Honor and Desire (Gold Sky #3) - Rebel Carter Page 0,31
dressed while I pick out a few accessories. We will have just enough time to do your hair before the picnic. I think it should be left down, because the event is casual, as you said.”
Seylah blinked, looking down at the dress that was suddenly in her hands and wondered if she had perhaps erred in her estimation of what getting ready for the picnic might entail. The lace of her dress felt dainty against her calloused hands, and she paused, looking down at the delicate threading for a moment.
Could she do this? Was this truly what she wanted?
Yes, she wanted to move forward. Yes, she wanted to enjoy her time with Elliot. But … that still didn’t change the fact that she secretly wished for another to be arriving later that day to call on her.
August.
Her heart squeezed. Their interactions since Elliot had been … strained, to put it mildly, with her efforts to bring the issue to light failing spectacularly. The end result came to nothing more than a mended fence done in silence. And now here it was, Sunday. The day of the picnic and she hadn’t so much as spoken a word to him. It left an awful twisted feeling in her stomach that Seylah wouldn’t wish on anyone.
“Seylah?” Her mother's voice roused her from her thoughts. “Are you all right?”
Seylah nodded and moved forward. “Yes, I’m quite fine. I’ll just be a minute getting dressed.”
Julie placed the accessories she had picked out on the dressing table. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” Her mother grinned at her over her shoulder as she bustled out the bedroom door. “Oh, I can’t wait to do your hair. It’s going to be so lovely! You’re going to have such a wonderful time. Don’t you think?”
Seylah clasped her hands in front of her, a tight smile on her face. “Of course, Mama,” she whispered but the door had soundly shut by then. She sighed and turned to the dressing table. The glittering earrings and hair comb her mother had chosen for her glinted in the morning light. They would suit her perfectly, make the dress impeccable, and her footwear was at least conservative enough that she would feel secure on her feet---a blessing, indeed. With the right hair and makeup, her appearance would do, of that she was sure but still she hesitated in dressing.
She had not done such a thing for herself since that night all those years ago…
“You are not a child any more,” she whispered, eyes squeezing shut for a moment before she sucked in a deep breath and moved forward. She could not wish to go on with her life, to prove that she was worthy of good, if she took two steps back for every one that she took forward.
She would never get anywhere like this. Nowhere at all, save for late to her picnic outing and disheveled looking. She began to work on the buttons at the front of her dress, her fingers blissfully moving by autopilot, and before long she was standing attired in picnic worthy attire. She had only just finished lacing her boots when her mother knocked on the door.
“Come in,” Seylah called, smoothing her hands over her skirts and considering the hair comb. How was she meant to wear it, exactly? She was still looking at the accessory when her mother came to stand beside her. Seylah lifted her eyes and smiled at her mother in the dressing table mirror.
“How shall we do my hair?” She asked holding up the comb.
Julie met her daughter’s eyes in the mirror and smiled at her, reaching out to lift a curl of hair up. “I think swept up will be chic and casual. It will showcase the comb perfectly, and keep your hair out of your face. It’s a bit windy out today and we can’t have you getting a mouthful of hair when you mean to take a bite of tuna sandwich.”
Seylah cringed at the thought. “That would be a less than desirable first impression to make on Elliot,” she said and Julie chuckled, pushing her down into the seat at the table.
“Oh, Elliot already, is it?”
Seylah ducked her head, a move that made her mother cluck her tongue at her. “He asked me to call him such.”
“And does he refer to you as casually?”
“Well, yes,” Seylah said, picking at her skirts. “It seemed the only polite thing to offer when he gave me his name.”