And on top of that, I shiver.
Not out of chill or fear, but out of pleasure.
And then he says as he tangles his finger in my auburn curls, “You look peachy keen, Aurora Jean.”
I have no words.
All I have is an awestruck look on my face and a tiny tremble in my heart.
The song changes. Another ballad is playing and Edward pulls me into an upright position. One hand resting on the small of my back, the other with his fingertips laced through mine. I place my head against his chest, inhaling the musky scent of his after shave when we start to sway back and forth, in sync with rest of the dancing couples.
Sometimes when I look at Edward, I wonder if he knows how beautiful he is. Inside and out. I wonder if when he wakes up and looks in the mirror every morning, if he sees what I see.
A lot of times, I think he’s that one, flawless diamond hidden amongst a pile of flawed ones.
Chapter One
The Deep South…
The twangy accents.
Confederate flags sailing through the air.
Sometimes it’s like another world.
Or another planet entirely.
I was born in Biloxi, Mississippi in 1934 to Mabel and James (Bud) O’Reilly. I’m their only daughter and according to my mother, her only saving grace. You see, I’m what she’s always hoped for, a dainty graceful southern belle in the making who’ll marry well, act like a lady, and never shame the family name.
Except I’m not.
I’ve never been like my mother.
I’ve never wanted to be.
I don’t want to live someone else’s dreams.
I want to live my own.
The year is 1950 and I’ve just turned sixteen.
You know what that means?
That means that this glorious year, I’ll be introduced to society as a debutante. Something that I’ve been dreading since my mother brought it up six months ago. During a luncheon with a few of her women’s league friends I’d been picking at my salad, when my mother first mentioned it. Then she patted my forearm. I smiled politely, turned my head and scowled. Whether it was proper for a southern belle or not, there was no way I was going to let Mabel O’Reilly, shove me into some frilly, frou-frou dress and parade me around in front of society like a poodle at a dog show.
I don’t want to be a purebred
I’d rather be a mutt.
“Aurora!” mother’s voice bleeds through the pale pink walls of my bedroom. “I have a surprise for you!”
Damn it.
The click clack of her heels sound offs against the wooden floors. “I promise you, darling, you’re going to love it!”
A bout of nausea whips through my stomach when I realize she’s only a few feet away from my bedroom. With frantic heart beats and trembling fingers, I slide open my window at the exact same time my mother’s fist connects with the door. “Open up, sweetheart!” Her voice has a light airy feel to it. She’s in a good mood. That’s about to change in a minute.
I stare down at the two story drop from my bedroom and tell myself that I’d rather jump out this window than see what surprise my mother has in store for me. Even though part of me has a feeling that her surprise will be a puffy white dress that she’s selected for me to wear to the Biloxi debutante ball.