Chapter 1 - The Dress They Had No Right to Touch
The first thing Naomi Carter saw was the scissors.
They lay open on her father's bed, their silver blades catching the afternoon light. Beside them were a measuring tape, several spools of white thread, and a little plastic container overflowing with sewing pins.
And beneath it all was her dead mother's wedding dress.
For a moment, the sixteen-year-old couldn't move.
The ivory silk had been spread across the comforter, its long skirt hanging over the edge of the mattress. Sharp pins marked the waist and bodice. Someone had folded the delicate lace sleeves inward, and a fresh chalk line ran across the fabric.
It was the dress Evelyn Carter had worn when she married Naomi's father eleven years earlier.
It was the last thing Naomi still had that felt entirely her mother's.
"What are you doing?"
Her voice barely made it across the room.
Vanessa Monroe turned from the dresser, where she had been examining herself in the mirror. She was wearing a fitted cream blouse and holding a handful of pins.
David Carter stood near the closet, a blue dress shirt draped over one arm.
Neither looked particularly surprised to see Naomi.
That frightened her more than anything.
"That's my mother's wedding dress," Naomi said, stepping inside. "And you're altering it for her?"
Vanessa glanced at the dress.
"Your father said it was just collecting dust in the attic."
Naomi stared at her.
"Dust?"
Her throat tightened so sharply that she struggled to breathe.
"That dress held my mother on the day she officially became my mother."
Vanessa exhaled impatiently.
"Naomi, sweetheart, there's no reason to get hysterical."
"Don't call me sweetheart."
David moved forward.
"Baby, listen. I thought the dress could have another life."
Naomi turned toward him.
"Another life? On the woman who's taking her place?"
"Nobody is replacing Evelyn."
"Then why is she wearing her wedding dress?"
David opened his mouth but said nothing.
Naomi had been five when Evelyn married her father. Her biological mother had left when she was very young, and Evelyn had raised her with the fierce, ordinary devotion of someone who had chosen motherhood.
She had packed school lunches, stayed awake through fevers, and held Naomi through nightmares. She had taught her to ride a bicycle and apologized when she was wrong.
When Evelyn died three years earlier, Naomi lost the only mother she truly remembered.
And now her father was standing beside the bed, allowing another woman to take apart the dress Evelyn had once treasured.
Vanessa crossed her arms.
"It's fabric, Naomi. Beautiful fabric, yes, but fabric. You're making it into something it isn't."
Naomi stepped toward her.
"Just fabric?"
"That's what I said."
"You want to walk down the aisle in the exact dress my dead mother wore? You want her wedding photographs replaced with yours? Is that what this is?"
Vanessa's face hardened.
"I have every right to marry your father without being punished for a woman who isn't here anymore."
Naomi felt the words strike somewhere deep inside her chest.
She looked at David.
He had heard them.
He had heard every word.
Yet his eyes remained fixed on the shirt in his hands.
"Dad?"
He finally looked up.
"Enough, Naomi!"
His sudden shout filled the bedroom.
"We are not doing this again. You will show Vanessa some respect."
Something changed in Naomi's expression.
Not because she had stopped hurting.
Because she understood.
He wasn't confused.
He wasn't unaware.
He had made a choice.
"You threw away the last sacred piece of my mother!"
Her voice broke into a scream.
"You knew what that dress meant to me, and you gave it away!"
Before either adult could stop her, Naomi rushed toward the bed.
She seized the silk in both hands and pulled.
Pins scattered across the comforter and bounced against the hardwood floor. A small tear sounded near the waist.
Vanessa lunged forward.
"Stop! You'll ruin it!"
Naomi wrapped the dress against her chest.
"You already did."
She turned and ran.
Behind her, David called her name.
But he didn't follow immediately.
By the time he reached the hallway, Naomi had disappeared down the stairs.
She left through the front door without a coat, carrying the dress as though someone might rip it from her arms.
Twelve minutes later, she stood outside her Aunt Lillian's house, trembling.
Lillian was Evelyn's older sister.
She opened the door and saw the white fabric gathered against Naomi's chest.
"Oh, baby. What happened?"
Naomi tried to answer.
Nothing came out.
Lillian guided her inside, locked the door, and cleared the dining table.
Together, they carefully unfolded the dress.
The silk was creased. Several pins remained embedded near the waist. A narrow tear had opened beside the left side seam.
Lillian examined the bodice.
Then her fingers stopped.
She lifted the lining and stared.
"What is it?" Naomi whispered.
Her aunt looked up slowly.
May you like
"Naomi, somebody's already cut into this dress."
And for the first time since running out of her father's house, Naomi began to sob.
