Dust Eva Everson (story reading txt) 📖

than to hover as Westley and I talked and Daddy doing whatever it took to keep her occupied. My grandmother continued to come over, recipes in hand, bent to make me into the next Julia Child and failing miserably. And, when Westley returned two days a week, true to his word, we chose china and silver, crystal and linens and stole every moment we had to be together. We went over wedding party lists and guests lists and, once Westley had returned to Odenville, I addressed envelopes and licked stamps until my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth and my mother brought in a relieving damp cloth.

The days passed to weeks and the weeks spun toward our wedding day. And, as it turned out, Miss Justine had been correct about my dress. My mother, grandmother, Julie, and I made a “day of it,” driving to Savannah to a little shop where I found a simple but elegant dress with an empire waist and a high-neck collar formed of delicate lace and sheer puffy sleeves with wide cuffs. The long skirt fell in folds of satin overlaid by chiffon and the bodice had just the right number of pearls stitched into it. Grand declared it “beyond perfect for my little figure” and, while the seamstress did a little tuck here and a pinning there, Julie walked around the store, returning only when she’d found the “perfect headpiece and veil.”

“Don’t you think?” she asked, holding it out to me.

I looked into her eyes then, dark and lovely and hopeful. In spite of being—at least as far as I knew—fabulously happy with the man she’d chosen, she’d never had this moment. Instead, she’d run off with Dean during what was supposed to be a Friday night date but ended up a wedding across the South Carolina line followed by a honeymoon in a cheap Charleston hotel. So I wasn’t surprised at the waltz her eyes danced. She’d never had this. Never played “dress up” for real. My moment would be all she ever experienced of this until, perhaps, she had a daughter of her own who would one day ask her to accompany her to Savannah for “a day of it.”

I took the veil as if it were the most prized possession in the world and smiled at her. “It’s beyond beautiful,” I said. “Thank you.”

Chapter Thirteen

Westley

A two-week vacation so soon after joining a company for most employers was unheard of, but that was exactly what Westley had included in his employee package when he came to work for Knight Pharmacy Odenville. That and a decent increase in pay from what he made in Bynum. And every Wednesday afternoon off, which enabled him to drive over to Baxter for a visit with Michelle. At least for the time being.

Treasured as those afternoons were, they also meant dealing with Michelle’s mother, who did everything but open the front door in her birthday suit in an effort to lure him back to her bed. Whether Lettie Mae or Leticia or Jacko were at home didn’t seem to matter. She wanted what she wanted and what she wanted was him.

More specifically, what she wanted was his cash flow and whatever easy life she thought being married to him would afford her. And, now that he’d had more time with her and more time to think about how he’d gotten himself in this situation, he’d come to realize that the moment he walked through that greasy spoon of a café where she worked back in February of the year before, she’d seen him as her ticket out.

Well, her flirtatiousness may have worked back then, but it no longer held any power over him. Now, the only thing that mattered was Allison. Allison and Michelle. Marrying one and getting custody of the other. A long-term plan. A life plan that minutes of pleasure were not going to steal from him.

With each visit he toyed with the notion of telling Cindie the truth—that come Christmas he’d be a married man. Especially when she talked about how they could celebrate the holiday, finally, as a family. That he could come over that morning—or the night before if he wanted to spend the night—and be there when Michelle spied what Santa left for her under the tree.

As wonderful as that sounded—seeing his daughter’s eyes light up over the presents he’d already purchased and given to Cindie for safekeeping—it couldn’t compare to waking up Christmas morning with his new wife. His arms wrapped around her and hers around him, if he had his way about it. Most likely at his mom and dad’s home. They’d get up, exchange gifts, eat his mother’s delectable French toast smothered in butter and homemade maple syrup, then get ready for church. Then, after church they’d drive to Bynum where they’d spend the rest of the day with his new in-laws.

Miss Justine had already declared the day after Christmas to be a holiday, so they’d finally return to Odenville and their new home sometime Monday. And nothing, or no one—not even his adorable Michelle—would alter those plans.

Now, staring at himself in the bathroom mirror at his parents’ home the day before his wedding, he arched a brow as he slid a chrome razor over his jaw. “For a man who likes to live by the seat of your pants, young man,” he said to himself as he shook the cloud of lather from the double-edge razor in the sink half-filled with murky water, “you sure have planned this one out.”

With one caveat. He had to tell his parents about Michelle. Had to do it today, in fact. Cindie had pitched a little teenage hissy fit when he told her he’d be spending Christmas with his family, not hers. Or theirs, in fact. She’d gone on and on about him not loving Michelle as much as he loved himself.

“That’s not true,” he’d told her, fury rising in him at the very suggestion.