Page 35 of Where the Roses Bloom (Gospels & Grimoires #1)

Willow

The house smelled like roses.

It was the first time in weeks that I’d caught that familiar scent…

the scent I associated with Hazel’s meddling, with the clues we’d followed out into the woods when we broke the curse.

I couldn’t find a source for it, but I knew I would track it down eventually—that I would find roses blooming out of season on a windowsill, or a thorny vine growing through a crack in the wall.

That was the Ward house… our house .

And I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Delilah was setting out makeup on the vanity in the bedroom, placing everything in order like she was laying out an altar; Jasmine had brought her curling iron and what felt like hundreds of gold bobby pins; and June sat cross-legged on the bed, weaving lavender into a flower crown like she did it professionally.

Meanwhile, I was still in my pajamas, hair drying from the shower, not entirely sure what I was supposed to wear to this kind of event…especially when I still hadn’t replenished my wardrobe after leaving Carter.

“I really can’t just wear a sundress?” I asked, eyeing the little floral number I’d set out that morning. “We’re getting married in the backyard. I didn’t exactly pack Vera Wang.”

“Well, you’re not wearing that,” Delilah said with a scowl. “I’m calling around to try to figure out if we can find a dress that fits you…somebody has to have something.”

“But I’d much rather?—”

“You are wearing white like a goddamn maiden priestess ,” Delilah snapped. “Trust me, we all know you ain’t no maiden?—”

June snorted, shaking her head.

“—but that doesn’t change the fact that you deserve to look like a princess.”

I wanted to argue, but I kept my mouth shut…because they had no idea just how much of a maiden I wasn’t. The pregnancy was still new, but we’d decided to keep it hushed up for now until we could finish this whole shindig and drive out to the clinic in Perry.

Still…the knowledge buzzed under my skin like honeybees. I kept catching myself touching my belly when no one was look, just resting a hand there. Just…feeling.

Jasmine looked up from her hair stuff, cocking her head at me. “You’re glowing.”

“I’m hot,” I muttered, ducking my head. “And not in a fun way.”

She chuckled. “Sure.”

Before I could formulate a response, a knock came at the door—soft, hesitant. We all exchanged a look, my brow furrowing as Delilah stepped toward the door ready to go to war; Rhett had been trying to come in and see me all day, but Delilah was a stickler for the rules.

“I swear to God, if that’s you, Rhett Ward…” Delilah started—but a different voice came through the door, muffled .

“It’s Silas.”

Delilah blinked and backed up a step. “Oh,” she said—then she cracked the door, peeked through…and opened it all the way.

Silas stood there like he wasn’t sure if he should have knocked at all, dressed for the wedding already in a plain linen dress shirt and jeans.

He held a bundle of white cloth like it was breakable, so carefully folded that it shocked me to see his calloused hands on it.

His eyes darted past me toward June, then back.

“I brought you somethin’,” he said. “Figured you could use it rather than just…lettin’ it continue to collect dust.”

I wasn’t sure what it was, but Delilah seemed to have already figured it out. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth, her eyes glistening as she let him past. He didn’t look at me as he set the bundle down on the bed beside me, then took a step back.

“It was uh…” he paused to clear his throat. “It was Amelia’s. She never got to wear it. I…I kept it. Didn’t know why. Couldn’t let it go.”

No one spoke. Jasmine audibly gasped, while June dropped the flower crown on the bedspread. Delilah just stared at Silas like she was seeing him for the first time in years.

“She picked it out two weeks before the accident,” he said. “It came back from the tailor after the funeral, after she was um…after she was buried.” His mouth twisted into a sad smile. “I think she’d want you to wear it. You were the same size, so?—”

Before he could finish, I was bolting upright and flinging my arms around his neck. Silas stuttered, staggered a bit—but I hung on to my soon-to-be brother-in-law, resisting the impulse to sob.

“Silas…oh my god,” I breathed. “Thank you.”

“Well, try it on first,” he said gruffly, though I could hear the awkward laugh in his voice .

I took a step back and reached for the bundle—but he stopped me with a quiet, “Don’t. Not while I’m here.”

I froze.

“Don’t open it…not yet,” he added, gaze anywhere but on the dress. “I can’t—just not with me in the room.”

“Okay,” I nodded. “Right. Of course.”

He gave a tight nod. “I’ll just…if it doesn’t fit, I’ll get it from you after the wedding.”

I reached out and gripped his hand before he could go.

“Silas…really, thank you so, so much.”

Silas gave a tight-lipped smile. “You’re welcome.”

Then, without another word, he turned and walked out.

Delilah let out a slow breath and blinked a few times, clearly shaking it off.

Jasmine pressed a hand over her heart. June didn’t say anything…

just picked the flower crown back up, fingers moving slowly as she kept weaving.

I chewed on my lip until Delilah came over, putting her hand on my shoulder.

“You ready for this?” she asked.

My brow furrowed. “Are you…are you sure I should really wear it?”

June surprised me when she was the one to respond. “Yes,” she said. “You should wear it.”

She was still weaving her flower crown, looking at it thoughtfully. “I just….think it would be good for everyone. I think you need a dress, and I think Silas needs somebody to wear that dress and really, really live .”

Delilah blinked hard, then gave a fierce nod. “And you’re gonna look like a goddamn vision in it.”

Jasmine stood up, smoothing her hands over her jeans. “Want help getting it on?”

“I don’t know if I can.”

Delilah scoffed. “I mean—I’m sure it’s not that hard?—”

“I meant emotionally.”

June met my gaze. “You don’t have to force it—but if you’re willing, I think we should treat it like what it is: a garment with history and weight. So we name that weight, we acknowledge it, and then we reclaim it.”

I gave her a hesitant smile. “That a church thing?”

She returned it. “More of a therapy thing.”

Delilah cleared her throat and tugged at the edge of the bundle. “Okay…let’s see what we’re working with.”

She peeled back the top layer, revealing ivory lace as soft and fine as a butterfly wing, still wrapped in tissue like it had been waiting all these years for just this moment.

The dress was flowy, tailored just at the waist with fine lace sleeves and a long, trailing skirt.

I touched it, finding the fabric as soft as it looked.

“Mm,” Delilah whispered, her voice cracking a bit. “Yeah…this would have been her taste.”

I glanced up at her. “You two knew each other?”

She nodded. “They were high school sweethearts. We all went to Ashford County together.”

“And you’re okay with this?”

Delilah exhaled, reaching out to grip my hand. “Oh honey…I’m so glad this dress is going to see its big day after all these years.”

I nodded once, biting back tears.

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s do it.”

And as we finally started to unfurl the dress for me to step into it, the fabric smelled overpoweringly of roses.