Katherine lounges on the maroon fainting couch; shoes up, train spread out over the floor. The bottom of her shoes had been autographed by the members of her wedding party, each careful and haphazard pen stroke intact despite being already scraped a bit from walking. Her grandmother is in the room with her, an elderly woman with a sweet nature, hugging the bride. One could tell by looking at them that they have a close relationship with one another.
Katherine asks if she needs lip gloss or anything, directing the question openly to one of her many bridesmaids. Thunder rumbles outside and Katherine sighs, unsure as to what the weather will bring for her outdoor wedding at Haywood Hall in Raleigh, NC. She is happy to have arrived before the rain the weather forecaster promised would come that afternoon. As it is, the weather has delayed the wedding at least 30 minutes as the sky opened up and rain plummeted to the ground.
Outside, the entire reception awaits, fully decorated. Tables covered in white linens warmly welcome tempting plates of candy, wine, beer, all spotted with droplets as people run to cover them with tarps before they are ruined.
The bride, despite the importance of the day, doesn’t appear to be nervous and is feeling rather good. Striding from her couch, she walks into a smaller bedroom, filled with antique furniture, to touch up her makeup. She picks up a large brush, and dusts her face carefully with it, then applies lip gloss, smacking her lips at her own reflection as if she approves. She is sure Kevin will be pleased with her dress. Satisfied with the returning image, she turns back towards the bed, where a slew of bridesmaids are alternating between watching her and talking to one another. Some are looking out of the window dismally at the rain.
The time has come for the last adjustments. Allison hustles over to attach Katherine’s veil to the back of her head, Katherine wincing as the combs’ teeth bite into her head. Her mother, in a blue chiffon dress, helps her adjust her dress and finishes attaching the veil to her head while the photographer busily clicks away, recording every second of preparation. The last touches must be up to the mother’s exacting standards; like when Katherine was a child, she moves away a hair or two, rubbing a soft, rouged cheek to blend in some make up a bit better, then smiles at her daughter. Thunder strikes again, and Katherine’s face begins to betray her disappointment, breaking down for just a moment in tears as her mother comforted her.
The bridesmaids, seeing this intimate moment, sensitively make their way into the hallway to give the bride and her mother some time alone. Sharon holds her daughter’s face in her hands, and moves her closer in her arms. Katherine’s head droops onto her shoulder, face downwards, as she tries to gain control over her emotions and not disturb the masterpiece of makeup in place.
In the hallway, her bridesmaids cram onto a bench, clearly worried about how the weather will affect the wedding plans. One of the ladies stands up, jittery with nerves and anxiety, and the others shuffle to occupy the empty space on the bench. She shakes out her legs stiffly.
“It’s much more comfy now that you’re up”.
Downstairs, the groomsmen, all rounded up in the parlor, joke and laugh about various manly topics of interest. Kevin Taylor is at ease by contrast to his bride.
“I’m not worried about perfection anymore.”
Katherine is pacing in the room above her future husband, while the photographer poses her and the bridesmaids into various flattering and elegant positions, distracting them a bit in the meantime.
The dress, a David Tutera creation, flows elegantly behind the bride. Glowing white silk, it is strapless and covered in floral embellishments, specifically picked out to represent Kevin’s love of flowers. She remembers when she found it, the perfect dress. At the boutique with her mother and future mother-in-law in tow, Katherine knew it was the dress for her. Her mother stood next to her daughter, agreeing, whilst Kevin’s mom stood behind her, uttering, “Katherine, you have the most beautiful figure in the world.”
Her bouquet, hanging lazily in her hand at one side, beams with huge yellow and white bloomed roses, a silver-rhinestone satin protecting her hands from the stems. Katherine holds the large bundle of blossoms casually, bumping them into walls as she moved from room to room.
Stay tuned until next time for the story to continue!