I remember standing in front of the long mirror at the end of the upstairs hall, gazing at the beautiful dress Mom made for me to wear to Carol’s wedding.
The blues, greens and mauves all cascaded throughout the material, interrupted only by three light blue ribbons sewn around the waist. I was also wearing my first pair of pantyhose with a hint of green and my first pair of one-inch heeled shoes, green with white buckles. I was going to be 9 in a few months and was old enough to dress like a big girl. I felt amazing and beautiful.
Roy had been going out with my older sister Carol for years and he already seemed like a part of the family because he was at the house so often. Everyone was very excited, and I could hardly wait. I was also very excited that I would inherit Carol and Donna’s bedroom once Carol moved out.
The aroma of baking made its way up the stairs of the farmhouse, like warm comforting hands pulling me down into the kitchen. Mom had been busy preparing cakes, cookies and squares for the out-of-town guests that would be dropping by over the next few days. She had made Carol’s wedding cake already and today, the day before the wedding, she would decorate it.
On the table, beside a bowl of freshly whipped icing, there seemed to be a mountain of sparkling white sugar roses. Mom was not in sight, so I reachedd over quickly and grabbed one, walked calmly into the living room, slipped behind a large brown armchair and popped the rose into my mouth. I loved sweets, still do. When the rose had dissolved down my throat, I crept out from behind the chair and headed back to the kitchen in pursuit of another tender morsel. But no such luck – Mom was back! But without another thought, I skipped out the door likely looking to see what barn mischief I could join Wayne in.
“Wayndy! Get up here, now!” Mom’s angry shout came loud and clear not too long after.
It was a long run from the barn to the house, lots of time for Wayne and me to push, shove, trip, pinch and laugh. As we tumbled into the kitchen, out of breath and innocent, I saw Mom standing with her hands on her hips in her red and white checked apron spattered with icing sugar. As Mom’s angry face settled on us, the laughing stopped, and the room fell silent.
“Which one of you kids took a sugar rose?” she demanded, her eyes darting back and forth between Wayne and me.
“Not me!” Wayne said quickly.
“Not me!” I echoed trying to sound just as sure and confident as Wayne. I’m sure my tongue came out and circled my lips just to be sure there were no traces of sparkling sugar.
“Wendy, did you take that rose?” Mom’s eyes stared unblinking at me.
“No Mommy!” I stared straight back at Mom frozen in the lie, unable to look any where else but her eyes. “I didn’t take it. I swear!” I had never, ever stood and boldly lied straight to my mother‘s face before.
There was a long pause, moments that seemed to take forever. No one spoke.
“It’s written all over your face, Wendy,” Mom finally broke the silence. My bottom lip began to tremble as I realized that the little sugar rose in my tummy had turned my cheeks bright red and rosy. Tears welled up in my eyes.
“I’m sorry!” I cried. “Yes, I took it.”
“Can I go?” Wayne asked, totally bored with the whole situation.
“Go,” Mom said replied. “But you,” looking back to me, “Do you realize what you’ve done?” I shook her head, stilling crying.
“Those roses are for the corners of Carol’s wedding cake. I had brought exactly the number that I needed – 12 – for the 12 corners of the cake. Now one corner will be empty.”
“What are you going to do, Mommy?” I wailed.
“I don’t know, but you go upstairs to your room,” Mom said sternly, looking more worried than angry now.
I knew that this wasn’t a life-or-death thing, but somehow Mom’s anger turning into worry and disappointment made it seem just as bad. I felt as if I had somehow ruined Carol’s big day. I sat at the top of the stairs, listening to Mom fretting in the kitchen. Dad had come in to see what the fuss was all about.
“Maybe you could just turn the cake with that corner to the wall so no one will notice,” Dad suggested. “Maybe you could leave all the roses off, then no one will know one is missing.” Dad was always so calm and even tempered. “It’ll be fine! Don’t worry.”
I crept to her room, the sugar rose feeling a little sour in my tummy by now.
The next day was an exciting day. Mom took me to a beauty salon to get my first professional hair style. A piece of the same ribbon that was around the waist of my dress, was woven into her hair. Carol and Roy were married in the same little white church that I was baptized in and everyone in the community had been invited.
Afterwards, at the reception, I went to see the beautiful 3-tiered wedding cake sitting on a long table at the back of the room. I closely eyed the corners of each layer. Each tier was held up by a miniature sized wine glass, turned upside down. And under each wine glass was a sugar rose – almost each one. One glass held instead a blob of white icing, squirted out in a rosette. Mom should have been a professional cake decorator. Dad was right, no one noticed.
The sugar rose was never mentioned again.
-written 2010 (revised November 2022)