She’d already had formal photographs taken of her in her wedding dress. Those would go to the local newspaper to run the week after the wedding.She stopped, held a hand to her heart, and stared out her bedroom window. She could see the Mississippi River flowing and gurgling, as old as time and such a constant in her life. She’d been so happy the day the photographer had come out to Flower Bend to take those pictures. The whole garden had awakened in a riot of color that made her shimmering white dress stand out like a single magnolia blossom caught in a bunch of azaleas.She’d been excited and happy after she’d seen the photos. Her hair had been curled in a loose chignon with her grandmother’s lace veil caught in a crystal tiara, and her dress—the portrait neckline a clear satin white that showed off her mother’s pearls, the long flowing skirt accented with seed pearls and embroidered flowers.She couldn’t show those pictures to Marshall. Not now, since he wasn’t supposed to see her in the dress before the wedding.
