The Bride, The Maid, and The Buttonhole

The familiar feeling of teasing eyes boring into her accompanied Lynette down the dusty road home from school. Occasionally she would hear snippets of a mean conversation as a group of rich girls flounced down the street in their petticoats and skirts, and snickered to each other in a most unladylike way about her clothes. Never mind manners or fairness, these girls had it all, which was more than Lynette could ever dream of.

She glanced down at her trousers and bare feet. It wasn’t her fault she had to wear her brother’s old clothes, but it had somehow managed to turn her into the laughingstock of every school she’d attended.

When she reached home, her mother was rushing about, filling up buckets of water and pouring their contents into the enormous iron washing tub.

“What are you doing, Mummy?” she asked as she hung her bag on the hook by the door. “It’s not Sunday yet. We don’t need washing.” The woman stopped her frantic filling for a moment and turned to face her daughter.

“Well, we’re needing to make an exception because—” she paused, “we’ve been invited out.”

Lynette and her brothers left their small home a few hours later and waited outside the Millers’ house while their mother borrowed a horse. She was dressed in her mother’s night blouse with a brightly coloured scarf wrapped around her waist as a crude skirt. She wasn’t sure which was more puzzling, someone inviting them out, or her wearing something other than trousers and work shirts, but she was eager to welcome both.

Lynette’s mother seemed nervous as they pulled up outside an enormous mansion, and she would soon find out why. As they entered, an ancient pear-shaped woman with tiny glasses on the end of her large nose rushed down the hallway ( in a very decorous manner) and began taking Lynette’s measurements. Overwhelmed, the little girl stumbled backward into her mother just as another woman entered the room. She was a stunningly beautiful brunette, wearing a delicate pink dress and high heels. She surprised Lynette by shrieking and enveloping her mother in a tight but ladylike hug. She then turned her attention to Lynette. “Well, aren’t you just the sweetest thing!”

“Um…do I know you?” Lynette questioned.

“Oh, I’m afraid not since you were a tiny tot Lynette, but I’d be eager to get to know you,” the pretty woman’s eyes clouded over with regret for a moment, but then her mood shifted back to it’s normal bounciness.

Lynette’s mother put an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “These my dear, are my Aunt Dorothy, and her daughter – my cousin – Elizabeth, who I gather is soon to be married.” She glanced up at her Aunt worriedly, as if hoping that her introduction pleased the old rotund lady.

“Married? Lor, can we come?” she asked with glee. Elizabeth laughed.

“Why, I’ll do you one better—you can be part of it,” Lynette’s eyes widened in excitement. “How would you like to be a bridesmaid, Lynette?”

“Oh, I would absolutely love to, Aunt Elizabeth," This seemed to please the young lady, and she smiled broadly.

“William, perhaps you’d like to be the caterer,” Elizabeth looked at Lynette’s eldest brother and laughed at her own joke. Her smile faded when she saw her nephew’s embarrassed expression. “You want to be a chef when you graduate, don’t you?”

“I did… when I was a toddler,” he said sheepishly.

Elizabeth put her head in her hands and moaned. “Gosh! I can’t invite people I hardly know to my wedding! It’s madness!”

“It will be fine. Maybe it’s a good chance for us to catch up. Now,” Lynette’s mother pulled her cousin into a side room, “tell me about your groom."

And that’s just what she did, as Lynette and her brothers were fitted for brand-new clothes by their aunt’s seamstress.

Over the next few days, school became even more unbearable for Lynette, as the bullies’ teasing grew worse when she’d told them she’d been chosen as a bridesmaid.

“What kind of idiot would want you as a bridesmaid?”

“You’ll scare everyone away when you walk up the aisle.”

Those were the sorts of things they’d say, but she tried not to care so much those days by reminding herself that there really would be a wedding soon.

Limping home from school one afternoon after a run-in with a particularly mean bully, Lynette found her mother waiting anxiously in the doorway, with the Millers’ horse and cart tethered to the fence. Without any explanation Lynette was quickly hoisted up onto the horse’s back and, with her mother, they set off toward Elizabeth and Dorothy’s mansion.

“The Millers received a telegram from Elizabeth for me today, saying that a window had been left open last night, and all the wedding flowers were ruined in the rain and by wild animals that ventured in. I’ve left a note for your brothers so they know where we are. I can only imagine how devastated she must be. We’re going to see if we can help.”

Lynette was heartbroken. Perhaps she wouldn’t be a bridesmaid after all.

When they arrived at the mansion, Lynette understood her mother’s and aunt’s stress. Inside their cool room, flower petals were strewn across the floor in puddles of water, and the tracks of many little creatures bruised the buds and stems.

“Cor! What a mess!” Lynette cried. It was hopeless. The wedding would not happen, and she would not be a bridesmaid.

She wandered around the terrible scene and took it all in. It was so unfair, her aunt was distraught, and all the flowers were beyond repair, except… She reached down and picked up a pretty white rose with its stem wrapped in blue ribbon. “The groom’s buttonhole!” she whispered. She stared at the shining white rose, the only unharmed flower in the shed. It must be magic, she thought as she fingered its soft petals. Then she felt the bruise on her leg—a painful reminder of what people thought of her. Maybe it could grant her a wish. It was worth trying.

“I wish I had some friends,” she whispered. Then, seeing some girls from her school stop outside the mansion wearing brand new pinafores and bows in their hair, she rushed up to them to see if her wish had been granted. But they just stared past her at the floral mess and smirked.

“Looks like a beautiful bouquet you’re going to have, ‘bridesmaid',” one remarked, and they pranced off laughing.

Hot tears trickled down Lynette’s cheeks, and she threw the buttonhole down onto the ground. Not even magic could help her. No one would be her friend. Especially now that she wouldn’t even get to be a bridesmaid. So she abandoned the flower and went home feeling more dis heartened than ever before.

But she wasn’t the only one who noticed the buttonhole.

“Please, I wish that my wedding wouldn’t be postponed, or worse…cancelled,” Elizabeth whispered to the shining white rose, as she knelt on the floor of her cool room and cried over her lost flowers. Moments later, though, the telephone rang. Pulling herself up off the floor, Elizabeth answered it begrudgingly.

“We’re very sorry, Miss Pendlebury, but our venue will be subject to renovations on the date of your up coming wedding and therefore cannot be used. Thank you for your understanding. Goodbye.” And so the buttonhole was rejected again, and Elizabeth sank to the ground in tears.

The next day, Elizabeth’s fiancé visited the mansion for dinner. He was already aware of the flower incident, but he wanted to see the damage for himself. Upon entering the room, he saw his buttonhole sitting on the floor unharmed and slipped it into his coat pocket. He made no wish, but he had an underlying sense that everything would work out as he left his betrothed’s home.

A week later, Lynette and her family were once again requested to the mansion. Upon arrival, they noticed four unfamiliar faces gathered alongside Elizabeth and her fiancé. The first two stood together: an elderly farmer with kind eyes and a timid girl clinging to his side. The second pair stood nearby: a graceful woman and a young girl who kept her gaze down, absently kicking at the pebbles with her feet.

“Mummy?” Lynette whispered, “Who are those people?”

“I’m not sure, sweetheart, but perhaps they’re here to help with the wedding. Why don’t you go say hello to the other children?” So Lynette shyly walked over to the strangers, where her would-be uncle greeted her.

“Hello, Lynette.” He beamed at her.

“Hello. Uh, who are these people?” She stuttered, hoping she didn’t sound rude.

“These, little one, are the solution to our wedding predicament.” And so the strangers and the family were introduced. The old farmer was a kind man who had offered to let them hold the wedding in his barn, and the woman was a pretty florist who would make replacement flowers.

“And you know who these children are, Lynette?” the groom whispered to the little girl. She shook her head. “These are Mr. Brown’s and Mrs. Hensley’s daughters. And you know what? I think they’re looking for a friend too.”

So, that night, when Lynette’s family went home, the wedding was on course to be a success, and Lynette would be a bridesmaid, along with her two new best friends.

And all because of a buttonhole?