A few days to clear my head, and I'll be fine. Time to be alone. The dream I had last night continues to replay as I pin bloomers on the line. The morning has been peaceful, and perfect for cloud gazing. I gape at a shape of Lord Licorice from the board game Candy Land. Clouds are where imagination can run wild.
After laundry, I tend to the beginnings of an herbal and vegetable garden. I won't be planting anything today, but will be chopping dirt and picking rocks. The gardenhoe drives deep, uprooting early spring weeds. One particular stone gives me trouble, so I use the tool as a lever. My gloves paste together with filth by the time I manage to flip the rock away from the garden. I'm so engrossed in muscle pulling work, that I jolt when a chirp echoes behind me.
"Stars above, Rosemary!" Breathing shallow, I smear the sweat from my forehead.
"I'm sorry, Nyrah. I only came here to ask if you still were able to complete a lesson today. Lucas shared that I would find you at home." I swallow the sticky saliva coating my tongue.
"Why don't you come inside?" I gesture to the back door of the house, tossing gloves into a flowerpot by the green and white shed.
"So this is why you called Lucas for a few days off before Clara's wedding?"
"You could say that." I sigh, pumping water into a glass to drink, cool liquid sliding down my parched throat, soothing any desert flames with a hiss. "I apologize for losing track of time. I almost thought of cancelling the lesson as well." I set the glass into the sink and splash more water over my face, patting it with a towel when done. "Give me five minutes to change, and we can start right away." Rosemary waits on the sofa, drawing a sketch of her challenge for the week.
I have half a mind to toss the sewing needle across the room. My fingertips are red speckled from stabbing myself so many times. The fabric hue pinned together on my lap reminds me of sun-burnt leaves; it is meant to be a dress, but it resembles material for rag curlers instead. Rosemary is patient with me, for which I am grateful, but I am not patient with myself. She explains the formula for stitching certain seams, and the result is a puckered bib with string pleading to be put out of its misery. Didn't they have sewing machines in this time period? I think they do. Is Rosemary holding out on me?
"Nyrah, for a beginner, your really are doing well. Have more confidence in your capabilities." She pinches my arm tenderly, getting my attention. I continue to study the needle's placement, before pulling it through. Not too bad I suppose...my shoulders lift, unwilling to admit I am not immediately perfect at everything I do. "Why don't we be finished for today?" Rosemary drapes her project over the sofa to get a better look at it, before folding it away. I don't bother to look at anything. The only word I can think of is "monstrosity" as I fold mine too.
"Are you going to share what's going on?" Rosemary asks.
A cold sweat breaks out across my skin. "What do you mean?"
"Nyrah, you are as bad as Elizabeth." Rosemary rolls her eyes before taking my hand into her lap. "Something is bothering you. It has been for a little while now, I think."
I look anywhere but into her eyes. Rosemary has this way of squeezing the truth out of you, much akin to a blackhead, and I wince at the comparison. We are good friends, and she is more wise than people give her credit for. Her advice isn't always fit for a person's needs, but has an insight I lack. Sol was never that way. She had advice, but it wasn't her strong suit. Sol never glanced at the bigger picture, focusing too closely on the here and now chain reaction. If someone wronged you, you made them pay. I never understood that concept. I can hold rage for a person, but in the end, I long for resolution in place of conflict, but execution is elusive at times.
"I've just had a difficult few weeks."
Rosemary nods." And what has made it such a hassle for you?"
"It's..." My mind shuffles through all the explanations I could give for what exactly is going on. "Right after Archie Grant was proven innocent, I invited Allie and Nathan to go fishing with me, like we always do. They canceled last minute."
"Oh, Nyrah, Constable Grant is a very busy man. He probably had a good reason for it."
"I would understand that if he had not been trying to avoid me for the rest of that week." I lean forward, elbows on my knees. "Rosemary, the afternoon before Clara's party, Nathan apologized for something he did. I was angry. The situation is more complicated than it seems."
Mrs. Coulter remains quiet for a few minutes, and I dare not share any more. "Nyrah," she begins carefully, "Are you still angry?"
I nod, timid from discussion, but guilty of realizing it is pointless to remain upset. "If you only knew what he did, Rosemary," I defend.
"Which is more important to you? Your friendship with Nathan or shunning him because he made a mistake?" I never thought of it that way. Did the two of us even have a legitimate friendship to begin with? We argued the first time we had a legible conversation. He trusted me, and I trusted him after we got to know eachother. That trust is fractured now. The words "our friendship" coat my tongue, but don't come in the way I want it to. "Friendship," I scoff, offended at the term.
Her eyes widen, taken off guard. "I can't believe I never saw this before," she says at last.
"What?"
"Other than Elizabeth, you are the only person I can read like fashion catalog." I still my features even more, hoping she cannot read in addition to what she has deduced already, whatever it may be. I'm frightened by the implication. Rosemary's shoulders sag. "You care for him."
I want to cry instantly, for an ache I never recognized until now claws at the heart behind my sternum. In a dark valley I cannot comprehend, a truth floats out of it and through my veins. "I love him," I whisper. Tears pool in my eyes, and they burn. "Don't tell Elizabeth!" I whirl to correct a problem before Rosemary can feel awkward or tell me Elizabeth cares for him as well. I know she does. "I don't want to stand in her way." A hand covers my mouth. "You are the first person I have ever admitted this to."
"You are full of surprises," Rosemary laughs. "Lee and I were certain you had a thing for Lucas." She is not wrong. I did, but we are friends. I don't want that to change. I'm not certain as to when I came to this conclusion for the both of us, but I also know it was subtle. "I will respect your wish," Rosemary pats my arm, "but how did you know she liked him?"
"Didn't both Lucas and Nathan give her flowers?"
"No," She says. Butterflies. Need I say more? "Nathan did not bring her flowers." He didn't? I'm insane, hearing things that are not actually being said. Rosemary really means that Nathan did bring her a bouquet, and Elizabeth is now confused because it is real from Lucas and Nathan. The story doesn't just change. It can't!
"Come again?"
"Nathan did not bring her any flowers. Lucas did."
"...Oh."
Three days later, magical lights warm the room like tiny stars. As I predicted in my journal(because I already knew), rain thunders outside, turning the roads into slop. The Saloon is last-minute decorated by Elizabeth and anybody willing to pitch in. Since Clara is not able to have her outdoor wedding, outside has been delicately been brought inside. Garland flowers and willow cords and lights behind tulle curtains. I walk down a wooden aisle, but the atmosphere invites me to imagine I am in a tranquil forest. Moss carpets and jade vines crawl around the banister. A blossom tree awaits at the end, and Fiona, Elizabeth, and Rosemary all follow my lead. And I follow Emily and little Jack and Opal as she scatters blushing rose petals for the bride. Each bridesmaid has a different colored dress. Fiona is in a sky blue, Elizabeth is in peach, and Rosemary wears a deep pink-purple. Mine is a canary ivory yellow, with flowing short sleeves and skirt down to my ankles. Color shows on my cheeks when I spot Nathan in the middle row to my right. He watches Elizabeth, unable to breathe before I pass him, his glances following us. I ignore the envy, and swallow my pride. This day is about Clara and Jesse, and I discover a effortless smile tug on my lips. When we all line up, the piano trills into a buildup of melody. Clara is walked down the aisle by the closest person she has to a father, and Bill Avery is melting beneath he surface. He is more emotional than he lets on. As Elizabeth said earlier, Clara could dress in a potato sack and still be the most beautiful bride. Her wedding dress is perfect and a mix of all the things she liked in all those catalogs. Long sheer sleeves with lace about the edge of the shoulder, and a loose skirt that is just the right length.
A crown of light makes her entire being sparkle, and the red, white, and green bouquet compliments her smile. Florence is hidden by the veil next to the piano and everyone stands for the entrance of an angel. I breathe in, delight overwhelming my senses. My friend is about to be married to the man whom she loves, and who loves her. Nathan comes to mind. There is no sense in wishing for something that holds little chance of happening.
Bill gives the bride away, and Jesse tenderly takes Clara's hands into his. Elizabeth bumps my arm with her elbow with subtlety, giving an expression only a woman can read as she crinkles her nose, before waving at her son in the front row. She is telling me that seeing them together in this moment is so precious and sweet and we are all excited for the couple.
I return the expression, and we both resume listening as they exchange vows.
"Everyone, please be seated." The pastor announces and everyone in the audience complies.
"Clara, you make me so happy every day," Jesse commences, "even when you're mad at me." Laughter sweeps through the saloon, and Clara giggles. Carson is in the other front row, snapping pictures. It will be odd to know that I will be in these pictures. Photoproof that I live here and am part of a significant memory. "I still can't believe I'm the lucky guy that gets to marry you."
Emily edges Little Jack up from the chair, helping him bring a small handcrafted bird's nest with spotted painted eggs glued to a bed of what appears to be moss. The rings are tied with ribbon. Jack is adorable in his outfit, and his enthusiasm as he stands tall as he watches Jesse remove Clara's stunning ring. It slips onto her finger with ease.
Clara's eyes are red with tears. "Jesse," she sighs, "There was a time in my life where I didn't think it would be possible to ever love again. You swept into my life and changed all that. And dispite my doubts you never gave up on us. Thank you for loving me more than I ever thought possible. I give you my heart, my love, my faith, and my life, now and forever, because that is what I want with you." Lucas stares unashamedly at Elizabeth, pleased with her happiness and glow. I know she will choose him. I don't know why I ever wanted to rip them apart, hoping he would choose me instead. What a selfish thing to do. "Forever," Clara finishes. I secretly wish that Jesse's vows had been a little longer, but it isn't me that he is marrying...Lucas catches my stare and I wave gently, as not to draw attention to myself. He waves back with a playful smirk. Nathan's brow quivers. What is his problem? Did he think Lucas waved at Elizabeth or something? Am I misreading him? His actions continue to confound me. One moment Nathan pays me attention, the other, he is with Elizabeth and ignoring my existence. Not that I have been giving him attention lately.
When Clara and Jesse are announced to be Mr. and Mrs. Flynn, the applause is thunderous. My palms hurt from clapping so hard. A squeak bubbles up in my throat, energy boosting my exhilaration, before a shadow taints my emotions. I fear I will live my life with unrequited love. It might just be my destiny and fate, for I have lived that way my entire life so far. There is always someone more lady-like. More comely. More humorous. More...well, just more.