The Wedding Dress(100)

She was free. Slipping out of the room, she scurried down the hall on her tiptoes, keeping her heels from clacking against the stone floor. Rounding the corridor to the foyer, she exhaled relief to see the sanctuary doors closed. Then she peered out the window.

He was here, waiting, just like Father said, sitting atop his glorious mustang, Two Tone. Father and his shouting out the window, “A holy night”. Signaling to Daniel that he might have a chance.

But Emily lacked the courage until she slipped on Taffy’s dress. It was as if all her prayers came together at once and awakened her heart.

Mrs. Potter, the reverend’s secretary, came through the sanctuary doors. “Emily dear, there you are. The ceremony is starting. Phillip is at the altar.”

“My dear, Mrs. Potter.” Emily giggled, grasping the woman’s hands. “I’m getting married.”

“Of course you are, dear.” She smiled and patted Emily’s arm. “Let me locate your father.”

“When you do, tell him I thought it through, made my decision, and followed my heart.”

Without waiting, Emily pressed through the foyer doors and stepped into the cool, glorious air of a Birmingham New Year’s Eve. Daniel stood beside Two Tone, resplendent in his tuxedo, his hair coiffed into place, his jaw firm and clean shaven. She loved the way his eyes shone.

Taking the steps down to him, Emily’s dress flowed free and easy about her legs. “Father said he spoke to you.”

“He did.” Daniel bent to one knee, anchoring himself in the sidewalk around the church. “Will you marry me? Please?”

“Oh, Daniel—” Emily glimpsed back at the church’s broad, oak doors. Father stood, watching, nodding.

Emily swallowed. She’d waited for this day. Dreamed of this day. But how could she leave Phillip at the altar? As cruel as he might have been, he was a man with a beating heart beneath his chest. She did not want to stoop to his level of play.

She’d given her word to Phillip. Friends and family, guests and colleagues waited inside for her to marry him. They’d sent gifts. They’d hosted teas and suppers, bridge games.

“Emily?” Daniel’s confidence panicked a bit.

“Wait . . . please . . .” Emily turned, raising her elbow to Father. “Father, please escort me inside.” As they ascended the steps, she glanced over her shoulder at Daniel. He remained, unmoving, beside Two Tone.

“Emily, is this what you want?” Father paused at the sanctuary doors. The organ music played over restless murmurings.

“I can’t run out on Phillip. Not on his wedding day.” She clung to his arm, shaking. Her veil and bouquet were in the bridal parlor but she did not go back for them.

“Then you are marrying him?” Father guided her toward the sanctuary doors.

“I’m not leaving him at the altar.”

As Emily made her way down the aisle with Father, the guests rose to their feet, gasping and whispering.

Beautiful . . . gown . . .

Not Mrs. Caruthers . . .

Taffy Hayes . . . colored . . .

Before her, Phillip stood like a Greek statue, hands clasped, handsome as always in his tuxedo and his winged collar. His light brown hair shone and his smile challenged the brilliance of the flickering candles.

The foyer doors crashed open and the clattering of horse hooves drowned out the organ tones.

Shouts resounded. Screams billowed.

“Sir, you cannot go in there. Sir, I forbid you.”

Emily whirled around to see Mrs. Porter chasing Two Tone down the broad aisle. She laughed. Oh, Daniel.

“Emily.” Daniel sat straight and proud on Two Tone. “Marry me. Marry me.”

The sanctuary erupted with exclaims and shouts and protests. Phillip charged down the aisle, his best man heeling after him, slashing the air with his arm. “Get him out of here. This is my day, Ludlow.”

Tiny rumbles of pandemonium shook the sanctuary. Two Tone reared, pawing the air, Daniel holding on to the reins.

A shrill whistle silenced through the confusion. All eyes fell on Father, who stood on the altar steps. “This is about no one but Emily. It’s her decision. What do you want to do? Marry Ludlow or Saltonstall.”

Oh, the kindness of her father’s heart.

“Phillip.” Emily tenderly gripped his arm. “You did have me arrested. And I know you still have a mistress. That your parents threatened to cut you off if you didn’t marry me. So, dear Phillip, I cannot marry you. And you cannot marry me. You know it in your heart.”

“What’s the meaning of this?” Mr. Saltonstall interrupted, his chin flapping like a mad rooster. “Phillip, is this how I raised you? To be bested by this—”

“She’s right. She cannot marry me. And I cannot marry her.” Phillip’s gaze lingered across the room toward the pale and willowy Emmeline.

“Oh, Phillip.” Emily raised on her toes and kissed his cheek. “I wish you well.” Then she turned to Daniel, reached for his offered arm, and with a small boost from . . . Mother! Emily lighted on the back of Two Tone.

Daniel gathered the reins and heeled the mustang’s sides. “Yah!”

Two Tone launched down the aisle, hooves pounding, and dashed out the high foyer door, down the sanctuary steps, racing Emily to freedom.

A photographer from the Age-Herald jerked alive from his dozing stance against the street lamp. His big camera flashed with a poof and circled smoke in the cold morning air.