The Wedding Dress(70)

“The west edge of the mountains have some lovely sunsets. But you said you were in the navy—did you live on a ship? You must have seen some great sunsets.”

“I lived in quarters smaller than your closets. But, yes, I saw some spectacular ocean sunsets. And sunrises. Even an ocean storm is fiercely beautiful. Been through a few of those.” Hillary crossed over to Charlotte. “I have something for you.” She offered her the picture. “Joel and me on our wedding day.”

“Hillary—” It was a color-faded snapshot. The background images were fuzzy and grainy. But in the center of the eight-by-ten photo stood a handsome, athletic-looking lieutenant with his arm curled tight around his bride, a beaming, bright-blond Hillary, perfectly sculpted into the wedding gown that now hung on the dress form. Charlotte glanced across the room and if she didn’t know better, she could’ve sworn the gown exhaled. Must have been the shift in the late-morning light falling through the window. “You’re so beautiful. Joel looks just like I imagined.”

They were young with their chins held high and eyes aglow with big love. Their smiles wide with big hope. He, a conquering hero. She, a conquering Southern beauty queen.

“Keep it. Please.” Hillary pressed the frame toward Charlotte when she tried to give it back.

“No, I couldn’t.” Charlotte traced her finger over Joel’s face, forever young. “Don’t you want it?”

“I want you to have it. Joel belongs to both of us now. You brought him back to me. For all the good reasons. He captured you the same way he captured me.” Hillary’s countenance softened as she spoke. “For the first time since he died, I was glad I married him. I remembered all the good and happiness. And I owe that to you.”

The doorbell rang, the delivery of pizza interrupting the moment. Charlotte paid, refusing the money Hillary held out.

“Smells good.” Hillary opened cupboards. “Um . . . plates and glasses?”

“By the sink.” Charlotte pointed from the pantry where she gathered napkins. “I have iced tea, water, milk, juice, Diet Coke. I drink the fake stuff around here.”

“I’ll have iced tea.” Hillary stopped. “Is it sweet?”

Charlotte grinned, opening the pizza box on the dining table. “In a manner of speaking.”

“Good enough. I don’t want to know more.”

The women ate the first few hot bites of cheese and sauce in peace. Then Hillary reached for a napkin. “How’s your friend in the hospital?”

“We’re talking about me now?”

“Might as well. That dress practically makes us family.”

Family. The word smacked Charlotte’s chest and burned through to her heart.

“He’s fine. Had an accident racing motocross.” Charlotte wiped tomato sauce from her fingers.

“Is he someone special?”

“He was. We were engaged, but he called it off.” Charlotte reached for her soda. “Well, he wanted to postpone the wedding. Said he wasn’t ready. But how do you go from being engaged and planning a wedding to just . . . waiting. Being in limbo.” Charlotte swigged from her Diet Coke. The drink, the conversation, went down well with pizza. “We moved too fast. Engaged two months after we met.”

“Some of the world’s best loves stories are about men and women who met one day and married the next.”

“Yeah, like who?”

Hillary balked. “I don’t know, you’re the wedding consultant. But I’m sure it’s true.”

Charlotte laughed. “You’re a horrible liar.”

“Maybe I am, but you know you’ve heard the stories of fast love. And I get the feeling you don’t really want to say good-bye to this fella.” Hillary chose a piece of pizza from the remaining slices.

“Didn’t want my mama to die at thirty-five either, but she did. Can’t always have life the way we want it. But there’s always pizza.” Charlotte took a big bite of a small slice. By forging into Hillary’s past, she’d given permission for Hillary to forge into hers.

“Before Joel was killed,” Hillary said, “we’d write letters and pick a day to look at the moon together. We were twelve hours apart, so one would look at the night moon, the other during the day, if we could find it. The night of his funeral the moon was bright and full, like a dancing globe in the sky. How dare the moon shine when my heart was so dark. I lost it, ran up to my room, tore the dress from the hanger, scooped up Joel’s dog tags, and headed down to the basement. I had no idea what I was going to do until I spotted the trunk. I threw the dress in, back where it came from, stuffed Joel’s dog tags into the little bag, and dragged it outside. I had every intention of burning it to ashes. Then I ran right into my daddy.”

Charlotte brushed crumbs from her fingers and listened.

“‘Shug,’ he said, ‘I don’t think you want to do that.’ But I didn’t listen. I was going to burn that stupid trunk and everything it represented. I wanted nothing that reminded me of Joel. Daddy talked for a while. ‘Now you listen to me.’” Hillary wagged her finger as her father might have done that night over forty years ago. “‘You’re hurting now, but you won’t always feel this way. You just might want this dress again. Another Joel will come along.’ Oh mercy, that sent me right over the edge. How could he say such a thing? There was only one Joel. Only one man for me. But some bit of reason sank in, so after Daddy left, I went to his workshop and found his blow-torch and fired it up. Teach him to make me take shop class in high school. I welded the lock until it glowed like the fires from the Sloss Furnaces. Then I collapsed. Woke up in my bed in the morning with bandages on my hands from torch burns.”