* * *
Josie stepped into the house with her thoughts in a whirl. She’d left Ty in the barn to tend to the horses, and he’d told her not to bother with a basket for his supper. She’d never known him to skip a meal, but she hadn’t argued. They both needed breathing room, and Josie would be unsettled until she looked at the wedding dress. She didn’t want to speak to anyone, not even her mother, but Mama called to her as she came in. “Josie? Is that you?”
“It’s me, Mama.”
“How was the ride?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice wobbled. She stepped into the front room where she saw Mama knitting as usual. “I’m kind of tired. I thought I’d go to my room and rest.”
“That’s a fine idea.”
Her mother no doubt wanted to hear about her talk with Ty, but Josie had nothing to say until she saw the dress. Oddly nervous, she went to her room, closed the door and approached the wardrobe that once belonged to her grandmother. Heavy and made of mahogany, it had held Josie’s clothes for as long as she could remember. Slowly, as if approaching a dove instead of a piece of wood, she opened the double doors and looked at the top shelf. There she saw the muslin-wrapped wedding dress, neatly folded and tied with a piece of twine.
She remembered putting the dress on as plainly as she recalled taking it off. Both times she’d been in this room. In the morning she’d dressed with her sisters. Anne had done her hair, and her parents had driven Josie, Anne and Scarlett to the church in the freshly polished carriage. She’d felt like a princess about to become a queen, but then Nate broke the news about Ty. She’d wanted to see him immediately, but she couldn’t stand the thought of walking into the jail in her wedding gown. Her father took her home, and she’d taken refuge in the room where she stood now.
Before removing the dress, she’d stared at herself in the oval mirror still standing in the corner. One by one, she’d undone the buttons, thinking of the wedding they wouldn’t have. Next she’d slipped out of the sleeves. The dress had fallen at her feet in a fluttering of silk. Covered by petticoats and a chemise, she’d folded the dress and wrapped it in the muslin. She’d looked at the muslin many times, but not once had she looked at the dress.
With shaking fingers, she lifted the package and set it on her bed. She pulled on the twine and the bow unraveled. She set it aside, unwrapped the covering and lifted the dress to the light. Even wrinkled, it glowed white in the sun. She stared at the lace she’d stitched into place, the white sash she’d embroidered with roses, then she held the dress to her shoulders and looked at herself in the tall mirror.
Instead of herself as she was now, she saw the seventeen-year-old girl who’d expected life to be easy. That girl hadn’t been spoiled, but she was naive. The Bright family had always had enough. The bounty showed in the wedding dress. The silk came from a San Francisco dressmaker, and the pearl buttons had cost a small fortune.
Most of Josie’s friends made special dresses for their weddings, but their gowns were made to be worn again as their Sunday best. Josie’s dress had been different. As a girl she’d seen a white wedding dress in the Godey’s Lady’s Book. A white gown as a symbol of purity went back to Queen Victoria, though some Americans credited the tradition to Eleanor Custis, George Washington’s niece. In addition to a white dress, Eleanor had a worn a veil. The story went that her future husband first glimpsed her through a window covered with a lace curtain, and she wore the veil to capture that moment of “love at first sight.”
Josie had planned to wear a veil, but she loved the dress most. Holding it against her body, she looked at the short sleeves that puffed like clouds. The front of the bodice was flat across her torso, while the back gathered to make a small train. A white sash was tied into a bow, and the tails would have fluttered as she walked.
The dress was as lovely as ever, but Josie could barely remember the girl who’d made it. She’d been so young…so naive. When Ty confessed concerns about money, she’d blithely told him not to worry. Now she knew that cattle died and mortgages came due.
“I was such a child,” she said to the mirror. Ty hadn’t been much older. They’d both been kids, but he’d understood money in a way she hadn’t. As a boy he’d gone hungry. As a man he’d been determined to take care of her. He’d gone after the horses for a better reason than pride. He really had done it for them, though he’d also done it against her wishes.
A soft knock sounded on the door. “Josie?”
It was Mama. “Come in,” Josie called.
The door opened with a creak. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she said. “Just confused.”
“About Ty?”
“Yes, but I’m starting to understand. Come in and sit on the bed. I want to show you something.”
Mama walked five spaces to the mahogany bedstead and sat on the feather quilt. Josie approached her with the dress in hand, holding the skirt out to her. “Feel this.”
Her mother ran her hands along the silk skirt, then touched a puffed sleeve and finally the row of pearl buttons. Her breath caught. “It’s your wedding dress.”
“I haven’t looked at it in five years.”
“Why now?”
“Because Ty asked me to forgive him.” Josie sat next to her, hugging the dress. “I want to, but it’s hard.”
“I used to be angry about my eyes,” Mama said in a quiet tone. “And I was angry about your father dying. He’d been having pains in his chest for weeks. I wanted him to hire help, but he refused.”
“I didn’t know.”
“And Nate…my only son.” Her voice hitched. “Was I angry when he died? Oh, Josie. You can’t begin to know. Every day I had to fight the bitterness.”
“How?”
“I thanked God for the sunshine, for bread and butter, for everything good. Mostly I thanked him for you.” Mama touched the dress. “May I pray for you?”
“Yes… Please.”
“Father God, You know Josie’s heart. You know the disappointment and the hurt. We pray You’ll fill her heart with peace, and that she finds forgiveness for Ty. And Lord, we thank You for bringing Ty to us exactly when we needed him most. We ask You to bless him. Amen.”
“Amen,” Josie echoed.
As the words faded to a memory, Josie felt a sudden lightness in her body. She’d meant every word of her mother’s prayer. She was glad Ty had come back. Tears of relief filled her eyes, and the hardness in her chest disappeared with a single deep breath. She felt like laughing—really laughing—for the first time in ages. She’d forgiven Ty at last. He deserved to hear it, but what did amends mean for the future? Forgiving him and trusting him were two different things. Falling in love again was altogether different, but she couldn’t deny the thoughts crossing her mind. Nor could she deny another truth. Ty had hurt her first, but she’d hurt him back by not writing to him. Ty wasn’t the only person who had amends to make. So did Josie.
“Mama?” She squeezed her mother’s hand. “How would you like to help me bake some sugar cookies?”
“Aren’t those Ty’s favorite?”
“I believe so.”
The older woman smiled. “I’d love to help.”
Josie liked the idea of surprising Ty with a basket of goodies. He’d said not to bother with supper, but she intended to bring him a basket with a meal and dessert. She’d also write him a note, one that would make them friends again. Feeling at peace, she hung the dress where she could see it. She