Every Girl Gets Confused (22 page)

Wait. Did he just say “the woman I love”?

I rose from my chair and walked around to his side of the desk, then knelt beside him, unable to control my tears. “Brady James, listen to me. You're the best man I've ever known. You've shown me how to be strong when I felt weak. You've shown me what it means to stick with your family, even when
it's hard. And you're even teaching me how to transition from one stage of life to another. We don't know for sure that you won't play again. Maybe this is just a season. But the truth is, we have to trust God with the seasons.”

“There's that sermon again.” He smiled and kissed me. And kissed me again. In fact, he kept kissing me until every doubt I'd ever had about our relationship was completely washed away.

When we finally came up for air, I let out a whistle. “Wowza.”

“Yeah. Sorry, got carried away. But it's hard to hide my feelings when you're around, Katie.”

“Because . . .”

Crinkles formed around his eyes as he smiled. “Because I love you. I've loved you ever since that first day we went to the stockyard together to scope out a location for the cover shoot. And I love you even more now than I did then. Any more questions?”

“Only one.” I reached over and picked up the roses. “Do we have a vase somewhere? I want to show off these flowers.”

He laughed. “Try the studio. They keep all sorts of things in the kitchen back there.”

“I will. Oh, one more thing before I go.”

“Yes?”

I snaked my arms around his neck and planted a kiss on him that he wouldn't soon forget. “Just that,” I said when I released my hold on him. “Just that.”

There were times when I wasn't always up. Everything could be calm and peaceful, then the next day the bottom dropped out. What can you do? Moan and groan and feel sorry for yourself? No, you pull yourself up by your bootstraps and you get on with life.

Doris Day

I
headed back to the studio to find something that might work as a vase. I found Aunt Alva and Eduardo side by side, working on Carrie's gown.

“Ooh, you got red roses, honey.” Alva moved toward me and sniffed them. “Luscious. Would you believe no one has
ever given me flowers? Oh, but these are perfect. Let me help you find a glass to put them in.”

A couple of minutes later she located a tall glass just sturdy enough to hold them. I filled it with a few inches of water and settled the stems inside, then stood back to have a look.

“Exquisite.” Alva clasped her hands to her chest. “Just the sweetest thing ever.”

I had to agree. My gaze shifted to Eduardo. “How's it going, Eduardo? Are you going to be ready for Carrie by three?”

“Should be. Not finished, obviously, but we're making progress.”

“We?”

Alva squared her shoulders. “He put me to work gluing on sequins.”

“Austrian crystals,” he said.

“Right. Crystals. Whatever.” Alva shrugged. “Point is, I'm exhausted and starving. We skipped breakfast this morning, remember? When you're my age you can't afford to skip a meal.”

“I'm hungry too.”

“Good.” She clapped her hands and spoke to everyone in the room. “Who wants to go out for Mexican food? I love the tamales at El Burrito.”

“Sounds yummy,” Hibiscus said.

Jane shook her head. “No thanks. I brought a peanut butter sandwich.”

“Oh, but one day away from your sandwich won't hurt you. I just love the food at El Burrito.” Alva carried on about her now-favorite restaurant.

“El Burrito.” Eduardo went off in Spanish about how much he hated the Mexican restaurant next door. Not that I spoke Spanish, but the look on his face made it pretty clear how he
felt about Tex-Mex fast food. He turned to face Alva. “If you want real Mexican food, come to my place. Saturday. Seven o'clock.”

My aunt's face turned as red as the bridesmaid dress Hibiscus was altering. “C-come to y-your place?”

“I'll show you Mexican food. Real Mexican food.” He looked my way. “You too, Katie. Come. Bring Brady. I'll cook my mama's tamales and taco soup.”

“I don't know if I'm free Saturday night.” My aunt fanned herself. “There's a game on.”

“A game?” He rolled his eyes. “You're going to let a ball game stand between you and the best Mexican food this side of the Rio Grande? What's wrong with you, woman?”

At this point Eduardo and Alva got into a bit of an argument about whether or not she could watch the game at his place. They lost me about halfway into it. I was far too distracted watching Jane, who had paused from her work to walk to the refrigerator. Something was up with that girl. I just knew it.

I moved toward her, hoping to catch a few words with her before we left for lunch.

“Jane?”

She turned around and I saw a mist in her eyes. “Hmm?”

“Jane.” I lowered my voice. “What's going on? Are you okay? Was it something I said earlier?”

She glanced over at Alva and Eduardo, who were still going at it, and sighed. “I think maybe I just need some time to think.”

“About what?”

She gestured to her dark red hair and exaggerated lip- and eyeliner. “I think I've been trying to change my outward appearance so that I'll feel better about myself. What you said about the outside matching the inside hit me the wrong way. Or the right way. I'm not sure which.”

“You're a beautiful girl, Jane.” I rested my hand on her arm.

“I'm a caricature.”

“What?”

“I heard Eduardo say it. He didn't know I heard but I did. The day we had the extravaganza. He told Hi that I keep changing costumes and hairdos because I'm not happy with the real me.”

“It's none of his business,” I said.

“Right. It's not.” She chewed on her lower lip. “But I think it's true. Maybe a little bit.” She slapped herself on the forehead and mumbled, “Okay, it's a lot true.”

“But why?” I asked. “You're one of the most wonderful people I've ever known. Everyone thinks so.”

She took a seat and rested her elbows on the table. “I think I just want to be memorable. So I'm always changing things up because maybe then people will say, ‘Oh yeah, she's that girl who has a different color hair every time I see her.'” She gave me a pensive look. “Does that make sense? They'll remember me if I stand out. Only, now I'm not sure that's really the kind of memory I want people to have.” She released a slow breath and looked at me so intently I almost felt uncomfortable. “I think I'm a little jealous of you, Katie.”

“What? You're jealous of . . . me?”

“Yeah.”

“Ordinary Katie from Fairfield? Didn't-even-go-to-college Katie? Katie-who-wasn't-sure-she'd-ever-leave-her-small-town Katie? Why in the world would you be jealous of
me
?”

“Because you are like a rock. You hold steady, no matter what changes are going on around you.”

“I do?” It took me by complete surprise that she saw me this way. “I kind of thought I freaked out at every little thing. Rocks don't panic.”

“But look at you,” she said. “All this stuff with Brady, and you're right there, holding firm. And the stuff going on back in Fairfield—you're right there, helping your grandmother with everything she needs. And here at the shop? When things are in trouble, who comes to the rescue? Katie. You're constant. You never feel like you have to change anything.”

“Are we talking hair and makeup here or something else?”

“Something else. Remember that conversation with Madge? The one where you said that life moves in seasons?”

“Yeah. Had a similar conversation with Brady about that very thing just now. Everything is seasonal.”

“Well, that's my point. I guess I'm a little jealous that you seem to survive the seasons better than I do. They change but you don't. Me? I change even when the seasons don't.” She gave a strained laugh. “Change, change, change.”

“Wow. I don't even know what to say.” As I thought about the chaos of the past few weeks, tears sprang to my eyes. “I'm not constant, Jane. I'm not. But God is. And if I've learned anything, it's that I can trust him in the seasons. When things are hard, I always tell myself, ‘It's winter, but springtime is coming.' Because if you think about it, spring always comes. Even when dreams are dying or relationships are ending, springtime is coming. So we can't give up.”

I caught a glimpse of Dahlia as she took a few steps in our direction. “Okay, sorry. I didn't mean to listen in.” Her cheeks flushed. “Or maybe I did. But I have to say something here.” She looked at Jane. “First of all, I liked your hair when you were a brunette, but I guess that's off the point.”

“Really?” A smile turned up the edges of Jane's lips. “'Cause that's my favorite too. Actually, that's my natural color.”

“I know.” Dahlia stuck a pin in the pincushion on her wrist. “But what I wanted to say was this: I've spent this whole crazy
season in a panic. I thought I wasn't going to make it through all of those Loretta Lynn gowns. And I let that panic affect other areas of my life, like my relationship with Dewey.” Her eyes took on a faraway look. “That precious guy wouldn't give up on me.”

“Are you saying you've decided to marry him and have fourteen children and live in the country?” Jane looked stunned by this possibility.

“No. I'm saying that I let a few things he told me get blown out of proportion, and in my mind that's what I thought he wanted. Turns out he just wanted to talk about options. He's okay with whatever happens, as long as it happens to us together.”

“What are you saying, Dahlia?” Jane asked.

The most beautiful smile brightened Dahlia's countenance. “I'm saying we're a couple again, and it's because of the very thing you said, Katie. I realized the season I was walking through—with all the craziness at the shop—would eventually come to an end. All seasons do. They morph into a different season. So springtime is coming for me and Dewey.”

“What about the whole Baptist-Lutheran thing?” Jane asked. “Did you get that settled?”

“Yes. This week we're going to start looking for a church here in the Dallas area that we both love. We'll keep searching until we hit the one that makes sense. We're both Christians. We'll find the right home.” A contented look came over her.

“Wow.” Jane sighed. “Now I'm a little envious of both of you.”

“You don't have to be,” I said. “The kind of peace that she's talking about is just God's grace. It's there for anyone who wants it.”

“It's a lot to take in. But right now I just have to figure out when I should take my hair back to its natural color.”

“Don't be in a rush to change it on our account,” I said.

“But do go back to brunette.” Dahlia gave her a knowing look.

Across the room Alva and Eduardo had gone back to work on the dress. They were all laughter and smiles.

“So, did you hear him invite her over for dinner?” Dahlia whispered. “I think maybe we're onto something.”

“No, I think maybe
they're
onto something.” Jane gestured with her head to Eduardo, who held the wedding gown up in front of Alva as if trying to envision it on her.

Alrighty then. Enough with all of that.

“I'm ready for lunch, Auntie!” I called out. “Who's up for some Mexican food?”

That seemed to work. She pried herself away from the workstation and we headed next door—Alva, Dahlia, Hibiscus, Twiggy, and me—for some girl time. I made a point not to mention Eduardo, but Twiggy took advantage of every opportunity to bring up his name. Auntie played dumb, but I could read through her act. She liked him. She really, really liked him.

When lunch ended we got back to work. By the time Carrie arrived at three, I was almost caught up with my paperwork and this week's flyer. She breezed into the store completely alone, and I led her back to the studio.

“Can you believe I'm here by myself?” Carrie asked. “It took a miracle, but I managed it. My parents are celebrating their anniversary tonight and Jimmy is out of town on a business trip. So I decided this would be the perfect day to—” She stopped cold when she saw her wedding gown on the dress form. “Oh!” Her hand flew to her mouth and tears sprang to her eyes. “Th-that's mine?”

Eduardo walked our way and held out his hand. She took
it and he kissed the back of her hand. “Miss Carrie, your wedding gown awaits.” He led her to the dress, gushing over how beautiful it would look on her.

“I . . . I just can't believe it.” She reached out to touch the crystals on the bodice. “It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.” She continued to gush, finally reaching over to give Eduardo a hug. “Oh, I knew we did the right thing by coming here. Yes, this was Nadia's idea—having a Doris Day dress—but you're the one, Eduardo, who made it happen for me. I've never been this happy . . . In. My. Life!”

“Glad to be of service, my dear.” He gave a little bow.

“Eduardo is quite the artiste, is he not?” Dahlia walked over to join us. “He's probably the most brilliant designer I've ever known, next to Nadia, of course.”

“She should make you a partner.” Carrie fingered the brooch on the left shoulder of the gown. “She really, really should. You're worth far more than whatever she's paying you.”

“Yes.” Eduardo's gaze narrowed. “So I have told her.” A glorious laugh followed his words. “I am joking, friends! To work for Nadia is a privilege. I am blessed to be in this wonderful place with these amazing people.” For whatever reason, his gaze landed squarely on Alva, not the seamstresses.

Dahlia reached for the gown, unfastening the buttons that ran down the side. “Now, as Eduardo said, it's not done yet. We'll be pinning up the hem today, so I hope you're wearing heels.”

“Oh, I am.” Carrie showed us her beautiful gold pumps and Eduardo gasped.

“Exquisite.”

“We'll also be looking at several alterations on the waistline, I think,” Dahlia said. “So don't be disappointed if the fit isn't perfect just yet. It will be, I promise. And the draping will need
some adjustment. We'll also need to check the back to make sure the fabric plunges to just the right spot.”

Turned out the fit was nearly perfect already. Inside the small dressing room Dahlia and I helped Carrie into the gown and fastened the buttons, then we examined the glorious dress from every angle.

“This is about as close as we've ever come to perfection,” Dahlia said. “Just a couple of nips and tucks . . .” She pulled three straight pins out of the pincushion on her wrist and stuck one in the right shoulder and one on either side of the waistline. “Have you lost a little weight since your first fitting?”

“Nerves.” Carrie turned to look at the dress's train. “Oh, but I had nothing to worry about. This dress solves everything. My father will finally have to admit that we made the right decision, and Mama will be happy because she'll get to brag to her friends that she bought my dress from Cosmopolitan. It's a win-win situation.”

“But how do you feel about it, Carrie?” I asked. “I mean, factoring your parents out, how does the dress make
you
feel?”

Another glance in the mirror and her eyes flooded with tears. “It makes me feel like bursting into a Doris Day song. Something joyous. Something positive.”