“Then that's what you should have.”
Clara shook her head.
“A proper gown for me would require extraordinary quantities of fabric, specialized construction, and several fittings.”
He considered.
“Then we should find a seamstress who knows what she's doing.”
Clara looked up.
“Nathaniel—”
He smiled.
“Clara, you've spent weeks teaching me that a problem becomes easier when we stop pretending it can't be solved.”
Her eyes filled.
He continued.
“Perhaps it's time I remembered the lesson.”
She began laughing through tears.
Elena knew a gifted dressmaker in Flagstaff.
Her name was Miriam Bell.
She specialized in formal garments and had experience constructing clothing for women whose measurements differed substantially from ordinary commercial patterns.
When Clara described what she wanted, Miriam didn't laugh.
Didn't discourage her.
And didn't suggest she choose something plain to avoid attracting attention.
Instead, she listened.
A fitted white lace bodice.
A softly shaped sweetheart neckline.
Long delicate sleeves.
An enormous flowing skirt embroidered with flowers.
A front opening that would allow her white cowboy boots to appear beneath the layers when she moved.
And a black cowboy hat.
Miriam smiled.
“That's quite a dress.”
Clara blushed.
“Too much?”
The seamstress shook her head.
“Not if it's what you want.”
For a moment, Clara stared.
Then smiled.
“Yes.”
Miriam nodded.
“Then let's make it beautiful.”
The dress required careful planning and several fittings.
A sturdy internal structure helped distribute the weight of the fabric comfortably.
The construction respected Clara's proportions and mobility needs.
The lace was selected for its delicate appearance.
The skirt was arranged to move gracefully without making ordinary steps unnecessarily difficult.
And the bodice was fitted so Clara could breathe and sit comfortably rather than being forced into an impractical shape.
Miriam worked with her assistants through long evenings.
Elena helped with decorative embroidery.
A neighboring woman contributed lace flowers.
And Nathaniel, under strict orders not to look at the gown before the wedding, spent his evenings pretending he had no idea what was happening in the guest room.
Clara enjoyed every moment.
For the first time in her life, she wasn't choosing a dress based on what others believed she should hide.
She was choosing one based on what she wanted to celebrate.
Her beauty.
Her femininity.
Her strength.
And the extraordinary happiness of being loved by a man who wanted her exactly as she was.