For those who are new, The Butterfly Dress is a story about Flora, a girl trapped in dismal job as a seamstress and dressmaker to her cruel mother. Although she dreams of designing gowns in New York or Paris, she is forced to settle for creating prom dresses for local girls while attending class at the local college. When she receives the chance to design the Coronation Queen’s gown for a local ball, magical things begin to happen. As she dives deeper into the ball’s mysterious past and its handsome prince, it’s a pair of shoes that might lead her to her final destiny.

For previous editions, go here.

Flora stared at Nate, her mouth hanging open.  She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.  Her lips were frozen, her toungue glued to her teeth.

And before her brain could stop her, before logic could reign her in, her heart leaped forward.

In an instant, she had pressed herself to him, her lips searching for his.  Hope and joy surged through, a giddy and delicious tingle fizzling in her veins and bubbling in her stomach.  Stepping back, her breath finally came.

His grin was all the reassurance she needed, craved.  He entwined his fingers with hers, pressing his forehead against her sweat-slicked skin.  “I’m going to take that as a yes.”

Her head bobbed, her heart pulling the strings like a puppeteer.  It felt like they stood there for an eternity, the moonlight bathing them in it’s gentle glow as the breeze ruffled the hem of her dress.

Finally, he leaned back.  “So I guess I better hold up my end of the deal.”

“What?”  Flora swallowed, wishing something more elegant or poetic had jumped off her tounge.  Astrid would have known what to say, had a witty remark.

Astrid wasn’t going with Nate to the Ball.  She was.

The wave of euphoria washed away his words, white noise in a crash of love.  Her cheeks hurt as she turned to him, her eyes smiling for the first time.  “Huh?”

His fingers found hers again.  “Follow me.”

Clinging on, she barely remembered to grab her bag and close the case as he pulled her deeper into the garden.  Winding and weaving across the cobblestone path, the warm perfume of honeysuckle tickled her nose.  She took a deep breath, letting the moment imprint on her skin.

Her lips still tingled, her heart thudding in her ears.

“Look!”  Nate helped her down a set of stone steps, pointing with his free hand.  Flora craned her neck, bewilderment twisting her features.

“It’s a greenhouse.”  Nate turned to her, his eyes gleaming.  “My grandfather’s greenhouse.”

Flora shook her head.  “I don’t understand.”

“You will.”  His grin never fading, Nate lead her inside.  Plants lined the glass walls, speckled with small mesh cylinders.  Flora sucked in her breath, rushing to a small cage by the door.

“Butterflies!”  She turned, her eyes shining.  “These are just like mine!  That means…”  She trailed off, her knees buckling under her so she sat hard on the mossy ground.

“Painted lady.” Nate pointed to the tiny sign in front of a mesh cage.  “Mourning Cloak.” He walked down the aisles, pointing to a cage shoved between a blooming pink flower and large bush.  “Spring Azure.” He made a beeline for a mesh cage dangling from the ceiling next to two baskets of daises.   Taking it off the brass hook, he handed it to Flora.  She peeked inside, laughing at the tiny pale blue butterfly.

“Wait a minute.”  She lowered the cage, her mind racing.  “If each dress coordinates with a butterfly…”

“Then we just follow the butterflies to the 13th dress.  The butterfly dress.”  Nate bent down, pressing the tiny scraps of paper in her hand.  “There’s special bushes for the butterflies all over the garden, and each butterfly has it’s own special “section.”

“So if we find the right section…”  Flora bounced to her feet.  “We’ll find the right dress!  I bet we could get Mr. Grissom to help us.”

“I’ll ask him.”  Nate took her hand, pressing it to his cheek.  “You’re coming to my grandmother’s tomorrow, right?  To finish the dress.”

Flora nodded.  “I have to. Coronation is in three days.”

“Well, then we’ll look tomorrow night.  It’s late, and you need some sleep.” Nate wrinkled his nose.  “I know your mother will be after you tomorrow.”

Flora held her breath.  “Are you sure?”

“Sure of what?”  Nate cocked his head.  “Of your mother?  It’s hard not to be.”  He snickered.  “She’s a character, that’s for sure.”

“Not of her, of me.”  Flora bit her lip, glancing down.  “Did you mean what you said?”

His silence took an eternity.  “You mean, did I really want you to go to Coronation with me?”

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t nod.  He slid a finger under her chin and lifted her head, forcing her eyes to his.

“Flora, I’ve been chasing you for weeks, like one of these butterflies.”  He grinned, wiping away the tear coursing down her cheek.  “I’m just glad you sat still long enough for me to catch you.  You’re the only girl I’d ever want to go to Cornation with.  Or anything with.”  He wiped a tear off the opposite cheek.  “I just can’t wait to see what dress you wear.”

Flora’s chin trembled, her thoughts on the slashed dress at Professor Skippy’s.  “Me too.”

“I can’t wait,” he repeated.  Picking up her sewing bag, he walked her home, through the garden gates and down the path to her tiny cottage hidden in the shadows.  At the door, he pressed his lips to hers.  Her head spun, her lips singing with energy as he raised his head.  “Does that answer your question?” he asked.

She nodded, magic swirling through her veins.

“See you tomorrow,” he whispered.  She wiggled her fingers, her grin splitting her face.  She opened the door and floated down the hall.  The second she turned the corner, all the joy and ecastasy drained from her, her whirling thoughts coming to a screeching halt.

Perched on her couch in a dreadful red housecoat, her mother’s sullen face glared at her.  “Mixing business with pleasure, are we?”

As the smell of sickly sweet donuts rose in the air, her mother’s obnoxious crunching erased the last twinkle of magic the evening had held, the last bit of Flora’s happiness.

If she let it, that was.

Have you heard about the Writing Contest at the Pond?

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  We have a new Sidewalk Dreams tomorrow!

More