe a bit of shopping afterwards.
Gotta run. Need to start dinner.
Let me know when you finish this story and what you think.
BTW... I'm so glad you're enjoying this story, but don't forget that if you think there are things I should include, exclude, or whatever-clude, you need to advise me. It's not just about your entertainment and checking for obvious gramma
tical errors and spelling.
KiirstiAan's email reply to me:
YB (means you bet!)
Chapter 10
"You girls quit beatin' them mugs and messin' with them weaves, and do somethin' to make yo' mama proud!" This from Keneisha, in imitation of her dad's voice.
The girls broke into fits of laughter, mainly because they had heard him say this at least once every time they were at Keneisha's house. She was one of five daughters, all of which did have weaves, except Keneisha. Her hair was long, straight, so black it was almost blue in the sun, lustrous and the envy of her four sisters. Her oldest sister was known for asking Keneisha repeatedly, "What kind of strange gene mix produced your head of hair? If your face wasn't almost identical to Momma's, I'd swear you weren't even related to us."
Makeup and hair done, Chelsea asked if they would put on their dresses before she donned her own. She wanted to see how they looked as they would walk down the aisle. She even had the bouquets in a large box on a small table in the corner of the room. She would hand them over to each girl for a moment's time to get the entire effect of her band of bridal attendants.
While the girls were changing, Chelsea's iPhone signaled an incoming text message. It said, OPN DR ON FLR. She walked to the door and opened it a crack. There on the floor resided a thick white envelope, bottom side up, secured with sealing wax that had been applied over a string which both secured the closure and kept Derek's purity ring dangling from it. Above the wax was a simple message: Dear Virtuous Woman, As of today, this and I belong to you!
Closing the door and returning to her folding chair in the room, she opened the envelope and began reading. Almost immediately the silent tears began to flow.
Delane was the first to dress, and as she returned to the room from the attached bathroom, she watched Chelsea as she simultaneously swiped away the tears, then rubbed her left side. After three repeated hip-and-ribcage-stroking movements, Delane determined to ask her about it while she helped her into her gown.
By now the girls were trickling out of the bathroom to "strut their stuff" before Chelsea, but they were slowed down by Delane, who was giving them the index finger vertically positioned across her lips with one hand, and the Stop sign with the other. Quiet reigned for the next few moments. When Chelsea's head came back up, she never offered to read it to them, but as she was closing the letter and returning it to the envelope, she whispered, "Jesus, I am crazy-in-love with this man You've given me." She grabbed her makeup bag from the floor, placed the envelope inside, then turned to her attendants who were all lined up.
"Ready for inspection, are we?" Chelsea had a serious "staff sergeant" look on her face that she couldn't hold, because it was almost immediately replaced with a grin and giggles.
"What????" This from all of them in unison.
"All I can think of is Red Lobster's Seafood Sampler. Just a little bit of everything! I know you're all wearing the same dress, but you couldn't look anymore magnificently different."
She was right. Keneisha had medium dark cocoa skin, stood 5'8" and had long, long black hair. Brittany was covered from head to toe with freckles, stood a scant 5'2", and sported medium length layered red hair. MaryAnne and Delane were both brunettes, but any similarity ended there. MaryAnne had medium-toned skin, barely reached 5' even, wore shoulder-length hair, and had startlingly blue eyes with lashes that were so long that she had to trim them every six weeks. Delane looked like she belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine. Her 5'10" frame was about two-thirds legs. Combine her long curly locks, exquisite facial features, and the truth was that it was almost impossible to not stare at her. And, the amazing thing... she seemed to have no earthly clue how stunning she was!
Adding Chelsea to the mix contributed even more variety. Her 5'6" frame wore a scant one hundred and nine pounds tops at any given time. Her sweetheart chin, huge green eyes, fair skin with rosy cheeks, and very, very blond medium length bob combined to give her the look of a Dresden doll.
Yep, they were a group not soon to be forgotten.
Now that the girls were adorned for the wedding ceremony, it was time for Chelsea to get into her gorgeous one-of-a-kind gown. She asked Delane to help her. Chelsea went behind a free-standing chalkboard and began slipping out of her casual clothes, while Delane lifted the wedding gown off the door frame and walked over to join Chelsea in the semi-private realm.
The girls watched Chelsea's feet for a moment below the chalkboard, admiring the adorable mid-calf white lace Victorian boots she had chosen to wear. She knew no one would see them until that moment when they were pronounced husband and wife, at which time she would lift her skirt, revealing the boots, and walk down the steps arm-in-arm with Derek. Chelsea thrived on the idea of that dramatic moment.
Once the girls resumed their laughter and chatter, Delane took a long breath, prepared herself to confront Chelsea about the rib-and-hip-stroking, and entered the dressing area behind the chalkboard.
Before the question could even be asked, however, she saw the bruise that extended the left side from Chelsea's ribcage down to her lower hip. Fortunately the girls didn't hear Delane's sharp intake of air. Chelsea's pleading eyes said not to comment out loud. Delane mouthed to her, "Is that from your dad falling on you? Are you in pain?" Chelsea shook her head slightly and whispered, "Yes, and no, not much. Please don't say anything to the others or Daddy. If it isn't better in the next day or two, I'll have my sweet husband take me to a doctor. I'm sure I won't be the first bride ever to visit a doctor or the ER on her honeymoon. You could bring me a couple Tylenol and the bottled water in my makeup tote."
Delane mouthed, "Ok," and moved to get the pain pills and water. While completing her mission, she whispered a short prayer that the Lord would not let this injury mar Chelsea's enjoyment of her wedding and honeymoon.
When Chelsea floated out from behind the chalkboard, the girls all oohed and aahed. The comments made by the girls were so affirming to Chelsea, that she squealed.
"I do look gorgeous, don't I?!"
Laughter and the affirmative nodding of all heads let Chelsea know that she was absolutely breathtaking in her wedding regalia.
*****
Chapter 11
Chelsea opened the vestibule doors just a crack and looked in at the congregation of family, friends and co-workers. The small country church was filled with both organ music and whispering lips. She could pick up remnants of comments, all in admiration of the music, the decorations, and wedding party attendants. She stole a moment's glance at the flower girl walking the aisle.
The church hostess and guestbook registrar removed her view, however, when they fully closed the double doors. During her short visual perusal, Chelsea had seen that Derek's parents were in their assigned pew, but Chelsea didn't have time to admire her waiting prince, because the organ opened the first chords of "Here Comes the Bride”, her cue to enter.
Holding her father's arm, Chelsea drew him in close to her right side. She spoke a quick prayer that the Lord would give him strength through their walk up "the golden way", and the entirety of the ceremony.
"Daddy, when we get to the front, stay next to me. Then, say 'I do' when the pastor asks who gives me to be married to...," she began whispering.
"Chelsea, I have been to so many weddings in my life, I could do my part if I was in a coma," he whispered back.
They both grinned.
Chelsea squeezed her father's arm and kept on squeezing it, partly to support him and partly to be supported herself as they began their entrance.
With only eyes for her beloved Derek as they slowly made their way up the aisle, her ears were experiencing a whole different story. She could hear the phrases, "...stunning gown," "... and she's always been so elegant anyway," "... that gown is so her," " ... I want to look just like that on my wedding day," and her favorite, "... and look at Derek, he's just in awe of her!"
The bridal entrance was beautiful, not unlike most. Very lovely, very sweet.
Chelsea expelled a small breath when her father was safely seated. She briefly looked back at him, and when he smiled, she knew everything from here on in the ceremony would go flawlessly.
After the expected welcome, sharing some marriage insights, and generally setting the stage for the vows, Pastor Dayton asked them to face each other.
And that is when it happened...
Before their turn was even completed, a sharp gasp escaped the mouths of almost every person in the church, followed by whispering and finger-pointing.
Everything from this point was slow, very slow, like viewing it from beneath tons of water.
Chelsea and Derek were both trying to stay in the moment, but even the pastor had stopped speaking.
Derek looked beyond Chelsea to something behind her. She turned her head just enough to see the organist walking down from her instrument, to see what they were all pointing at. Chelsea saw her jaw drop open, which now matched the mouths of most of the congregation.
All Derek's attendants were angling toward the couple, bending forward and out of their appointed lineup, in an attempt to see what had caught the attention of all the guests. Chelsea's attendants, however, stayed in place, each with an enormous and knowing grin on her face.
The fingers seemed to be pointing to the base of the bride and groom. Derek and Chelsea almost looked down in unison. They shared later that they thought perhaps a field mouse, a rabbit, a dog, or who-knew-what was making its way between them and into the ceremony. Or... maybe even a snake was slithering on the stage.
Chelsea saw nothing at their feet, but Derek's mouth formed into a large "O." His face immediately changed from shock to absolute delight, as he simultaneously shook his head and began a slight chuckle. Not disruptive. Just enough to release the entire congregation (and pastor) to do the same.
A Wedding Disaster... Or Was It? Page 4