Chapter 2
Ihadn’t exactly pulled myself out of the darkness—I had slowly rolled back into the abyss, climbed up the hill, rocketed back down, and found myself on a dirt path that didn’t go anywhere. It wound to and fro, up and down. Sometimes there were stairs, hand hewn and a little rickety. Some were made of stone, a little stronger, more stable. I knew those stones came from the people before me, that club I never wanted to join.
Grief was overwhelming and yet nearly invisible.
Grief stabbed and stole and lied and shouted and whispered.
Grief hid and jumped out of the darkness and waited to do it again.
Grief rocked the foundations of a home.
Grief was never ending, and yet it didn’t stab as sharply as it once had.
At least most days.
Today marked five years since I lost everything. Since darkness had taken my light.
Five years since I lost William, and everything changed.
I didn’t like the word widow. And yet I clung to it because it was the only connection I had left to William. I didn’t want to be just a widow though. To have people look at me and know what I lost and show their pity in their eyes and their actions. When they found out I was alone and there was that pause before they said anything else. An awkwardness would settle in because how long was too long to grieve? And then they would clear their throats and say they were sorry and you would move on with the conversation. You had to assure them you were okay. That yes you were sad, and yes he would always be part of your life, but you didn’t want that to be the only thing to define you.
You needed to make your grief about them, so they were comfortable remembering who you were, and not just who you were without your husband.
I was thirty-one years old. Thirty-one years old and had been a widow for five years.
“I miss you, baby,” I whispered into the silence, even though I wasn’t sure I believed he could hear me.
I had never allowed myself to think about what lay beyond this world. I thought of the afterlife as this wibbly wobbly timelessness that I would figure out when I was older and things made sense.
I would worry about the ever after once I got a little more settled into my happy ever now.
That’s what William and I had always told ourselves. We were in our twenties. We were young and happy and had the rest of our lives together. We were thinking about children and what we would do on our first real vacation, now that we had a few bucks to spare. We had saved and scrimped and done our best to start the next phase of our life in our late twenties. People thought we’d gotten married too young, and while my family had been all for it, loving William, William’s family hadn’t been thrilled. Their son had been too young to settle down with the likes of me.
I rolled my eyes at that, still annoyed.
It wasn’t their fault they didn’t understand me, but everything else they had done afterward was their fault. I was grateful William wasn’t here to see what they had done. Who they had become. But maybe that wibbly wobbly afterlife meant he saw everything.
Maybe he saw me here now, sitting in my sweats on the couch, feeling sorry for myself because I was all alone.
William would’ve wanted me to buck up, get my act together, and work.
He would also want me to live, to take chances, to make mistakes. To become the epitome of Ms. Frazzle and get messy.
“Knock knock,” a familiar and welcome voice said from my front door as she took it upon herself to walk in without asking, smiling brightly. A little too brightly, but I wasn’t going to mention it.
Joni, my best friend and confidante, came inside, a bottle of wine in one hand and a covered dish in the other.
“I would have brought you cake or cookies or something, but we both know that you can bake anything far better than I could, or even what I could get at the store.” She set both of her items on the table in front of me and put her hands on her hips.
“So. Did you shower today?”
I raised a brow, then looked down at my sweats. “Oddly yes. These are my work sweats. They don’t even have stains on them yet. I’m practically fancy.”
She gave me a soft smile and my lips wobbled, but I ignored it. I wasn’t going to let it affect me. I was going to be fine today. Everything was going to be okay. Nothing had changed from the day before, nor would it change tomorrow. William would still be gone, and I would still be left behind. I would just carry these scars on my heart, and a few on my back.
After all, I’d been in the car with him. The one behind the wheel. I heard his scream, echoing with my own, and then I remember being pulled out, but William not coming with me. That’s all I remembered of that day, which was odd because most people said they remembered the day that their husband died in such vivid detail that it followed them into their dreams.
But I didn’t dream of that. No, I dreamed of everything from before, and everything that came after.
Because so much came after.
“You’re allowed to cry, you know. You’re allowed to have this whole bottle of wine, or eat that entire green bean casserole that I know you love, or you can work, watch TV—you could do anything. The one requirement I had for you was to shower. Because that’s what you wanted me to ask of you. You see? You’re already surpassing your expectations.”
“As long as you don’t call me a strong, confident woman that is handling grief in a wonderful way, we’re doing dandy.”
Joni winced. “Please tell me the neighbor that shall not be named did not say that to you.”
I stood up and went to the covered dish, grateful my friend seemed to understand me more than I did.
“Oh yes. Complete with a heartfelt apology that her husband was out mowing the lawn this morning. Because the fact that her husband was alive might hurt me or something.” I rolled my eyes and went to the kitchen to get two spoons.
“At least you moved out of your other house and started over here, because this kitchen is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.” She sighed. “My God, Aurora, do you want me to kick her ass? I’m pretty sure I could do it. She’s mostly just spite and sinew.”
I raised a brow as I handed over a spoon and Joni pointed to the wine bottle. “Interested?”
I shook my head. “No, I have a work order to do. I’m just waiting for the cookies to cool.” I gestured towards my workstation and all the prep work that had taken over my morning. “How about sparkling water? That sounds good, right?”
“Anything you want,” Joni said, and I could feel her eyes on me.
She was just as worried about me as my family was, but from her it didn’t feel like pity, or desperation for everything to be normal, even though there wasn’t such a thing as normal. Oh, they could call it the new normal. They could call it whatever they wanted, but it was never the same.
“Did you talk to your parents today?” she asked. I nodded, pouring us each a glass of sparkling water. I pulled my long, dark hair away from my face, aware that though I had washed it and blown it out, it was going to end up with a kink in it anyway from being in a ponytail or bun for most of the day. I didn’t ice cookies with my hair in my face. That was just asking for a food code violation and unhappy clients.
“Yes, this morning before they went to work. They didn’t bring it up, they just wanted to hear my voice. I am not sure if I should call this an anniversary, or just a day.”
“Have you talked with William’s family?” I took a large drink of my water, then shook my head before I dug into the green bean casserole, aware that I would probably eat this whole dish if it were up to me.
“Good. They’re assholes.”
I swallowed the yummy mushroom creamy green bean goodness and shrugged. “They miss their son. I don’t know why they would talk to me.”
“Because you were a part of their son’s life. For nearly a decade.”
“High school sweethearts that turn into husband and wife don’t actually equate to their son’s forever. They only want to remember the good parts. They don’t want to remember that I was part of those good parts. I’m just the woman that survived the car wreck.”
“That a drunk driver caused.”
“And I was driving,” I said and ate another bite.
It hadn’t mattered that the drunk driver had crossed three lanes of traffic to hit us head on. It hadn’t mattered that the driver had crunched into William’s side of the car, and William had broken his neck instantly.
I was still the one driving. Who hadn’t been able to get out of the way fast enough. I replayed it over and over again. I tried not to replay hearing the crack of William’s neck beside me, the intake of breath before there was none. I just told myself they were nightmares designed to hurt me.
Nobody needed to know those existed.
“I still can’t believe they took the business. They took everything.”
I raised a brow. “They own the business. I was just working with Lauren.”
“And William’s sister is a bitch.”
I didn’t contradict her. My former sister-in-law was a bitch. A bitch that was mourning day in and day out, and needed someone to blame because she wasn’t going to blame the fates, life, or God.
“I was a damn good pastry chef for them too. Our business did well. But she’s doing just fine on her own.”
Joni rolled her eyes. “Sure. As in they’re not going bankrupt, but they’ve been through how many pastry chefs since? You were the best that they had, and they suck. I hope they go out of business. Or the place burns down. No one needs to get hurt, but let’s burn down the place.”
I shook my head, wondering how I got so lucky with my best friend. It seemed like these days I wasn’t lucky in most things. “Thank you for the green bean casserole and the company. I’m going to get to icing. Do you want to stay and watch? Or do you have work to do?”
“Jeff’s with the kids today for daddy-daughter outings, so I’m going to play on my phone for a little bit and watch you and keep you company. Is that okay with you?”
I smiled and nodded. “I would love that. I can always use the company.”
What was left unsaid was that I rarely left the house anymore. I went to the grocery store, I ran errands, but I didn’t go out. There had been that one disastrous date last year, when I told myself I would get out and try to see the world, which had ended with me crying in a corner, and the guy going back to his ex-wife.
Oh yes, I was a pro at dating. Considering I had never really done it and had married the first and only man I had ever loved. The one and only man I had ever been on a date with. The one and only man I had ever kissed.
So no, I was better off staying in my house, working in my house, and never leaving.
Part of me wondered if I should have just moved up north to my parents’ town and started over there. It might’ve been easier all around, but I wanted to stay here. I loved it here. And there were plenty of clients who needed me here.
I was a hometown baker who didn’t own her own shop because she lost the one she loved. Just like she seemed to lose everything.
And that was enough of that. My life kind of sucked, and I was in mourning still, but that didn’t mean I was going to cry myself to sleep every night. Maybe tonight though. Tonight seemed like an okay day to do that.
I went to work, icing little high heel cookies and purses and fancy rings. It was a bachelorette party and the girls loved shopping and were doing an all-day shopping experience, complete with little cookies along the way.
I loved the designing, the filling, and icing. This order was pretty easy, not so delicate. I was grateful that today was only for a bachelorette party, and not the wedding cake I would be making in a few weeks.
No, I didn’t need to think about that.
“Oh, that’s terrible.”
I looked up at Joni, piping bag in hand and frown on my face. “What’s wrong?” My heart began to race, images of fiery car wrecks and people grieving beside graves filling my mind.
Joni winced and looked as if she wanted to talk about anything other than what she’d just brought up. “I’m sorry, it’s nothing. Just a viral post.”
“What kind of viral post?” I asked, setting the piping bag down and going to wash my hands.
“It’s nothing.”
I was slightly alarmed now because there was something wrong. There had to be, with the way Joni kept looking around the room as if something or someone was going to help her. “The more you say it’s nothing, the more I feel like it is actually something. Come on, let me see.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t want to make you sad,” Joni mumbled.
I held out my hand and she slid the phone towards me. My heart broke just a little at what I saw.
It was an Instagram photo of a beautiful wedding dress, champagne-colored, antique-looking. It looked as if it had been altered some but was still beautiful and timeless.
The caption beneath it broke my heart.
A Bride In Need.
Hi. I’m Augusta. I’m getting married in two days. No matter what, I’m getting married.
Only it seems that the world is making things a little hard for me. You see the dress in that photo? That was my great-grandmother’s. And then my grandmother’s. And then my mother’s. Aunts have worn it, second aunts. I was supposed to wear it in two days. And because it needed to be altered, we went to a local seamstress. One who lied about who she was.
I gave over my dress full of memories, hope, and promise to a woman who pretended to be the former owner of a renowned business.
And then she closed up shop and took my dress, along with others. I’m never going to see my family heirloom again.
We will continue to work with the authorities to hopefully help find it for future generations of my family, and for our own sense of peace.
But I know I’m not going to be able to find it in two days.
I get married to the love of my life, to the man who has already moved mountains for me, in two days.
And I have nothing to wear.
Naysayers may laugh and say ‘Wow it doesn’t really matter. You are meeting the love of your life at the end of that aisle, it shouldn’t matter what dress you wear, or what flowers are set, what music sends you to him. It should be about family.’
And in the end, it will be.
But my family dress is gone, and this day is about us. I just wanted to feel pretty for one day.
So I’m asking you a favor. Below are my measurements, something I never thought I’d post, but I am asking you for help.
Do you know where this dress is? Or do you have a way of helping me find a dress? I keep shopping, keep searching, but I’m not a size six. I’m not going to fit in a dress off the rack like some might be able to. I cannot find the dress that I want, or a dress that calls to me. I’m searching. I promise you. But I need help.
I’ll keep searching, and I will wear a bathrobe to meet the love of my life if I have to.
But if you could help me find a way to be a princess, I will be forever grateful. If you find that dress, I will come to you. Or we will pay to ship it to us. But if you help me, we will be forever grateful. Please. Help me try to fix this.
I didn’t realize I was wiping away tears until Joni handed me a tissue.
“Isn’t that awful? I know today wasn’t probably wasn’t the best day for you to look at that, but it’s just so terrible. I wish there was something I could do. My dress is collecting mothballs somewhere, and looks nothing like the one that she wore, and it wouldn’t be the right size anyway.”
I tapped my chin as I looked at the post from the Wilder Retreat and Winery.
“I know this place. It’s on the other side of the city, but I’ve heard good things. Didn’t Bethany Cole get married there?” I asked, speaking of the Oscar award-winning actress.
Joni snapped her fingers and nodded. “You’re right. Same as Lark Thornbird. It’s the up-and-coming place to get married. Although not only celebrities get married there, as is evidenced by this couple. I cannot believe that seamstress did that.”
“People can do terrible things, and they don’t think about those they hurt.”
My heart ached, but I realized that there might be something I could do. Something so outlandish, so ridiculous.
“I’ll be right back,” I said as I went to the guest room, knowing this was probably a mistake.
It wasn’t even going to work out anyway.
But I went to the closet and pulled out the large box I had taken with me in the move but hadn’t known what to do with.
I heard the gasp behind me but ignored Joni as I opened the box. It was a sense of mourning for me, one more nail in the proverbial coffin of my marriage.
I shuddered, hating that thought.
“It’s beautiful, Aurora.”
“Did you know I was named after a Disney princess?” I asked, my voice soft.
“Yes. And I know that you couldn’t decide between a blue or pink gown for your bridesmaids.”
“And so I mixed them, a nod to my fairytale movie.”
“What are you thinking, Aurora?” Joni asked gently.
“I’m thinking that William’s not coming back. That I re-steamed and got this dress ready for something.”
“Aurora.”
“Did they leave a contact number?”
“Are you sure it’ll fit?”
“I think so. It’s not exactly the same, but the lace is delicate enough, and mine has a longer train. Maybe they can make it work. I don’t know. It would be nice for it to have a second life, don’t you think?”
Joni handed me the phone and I looked up to see tears streaming down her face.
“I already entered the number, you only have to hit call.”
“Okay. Here goes nothing.”
The phone rang twice before a woman answered, sounding out of breath, slightly frazzled, and it settled my nerves. “Wilder Retreat and Winery, this is Alexis, how can I help you?”
I cleared my throat, knowing that tears would come if I let them. “Hello, I’m Aurora. I saw your Instagram post.”
“So have a few others. We’re so grateful for the response.”
My heart ached a bit, but I kept going. “Have you found the dress or a replacement dress?”
Alexis answered. “We haven’t, but we’re still on the lookout. We keep getting calls wanting updates, I’m sorry we can’t give you another one.”
She sounded like she wanted to hang up, to move on to the next call or the countless other things this woman had to do, but I continued. “My husband died five years ago today,” I blurted, not quite sure why I said that. Jodi’s eyes widened, but then she made a continuation movement with her hands, and I realized that that probably wasn’t the best place to start.
“I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine that loss.”
“I hope you never have to. Truly. But that was my awkward way of saying that I still have a wedding dress, and one that I think that will fit Augusta. I live about an hour away, on the other side of the city. But if you want, I don’t know, I’d love to see if it would fit. I can head over right now with it. I don’t know, it just feels right. If she would be okay with wearing a dress of a woman who lost her husband. But now that I think about it, that sounds weird.”
I could hear the tears in the other woman’s voice as she too cleared her throat. “I think that is the most giving thing I have ever heard in my life, and I would love to see the dress. Can you send a photo? That way I have something to show her while we wait. No matter what, we would love to have you here, Aurora. It just sounds like you need to be here too.”
I swallowed hard, grateful that I wasn’t crying even though Joni was.
I snapped the photo and texted it over and heard Alexis’s gasp when it came through. I just sat there, holding the connection that I had with William, the memories it entailed.
But I knew I was doing the right thing.
I couldn’t hold onto the past forever. Couldn’t hold onto what wasn’t there. But if I could help this person, maybe it would ease the pain.
It wouldn’t make it worth it, nothing could.
But maybe I could make a difference for someone else.