Page 38 of My Darling Clementine

“Send Lucille up,” called Mrs. Bates.

“I’m already here, Mama, let me in,” said a young woman from the other side of the door. “My arms are full.” In tumbled a younger version of Abbie, with a half-dozen paper-wrapped bundles tied up with string piled high in her arms. “Debbie’s bringing the rest,” she said, laying the stack on the bed.

“What’s all this?” cried Kizzy. “I only asked for enough fabric for two dresses, and some ready-mades to fit Clem. This is three times that, or more.”

“More,” agreed Abbie’s daughter. “Hello. I’m Lucille.” She turned behind her and gestured at another young woman, just as tall and skinny, carrying a cardboard box tied up with bright blue ribbon. “This is my younger sister, Debbie.”

“Kizzy,” she introduced herself, nodding at the two young women, both around her age. “Nice to meet you both.”

“We’re happy to help, and Mama said you wouldn’t mind two more at the wedding, will you, Miss Walker?” asked Debbie. She brushed her hands down the front of a very stylish dress.

“Not at all. It’s nice to be surrounded by women on my wedding day.”

“True, there won’t be a lot where you’re going.” Abbie started sorting the packages. “Which is what your thoughtful husband was thinking when he came back to pay for the alterations. I asked him to bring you the items you’d purchased, but he refused.”

“He made you carry them here yourself?” Kizzy shook her head. “That doesn’t sound like him.”

Lucille tittered. “Oh, no. He brought over the bundles we had finished. But before he left he asked Mama to choose enough fabric for gowns, skirts, blouses, nightclothes, and underthings, with enough thread and sewing equipment for all of them. He also,” she reached in a pocket and pulled out two ten-dollar bills, “paid for your purchases and asked this be returned when the rest was delivered.”

“Aw,” sighed Gabby, standing in the doorway listening. “That’s so romantic. He’s such a gentleman.”

Kizzy laughed, waving the crushing teen in. “You can’t have him, Gabby, he’s mine.”

“Oh, Miss Walker.” The girl blushed. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I’m teasing. Are you coming to the wedding, too, Gabby?”

“Can I?” The youngster’s eyes grew gigantic. “Can I, really?”

“Of course.” A thought struck her. “I need a flower girl. Go put on your Sunday dress, and tell Mrs. Bates I invited you.”

Gabby’s impulsive hug around her waist left her breathless. “Oh, thank you, thank you. I’ve never been to a wedding before.”

“Me either,” said Kizzy, hugging her back.

Gabby’s work-roughened fingers caught in the fine lace of the veil, and she accidentally tugged it. The veil and all four pins came loose as Kizzy’s hair tumbled down around her shoulders all the way to her waist. “Oh, no!” the girl wailed. “I’m so sorry! I’ll put your hair back up.”

The angry seamstress plucked up the torn veil, eyes sharp, and with something to say, but her youngest stepped in front of her. “It’s all right, Mama. You go on and get ready, Gabby. I’ll fix the veil and Lucy’s talented with hair. Everything is fine.” She gave her young friend a quick hug. “You don’t want to be late for the wedding, so dry your eyes, and hurry.”

“I will, Debbie.” Gabby squeezed back, then turned to dash out the door but stopped, rushed back and hugged Kizzy again, taking much more care. “I’m so sorry,” she cried over her shoulder, running down the hallway and thundering downstairs.

“She and I went to school together before she dropped out of third grade. That poor girl’s never had it easy, not once in her life, and she tries so hard,” Debbie said, turning to take the veil. “Don’t worry, Mama, I’ll have this fixed in three minutes at the most.” She turned to her sister. “Do your magic with her hair, sweep it up and I’ll set the veil after.”

“What time is it?” Kizzy asked, clearing a space on the bed to sit by carrying several bundles and placing them on a trunk.

“Five-fifteen,” answered Abbie, right behind her with the last of the bundles. Atop the stacked packages, she placed the cardboard box with its pretty ribbon. “We have plenty of time, but let’s not waste it.” She looked around. “Debbie, work by the window to get the rest of the sunlight. Kizzy, you sit here on the edge of the bed, so you don’t wrinkle your dress, and be careful of your petticoat. It might want to pop up.” The matron guffawed. “You don’t want anyone seeing those bloomers except your bridegroom.”

“Of course not,” agreed Kizzy with a grin.

“He’s going to love them,” chuckled Lucille with a sly smile, pushing her down to sit, and brushing her hair with long, careful strokes. “But they won’t be on you for long.” She laughed just like her mother. “That fancy corset, either.”

Uh oh, sex talk. Clem was a man, she had to remember that.

“Lucille!” snapped her mother. “Your baby sister’s in the room.”

“I’m married,” Lucille explained with a pained look. “Debbie’s only fifteen and still not interested in boys. She doesn’t understand, yet.”

“Understand what?” asked Kizzy, pretending a curiosity she never felt. “What is there to understand?”