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He could not get home quickly enough.
Chapter Twenty-six
Yes! This is love,
the steadfast and the true,
the immortal glory
which hath never set.
—Charles Swain
It seemed hardly possible to Shoshana that this day was really happening. She was getting ready for her wedding!
Everything ugly was finally behind her.
“Daughter, you have a visitor outside,” Fawn said as she stood back and admired Shoshana in the dress she had chosen to wear on her special day.
Although Fawn would have preferred that her daughter dress in the way all Apache women were attired on the day of their marriage, in a doeskin dress, she did understand why Shoshana wanted to wear the gossamer gown.
“Shoshana?”
Dancing Willow’s voice came from outside Storm’s tepee.
Fawn turned slowly as Shoshana, too, gazed toward the closed entrance flap.
“Yes?” Shoshana said, not taking even one step toward the entranceway.
She had stiffened at the sound of Storm’s sister’s voice, for how could she ever forget what Dancing Willow had done? She had pretended to be ill so that Storm would pay attention to her instead of keeping his mind on Shoshana. Dancing Willow had wanted Shoshana gone. She had not wanted her brother to bring her back to their stronghold.
Dancing Willow had wanted Shoshana out of their lives forever!
Now everything that Storm’s sister did was silently questioned by Shoshana. She did not believe the Seer could change her feelings so quickly.
“I have brought you something special for your wedding,” Dancing Willow said, still speaking through the closed entrance flap. “Shoshana, may I bring it inside the lodge for you? I want to prove how sorry I am for what I did. But I can only do this if you will allow it.”
Shoshana and her mother gave each other questioning gazes; then Fawn reached a gentle hand to Shoshana’s arm and nodded. “She is making an effort, my daughter,” she murmured. “I think you should at least see what she has for you. You know tha
t if you and Storm’s sister could put your differences behind you, it would make Storm very happy. He loves you both.”
“Yes, I know,” Shoshana said, slowly running her hands down the softness of the dress that she had seen her adoptive mother wear only once. On that day, only a short time before she had died suddenly of a heart attack, she had been radiantly happy.
Shoshana had seen how beautiful and content Dorothea had been that day. She had been dancing with her husband at a ball in Saint Louis while an orchestra played lovely waltz music for the huge room of dancers.
“Then go, daughter, and hold aside the flap for Dancing Willow,” Fawn softly encouraged, breaking through Shoshana’s thoughts of her other mother. “Prove to her that you are a woman of good, generous heart.”
Shoshana sighed, gazed into her mother’s faded brown eyes again, then went to the entrance flap and held it aside. “Come in,” she murmured. “It is so nice of you to care.”
As Dancing Willow entered, Shoshana was very aware of the beautiful doeskin dress that Dancing Willow held stretched across her arms. Shoshana had admired her mother’s handiwork in the beads she had sewn onto her dresses. But this dress Dancing Willow held was even more breathtaking.
Despite its loveliness, Shoshana did not believe the dress was an overture of friendship.
Dancing Willow had openly resented Shoshana’s choice of the dress she was going to be married in. She had glared openly at Shoshana as she said it would not be right for her to wear the dress of a white woman at an Apache wedding.
“I can tell that you think the dress is beautiful. I finished sewing it only this morning,” Dancing Willow said guardedly. “Shoshana, I was making it for myself, but decided that by putting extra beads on it to make it even more beautiful, I could transform it into the perfect dress for my brother’s woman to be married in.”
“I thank you for your kindness and generous offer, Dancing Willow,” Shoshana said, seeing a look of triumph in the woman’s eyes. “But, as I have told you, I have already decided which dress to wear. As you see, I already have it on,” Shoshana said, reaching toward the frail, lovely gauzy skirt of the dress and holding it out away from herself. “There is also embroidery work on this dress. It was done by my adoptive mother. Do you not think it is beautiful? I know how you admire embroidery work.”
