The Wedding Dress(44)

“What about in life?”

The cab clopped and rocked past a chain gang of convict lease workers. The white guards talked and joked while the men of color swung axes and hammers against the hard concrete of the city. Emily lowered her gaze. It must be back-breaking, near impossible, to break up what had been set and hardened with time in this city.

“Freedom.” Her answer escaped her heart all on its own. As the cab passed the line of glistening black men in the October sun, Emily turned to watch.

The cab turned onto 5th Avenue North and pulled up to the hotel. Dark eyes stared at them from the street corner.

The driver held open her door. “I’ll wait for you, miss.”

“Thank you. I won’t be long.” Mr. Oddfellow offered her his arm again. Emily hesitated, then wove her hand through as she stepped down. His arm was taut and warm.

“Cakewalk Rag” played from an opened window across the avenue. Boys on bicycles raced down the sidewalk. A shop owner stepped out of his store to scold them for nearly running over his vegetable tables. The atmosphere buzzed with music and popped with laughter.

“Not what you expected?”

Heat singed Emily’s cheeks. She stole a glance at her escort. “I’m not sure what I expected.” But the gay atmosphere felt safe and homey.

“Don’t you know?” he said, a rise in his voice. “If once you’ve been bound, your freedom is much, much sweeter.”

“But they’re not entirely free.”

“Ah, in body no, but in spirit, yes.” He shifted his blue eyes from the street scene to her face. Emily’s heart churned.

“See here,” she said. “How do you know so much?”

Instead of answering, Mr. Oddfellow walked Emily into the hotel, asked for Miss Taffy Hayes, then made polite conversation with the young clerk behind the hotel desk.

After a few minutes, a tall, slender colored woman wearing a tailored, vibrant skirt and blouse appeared in the lobby. “May I help you?”

“Miss Hayes?” Emily offered her hand. “My name is Emily Canton.”

“I know who you are. The Saltonstall fiancée.” Emily took in Taffy’s lean, dark features. Her intense brown eyes observed her with a hawklike regard. “I’ve seen you in the papers.”

“I hear you’re a dressmaker. One of the best.”

“One of the best?” She smiled. “I don’t know about that, but I do take pride in my work. The Lord has gifted me.”

“I’d like you to make my wedding gown.” Emily stepped toward her, focused, the heat churning in her soul, rising. A thin, clammy sheen moistened her forehead and neck. “Name the price.”

“I knew you’d come.”

Emily glanced around at Mr. Oddfellow. He’d escorted her here. Led her into something surreal. Bewitched her. But he was gone. Instead, a round-faced, brown-eyed man stood in his place.

“Welcome to my establishment, Miss Canton. I’m A. G. Gaston.”

“Yes, of course, Mr. Gaston. It’s a pleasure.”

“Please, make yourself at home.”

Taffy waited and when Emily turned around, she was pierced by her steady gaze. She watched Emily as if trying to gauge her fortitude.

“I’ll make a gown for you, but there’ll be trouble.”

“For you or me?”

“Both, I imagine. But I’m used to trouble. Are you?”

The exchange seeped into Emily, through her skin and into her sinews and bones, swirling hot around her heart.

“I don’t know, Miss Hayes. I just have a sense you are to make my dress.”

“Do you have courage?” Taffy started down the hall. “Come, I have an idea for you.”

“For me?” Emily couldn’t lift her foot to follow. She felt nailed in place. “How?”

“Like I said, I knew you’d come.” Finally, Taffy smiled. A beautiful, perfect, white smile. “Do you have courage?”

“I’m here, aren’t I? I want courage. I admire courage.” Emily jerked forward, ripping her foot from its invisible anchor on the hardwood.

“All right then.” Taffy embraced Emily with one arm as they moved down the hall.

Taffy had expected her. Emily shivered at the notion. She had little experience with God intercepting her path or the path of anyone she knew. Most of her family and friends lived simple, quiet Christian lives of doing good and filling church pews for an hour or two on Sunday. But this? God coming to her in the middle of the week?

But as her footfalls tapped the floor in unison with Taffy’s, Emily had the holy sensation of being touched by the Divine.



“Ay, Emily, where have you been?” Molly met her at the kitchen door as a friend, not a servant.

“Meeting frightfully interesting people, Molly.” Emily removed her hat, still carrying the glorious glow of her afternoon with Taffy. “I found a dressmaker for my wedding gown.”

“I thought the high and mighty Mrs. Caruthers made your gown.”

“It was ghastly. Where are Father and Mother?” Emily tucked her hat under her arm and bent to see her reflection in the shadowed part of the window, palming her hair into place, repinning loose ends.

“In the library. Your mother arrived home hours ago. She’s been fretting, wondering what happened to you.”