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21
Caiti
“Come on,sweets. We’re going to be late.”
Ophelia swishes her puffy white dress at my side, waiting for me to lock up the car. “Wanna race?” Hopeful eyes full of unconditional love stare up at me.
“Okay, but you have to hold my hand so you don’t trip and tear your dress.”
Her little hand settles on her hip. “I be careful,” she says in a deadly serious voice.
I will my racing heart to slow. The anxiety bubbles up from time to time, but nowhere near the daily occurrence from when I first arrived. I only hope it remains in check while I sort through the next steps.
“Ready…three…two…one!”
She races across the blacktop, leaving me in her puny dust. I trail at a moderate jog. Exertion isn’t on the maid-of-honor checklist, and the rules say I have to let her beat me. I also refuse to sit for another half an hour while someone remedies my windblown curls.
“You’re too fast!” I call, thankful she made it to the sidewalk in one piece.
“I win!”
“Let’s get inside and see Auntie Evie in her pretty dress.”
Ophelia dances at my side. “I tell Aut Ebie I win.”
“You sure can.”
We enter the small non-denominational church. A short entry hall separates us from the aisle and rows of pews Evie will walk down to her happily-ever-after. Tears begin to gather in the corners of my eyes at the stunning image in my head. Happiness bubbles inside me. I hope I can keep it together through the short ceremony. Nobody wants to be the blubbering mess in all the pictures. With what I have planned, it’ll be a miracle if I escape unscathed.
Girlish giggles alert me to our destination. With a sharp rap on the wooden door, Ophelia and I enter into a tulle and lace explosion.
Hot tools line the windowsill next to Evie. Cami works through her thick locks, curling sections and pinning pieces in a half up-do, while Evelyn wields a fat powder brush on Evie’s face. Three pizza boxes lay messily across a white folding table in the center of the room where Kiersten has taken up residence.
“We’ve finally made it,” I sing upon entry. They smile and wave in greeting.
“Come have lunch, Ophelia. Are you ready for your big job today?” The blonde commands control of my wild toddler so easily. The pizza bribery definitely helps.
“I wif Tommy?”
We’ve been practicing down a pretend aisle in our kitchen all week. As long as she doesn’t have a sudden case of shyness, she’ll nail her task.
“Yes. He’ll be here soon, and you can practice.”
Ophelia climbs onto a metal folding chair, her diapered butt and ruffle high in the air. “I love Tommy. I marry him when I big.”
“Awe, I can’t wait to tell Rhett,” Evie sighs.
“You can’t marry Tommy, baby. He’s your cousin,” I respond. As if she has any understanding of what that means.
“Not by blood.” Kiersten pins a white bow on the side of Ophelia’s hair.
“Close enough,” I mutter.
I fix Ophelia a small plate but pass on my own attempt at lunch. I’m too nervous to eat. My stomach simmers in anticipation of what’s to come. In an attempt at distraction, I find my dress hanging on a rack in the corner and swiftly change, discarding my clothing in a duffel bag.
“Is it just me or is this shorter than I remember?” I tug at the hemline, eyeing the thigh slit with unease.
Kiersten smacks my hand away. “You’re going to rip it if you’re not careful. It looks great. You’re beautiful.” She moves to discard her empty plate in the trash.
“Can we get a little assistance here?” Cami calls across the room. She unzips the huge black bag encasing Evie’s gown.
“I’m on it.” I hold up one side while Cami takes the other. Together, we remove the dress from the hanger and hold it open for Evie to step into.
“Thank God we don’t have to lift this over your hair. This thing weighs a ton,” Cami teases. I hold the back sections together, and she zips Evie inside. The material molds effortlessly to each of her plus-sized curves, proof the tailor did a terrific job. Evie’s not once worried about her weight, but last week she began to doubt the fit of her dress to the point she wanted to try it on daily just to make sure it still fit.
“Be thankful you don’t have to wear it. At least it’s not as heavy as the full ball gown I originally tried on before I found this. The damn thing was gorgeous, but I wouldn’t have survived the reception.” Evie tucks herself in on top.
“You’re absolutely stunning,” I breathe, the lock on my emotions already slipping.
“Don’t you start that.” Cami shoves a tissue in my hand. “We don’t have time to fix all our makeup, and if you start, then Evie will start, and Kiersten’s hormones will be unleashed to their full effect, and then I’m screwed cleaning up the mess.”
“Got it. I’m good.” I snatch the tissue and wave them off.
“Momma, I all done.” Ophelia shoves her plate away, red sauce evident on her face. “I pway wif Tommy?”
“I’ll take her,” Evelyn volunteers and scoops Ophelia into her arms. Delighted squeals ring around the room. I wipe the little girl’s face with the tissue in my hand and bid them goodbye.
Two down, two to go.
