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I STOOD BEFORE the table, studying the objects on the
tray. There was a small, lidded silver cup, etched with a pattern
of vines that had darkened over generations, the tarnish so
black that even polish couldn’t remove it. The design reminded
me of the vine that twined across my gown, making me even
more glad that I’d chosen that detail. It almost seemed like,
when I’d dreamed up my dress, I’d somehow connected to my
mother, and her mother, and all of the Dragomir women
who’d used this vessel generations before me.
My ancestors had also used the silver knife that sat next to
the cup. And the spoon that held the pungent herbs, and the
strips of bleached cotton cloth folded under the blade . . .
Mom placed her hands on my shoulders again. I hadn’t
even realized that she and Mindy had joined me at the table.
I twisted a little to see her face. “Mom . . . ?”
I wasn’t sure what I wanted to ask. I knew what I had to
do.
Mom gave me a reassuring smile, and I drew some strength
from how calm she looked. “You’re going to be fine,” she
promised. Then she turned me so we were facing each other
and pulled me to her, squeezing tightly. “I’m going to join the
other guests now,” she said, stepping back.
“No . . .” I clutched at her hands. “Don’t go yet!”
I wanted her to help me, but she shook her head. “No,
Antanasia. It’s time for me to go.”
I knew my mother well enough to understand that she
had deliberately chosen this moment to leave—and purposely
used my new name again. My wedding was starting, and I
would have a lot of difficult things to deal with in the future,
without her by my side. It was time for me to start facing
them.
“I know it’s hard, but try not to be scared,” Mom added,
one last piece of advice. “You want to savor every moment of
this night. It’s not about getting everything right—it’s about
you and Lucius promising yourselves to each other. That’s all
that matters.”
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I took a deep breath, then agreed, “I know.”
“I love you,” she said, hugging me one more time.
“I love you, too.”
Then Mom left Mindy and me without another word,
because we’d said all the important things the night before.
When the door closed behind her, Mindy looked to me
with wide, nervous eyes, as if she too wished that calm,
competent Dr. Dara Packwood were still with us. “Um . . .
what do I do, Jess?” she asked, eyes darting to look at the tray.
“Do I . . . help you?”
I shook my head. “No. Just stay in the room in case
something goes wrong.”
My maid of honor got a little pale, but she nodded.
“Okay.”
Then Mindy, seeming to sense that I needed some space,
took a few steps back, and I sat down at the table, and without
giving myself any more time to hesitate, stretched my right
arm across the tray and used my left hand to lift the knife.
Continue to Chapter 16...
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