All the Blue of Heaven by Virginia Carmichael Page A

was plunged into dimness, but the
air remained thick and humid. As she removed her hat and collapsed onto her
bed, Allie’s head throbbed with every heartbeat. The pain reminded her of those
early weeks in the hospital, when the bandages were changed under cool, running
water. She bit her cheek, willing herself not to moan.
               
Maybe she was attempting too much, too soon. Maybe she should have sent Mrs.
Gibson to Mr. Morton’s shop. But Allie knew that her headache was from more than
the heat and tiredness. The gossips, seeing Thomas with Louise, her mother
insisting that she marry and leave Janey- it all sent her mind reeling. Tears
of frustration escaped from under her lids.
               
Allie turned her tear-streaked cheek into the cool cotton pillowcase and wanted
to pray. But she could not for the words. She had not prayed since that early
morning so many months ago when God took everything from her and reduced it to
ashes.
               
As the ache in her chest grew less and less, Allie slipped into a fitful sleep.
Dreams plagued her restless mind, terrible dreams of smoke and heat, of Janey
lost in aisles of velvet and
lace.                     
     
                                                  
***
     
               
The morning sun streamed through the large window near her bed. Allie groaned.
Perched on the edge of the large mattress, she leaned her forehead against the
dark mahogany four poster. She knew they would be expected to attend Sunday
services with her mother. She had planned on it, picked out which gloves to
wear and how to wear her lace wrap so that her scars would not be so visible.
All the same, it seemed as if Sunday arrived too soon.
               
Thomas would be coming for dinner. Allie closed her eyes and attempted to take
her internal temperature. Was she happy? Nervous? Excited? There were so many
emotions swirling inside of her, they seemed to cancel each other out.
               
Janey flung open the bedroom door without knocking and skipped to the bed. She
twirled in a circle, arms out at her sides in perfect ballerina form. “Isn’t it
beautiful, Aunt Allie? Isn’t it the most wonderful dress in the whole world?”
She fairly hovered with joy as she modeled the new frock that Mr. Morton’s had
delivered yesterday.
               
“It’s very pretty, Janey, and you’re even prettier,” Allie said, rising from
the edge of her bed and smiling.  She wasn’t exaggerating. Mr. Morton had
created a confection for her little niece. Light blue silk with a sheer apron
would have been pretty enough, but his wife had added tiny details here and
there that elevated it to a work of art. It had rosebuds and ribbon trim and
tiny pearl buttons along the cuffs of the sleeves. Janey’s hair was perfectly
curled and a matching light blue ribbon tied it back from her heart-shaped
face.
               
“Let’s go, Auntie, we can’t be late. Remember when we used to walk to church? I
wish we lived closer and could walk today.”
               
Allie nodded. “Yes, I remember. But just think of how your dress would be if we
walked to town in all of this heat and dust.”
               
Janey glanced down at her new boots and summer wool tights. “And I’m sure I
would get a sore spot on each toe for walking.”
               
“Exactly right.” Allie adjusted her scarf for one more moment, glancing in the
large cheval mirror. There were deep circles under her eyes and her hair seemed
to be attempting to escape the pins she used to contain the curls. She wished
there was more color in her cheeks. Shrugging, she pinned on her large black
hat and started for the door.
               
“Aren’t you wearing your new hat, Aunt Allie?,” Janey asked.
               
“No, dear, I like this one better for