Chapter 3 - What the Dress Was Hiding

Luca looked at the photograph for a long time.

Then he handed the phone to me.

I wish he hadn’t.

Sophie stood in the bridal fitting room wearing a pale blue dress.

Her sleeves reached her wrists.

One cuff had slipped back.

Around her arm was a thin purple mark.

Not a bruise from a hand.

A line.

Like something had been tied too tightly.

I looked at Sophie.

Luca crouched in front of her.

“Baby.”

She immediately pulled both sleeves down.

That told us more than the picture.

Luca’s voice changed.

“What happened to your wrist?”

Sophie glanced at Vanessa.

Vanessa spoke first.

“She caught it on a ribbon.”

Luca didn’t turn.

“I asked Sophie.”

The girl’s lower lip trembled.

“It was the bracelet.”

“What bracelet?”

Vanessa closed her eyes.

Sophie whispered, “The wedding bracelet.”

I remembered the boxes.

Silver bracelets had been delivered for the flower girls and family photographs.

I had never seen Sophie wearing one.

Luca held out his hand.

“Show me.”

Slowly, Sophie pulled up her sleeve.

The mark circled her wrist.

Luca’s face went still.

“Was it too tight?”

She nodded.

“Why didn’t you take it off?”

“I wasn’t allowed.”

Vanessa exhaled sharply.

“This is ridiculous. It was part of the fitting.”

Luca stood.

“You left something tight enough on her wrist to mark her skin?”

“She kept removing it.”

“So you stopped her?”

“I told the stylist to secure it.”

Maria stood now.

“You told her assistant to use fashion tape.”

Vanessa turned.

“You were there for ten minutes.”

“Long enough.”

Luca looked at Sophie again.

“Did it hurt?”

A pause.

Then:

“Yes.”

His eyes closed.

Only for a second.

When they opened, he looked at me.

“Claire. Upstairs.”

Vanessa stepped forward.

“No.”

Luca turned.

She lowered her voice.

“You are turning this into something it wasn’t.”

He looked at her for a long moment.

Then pointed toward the hallway.

“Marco stays with you.”

Vanessa laughed.

“I’m your fiancée.”

“Not tonight.”

I followed Luca and Sophie upstairs.

Maria came with us.

Inside Sophie’s room, Luca stopped in the doorway.

The room looked wrong even to him now.

Bare nightstand.

Empty wall hooks.

No photographs.

No pink blanket Sarah had sewn.

Luca walked to the dresser.

“Where’s the picture of your mother?”

Sophie stared at the carpet.

“In the closet.”

“Why?”

“Vanessa said guests might come upstairs.”

Luca looked toward me.

I nodded.

He opened the closet.

Sarah’s framed picture was behind a box of winter shoes.

So was another frame.

Then another.

Four photographs.

All hidden.

Luca placed them carefully on the bed.

His hands were steady.

His breathing wasn’t.

Maria opened the desk drawer.

“Luca.”

Inside were three folded cards.

Each had Vanessa’s handwriting.

WEDDING BEHAVIOR.

GUEST RULES.

FAMILY PHOTO PRACTICE.

Luca opened the last one.

His jaw tightened.

“What?”

Maria asked.

He read aloud.

“Smile without showing teeth.”

Sophie covered her mouth.

“Stand two feet from Dad unless called.”

Luca stopped.

I felt sick.

He kept reading.

“Do not ask to sit on Dad’s lap.”

Maria whispered, “Oh my God.”

Then Sophie said:

“There’s another one.”

All three of us looked at her.

She pointed beneath the bed.

I knelt.

There was a small white gift box.

Inside sat a silver necklace.

A heart-shaped pendant.

Beautiful.

Expensive.

And underneath it, a note.

Luca took the paper.

He read it.

His face changed.

“What does it say?” I asked.

He handed it to me.

The note had only one sentence.

WEARING THIS MEANS YOU ARE READY TO CALL ME MOM.

Sophie’s voice came from behind us.

“I never wore it.”

Luca turned.

“Why not?”

She looked at Sarah’s photograph on the bed.

“Because I already have a mom.”

For the first time since dinner, Luca’s anger disappeared.

He crossed the room.

Then pulled his daughter into his arms.

She held on to him.

Hard.

After a moment, she whispered into his shoulder:

“Dad?”

“Yes?”

“Vanessa said you’d be happier if I forgot.”

Luca’s hand stopped against her hair.

Then Sophie added:

“She said you were trying to forget too.”

He looked over her head at me.

And I knew exactly what he was thinking.

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Because five years after Sarah died, someone had not only been teaching Sophie to erase her mother.

Someone had been telling her Luca wanted it that way.