a glass of water, and other times to bring her a grubby fistful of soda crackers or a copy of The Delineator .
“Mama says maybe you’ll find something you’d like better in there.” By the way he squinched up his face and held the magazine with two fingers, it was clear he had nothing but disdain for the fashions within.
“Thank you.” Dorothy Lynn took the magazine and sent him away. Though it was an issue from just the previous month, the pages were soft and worn. Several had turned-down corners, andwhen she opened to them, she saw notes written in her sister’s pristine, feminine hand.
Bare shoulders? In H. N. church?
Silk flowers sewn at the gathering?
Ask Ma about gloves.
Driving coat for honeymoon.
She tried to see the pages through Darlene’s eyes, to feel the same excitement evidenced by her sister’s scribblings, but nothing came of the effort. Ma had played her part in bringing her the groom, and here Darlene was circling, ready to swoop in with the gown. Both had seemed content to win Dorothy Lynn’s approval for their choices. To her surprise, a tear fell on the page, blurring the description of a winsome hat. She hadn’t even known she was crying.
There was a soft knock at the door and, at her answer, it opened to reveal the narrow shoulders, long neck, and impeccably groomed head of her brother-in-law, Roy. He’d shed his suit jacket and unbuttoned his vest, but he still looked the part of a successful businessman, even as he loosened his tie.
“Hear you gave my wife a scare earlier this afternoon.” His voice was deeper than one would assume upon looking at him. Darlene had mentioned that he was doing some radio announcements for his car dealership on Saturday mornings.
“I didn’t mean to,” Dorothy Lynn said, hastily wiping away a stray tear. Something about Roy always made her feel shy. He was slick and polished, and she’d never understood how he found his way into her family.
“It’s that crazy book,” he said with mock exasperation. “Dar cried every time she looked at it. What is it about you women and weddings?”
Dorothy Lynn shrugged. “It’s a mystery.”
“Tell you what, why don’t you stay up here and rest. I’m granting you official reprieve from supper downstairs.”
“Oh, I don’t want to hurt Darlene’s feelings.”
“She’s doing some of her special ‘company cooking,’ which means it’s a recipe from a magazine that has nothing to do with how real people eat.”
She giggled. “It can’t be that bad.”
“Cold beet soup.”
The inside of her mouth went sour. “Maybe it can.”
Roy started to shut the door before saying one more thing. “You’re a sweet kid, Dot. Darlene’s happy for you, really. It’s just the baby that has her so emotional.”
“I know.” She wasn’t even sure, exactly, what aspect of Darlene’s behavior he was trying to excuse. She only knew that the back of her throat felt salty with tears, and her smile was on the verge of collapse.
“I’ll tell her you’re sleeping?”
The idea seemed wildly indulgent, her sleeping while a pregnant woman bustled about to make a company supper, but whatever gathering fear had gripped her as she stood on the kitchen chair earlier in the afternoon seemed determined to keep her pinned to this cot. “Thanks.” She clutched the magazine as tightly as she held her tears. Once he’d shut the door, she released both.
Women and weddings. Of course.
This wedding was to be nothing like the last one. Darlene had worn their mother’s dress; Dorothy Lynn’s was only an idea—a sketch on newsprint, not meant for her at all. On Darlene’s big day, half of the Heron’s Nest church was bursting with the groom’s family, who’d made the trip from St. Louis, and they’dmingled with the natives for a festive afternoon of music and dancing and tables full of food. Brent’s parents were both dead. He’d have no relations coming to witness the joining of their lives. Their
“Mama says maybe you’ll find something you’d like better in there.” By the way he squinched up his face and held the magazine with two fingers, it was clear he had nothing but disdain for the fashions within.
“Thank you.” Dorothy Lynn took the magazine and sent him away. Though it was an issue from just the previous month, the pages were soft and worn. Several had turned-down corners, andwhen she opened to them, she saw notes written in her sister’s pristine, feminine hand.
Bare shoulders? In H. N. church?
Silk flowers sewn at the gathering?
Ask Ma about gloves.
Driving coat for honeymoon.
She tried to see the pages through Darlene’s eyes, to feel the same excitement evidenced by her sister’s scribblings, but nothing came of the effort. Ma had played her part in bringing her the groom, and here Darlene was circling, ready to swoop in with the gown. Both had seemed content to win Dorothy Lynn’s approval for their choices. To her surprise, a tear fell on the page, blurring the description of a winsome hat. She hadn’t even known she was crying.
There was a soft knock at the door and, at her answer, it opened to reveal the narrow shoulders, long neck, and impeccably groomed head of her brother-in-law, Roy. He’d shed his suit jacket and unbuttoned his vest, but he still looked the part of a successful businessman, even as he loosened his tie.
“Hear you gave my wife a scare earlier this afternoon.” His voice was deeper than one would assume upon looking at him. Darlene had mentioned that he was doing some radio announcements for his car dealership on Saturday mornings.
“I didn’t mean to,” Dorothy Lynn said, hastily wiping away a stray tear. Something about Roy always made her feel shy. He was slick and polished, and she’d never understood how he found his way into her family.
“It’s that crazy book,” he said with mock exasperation. “Dar cried every time she looked at it. What is it about you women and weddings?”
Dorothy Lynn shrugged. “It’s a mystery.”
“Tell you what, why don’t you stay up here and rest. I’m granting you official reprieve from supper downstairs.”
“Oh, I don’t want to hurt Darlene’s feelings.”
“She’s doing some of her special ‘company cooking,’ which means it’s a recipe from a magazine that has nothing to do with how real people eat.”
She giggled. “It can’t be that bad.”
“Cold beet soup.”
The inside of her mouth went sour. “Maybe it can.”
Roy started to shut the door before saying one more thing. “You’re a sweet kid, Dot. Darlene’s happy for you, really. It’s just the baby that has her so emotional.”
“I know.” She wasn’t even sure, exactly, what aspect of Darlene’s behavior he was trying to excuse. She only knew that the back of her throat felt salty with tears, and her smile was on the verge of collapse.
“I’ll tell her you’re sleeping?”
The idea seemed wildly indulgent, her sleeping while a pregnant woman bustled about to make a company supper, but whatever gathering fear had gripped her as she stood on the kitchen chair earlier in the afternoon seemed determined to keep her pinned to this cot. “Thanks.” She clutched the magazine as tightly as she held her tears. Once he’d shut the door, she released both.
Women and weddings. Of course.
This wedding was to be nothing like the last one. Darlene had worn their mother’s dress; Dorothy Lynn’s was only an idea—a sketch on newsprint, not meant for her at all. On Darlene’s big day, half of the Heron’s Nest church was bursting with the groom’s family, who’d made the trip from St. Louis, and they’dmingled with the natives for a festive afternoon of music and dancing and tables full of food. Brent’s parents were both dead. He’d have no relations coming to witness the joining of their lives. Their
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