Chapter 5 #2
Every conversation has felt more like he was checking boxes than actually getting to know me.
"Oh."
It's the only thing I can think to say.
"I didn't know they were coming."
"Your father decided this afternoon."
Before I can ask anything else, Dad walks into the room.
He's already changed out of his work clothes. His tie is straight, his sleeves are buttoned, and his hair is combed back like he's expecting someone important.
"There you are," he says.
His eyes move over my scrubs before settling on my cardigan.
"Go upstairs and change, Lucy. Daniel and his parents will be here soon."
I glance down at myself.
"My scrubs are clean."
"They still look like scrubs."
I bite the inside of my cheek.
"I've been at work all day."
"And now you're home."
His voice stays calm, but I know that tone.
"I don't want you sitting down to dinner looking like you just walked out of the clinic."
"Yes, sir."
I start toward the stairs.
"And wear something nice."
I stop.
"Nothing too casual," he continues. "The Harrises are good people. They appreciate modesty and respect."
Here's a version that flows naturally and stays in Lucy's deep POV:
I nod because I know he isn't talking about clothes. He's reminding me how he expects me to act before anyone even gets here. Smile. Be polite. Don't argue. Don't embarrass him. I swallow the knot in my throat, then turn and head upstairs without another word.
The second I close my bedroom door, I lean against it and let out a slow breath.
My phone is still tucked into the pocket of my cardigan.
I pull it out and stare at Scarlett's message.
She hasn't followed up or tried to pressure me.
She said she'd wait until I answered, and she meant it.
The choice is still mine. That shouldn't feel unusual, but somehow it does.
I lay the phone on my bed and change into a pale blue dress that buttons up the front and falls below my knees. Dad likes this one because it's simple, and Mom always tells me it brings out my eyes. I pull on a white cardigan, brush my hair until it falls over my shoulders, then stop.
For a second I leave it down, I like it this way. I catch myself in the mirror, reach back, and braid it anyway. It's easier, or maybe it's just what everyone's expecting.
The doorbell rings before I make it halfway down the stairs.
Dad is already moving toward the front door, and he glances back at me.
"Come on, Lucy."
I smooth my hands down the front of my dress even though I know it doesn't need it, then follow him into the entryway.
The second Dad opens the door, his whole face changes.
"Frank." He reaches out to shake Mr. Harris's hand. "Glad you could make it."
"So are we."
Mrs. Harris smiles warmly as she steps inside, a casserole dish balanced in both hands.
"We hope we're not late."
"Not at all," Mom says as she hurries over. "Come in."
Daniel follows his parents inside, closing the door behind him. His shirt is neatly pressed, his sleeves are buttoned at the wrists, and not a strand of dark hair is out of place. When he looks at me, he smiles like he's been expecting me to be standing exactly where I am.
"Lucy," he says. "It's good to see you."
"You too."
Mrs. Harris turns toward me before anyone else can speak.
"My goodness," she says, smiling as her eyes travel over my dress. "Don't you look lovely. It's refreshing to see a young woman who still dresses like a young lady."
"Thank you."
I step forward and take the casserole dish from her before she has to keep holding it.
"It's nice to see you."
"It certainly is."
Her hand rests lightly over mine for a second before she lets go.
"You've always been such a sweet girl."
I smile because that's what's expected, but I can't shake the feeling that she's measuring me while she talks. It's subtle enough that I almost convince myself I'm imagining it.
Dad closes the front door behind them.
"Let's get everyone settled."
The men drift toward the living room almost automatically while Mom asks me to bring the casserole into the kitchen.
I carry it to the counter, and before I even set it down, I can hear Dad laughing from the other room.
He's using his company laugh, the one that's louder than his real one.
Mom slides the casserole beside everything else she's made. "I think that's everything."
Mrs. Harris steps into the kitchen behind us, looking around with an approving smile. "Karen, everything looks wonderful."
"Thank you."
"You always make people feel welcome."
Mom smiles politely. "I try."
Mrs. Harris turns toward me. "And Lucy helps, doesn't she?"
Mom nods before I can answer. "She does."
"I knew she would." Mrs. Harris smiles at me again. "Your father speaks so highly of you. He says you're such a help around the house."
"I try to be."
"That's becoming rare." She says it gently, almost kindly. “A young woman can learn all sorts of things in school, but knowing how to care for a home is what really stays with her."
I glance toward Mom who reaches for the salad bowl without looking at either of us. "I'm going to put this on the table," she says quietly.
The conversation moves on, but it stays with me anyway.
Not because I think taking care of a home doesn't matter, because it does.
It's the way those expectations always seem to land on women.
Nobody's telling Daniel that he should be learning to balance a checkbook for married life or that changing diapers ought to be his greatest ambition.
Those conversations always seem to be for us.
Mom hands me a stack of water glasses. "Would you set these out for me?"
"Sure."
I carry them into the dining room while everyone else finishes talking in the living room.
When I come back, dinner is ready.
Dad takes his place at the head of the table like he always does.
Mr. Harris sits beside him.
Mrs. Harris takes the chair across from her husband, Mom sits at the other end, and before I can even think about where to go, Daniel pulls out the chair across from him.
"This one's yours."
"Thanks."
I sit.
It feels planned.
Maybe it always was.
Dad starts passing food around the table, making sure the Harrises serve themselves before anyone else touches a plate.
Conversation starts with work.
Mr. Harris talks about the insurance office.
Dad talks about church and town council.
Mrs. Harris tells Mom about a bridal shower she's organizing for one of the girls from church, and everyone nods like it's the most interesting thing in the world.
I mostly eat in silence, or at least I pretend to. The chicken tastes fine, I guess, but I barely notice it. Daniel looks at me from across the table, and I glance up just long enough to meet his eyes before looking back down at my plate.
"So," he says, "your father mentioned you're studying nursing."
Finally. Something I actually want to talk about. "I am. I only have one semester left now."
"How's it going?"
"It's busy." I smile before I realize I'm doing it. "I've got a test tomorrow, and work's been nonstop lately, but I really like it."
"What do you like about it?"
The question surprises me. Nobody asks that very often.
"I like helping people," I say. "Most days I'm still at the front desk, but I get to meet everyone who comes in.
Sometimes they're scared before they even see the doctor.
If I can make somebody's day a little easier while they're waiting, I feel like I've done something worthwhile. "
Daniel nods thoughtfully.
"That makes sense."
His smile stays in place.
"You've always seemed like the nurturing type."
The words should sound nice.
Instead, I feel myself hesitate.
"I just like helping people."
"And you'll be good at it."
He pauses.
"Especially when you have kids."
Mrs. Harris smiles.
"Then you'll have plenty of time before children."
Across the table, Dad looks pleased.
I feel my excitement drain away.
Nobody asked me about nursing because they wanted to hear about nursing.
They asked because somehow it circled back to marriage again.
I set my fork down.
"I think working at the clinic matters too."
Dad looks at me. "No one said it doesn't."
"I know." I look back at Daniel. "I just... I don't see it as something I'm doing until I get married."
Daniel's smile doesn't disappear. "I understand." He folds his napkin neatly beside his plate. "I only mean priorities naturally change. Most women are happy to step back once they have a husband and children. I think you'll be very happy."
Dad nods immediately. "Exactly."
He smiles at Daniel before looking at me. "I've told Lucy that plenty of times."
My appetite disappears. "I think I'd still want to work."
Silence settles over the table. Long enough for everyone to notice.
Mrs. Harris is the first to recover. "You may feel differently someday, dear."
She smiles at me like she's offering comfort. "It's hard to understand the peace of having your own home until you're there."
Dad clears his throat. "Lucy knows family comes first."
I look down at my plate. Family.
Everyone keeps saying that word. They just don't seem to mean the same thing I do.
The conversation shifts back to business almost like nothing happened. I push my food around my plate and take small bites whenever somebody looks my way.
It's strange.
A few minutes ago, I actually wanted to talk about nursing. Now I wish I'd never brought it up.
Every answer somehow found its way back to being somebody's wife.
I don't think anybody notices how quiet I've gotten.
Or maybe they do.
Maybe they just don't think it matters.
When dinner finally ends, I stand before Mom can even ask.
"I'll help clean up."
She gives me a grateful smile.
"Thank you, sweetheart."
Dad waves a hand toward the living room.
"You men go relax. We'll be in shortly."
Of course.
The men disappear with coffee while the women carry dishes into the kitchen.
Nobody suggests Daniel help.
Nobody even looks surprised when he follows Dad instead.