Page 31 of Grace Notes
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After the kiss that left me forgetting my own name, I walked up to my childhood bedroom to find my mom waiting, just like Brooks said she was.
Now, I’m sitting in a chair in front of a mirror, getting my make-up done. Brooks thought of everything for this. I’ll never understand how he put this together so quickly, but I’ll forever be grateful.
I didn’t tell him, but canceling our vow renewal broke my heart a little. I didn’t want him to feel guilty over it—not when we had Kip to worry about—but he noticed how it made me feel. We wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t, and I am thankful because there was a time when I felt like a window in our marriage. He looked through me instead of at me. Now, I can confidently say that he sees me, even the feelings I try to bury and hide from myself.
My mom appears over the make-up artist’s shoulder and looks down at me with tears in her eyes. “You look beautiful.”
Lifting my lips, I offer her a smile around the lipstick currently being applied. “Thanks, Mom. Where’s Avery?”
Her eyes light up with the mention of my daughter, filling my heart with so much joy. That little girl has so many people who love her. “She’s with your Dad. I’m sure they are getting into trouble somewhere.”
I scoff and roll my eyes because she’s not lying. My dad and Avery tend to find trouble wherever they go together.
With one last swipe across my lips, the make-up artist stands up and admires her work. “There. You’re all done. I’ll step out and let you get dressed, and I’ll gather my stuff once you’re done.”
I nod but remain quiet, nerves suddenly settling in my stomach. Mom seems to notice, stepping up and squeezing my hand while the make-up artist slips out.
“Come on, dear,” she says, tugging on my hand. “Let me help you get dressed.”
Hindsight is twenty/twenty. When my original dress didn’t fit, I was heartbroken, but after Brooks encouraged me to buy a new one, Mom and I went shopping. And that husband of mine was right. I needed a dress that fit who I am now, not who I used to be, because that girl from before is not the same as the woman now—not even close.
With steady hands, Mom reaches forward to the dress bag hanging on the door and lowers the zipper. As each inch of the dress is revealed, I remember again why I fell in love with it.
Lace covers every inch of the dress, revealing a tan underlay. It’s simple, with sleeves that billow out and a back that is cut out. It made me feel beautiful in a way that is sometimes hard to do as a mom.
“May I?” Mom asks, indicating the dress.
I nod, shedding my robe as she takes it out of the bag and holds it for me to step into, and as the silk underlining slides over my skin, I can’t help but wonder at the moment.
“I didn’t think we would make it here,” I say, my voice a little broken as I recall where we were. It was a kind of darkness we couldn’t see our way out of, but luckily, the people around us could. We found our way, even when we didn’t think we would.
“You did, but I always knew you would. You and Brooks are the type that are meant for forever. I knew it even when you were young. That man has always looked at you like you were his best friend. He just got a little lost for a while.”
“Me too.” I’m not willing to deny the faults I had in our struggle. There are things I messed up, too. “But God helped us find our path.”
“That he did,” she says. With careful movements, she zips up my dress and places her hands on my shoulder. “Are you ready?”
Nodding, I try to swallow, but the nerves won’t let me get it down.
She pats my arms and slowly turns me to face the mirror. A small gasp escapes me as I take it all in—me, the dress, the way my mom stares at me with tears in her eyes. My chest aches in the best possible way, like there’s too much happiness sitting inside it, and it needs to find a way out.
A lone tear leaks from the corner of my eye, and Mom tsks her tongue. “Don’t you ruin that make-up. You have a husband waiting on you.”
I turn, bending to hug her. She’s the best mom, and I can only hope to be half of what she is. “I love you, Mom.”
“Oh, baby,” she whispers, “I love you too.”
Pulling back, I sniffle one more time, then plaster on a big grin. “Let’s go get me married—again.”
Chapter 19
Brooks
My palms are sweating as I stand at the front of the aisle and watch my daughter walk toward me.
She’s wearing a bright smile as she flounces down the aisle, throwing petals from the wildflowers beside our house in her wake. The guests watch her with a smile, and I turn my attention to them.
