The Bridal Veil by Alexis Harrington Page A

eye, stood in the kitchen and surveyed the
room. The table needed something to dress up its plainness. Sunday
dinner ought to be something special, not just food flopped on the
table with no style or grace. It was a time for family to come
together. Rose lingered in the hallway, still dressed in her good
clothes and looking forlorn. Blast that Cora Hayward for her
insensitivity, Emily thought.
    “ Rose, I need your help. Do
you know where to find some wildflowers to put on the table? Like
the pinks you brought to me?”
    The girl scuffed her shoes across the
floor. “Yeah, there are some lupines on the other side of the
road.”
    “ That would be perfect!
Would you change your clothes and go gather a few
stems?”
    “ Okay.” She turned wide,
dark eyes up to Emily. “Do you think that Grammy is right about
God?”
    Recognizing the sensitive subject,
Emily asked, “What did she say?”
    “ She says that God doesn’t
answer prayers. That if he did, my mama never would have married
Daddy, that she never would have died, and that—that,
well . . . ”
    “ It’s all right, Rose,” she
urged gently. “Go on.”
    “ She says you never would
have come here. She says talking to God is a blame-fool waste of
time and that a body might as well talk to the wall.”
    Yes, that sounded like Cora, all
right, Emily thought. Bitter and autocratic. “Do you ever talk to
God?”
    “ Sometimes,” the girl
answered, but she looked as if she were admitting a guilty
secret.
    “ And does he answer
you?”
    “ No—at least I don’t think
so. Daddy still doesn’t laugh and things around here aren’t fun
anymore. Maybe Grammy is right.”
    “ But does it make you feel
better to tell God your troubles?”
    Rose looked up at her with tear-damp
eyes, and Emily’s heart ached for her. “Yes.”
    “ Then it’s not a waste of
time. Believe me, Rose, God hears you. It’s just that sometimes the
answer doesn’t come right away. Or sometimes the answer is
simply no .”

“ It is?”
    “ Yes. No one gets everything
they want.” Emily was well-acquainted with that fact. She wanted to
take Rose into her arms and give her the affection she seemed to be
missing. But Emily sensed that it might not be welcome just yet.
“You just keep on talking to God, if you want. And if you want to
talk to me, I’ll listen too.”
    “ Okay.”
    Emily gave her a big smile. “Now run
and get your clothes changed, and find those flowers for me. I’m
counting on you.”
    Rose smiled too. “I’ll bring back the
biggest ones out there.”
    While Rose was gone, Emily went to the
sideboard and found a lovely cutwork tablecloth and napkins with
which she set the table. Obviously, the tablecloth hadn’t been used
in a long time, perhaps years. It bore sharp creases from sitting
in the drawer and smelled of the lavender sachet tucked into the
corners. Emily tried to smooth the fold lines with her hands, but
they were too well established. It seemed a shame not to use
something so pretty for special occasions. As she put a napkin at
each place setting, she dreamed of doing this every Sunday. They
could go to church, have a real Sunday dinner with nice table linen
and flowers. In the summer, they could even have dinner outside,
she and Luke and Rose—
    This pleasant reverie was interrupted
when Cora came back into the kitchen, clutching the pork to her
chest. She let out a shrill squawk louder than the caterwauling of
all her hens combined. Her eyes were wide and staring, and she
pointed at the table with her free hand. Like a specter from a
nightmare, she squawked again, raising the hair on Emily’s
scalp.
    “ Wh-what?” Emily
stuttered.
    “ How dare you?” Cora raged.
    Rose came running through the back
door, grasping the stems of wild lupines. Their purple blossoms
were a sharp contrast to her pale hand. She followed the direction
of her grandmother’s gaze and sucked in her breath as
well.
    “ How dare you touch
Belinda’s belongings?”