isn’t is immaterial. I’m married to him. He can be whatever he wants to be and I believe my role is to smile and put a pleasant face on whatever the truth works out to be.”
“That’s a very cynical attitude.”
“Then I guess that makes me a cynic.”
Pearl fussed with the cuff of Evie’s dress, her hand hovering an instant over Evie’s before dropping back. “I want you to be happy.”
“No. You want me to be happy in a life of which you approve.”
One that stifled her so badly that she buried her face in her pillow at night and screamed with the frustration of it.
“You can’t do the things you want to do, Evie. The things you want to be, they’re just dreams. It’s time to grow up and realize that.”
Evie blew out a breath, her corset biting into her waist on the last of the exhale. She focused on the sting, needing something to keep her balanced. Otherwise, she’d go screaming from the wedding, embarrassing herself, her family, and the Reverend. The corset was as confining as the rules of society that fenced her in. She couldn’t breathe—now, before, and probably never again.
She folded her arms across her chest, trying not to pin too much hope on that one moment of excitement on the dance floor. “Well, you can’t get more respectable than a preacher’s wife, so you don’t need to worry anymore. You’ve saved me from a life of ill repute. Your job is done.”
The truth burned like acid across her confidence and the small flicker of hope left by that scandalous dance.
“Then why don’t I feel relaxed?”
Because it’s not my choice. Because you know I’ll only suffer this so long before I’ll explode. Because you know when I do, you’ll have to send me away and our relationship will be so much ash in the aftermath. “I have no idea.”
“It’s not going to be that bad, Evie.”
It would just be the same hell she’d been running from for the last twenty years, etched forever into her future. Evie pushed away from the side of the building. Splinters of wood clutched at the material of her dress, pulling her up short. “Shoot.”
“What?”
“Even my darn dress is determined to keep me here.”
Pearl clucked her tongue. “I told you this material is very fine.”
The only thing that kept Evie from yanking herself free was the love and hope her mother had sewn into this dress. It wasn’t Pearl’s fault that Evie wanted more from life than what society dictated she could have. The flaw was in her, not her mother.
She held still as Pearl worked the delicate lace collar free.
“There.”
“Thank you.”
Over her mother’s shoulder and through the doorway, Evie could see the wedding guests smiling and talking in small groups. People who’d gathered to wish her well. People willing to disregard the disgrace that had brought her to this point and allow her a fresh start, sending all their good wishes with her. This was her wedding day and this was her mother, and as much as Pearl didn’t understand Evie, she still wanted the best for her. That love was evident in the quantity of food and richness of the decorations. Pearl had always provided the best for Evie. Because she loved her.
Evie sighed. No doubt, when looking back on this day there would be a lot of things that she’d remember and regret, but one memory she didn’t want was for this to be just another day she had argued with her mother.
Pearl was right. It was time to grow up. The life she’d hoped to lead, her dreams of going to Paris and pursuing a career as a professional artist were dead. She’d killed them when she’d agreed to marry. That wasn’t anybody’s fault but hers. As depressing as it was to know that when push came to shove, she’d chosen convention over freedom, it had still been her choice.
She caught her mother’s hand as she would have stepped back.
“I don’t want to fight.”
“I don’t either. It’s your wedding day, baby. I want it to be a happy
“That’s a very cynical attitude.”
“Then I guess that makes me a cynic.”
Pearl fussed with the cuff of Evie’s dress, her hand hovering an instant over Evie’s before dropping back. “I want you to be happy.”
“No. You want me to be happy in a life of which you approve.”
One that stifled her so badly that she buried her face in her pillow at night and screamed with the frustration of it.
“You can’t do the things you want to do, Evie. The things you want to be, they’re just dreams. It’s time to grow up and realize that.”
Evie blew out a breath, her corset biting into her waist on the last of the exhale. She focused on the sting, needing something to keep her balanced. Otherwise, she’d go screaming from the wedding, embarrassing herself, her family, and the Reverend. The corset was as confining as the rules of society that fenced her in. She couldn’t breathe—now, before, and probably never again.
She folded her arms across her chest, trying not to pin too much hope on that one moment of excitement on the dance floor. “Well, you can’t get more respectable than a preacher’s wife, so you don’t need to worry anymore. You’ve saved me from a life of ill repute. Your job is done.”
The truth burned like acid across her confidence and the small flicker of hope left by that scandalous dance.
“Then why don’t I feel relaxed?”
Because it’s not my choice. Because you know I’ll only suffer this so long before I’ll explode. Because you know when I do, you’ll have to send me away and our relationship will be so much ash in the aftermath. “I have no idea.”
“It’s not going to be that bad, Evie.”
It would just be the same hell she’d been running from for the last twenty years, etched forever into her future. Evie pushed away from the side of the building. Splinters of wood clutched at the material of her dress, pulling her up short. “Shoot.”
“What?”
“Even my darn dress is determined to keep me here.”
Pearl clucked her tongue. “I told you this material is very fine.”
The only thing that kept Evie from yanking herself free was the love and hope her mother had sewn into this dress. It wasn’t Pearl’s fault that Evie wanted more from life than what society dictated she could have. The flaw was in her, not her mother.
She held still as Pearl worked the delicate lace collar free.
“There.”
“Thank you.”
Over her mother’s shoulder and through the doorway, Evie could see the wedding guests smiling and talking in small groups. People who’d gathered to wish her well. People willing to disregard the disgrace that had brought her to this point and allow her a fresh start, sending all their good wishes with her. This was her wedding day and this was her mother, and as much as Pearl didn’t understand Evie, she still wanted the best for her. That love was evident in the quantity of food and richness of the decorations. Pearl had always provided the best for Evie. Because she loved her.
Evie sighed. No doubt, when looking back on this day there would be a lot of things that she’d remember and regret, but one memory she didn’t want was for this to be just another day she had argued with her mother.
Pearl was right. It was time to grow up. The life she’d hoped to lead, her dreams of going to Paris and pursuing a career as a professional artist were dead. She’d killed them when she’d agreed to marry. That wasn’t anybody’s fault but hers. As depressing as it was to know that when push came to shove, she’d chosen convention over freedom, it had still been her choice.
She caught her mother’s hand as she would have stepped back.
“I don’t want to fight.”
“I don’t either. It’s your wedding day, baby. I want it to be a happy