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[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
with a ripped seam. I smoothed it down and turned to face the mirror.
Made of a light chiffon, the dress was low-cut and fitted in front with an empire waist
that flowed gently into a knee-length skirt. The shimmering fabric was the color of sun-
kissed wheat and brought out the flecks of gold in my eyes.
If there was one thing my mother knew: it was fashion. Leonora would disapprove
but I shook my hair out over my shoulders, letting it curl as it dried.
The face that stared back at me was pale and drawn, with eyes too hard to be so
young. I wondered, as I often did, if I could have done something differently been
someone different. It didn't seem to bother Marise who she hurt. Marco never sat down
and pondered the nature of good and evil. They knew exactly who they were.
Valentine's necklace sat on top of the dresser. The star at its center winked in the
light, as if we shared a secret. I slipped the chain over my head. The pendant came to
rest in the gentle curve of my collarbone, heavy and cool against my skin.
I turned away from the mirror with a small sigh. There was no room for regrets. End-
of-Winter had begun.
Chapter Fourteen
Marcus and Marise flanked me in the receiving line that my mother set up in the
foyer. She and my father stood closest to the door. They were the first to greet our
guests as they entered the house and guide them past us to the refreshment tables or
out to the backyard where softly glowing lanterns decorated the gazebo.
It was a blur of faces, some surprised and others sinister, as they passed. I couldn't
meet anyone's gaze. Instead, I stared at a spot on the far wall above eye level and
murmured the traditional greeting.
"Well met, may End-of-Winter bring you joy."
Valentine had yet to arrive. Each time the door opened my heart skipped a beat. I
needed the waiting to be done, but I was also desperate to never see him again. My
heart was sick with the warring emotions.
The front door opened and I automatically gave the traditional greeting. I wasn't
expecting the response.
"Cousin Helena!"
I blinked and met the bright eyes of my favorite cousin. She was suddenly in my
arms and her taffeta draped body was like a buoy in an ocean storm. "Emily Anne." I
hugged her tighter. "I'm so glad you're here."
"You're crushing me like a Georgia peach in an apple press." She pulled back with
a laugh. "How you been, dahling?"
I squeezed her hands. "Great now that you're here."
Emily Anne Wayward-Bowman hailed from West Virginia. She was the same age as
my brother, Silus, and her open honesty was always a welcome haven during family
gatherings.
Her father, Willard, was a local legend in their small mountain town. He brewed up a
moonshine so strong that it made a man think he could grow wings and fly like an eagle.
Whether these were just potent hallucinations or something more mystical in nature was
a question still up for debate. No one wanted to travel to West Virginia badly enough to
investigate further.
"You look sick, Helena." She grabbed my shoulders and studied my face. "You don't
have any makeup on. Girl, you might as well be out here without a face."
"It's fine," I murmured.
She grabbed my arm and propelled me out of the receiving line. "Let's go."
Leonora cast us a sour glance as Emily Anne pushed me up the main staircase but
manners required her to stay silent. A guest was a guest.
Willard and Emily Anne were distant relations on my father's side. My mother called
them our country cousins not exactly a compliment but Emily Anne had always been
nice to me, sweet even. She and her father never acted as if magic gave them the right
to hurt people.
She led me to the vanity table and I sank gratefully into it. Her whirlwind energy was
exhausting. She stood behind me and my gaze met her glowing eyes in the mirror. My
lips curved to answer her wide smile.
Emily Anne was larger than life a true Southern pageant princess with big hair, a
big voice and an even bigger personality.
Her fingers ran through my hair, fluffing the tight curls. "You have such pretty hair."
She dug in her purse, coming out with a small makeup case. "But your skin looks like
wax paper."
I was silent as she swept shadow over my lids, the applicator brush a light tickle
against my skin. Emily Anne was patting my lips lightly with gloss when she spoke
again.
"Daddy and I heard about Valentine."
A sick feeling sunk deep into the pit of my stomach. How many different ways could
I tell the same story?
"What about him?" The Bonham-Waywards declined to attend Bianca's wedding. All
Emily Anne knew was the gossip spreading through family circles. It must have taken all
her willpower to not blast me with questions the moment she walked through the door.
Our eyes met in the mirror. Her gaze was direct, mine solemn. "Will he be here?"
she asked.
"I'd stake my life on it." And I was.
"Be careful." Emily Anne turned away. "That man is a devil in disguise."
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| Cytat |
Dobre pomysły nie mają przeszłości, mają tylko przyszłość. Robert Mallet
De minimis - o najmniejszych rzeczach.
Dobroć jest ważniejsza niż mądrość, a uznanie tej prawdy to pierwszy krok do mądrości. Theodore Isaac Rubin
Dobro to tylko to, co szlachetne, zło to tylko to, co haniebne.
Dla człowieka nie tylko świat otaczający jest zagadką; jest on nią sam dla siebie. I z obu tajemnic bardziej dręczącą wydaje się ta druga. Antoni Kępiński (1918-1972)
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