The Wedding Dress

by Rachel Hauck

  “The style is for a thin bride.” Mrs. Caruthers surveyed Emily over her glasses. “I’d think you’d take my opinion on that considering whom you are marrying, Miss Canton.”

  “I’d prefer you keep your opinions to yourself.” Emily stepped off her stool, feeling as if she might faint. “Mother, please—”

  “Emily Canton, you know full well Mrs. Caruthers is merely advising you. It’s why we’ve retained her excellent services.” Mother pandered quite well. “She’s designed gowns for Birmingham’s most noted families. Now, please, find your good humor and see what design suits you.” Mother tapped a picture in the book. “This style would be lovely on you.”

  Emily leaned to see. The gown was ostentatious. And the folds and pleats in the back looked a bit too much like the gown the willowy woman in the street was wearing.

  “It’s too ghastly and heavy. I’ll suffocate wearing that much material. Please, keep my gown simple, Mrs. Caruthers.” Emily just wanted to go home, hop on one of Father’s mares, and race up to Red Mountain to clear her head, think, lift her heart to God’s.

  Then, perhaps when Phillip came to dinner, she’d find the courage to speak to him about what she’d witnessed today. Though, so far since their engagement, little communication had passed between them using words. Mostly he spoke with impassioned kisses and intimate intonations.

  Well, tonight she’d sit on the other side of the parlor, away from his reach. Perhaps suggest a game of cribbage or dominoes.

  In the light of day, Emily blushed at what certainly must be the main issue on Phillip’s mind. Their wedding night. But if she’d learned anything from meeting up with Daniel last week, it was to get her feelings out in the open.

  “What shall we do to secure your services, Mrs. Caruthers?” Mother faced the dressmaker with her chin high, her shoulders square.

  “I’ll write up a work order, Mrs. Canton. You pay half as the deposit. I’ll need Emily to decide on a gown pattern and how many bridesmaids as soon as possible. Of course, she’ll need to choose a pattern for their dresses as well. We’ll also need to start sewing on her trousseau right away. I have a standard offering of gowns and lingerie that I think Miss Canton will find suitable.”

  “Certainly. How generous. Do you have a brochure in case Mr. Canton and I want to add to Emily’s trousseau?”

  “I do indeed. Take the Goody’s book for the evening and make your choices. I’ll expect your deposit by the end of the week. As you know, I’m quite in demand.”

  Emily didn’t care for Mrs. Caruthers speaking down to Mother. After all, Father with his exchange company was fast becoming one of the most prominent men in Birmingham, perhaps even all of Alabama.

  “Only one dressmaker in this city compares to me, but I’ll never have to worry about her infringing on my business. She’s quite at the disadvantage.”

  “How so?” Emily stepped between Mother and Mrs. Caruthers. “Tell us her name and we’ll decide for ourselves.”

  “Emily, don’t insult Mrs. Caruthers. I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into her today.” Mother shot Emily a dark glance. The one that sent her running in terror as a girl.

  “I’ll tell you her name. No sweat off my nose if you choose her. But I can tell you she’s not for you.” Mrs. Caruthers sat at her desk, her broad hips spilling over the side of the chair, her skirt hem piling on the carpet. “Taffy Hayes is her name. A colored woman over on 5th Avenue. Rents a workroom from Mr. Gaston’s hotel. I’ve used her from time to time for piecework. But you won’t be wanting a colored woman handling your pretty white wedding dress.”

  “What difference does it make if she’s colored?” Emily picked up her reticule and parasol from the table. “I’m famished, Mother. Let’s dine. Fatten me up a bit more.”

  “Emily, please—”

  “Mrs. Caruthers, I’ll not be needing a wedding dress or anything from you.” Emily stabbed the air with her parasol.

  “Now see here, Miss Canton. Did you hear what I said? Taffy is colored.”

  “I heard you. Come, Mother.” Emily’s heels clattered against the thick wooden stairs. As she descended, Mother’s crisp whispers with Mrs. Caruthers echoed in the stairwell.

  She might not be able to do anything about Phillip and her at the moment, but she could do something about Mrs. Caruthers.

  Outside on the street, in the sunshine, Emily gulped in free, unprejudiced air. Since she was a girl, she never understood the division of black and white. She heard the rules, the reasons, and the whys, but when she opened her Bible and talked to God, none of man’s wisdom made sense.

  “You shouldn’t be so forthcoming with your thoughts, Emily. I’ll have to smooth things over with Mrs. Caruthers, but I don’t think real damage has been done.” Mother sighed, a sure sign of disapproval. Emily looked sideways at her.

  “My thoughts. Did you hear what she said about the other dressmaker? The damage has been done by Mrs. Caruthers, not me, Mother. I’m twenty-two, a college graduate, and engaged. In six months I’ll have a home of my own. I am of age to make my own decisions.”

  “Lower your voice.” Mother focused on fitting her gloves properly on her fingers. “Newman’s for lunch, then?” When it was clear to cross the lane, exactly where Phillip’s friend had crossed, Mother looped her arm through Emily’s.

  “Now you listen to me.” Mother spoke low in Emily’s ear as they walked. “I understand and appreciate your passion for wanting to make your own way. I understand your heart for the underprivileged and the needy. Your father and I make large contributions to causes all over the city. But you’ll not insult Mrs. Caruthers and ruin our reputation. Your father has worked too hard. Until another white seamstress of her caliber comes to town, you’ll be doing a good bit of business with her, as you’ll be a Saltonstall. And frankly, I’d like to keep her affections for me also. I, too, want to use her services. That won’t happen if you reject her for any reason. Don’t you know the woman has the mouth of a steam locomotive? Why, half of Loveman’s salesgirls probably know of your exchange with her just now. What if she tells folks you prefer coloreds?”

  “She’s arrogant and rude. I don’t care to do business with her.” Emily turned Mother toward Newman’s. “I didn’t say one word that would disgrace you or Father. Or the Saltonstalls.”

  “Your implications, along with the hammer of your footsteps down the stairs, spoke louder than any words, Emily. What have I taught you about wooden swearing?”

  “Then I apologize to you, Mother. But that woman is not making my wedding dress.”

  Mother stopped, pulling Emily to a halt with her. The flow of pedestrians parted around them. “You draw your lines in the sand after you’re married, my girl. That will be between you and Phillip, God help him, but as long as your father is paying for this wedding, you will wear a gown designed and sewn by Mrs. Caruthers.”

  “Designed? She’s copying Goody’s patterns. She’s a fraud.”

  “Your gown maker will be in all the papers and society columns from here to Atlanta and clear down to New Orleans and Miami. No doubt up to Philadelphia where the Saltonstalls hail from.” Mother jerked her hand to her head. “Mercy me, I forgot my hat, Emily. How could you let me forget my hat? You run on, I’ll meet you at Newman’s. Order me a corned beef sandwich with a cold glass of milk if you get seated right away.”

  “What if they only have warm milk, Mother?” Emily teased with a sigh, forcing a smile at Mother. She didn’t like arguing with her. Mother could be her best advocate.

  “There, dear girl. See, smiling takes away anger.” Mother placed her gloved hand against Emily’s cheek before turning back to Loveman’s. “Everything will be all right, Emily. You’ll see.”

  Daniel

  Daniel saw Emily go into Newman’s as he exited the barbershop, settling his new brown trilby with the silk band—quite nice for a former ballplayer—on his newly cut and slicked-back hair. The glint of the sun on Emily’s dark head as she passed betwe
en downtown Birmingham buildings reminded him of the coal coming out of Red Mountain—rich and sparkling.

  At the street corner of 19th he hesitated, wondering how long she’d been in town. Wondering if she’d seen Phillip—if by chance she’d witnessed what he’d witnessed an hour ago. Pray God she did not.

  Suddenly the street cleared. The trolley passed. The motorcars and horse-drawn buggies were out of sight. The air turned strangely silent. Daniel inhaled, stepped off the curb, and scurried to the other side of the wide thoroughfare.

  Emily. She had a way of drawing him off course. Making him switch up his destiny when he had in mind where he was going and what he was doing.

  First, baseball. Now the men’s department at Loveman’s. Devil may care. New trousers would have to wait.

  He ducked into Newman’s, hanging back, hiding in the baritone hum of men lunching at the counter. The booths along one wall were stuffed with womenfolk, vibrant with their plume-trimmed hats and high voices.

  Daniel eased down the center aisle, eyes darting over the hats, trying to gain glimpses of their faces. Emily came in alone, or so he believed. Ah, there, in the back, with her head bent over the menu. A harried waiter made a quick stop at her table. She looked up, smiled, and uttered a few words. The waiter nodded and marched toward the kitchen doors, a tub of dirty dishes in his hands.

  “Good afternoon.” Daniel slid into the booth across from Emily.

  Her brown eyes rested on his face. “Daniel.”

  “You were expecting someone else?” He smiled, but not relaxed or at ease, not charming as he intended. His voice even wavered a smidge.

  “Mother forgot her hat at Loveman’s. She will be here momentarily.”

  “How are you?” Daniel scooted his hands across the table toward hers, wanting to take hold, but the cool light in her eyes forced him back. Instead, he twirled his trilby between his hands.

  “I’m well. And you?” Emily lifted her menu, reading, and if he didn’t know better, hiding. “Have you been to the barber?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “You smell of flower water. Father and Phillip smell the same when they return from there.” She set her menu on the side of the table, then tucked her hands in her lap. “I see you’ve tamed your curls.”

  “I don’t have a gal to mess them up.” He removed his hat, as he should’ve done when he entered. “I read in the paper you’re engaged to Saltonstall.”

  “You sound surprised. I told you I would be.”

  “Then I’m happy if you’re happy.” Was she? By her composure, he couldn’t tell. He attempted to read her eyes, but she wouldn’t give him one of her clear, direct gazes. Blazes, he hated the wall between them.

  From the moment he said hello to her in the college library, there’d been a camaraderie between them. As if the marching music in their souls tapped out the same rhythm. But during his five-month absence, she’d changed her tune.

  “I’m quite delirious.” She dusted her hands over the table, acting like a prim prude. “With happiness that is.”

  “I don’t believe you.” There, straight and to the point. Then her ring caught his eye. Daniel sat back with a whistle. “He dropped a fancy penny on that thing.”

  “He purchased it in Paris last fall.”

  “Did he now? Certainly he didn’t have you in mind, because last fall you were strolling the quad with me.”

  “What a mean, selfish thing to say, Daniel Ludlow. He bought the ring for his intended. He found one he adored and knew that sooner or later, he’d find the woman to match it.” The waiter set a lemonade on the table. “Isn’t it time for you to be moving on?” Emily peered toward the bright front of the diner. “Mother will be along.”

  Daniel halted the waiter and motioned to Emily’s glass. “I’ll have what she’s having.”

  “So.” She sighed as if resigned to keep his company. “You’ll be starting your teaching position soon.”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact. Please keep your alma mater in mind, Em. Education needs benefactors.”

  “I’m sure Phillip will be most generous to the institute.”

  “Phillip? Or you?” He grinned. Come on, Em, give it up. Show me your gorgeous smile. “You know what they say, men earn it, women spend it. That’s the beef with some of my friends and the women’s suffrage. Why give women the right to vote, to have a say in the taxes and politics, when the men are the ones out there doing all the work?”

  “Such a small, manlike notion. Women work plenty.” Emily came to life, squaring her shoulders, lifting her chin, charging up the familiar spark in her eyes. Daniel used to love to bait and debate her. “For no wage at all. Cooking, cleaning, and ironing a man’s clothes, bearing his children. The men in the Sloss or Saltonstall furnaces would fall to their knees whimpering at the first labor pain. What price shall we put on labor and birth, hmm? What of the unmarried woman? The widow? Should they not have a say in the use of their taxed wages?”

  “Good, you made your case. You sat there so stiff, I thought Saltonstall had drained all the spit and fire out of you.”

  “He’s not like that, Daniel. You don’t know him.”

  “Tell me.” Daniel angled over the table. “Do you know him?” The waiter swung by with another lemonade and asked if they were ready to order. Emily declined, saying she would wait for her mother.

  “Yes, I know him. That’s twice you’ve insinuated I don’t. I’ve known Phillip most of my life, as have Father and Mother and Howard Jr.”

  Daniel reclined against the booth, raising his lemonade for a long, cooling drink. More for his soul than his throat. The sweet and sour blend reminded him that he had options here. Would he tear Emily down with what he knew or give her his support, be the friend he claimed to be?

  Yet, by gum, there was no mistaking what he’d witnessed on the corner of 19th and 3rd Avenue North. He’d know Saltonstall anywhere. He was the only buster in town who wore spats in the day.

  “I’m happy for you, Em.” Daniel set his glass down and rested his gaze on her face. “Truly, I am.”

  “Thank you. Your words mean a lot.”

  “Did you ever find my letters?”

  “What does it matter, Daniel? We’ve moved on. We’re different people.”

  I’m the same man, Emily. The one hopelessly in love with you.

  “I’ll have my words with the United States Postal Service. I had quite a few good tales in those letters. The time we won thirty to zero. When Broderick and Stonewalter got in a fistfight and I stitched both of them up with needle and thread. The time we went swimming in the Ohio. And the night I heard a banjo player singing about his true love and I couldn’t stop thinking of you. I wanted to hold you, dance with you, kiss—”

  “Don’t, Daniel.” She tipped her head to one side. “It’s no use now.” She lowered her gaze. “Perhaps providence intervened when we weren’t wise enough to know better.”

  “Oh, but I think we did know better.” Daniel ran his hand over his hair, springing a few curls over his forehead. “But if you’re sure, then I’m sure. I’ll be going. Good luck to you, Em.”

  Daniel reached for his hat as he slid out of the booth. But Emily snatched at his hand. “Danny, wait. When you came to Highlands, to see me, you said something about Phillip. Something about—oh, I can’t remember, but you cast a shadow on his character. And just now you asked if I really knew him. What did you mean?”

  “It’s time for me to go.” He lifted her hand from his. But Emily took hold again.

  “If you care about me at all, you’ll tell me.”

  “I don’t think you know what you’re asking, Emily.” He regarded her for a moment. “And you are wearing his ring.”

  Emily glanced down, a ruby blush on her high cheeks. “I trust you, Daniel. Heaven help me, but I do. I saw him on the street corner today.” Daniel perched on the edge of the seat. So she did see what he’d seen. “I was on the fourth floor of Loveman’s, looking out the window whe
n I spotted him. He’s the only man in town who wears spats every day, you know. A thin woman approached him, and before I could bat an eye, he swept her into his arms.”

  When her voice broke, Daniel slid into the booth beside her, running his arm along the top of the seat and around her shoulders. “Perhaps she was a friend, a cousin, the daughter of an associate.”

  “Do you think so?” Her tone, her innocent expression . . . it was all Daniel could do not to sweep her into his arms and pledge to protect her heart.

  “Ah, it’s nothing, I’m sure. Phillip gave his ring to you, not another girl.”

  So Emily had seen Phillip’s intimate kiss on the woman’s neck. Daniel burned with embarrassment as he recalled the scene. In the middle of city commerce, Saltonstall carried on with another woman like one would do with his wife in private.

  Now Daniel found he had to defend his rival in order to comfort the woman he loved. He refused to wound her further.

  “But you know something, Daniel Ludlow, don’t you dare lie to me. Otherwise you’d have not intimated as much. I won’t be trifled with, hear me?” Emily slapped the table with her palm. The other Newman’s patrons lifted their heads, looking their way. “You know people. Your father is a police captain. Your chum is a reporter on the paper. Why, you know the old man Woodward yourself. He recruited you for his mighty Birmingham Barons.”

  “So I might know a thing or two.” Daniel adjusted his hat, the scent of Emily’s skin seeping into him, stirring his affections. “You shouldn’t ask questions you don’t really want answered, Emily.”

  “I asked because I want to know. Daniel—”

  “Fine, then ask me a specific question. What is it you want to know?”

  “Does Phillip keep a . . .” Her question faltered.

  “A mistress?”

  She nodded. Fast. Short.

  “Emily, listen to me—”

  “There you are, my dear, I thought you’d left the diner.” Mrs. Canton slid into the booth across from Daniel and Emily. “I’m sorry it took me so long, but Mrs. Caruthers cornered me and went on and on about her dressmaking qualifications. Daniel Ludlow, good afternoon.” Mrs. Canton tugged off her gloves. “What are you doing here?”