Tender Hearts

Judgement Day

Marianne returned to the room a few minutes after Amelia left. She had no inkling of what was about to transpire. Evie was sitting on the bed when she entered, clad in the bridal gown, veil tucked perfectly into the pin curls the hairstylist had created, delicate waves framing her face. It was a sight that overwhelmed her with emotion. Clasping her hands over her mouth, she tearfully exclaimed, "You look so beautiful."

It was a dance between the two of them, this abuse and adoration. Evie knew it well and, while she hated the abuse her mother heaped on her in the name of social standings, she relished the adoration. To her, it was a glimpse at what she could have had, were their relationship normal. In a way, it made the hurt sting worse, yet altogether more bearable. "Thank you, Mother," she blushed. She stood from her seat on the bed and did a little twirl.

"Are you nervous?" her mother asked.

Evie nodded. "A little."

"Well, let's not keep them waiting," Marianne smiled. She opened the door and held it for Evie, picking up her train as she passed by. "Don't worry," she coddled. "It will be wonderful, you'll see."

The thankful smile that graced Evie's face had nothing to do with her mother's words. Instead, it was in deference to the fact that she knew she'd be free. 

She followed in silence towards the elevators and up to the top floor. There was a restroom next to the ballroom with a salon, meant to be the room for brides to prepare themselves and this is where Evie and Marianne went. It was also where Amelia crouched in the stall on the end that had an "Out of Order" sign hung on it. Evie sauntered to the end of  the row of stalls and poked her foot under the door, indicating to Amelia that she was there.

After a cursory check of make-up and hair, slipping on the impossibly-high champagne colored heels Marianne pulled out of a shoe box she'd brought, and a quick sip of white wine to calm her nerves, Evie was ready. She stared at herself in the mirror as she waited for Marianne to leave and barely recognized herself. Gone was the timid and admittedly naive woman who, a little less than a year ago, would have jumped at the chance to marry Chas. She'd been replaced by someone decidedly less dewy-eyed, more cynical and altogether more scarred than she imagined she'd ever be. The woman who stared back had more depth than that debutante, more strength than the socialite she'd been raised as and, Evie decided, she liked this woman more.

"Now, Evangeline," her mother said, snapping Evie from her self-assessment, "I'm going to my seat. Merrill will be the one to escort you down the aisle." She saw Evie roll her eyes and scowled. "It's a favor to me," she explained. "If your father was here, he'd be walking with you, but, since he's not, I figured your future father-in-law should have the honor."

"Fine," Evie replied. Anything to coddle her mother, to get some alone time before the ceremony. 

Marianne smiled. "Good girl." She gave Evie an air kiss next to her cheek and left the room.

"Oh, thank God," Evie groaned once the door was shut. "I was afraid she'd never leave me by myself, again."

Amelia climbed down from her perch and emerged from the stall. "I've got your back," she whispered as she reached the spot where Evie stood. "And you look beautiful. Too bad it's for a wedding you don't want."

"Yeah." Evie let out a long sigh. "I should peek and see if they're ready." She walked to the door and opened it just a crack. There was an usher standing by the door and she hailed him. "Are they ready?" she asked.

He blinked at her, his expression blank, for a moment, then answered, "Oh, almost. The guests are all seated, now." Instead of resuming his post, he ducked through the doors of the ballroom and disappeared, leaving the hallway empty.