The Wedding Dress(97)

Daddy had sold Mama’s dress. He’d lost it along with the china and silver, and his paycheck, betting on Jack Dempsey to knock out Gene Tunney in a heavyweight bout.

“Oh, Jesus, I don’t need a wedding dress,” Mary Grace whispered her prayer with the rhythm of the wind cutting under the tree limbs. “It’s not practical. And it’s way too extravagant.” But the confession dropped to her lap, because in her heart, it contained no weight or truth. “But it sure would be nice.”

She wanted a wedding dress. A beautiful white wedding dress like the ones she’d seen in magazines. Like the gown she’d seen at Loveman’s. But it was seventy-five dollars. Practically a month’s wages.

Mary Grace restarted her prayer but without faith, it was impossible to carry on.

The front door slammed and Daddy stood on the porch, staring out over the yard, tapping his cigarette pack against his hand. He pulled a cigarette out and lit it, leaning against the porch post. As he inhaled, the white paper burned with a red, ashy flame.

“Dempsey should’ve had him,” Mary Grace said.

Daddy blew a stream of smoke out the side of his mouth. “He would’ve too, if they’d started the count when Tunney hit the canvas. Dempsey should’ve gone to the corner like the ref told him.”

“It’s okay about the dress, Daddy. Mama’s right. I don’t need something so fancy. I’m marrying a minister, and I’ll need a good suit for weddings and funerals.”

His hazel eyes snapped at her through the smoke circling up from his cigarette. “Then why’d you go asking for one?”

She shrugged. “I got excited when Mrs. Ludlow offered me her dress.”

“Don’t every girl want a wedding dress? Your grandmama wouldn’t let us get married until she sewed your mama one. I was just home from the war and I would’ve married her in her housedress.”

“A girl wants to be beautiful on her wedding day.”

“You’re pretty, Mary Grace, right where you are on the swing. I know Thomas would say so.”

Mary Grace closed her eyes, seeing her kind, strapping Thomas with his “hey there” grin and his apple-green gaze, combing his golden hair back from his forehead because his thick locks refused to stay slicked in place. She mostly liked the way he talked to her, like her opinion mattered. And how he gazed into her eyes right before he kissed her.

Mary Grace shivered and sat up.

“You all right?”

“Fine, Daddy.” A warm blush hit her cheeks. Studying the porch boards, she followed the long weathered cracks toward Daddy’s work boots, grateful he couldn’t read her thoughts.

“Mary Grace.” He cleared his throat. “I ain’t been the best father a girl could want. Been too gruff at times. Fought too much with your mother and busted too many paychecks chasing the bottle.” He peered sideways at her. “I know you and your mother spend your Sundays praying the good Lord will set me free of my demons, but I ain’t likely to change. I like my ways, but there’s times like now, I have regrets. If I didn’t owe so many people money, you could have your dress and fancy wedding.”

“Don’t, Daddy. It’s okay.”

“Here.” He walked toward her in three long strides. “Take it before I spend it. I’m not sure what you can do with it, but—” Daddy smacked a folded bill against Mary Grace’s palm and closed her fingers over it. The momentary glistening sheen in his eyes said more than a thousand words. Was worth more than the value of the bill he’d pressed into her palm.

“Thank you,” she whispered, tears draining down the back of her throat.

“Clem.” Mama stepped onto the porch. “What are you doing?”

“Talking to my daughter, do you mind, Vie?”

Mama softened. “I reckon not. I was going to fix supper. What do you want?”

“Whatever you serve is fine.” Daddy walked toward the door, holding open the screen for Mama, listening as she suggested warmed-up beef stew. Just before he stepped into the house, Daddy glimpsed at Mary Grace through the screen.

When he was gone, she unfolded the bill with trembling fingers. Ten dollars. She sat back against the swing slats. Ten dollars. It would buy the cake and punch and the linen tablecloth she saw on sale in housewares at Loveman’s.

But not a wedding dress.

She folded the money and slipped it into the top of her shoe, eyes tearing up. Oh, Daddy, he was nothing but tender mush under his crusty exterior.

Car tires crackled on the driveway gravel. Mary Grace walked to the porch post and leaned, watching Mrs. Ludlow exit her big, shiny Buick.

“Evening, Mary Grace.”

“Evening, Mrs. Ludlow. What brings you all the way out to East Thomas?” Mary Grace glanced down at her faded, worn housedress and scuffed shoes.

“Are your parents home?”

Mary Grace didn’t have to answer because Daddy and Mama stepped onto the porch.

“How can we help you?” Daddy said.

“I heard your daughter is getting married.”

“She is.” Daddy took a step toward the elegant Mrs. Ludlow, her light wool coat perfect for the spring evening.

Mama moved next to Daddy, pretty in her cotton housedress with the pleated skirt, worry lines etched into her freckled skin.