Page 6 of Graciously His

We left the airport, and I tried not to notice the odd looks Nick kept sending my way.

“What?” I finally demanded.

“You’re really quiet,” he said as we got in his car, ready for the twenty-minute drive into town. “Are you putting together a best man speech?”

“As if a sudden civil union deserves a speech,” I muttered.

He gave a mild chuckle and we headed off. Dread filled me despite my plans. Something told me I was about to lose Grace a second time.

Chapter 4

Grace

Ten Years Ago

The afternoon of the wedding, Mother left to pick up my bouquet and I took the opportunity to get dressed on my own. She’d picked out my gown weeks before, and I hadn’t bothered to have it tailored. It was more of a sheath than a dress, covering me from shoulders to toes in white linen. I wouldn’t have chosen it for myself, but I’d had neither the energy nor the desire to go dress shopping. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I saw how hollow my cheeks were, how many new little lines had appeared around my eyes. Worry lines. Unhappiness lines.

And I was only twenty-two.

It had been weeks since I left the house, and I wasn’t sure I would be able to handle being out for the hours it would take to execute our plans.

Execute.

It did feel like an execution of sorts. I did my best to shrug off that idea while I put on makeup, attempting to hide the dullness of my skin, the darkness beneath my eyes. I tried to think of happier things: Nick living with me in the house next door; getting a little bit more autonomy once I was well; and, especially, Nick and I finally having sex.

He can’t say no on our wedding night, I told myself. He won’t be able to keep his hands off me.

Thinking of being close to Nick brought a flush to my cheeks and I smiled, adding a layer of cream blush over the natural colour. I heard the front door open, and my stomach clenched. Mother was back.

I rushed to add a bit of liner to the corners of each eye.

“Graciously,” Mother called, her voice approaching as I swiped on mascara, “it’s time to go, lovey.”

She came into my room without knocking, brandishing a large bouquet of lilies—the exact flower I’d asked her not to get. My throat tightened. If I held that bouquet, I’d be sneezing throughout the ceremony and my sinuses might end up infected.

“Oh my goodness,” she said, staring at my face in the mirror, “you’ve put on so much makeup, Graciously. I don’t think there’s any need to paint yourself up today. Let’s just scale this back a bit.”

She set the flowers down and approached, eyeing me. I held up a hand, hoping to fend her off.

“I’m not painted up, Mother. And I asked you to get roses, not lilies. You know what lilies do to me.”

She sighed. “I know, Graciously, but the florist screwed up the order, and this was all he had in white.”

“I’d take any colour of roses over lilies.” I stood with a wince, my joints protesting. “Take me to the florist. We can exchange those and—”

“There’s no time for that,” Mother said, grabbing a pack of makeup wipes. “Here, let’s get some of that blush off, at least. It’s just too much.”

I stepped back, turning my face away from her questing hand. There was no way she’d take my makeup and my flowers.

“Let me put some on you, Mother.”

She paused, the wipe hovering near my face. I saw the moment her eyes softened.

“Here,” I gestured her onto the chair in front of the mirror, “let’s give you a bit of extra sparkle, shall we?”

Mother nodded, turning her beautiful eyes to her reflection. Although her hair was thin enough to show her scalp, her features were un-creased and lovely. I used some well-placed highlighting and contouring to enhance them, making her appear even younger.

“You know,” I murmured, applying mascara to her lashes, “we could look into getting you a wig sometime. Especially for big occasions, there’s nothing wrong with—”