Young Writers Society

She carved into the desk with her pair of sewing scissors. She hummed a death march. M…

Her mother called from the parlor, a door slamming. She rolled her eyes.

I…

She frowned at the step of heavy boots on the wooden floor. Her scissors went faster.

N…

She didn't answer a soft tap at the door, frustration apparent on her face. She shook her head.

A…

"Minerva," her father murmured behind the door, warning her of his mood with the use of her formal name.

She slammed the scissors down onto the desk which was covered with carvings and stood slowly. Brushing the wood shavings off of her skirt, she smoothed and straightened it.

"Minerva, I know what you're doing, and it's not going to work." His voice was still calm, still soft, but she knew that was where the danger lay. Her father was not normally a quiet, still man.

She traced one of the names she had carved years ago. Mina… She paused at the last name… Ailey… She sighed. "Coming, Papa." She slowly made her way to the door, opening it to look at her father coldly.

He smirked at her, though he still seemed abnormally reserved. "You'll forgive me, my girl."

Raising her chin as she refused to let it tremble, she shook her head. "Not if I can help it," she muttered, blinking rapidly at hot tears.

"We have to go!" her mother cried and glared at them both, juggling several boxes. "How will it look to be late on a day like today?”

She flew out the door as Mina and her father followed.

He leaned down to whisper in Mina's ear, "You don't have to forgive her."

"That's what you're doing to me," she murmured.

He laughed. "I would certainly hope not."

They walked out into the sticky, already hot, June morning. The carriage, a fairly modest vehicle, was smothered in orange blossoms.

Her father blinked. "Mrs. Ailey… What have you done?"

"Isn't it beautiful?" she gushed. "I got Will to do it for me."

The driver was brushing petals and pollen off of his shoulders, looking less enthralled than Mrs. Ailey.

A footman opened the door of the coach slowly and bowed at the waist as the family made its way in, taking Mina's hand to help her in with a slight squeeze of comfort before he closed the door.

Mina sighed heavily as she sat opposite of her parents.

"I still don't understand why he wants us to come so far. He won't even meet us halfway," Mrs. Ailey was saying brightly to a slightly attentive Mr. Ailey.

And the conversation revolved around this for the entire trip.

Mina pouted, refusing to answer any questions directed at her. Even more maddening than the fact that she was even in the coach was how her parents ignored her after several attempts to make her speak. She stared out the window, watching the acres of farmland rush past. Her heart twisted as they slowly left the familiar terrain and entered the busy landscape of the city.

The coach rolled to a stop in front of a grand house, and the footman opened the door again.

Mrs. Ailey bounced out as her husband waited patiently for Mina to follow before he ducked out of the carriage last.

A plump woman with graying blonde hair, amazingly similar to Mrs. Ailey, came to stand on the porch, grinning ear from ear. "My darlings," she called. "I'm so happy you have come to me."

Mina winced at the overly loud voice and went on only because her father was behind her, nudging her forward. She accepted a hug from her aunt and allowed herself to be ushered into the house. She was led up the great staircase and looked back at her father who was disappearing into a study as quickly as he could manage. Traitor, she thought viciously as she was pushed into a room.

"Oh Fanny," her aunt giggled, "Your little girl finally grew up." She drew out a handkerchief and dabbed at her already wet eyes.

"Dot, you have no time to get emotional now." Mrs. Ailey was already opening her boxes excitedly.

"I'm sorry. I was just thinking of my dear Clarence." She sniffled and looked over her sister's shoulder, brightening almost immediately. "What pretty things." She beamed at Mina. "You will be beautiful."

Mina frowned at her aunt in the mirror as Dot began to unlace her bodice. "Did you always call him Clarence?"

Dot shrugged. "Not in public, of course, but when we were alone or with close friends, we called each other by our Christian names."

Mina twisted around to look at her mother's face. "What do you call Papa?" she demanded.

Mrs. Ailey held up the dress, hiding her face from view. "You're around, Minerva. You know." Her voice was abnormally sharp.

Mina was about to push the subject further when Dot squealed in approval.

"Oh, Fanny, that's beautiful. You've outdone yourself.”

Mrs. Ailey had sewn every stitch of her daughter's gown. She had embroidered every blue leaf on the edge of the skirt. She blushed in pride and shrugged. "I've worked hard."

Mina stepped into the silk and brought it up slowly with the help of her mother and aunt. Though she had stood in the dress a countless number of times for her mother to pin, her breath was taken away. She was a thin girl, had always been tortured with the fact that she had none of the attributes that had made her mother the most wanted woman during her time. This dress, however, complimented what she did have. She was beautiful.

Dot dabbed at her eyes again, fanning herself with her other hand. "Oh, darling, today will be a good day."

Mina wrinkled her nose but turned around to look at her backside. Her bustle was giving off an illusion as always, but it was just a nice as the front. She squinted at her reflection and touched an undone seam. "Have I popped it?"

"No," Mrs. Ailey said quickly, "I'll sew it up when we get to the church. Don't worry.”

Dot raised her eyebrow. "A little superstitious, Fanny?"

"There's no reason I can't hope for the best for my daughter," she snapped and motioned at a chair in front of the vanity for Mina to sit in. She began to tease the slick blonde hair up into a stylish updo.

Dot rummaged through the boxes and lifted a shoe. "Did you feed a cat out of this last week for luck?" she teased.

Mrs. Ailey cleared her throat primly. "Not me."

Mina recalled the stable boys calling to their mean tempered tomcat and waving around a woman's shoe.

The happiness of seeing herself in the finished dress soon wore away, and Mina stared at her reflection as it was slowly transformed.

There was a quiet knock at the door.

“Who is it?” her mother asked around three pins in her mouth.

“Your husband bearing gifts,” Mr. Ailey mumbled through the door and paused for an effective moment. “From the groom.”

. . .

He doodled in the margin of a book he was supposed to be reading, still in the nervous movement of his sister and friends. He frowned when he was faced with a chained wrist and signed in tiny, practically illegible script, the once Unattached Hiram Thorley. He sighed and glanced at the clock. Four o'clock… That was one hour left of freedom… He straightened his long legs, pushing himself up, and stretched with a purposely unaffected yawn as he walked toward his desk casually. He frowned and began rummaging through the clutter of his desk. He glanced up when his father cleared his throat.

The old man leaned against the doorway, a smug expression upon his face. He held up a decanter. "Is this what you're looking for, boy?"

Hiram took a step forward, only to stop short when Mr. Thorley hid it behind his back. "That is what I'm looking for, sir."

"Well, too bad. I'm not having you go to your own wedding soused."

Hiram raised an eyebrow. "Who says I would have gotten that drunk?”

"I say because that's what I did." He held up a hand to silence Hiram. "I didn't mean to either."

Hiram was about to argue his point anyway when his sister skidded to a halt in front of him. She stuck an orange blossom in his buttonhole. He shook his head, taking it out promptly. "No."

She stuck her lower lip out in an instant pout. "But that's the flowers in her wedding.”

"She's got to have more than that, Jules.”

She sighed theatrically. "You're lucky she does." She revealed a purple flower, flax, he would find out later, and put that in his button hole instead. "Better?"

He screwed his eyes up at her. "What does it mean?"

She waved her hand to dismiss his fears. "Fate," she replied with a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows, forgetting to mention its symbolism of domesticity.

"Fate," he muttered and glowered at her. "Have you sent the-"

"It’s already taken care of, my good man. Her gift is on the way to her aunt's abode."

He almost ran his fingers through his hair, hesitating when she glared at him. Though it didn't look very different to him today, his hair could not be messed with by order of Queen Julia. "Why wouldn't you just pick it out? I'm still not sure…"

She rolled her eyes. "Because it was a gift from you, Silly, and don't worry. It's perfect." She was already beginning to hurry away when she called over your shoulder, "Tata for now, boys."

Mr. Tholey shook his head affectionately. "We'd better go that way too, Hiram," he suggested.

Hiram seemed to deflate at that moment. "Let's go."

. . .

Mrs. Ailey held the enticingly sized box in her lap as they rode to the chapel in the stuffy

carriage, refusing to let Mina peek beneath the lid.

“This is just some Fanny craziness,” Aunt Dot muttered as she dabbed at the sweat dripping behind Mina’s left ear. “Don’t let it get to you, dear.” She twisted her handkerchief and wiped at another bead of sweat. “She’s always a bit superstitious when she’s under pressure.”

Mina nodded but rolled her eyes.

“Don't be like that, dear.” She dried the damp skin just before the neckline and opened her mouth to prattle some more, only to close it slowly.

There was a heavy silence as the carriage rocked to a stop, and Mina tried to lift her chin as the door slowly opened. She licked trembling lips and followed her mother out.

“Be careful, dear,” Mrs. Ailey chided, strangely tender, and held the train of the dress out of the dirt. “We don’t want my work ruined, now do we?”

Mina shook her head dazedly and stared up at the quaint whitewashed church that seemed out of place in the bustling city around it. She looked at her mom and blinked away scalding tears she had fended off for so long. “Why?” she whispered.

Fanny glanced at Mr. Ailey and Dot and murmured, “We’ll meet you inside. I’ve got a few things to take care of anyway.”

Mina watched them walk away detachedly. Her father stopped just outside the door and waited on the top step, waited to hand her off to a man she’d never seen. Aunt Dot hurried in, in that endearing, enthusiastic, waddling way of hers that always reminded Mina of a ruffled goose.

Fanny revealed a needle and thread from somewhere in the voluminous folds of her dress and began to sew the last few stitches. “Your father and I went against both of our parents’ wishes and married.”

“I know,” Mina murmured, tilting her head up ever so slowly, every degree taking an eternity, until she stared up at the bright blue, June sky.

Fanny nodded, taking a deep breath to still her trembling hands. “I want so much better for you, Baby,” she admitted and turned her daughter to look at her, framing her face with her hands to force Mina to return her gaze to the earth. “Do you hear me?”

A tear leaked from her treacherous eyes, and it took her many moments before she could speak without a tremble in her voice. “I’m not ready, Mommy.”

“Oh, my baby,” Fanny sighed, “You never truly are. Trust me; I have made you as ready as I know how.” She bent and picked up the box she had left on the carriage steps, opening it slowly.

Mina gasped. Nestled within tissue paper was a squash blossom necklace of silver and turquoise.

“It matches almost perfectly. That’s a good sign, I think.”

Unable to help herself, Mina turned again, bending her knees slightly, so Fanny could put the necklace on her.

“We could not support you always, Mina…” She hesitated at the pet name, hardly ever having used it, and sighed. “Your father and I both agreed that you needed to find someone. We gave you as much time as I thought was possible.” She cooed softly, an involuntary sound of affection. “I looked for months. I’ve never made such a hard decision.” She deftly twisted a seditious hair back into place. “Do you realize how many wives’ tales I’ve believed in with the hope that…” She paused to swallow and rested light hands on Mina’s shoulders. “With the hope that yours wouldn’t turn out as mine has.”

A lump was hard in Mina’s throat, and she couldn’t swallow around it. She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to do.

“I love you, Mina. I really do.”

She moistened her lips again, opened her mouth, but no words passed through.

Fanny closed her eyes, her arms fell to her side. “I’ll give you a few minutes. The ceremony doesn’t start until twelve anyway.”

Mina listened to her walk away and walked around the carriage, refusing to look at her parents as she rounded the corner of the church. She dropped into a bench, just out of sight of the front of the church and cradled her head in her hands.

I love you too.

Was it too late to run to her mother? Could she wrap her arms around her neck and murmur that into her ear until she had to walk down the aisle?

Mina didn’t move.

A choked laugh broke from her throat, and she straightened, shaking her head. Somehow, she felt a bit better with her mother’s confession. If she had luck on her side, perhaps…

She started at the bang of a door and turned around, but no one was there. She frowned, running a finger around the necklace, and sighed. She stood slowly and headed back to the front of the church.

Her mother was already in the sanctuary. Her father watched her with a sympathetic smile. “Are you going to make it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Mina managed a wan smile and nodded, offering her arm. “Shall we?”

He engulfed her in his arms for one quick hug. “We shall, my darling.”

. . .

A cold drop of sweat slid down the overly hot skin under his collar as he pulled at it and his cuffs. He glanced back at a good friend his sister must have threatened into coming and managed a small, miserable smile as he met the questioning gaze.

He had just wanted to take a walk, get some damn air, but he couldn’t, of course he couldn’t do anything without throwing everything to hell. He had to curse a marriage that hadn’t even had the chance to be planted.

That wo-

She-

His wi-

He felt a moment of shame as he searched for her name.

...Minerva... He smiled in relief, glad to have remembered her name, the name of his fiancee, of his soon to be wife

Minerva was-

His head jerked up as the door, swollen with the moist heat of a Savannah summer, creaked open, a final jerk flinging it open.

There was a wild, loud laugh that suddenly died as her eyes met his for the first time.

He smiled because she looked scared, and she smiled back probably because he looked just as terrified. Running a hand through his hair, he let out a soft sigh and fortified himself.

What was he thinking?

‘Curses’ didn’t exist, so he relaxed his shoulders, straightened his coat, and admired her, his slowly approaching fiancee, and he ignored the niggling thought in the back of his mind that this wasn’t the first time, that he had studied her before.

He had been right to choose that necklace for her. It fit the length of her neck, the blue of her eyes. His eyes swept down her for a moment and grinned.

At least she wasn’t ugly.

He faced her as she stopped at the altar, nodding at Mr. Ailey, more nervous than panicked now.

She stared up into his eyes.

He gave her a small smile, and she blinked, leaving whatever fearful play she had been in. She straightening her shoulders.

He would always feel as though the ceremony was unusually short, but he did remember taking her hand, in something similar to a handshake before slipping a fairly plain band onto her fourth finger. He leaned forward slightly and murmured, “It’s nice to meet you.”

She grinned, her first real one, if still small, and gifted him with a wry expression.