My daughter’s wedding dress arrived completely black, but that wasn’t the real disaster.

 

“Oh, we’ll make sure she looks like a queen,” Helen had said.

It was time-consuming and expensive, but it was perfect.

A few days ago, I saw it almost finished. Ivory satin, delicate lace, a long, flowing train.

Or so I thought.

The evening before the wedding, I noticed something. Jack was acting differently than usual. He was always polite, perhaps a little quiet, but a good man. But that evening, he was different.

“Is everything alright?” I asked him.

Jack forced a smile. “Yes. I’m just a little nervous, you know?”

I nodded. That made sense. Weddings were big, emotional events.

But still… something had changed.
The next morning, there was an excited atmosphere in the house.

Then Helen arrived. She came in carrying a large white box.

“Here it is,” she said.

I grinned. “I can’t wait to see it again. It was so beautiful the last time I saw it…”

The dress inside was black. Not ivory. Not white. Completely, deep black. My hands began to tremble. My mouth went dry.

“Helen,” I whispered. “What on earth is this?”

Then she placed her hand on mine. “Darling, just trust me.”

“Jane?” My voice cracked. “What’s wrong?”

Finally, she looked at me.

“I have to do this, Mom.”

I gasped. “Do what? In a—Jane, this isn’t a joke! This is your wedding!”

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