Veronica
When I’d woken up this morning with a headache and bad memories of what I may have said last night, I hadn’t expected to be smiling from ear-to-ear later that same day. But here I was, carrying my brand-new puppy into the house. I decided to name him Charlie.
Stefan surprised me. Even if he did end on that cryptic “I’ll think of some way for you to repay me later.” The memory of it made me shiver.
Last night, the whiskey had hit me hard. For one thing, I was an inexperienced drinker, to say the least, and for another, I was jet lagged and exhausted. I remembered almost everything but hoped I’d dreamed parts of it, especially the last part when I’d told him he smelled good, and worky-what kind of word was worky-oh, and like a man. God. How embarrassing. And if that wasn’t enough, I also clearly remembered telling him I was a virgin.
Stefan had said he had work to do and left me at the house to wait for the seamstress.
Maria gave Charlie a little pat on the head, but from the way she jumped when his wet nose touched her hand, I knew she wasn’t used to animals. She gave me a bowl for water, and I set it in the corner for Charlie to drink. The two women who worked for her, Tessa and Nicola, couldn’t get enough of him.
I looked at them while Maria pointed them to some food to give him. They were pretty. Probably around my age, maybe a year or two older. These were the same women who’d tripped over themselves for my soon-to-be husband. I didn’t want to like them, but I had to admit, they were nice to me and fell instantly in love with Charlie, like I had. They were nicer than Maria was, at least. The older woman seemed to stand back and watch. I knew her bond with Stefan was probably like that of a mother. Did she see me as a threat? Did she know anything about our situation?
When the doorbell rang right at noon, I asked if Charlie could stay in the kitchen while I had my fitting, which Maria allowed. I opened the door, and an older woman with white hair stood just outside.
“Hello.”
The seamstress introduced herself in broken English and came inside.
“I’m not sure where the dress is-”
“I was told it would be in your room.”
“Oh.” She knew more than I did. “I guess we should head up. Would you like something to drink?”
“No, thank you.”
“Okay. This way, then.” She followed me up the stairs, and I admit, my curiosity grew. When we got to my room, I saw the long white garment bag hanging from the closet door. “I haven’t seen it,” I said while she set her things down.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, moving confidently toward the bag and unzipping it. “Stefan’s mother, Renata, wore it.”
His mother had worn the wedding dress he wanted me to wear?
“Terrible how she died,” she continued.
I only nodded and watched her lift the long lace gown out of the bag. She looked it over and smiled approvingly.
“Perfect condition. It was in Renata’s family. Worn by at least four women.”
I touched the delicate, intricate lace, wondering at its age. Wondering why in hell he’d want me to wear this.
“It’s beautiful.” The dress had long sleeves and a deep V-neck with a fitted waist that dropped straight to the floor with a slight train at the back. It looked to be close to my size.
The seamstress looked me over. “It should fit you. Come.”
I undressed, and she helped me step into the gown, then buttoned what seemed to be an endless number of pearl buttons that went from my low back up to my shoulders. Only then did she permit me to look at myself in the mirror.
I had no words. I never would have thought I’d wear a lace gown. Not that I’d given my wedding much thought while at school. Some girls did, but that wasn’t me.
It had to be taken in just a little, but not much. I smiled when I reached up to push the hair back from my face and noticed the sleeves widened at the wrists, making it look more medieval. The length would be perfect with the high-heeled shoes Stefan had also arranged for me to wear.
I stood still while the seamstress worked, wondering where exactly we’d be married. He’d said in front of God and man. Did he mean we’d be married in a church? And why did he want me wearing this? Wouldn’t he be better off to save it for when he really got married? After me, after the three years had passed and he had no use for me and could find his true happily-ever-after?
The thought made me nauseous, actually.
The seamstress didn’t stick me once with the hundred or so pins I swear she used before finally, she was satisfied. She then opened another bag I hadn’t seen. It was behind the one the dress had come in. This one contained a simple white veil edged with lace of the same pattern. She took the clip from my hair and laid it over my head. I noticed then how the veil was yellowing along the edges, but the result was no less stunning.
——-
Veronica
The door opened at that moment. There was no knock first. We both turned to find Stefan standing there. His mouth fell open, and he didn’t speak for a long time. Finally, I moved, sliding the veil from my head, and facing him.
“It’s bad luck for the groom to see his bride before the wedding,” the seamstress said with a wink.
Was she oblivious to the tension between us?
“This is no ordinary wedding,” I muttered.
Stefan cleared his throat and dragged his gaze from me. “Do you need anything?” he asked the seamstress.
“No, I should be fine. I’ll have it back within a few days. Not too much to do.”
“Good.” He looked me over again, his expression strange, tight. He then nodded, walked back out, and closed the door. The seamstress helped me undress and carefully placed the gown back in its bag. After gathering her things, she said good-bye and left.
Feeling the weight of jet lag, I lay down to close my eyes for a few minutes, but those few minutes turned into two nightmarish hours.