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He looked over my shoulder and smiled at Mom, who was sitting on the edge of her bed.
“Yeah,” he said. “You two deserve some time. I’ll pick you up tomorrow when we go for lunch.”
“Thank you,” I said, reaching up on my toes to kiss him.
“I love you,” he said. “Nice to finally meet you in person, Mrs. Moyer.”
“Thank you, Camden,” she said. “Lovely to finally meet you too. And thank you for letting me borrow my daughter tonight.”
“Of course,” he said, grinning. “Good night.”
As he drove away, I watched him from the window until the taillights faded and then turned to Mom, who had pulled out a crochet bag from her luggage and was working on something pretty and pink.
“Oh,” she said, seemingly like she suddenly remembered something and put down her crocheting. “I almost forgot. Here, hold this so I don’t lose my place.”
She handed me the complicated ball of yarn, hook, and half-finished piece as she got up and went to her closet. She had hung a few things up in there, including something in a long dress-bag, and when she pulled it out, I instantly recognized it. She laid it on the bed and unzipped it, revealing the wedding dress I had seen several times during my childhood hung prominently in her closet. She often would remark about how she could still fit in it.
“You brought your wedding dress?” I asked.
She nodded, a slight smile on her face as she ran her fingers over the fabric. I could see how much she missed Dad in that gesture. In the years since I became an adult, she tried not to talk about him too much, especially after meeting Harold. But now that both of them were gone, I felt like she was finally letting herself miss him.
“I did,” she said. “I thought that you could incorporate it into your wedding dress. See this part right here?” She pointed to a section around the hips that glimmered in the lamplight. “These were from your grandmother and your great grandmother’s dresses. And these”—she pointed to a row of pearls that ran down the arms— “were from your great-great grandmother. You can use as little or as much as you like, but you should have the choice. Just like I had.”
“Oh, Mama,” I said, tears streaming down my face as the emotion of the moment hit me. I wrapped her up in a tight hug and we cried together, a mixture of sadness and happiness, joy and longing.
“You know,” she said, pulling herself away and crossing over to the little liquor cabinet in the corner of the room, “I said before how Camden reminds me of your father. I meant that. He reminds me of Al when he was young.” She opened the cabinet and brought out a tiny bottle of wine, opening it up and pouring it out into two glasses. She handed me one, and we clinked them together. “I figured if there was ever a time to live it up, it’s now.”
A short laugh escaped my lips between the tears, and I wiped them away.
“How does he remind you of Dad?” I asked. “Other than the flannel.”
She laughed. “There is that,” she said. “But it’s partially just in the way he looks at you. Al used to look at me like that. He loved just watching me from across the room. I used to get after him for taking so many pictures of me, but now I cherish them. I wish I had taken some of him.” She took a sip of her wine and sat on the bed, brushing her fingers over the dress again. “You two act just like we did when we got married. Couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Always touching, brushing up against each other, kissing. I like Camden. He’s a good man. And he will make you very happy. Just like your father did for me.”
I sat down beside her and took her in for a deep hug. Her body shook as she cried for just a moment and then pulled back, kissing me on the top of my head and wiping away her tears.
“I miss him,” I said.
“I do too,” she said. “But he would fuss at me for crying about him. He’d say ‘Vickie, don’t you sit around and cry about me being gone. You’ll see me soon enough.’”
“Not too soon,” I said.
“No, baby,” Mom said. “Not anytime soon for us. I’ve got grandbabies to hold. Hint, hint.”
“Mooooom,” I said, the fake outrage turning into laughter and a few more happy tears.
21
CAMDEN
Awhole week.
We spent a whole week only seeing each other for lunch twice, dinner twice and she slept at my place one night. And by slept, I mean she literally walked into the house and fell asleep on the couch within ten minutes. I carried her to bed, and she was gone before my alarm.
To say it was overwhelming would be an understatement of the damn century.
Wedding planning was in the midst of insanity, cake decorators, venues, so many different bits and pieces I had never thought of all coming. This was in addition to the ranch business picking up as the weather got warmer, people from all walks of life traveling, sometimes across the country, to take lessons with me because they’d heard about it from an Army buddy or the wife of a guy who came here to rehab. The business model of helping veterans for free wasn’t supposed to be a business model at all. It was just something I wanted to do. But they were taking care of me by sending me referrals, enough that I was booked solid for months.
Then there was school. Both of us were absolutely underwater with work. I was finally in my harder classes, the ones that took time and effort to even begin to understand, all while Kristen was teaching several different classes, filming them for remote view, cultivating lesson plans for private lessons, and helping the dean of Van Hope’s daughter with her own classes as a tutor.
