The Wedding Dress

by Mary O'Donnell

  “I rang the doorbell twice, but when there was no answer, I started knocking.”

  “The power has gone out, so it wouldn’t have been working. I’m so sorry, Andrew … I should have called you to let you know, but with the outage and … I just got sidetracked and forgot you were coming. Here, let me take your coat.”

  The floor surrounding Andrew was dotted with small puddles of water where it had dripped down from the slicker. After he had taken the coat off, Annie said, “I’ll take that back to the mudroom and hang it up to dry.”

  Returning from the back of the house, Annie brought along a couple of towels—one for the floor and one for Andrew, though he didn’t appear to need it. He had slipped out of his boots and stood waiting at the bottom of the staircase in his stocking feet.

  “I’ll just mop this—” began Annie.

  As she spoke, a floorboard creaked loudly at the top of the stairs. Annie and Andrew both looked up at the same time. Standing near the top of the staircase was a figure in white. It was Dervla. She seemed to glow in the dim light. She had finished buttoning the cuffs of the dress, and had put on the veil and the gloves as well. The crocheted flowers and leaves wreathed her dark hair like a crown, and the delicate veil billowed around her long tresses like a net made of gossamer. The dress could have been custom-made for her; the bodice and narrow waist hugged her form, and beneath her waist the full skirt fell in gentle folds to the floor. The gloves fit her hands perfectly as she grasped the skirt and seemingly began to float down the stairs.

  Annie was amazed. The wedding dress was beautiful before, when it was just hanging on the mannequin, but now, on Dervla, it was as if the whole ensemble had come to life. No longer just inanimate objects, it seemed that each part of the outfit had become an extension of her being. Annie stole a sideways glance at Andrew. Her own feelings apparently were nothing compared to his, if his countenance was anything to go by. He had grown pale, as if he had seen a ghost, and Annie feared that he might actually faint.

  “Andrew, are you all right?”

  He seemed to have been struck speechless, and could only stare at Dervla, entranced by the apparition before him. He only came to his senses when Dervla spoke to him with concern, not realizing it was she that was having this effect on him.

  “Are you all right, sir?” she said in her lilting Irish accent as she reached the bottom step and touched his shoulder. “Perhaps you should sit down. May I get you a glass of water?”

  At her touch, Andrew seemed to recover himself, though he still looked rather pale. “No. No, thank you. I’m fine. You … you just took me by surprise. If I may ask, who are you?”

  “I’m Dervla O’Keefe, sir. And you are … ?”

  Annie broke in, “Let me introduce you. Andrew, this is Dervla O’Keefe, fiancée of Tony Palmer, son of my friends and neighbors, Gwen and John Palmer. Dervla, this is Andrew Gareth, the artist—the extraordinary artist, I might add—who is going to be making a painting of Grey Gables.”

  Reluctantly, it seemed to Annie, Andrew moved his eyes from Dervla’s face to acknowledge her compliment. “Thank you, Annie. I hope that I will do justice to Grey Gables.” Turning back to Dervla and gently taking her hand in his, he said, “And it’s lovely to meet you, Miss O’Keefe. I detect an Irish accent—what part of Ireland are you from?”

  “I hail from County Kerry … Killarney specifically,” said Dervla.

  Andrew seemed to consider this carefully before continuing, but didn’t pursue it; instead he changed the subject. “I seemed to have come in the middle of a fitting. If you’ll allow me to say so, your choice for a wedding dress couldn’t be more perfect.”

  “Thank you, sir. It was Annie’s idea.”

  Annie took a few minutes to explain to Andrew about finding the dress and the hatbox in the attic, and that it had occurred to her as they were talking about the wedding that Dervla might like to wear the dress when she got married.

  “Well done, Annie,” said Andrew. “It suits her.” He continued, “I probably shouldn’t have come out in this weather, knowing that I couldn’t do any sketching outside, but I was anxious to see Grey Gables from the inside too.”

  Just then there was a series of loud knocks at the door. All three were startled at the unexpected sound. Annie looked through the side window to see Tony Palmer standing at the door.

  “It’s Tony!” said Annie.

  “Oh no!” said Dervla, “He can’t see me in the dress before the wedding—it’s bad luck!” And with that she turned and climbed the stairs as quickly as she was able in the long dress.

  Though the rain was still coming down in buckets, the wind seemed a little less violent, and the thunder had reduced to a distant rumble. Tony continued to knock, not realizing that he had been seen. Annie didn’t say anything—she hated to make him stand outside, but she waited until Dervla was out of sight before she opened the door.

  Tony wasn’t dressed for the weather as Andrew had been, wearing only thin dress slacks, a cotton shirt with a button-down collar, and a tie; he was absolutely soaked through.

  As soon as she opened the door, Tony started talking, “Annie! Where is Dervla? The storm … . Is she OK? I left the bank early. I tried the phone, but my call wouldn’t go through.”

  Fortunately, Annie still held the towels in her hands that she had brought out for Andrew. After getting him to come inside, she wrapped one of the towels around Tony’s shoulders and said, “She’s fine, Tony. She’s upstairs. The power went out. My cordless phone doesn’t work without electricity. I’ll give you the number for my cell phone. But first, you need to get out of that wet clothing. Go home and have a hot shower and put on some dry clothes. Then come back to see Dervla … and bring an umbrella.”

  “Why can’t I see her now?” asked Tony.

  “She’s changing her clothes. I asked her to try on … something,” replied Annie.

  Tony just noticed Andrew. “Who are you?” he asked, somewhat rudely.

  Annie introduced the two men. Tony was not making the best impression, and Andrew was less than friendly toward him. After more coaxing from Annie, Tony finally agreed to go on home to Wedgewood to shower and change.

  “I’ll be back in twenty minutes,” he said, giving Andrew a look that seemed to say he hoped that he wouldn’t see him when he returned. The two men had seemed to have taken an instant dislike to one another.

  As soon as Annie closed the door behind Tony, Dervla leaned over the upstairs railing and called down, “Annie? Is he gone?” When Annie confirmed that he was, Dervla said, “Can you come up and help me get out of this? I can’t get all of these buttons undone.”

  “I’ll be right there, Dervla,” she called up the stairs. Then to Andrew she said, “Would you excuse me? Please make yourself at home in the living room, and I’ll be back down in just a couple of minutes.”

  “Take your time, Annie,” he said. “I’ll just use the towels to wipe up the water from the floor first.”

  Annie thanked him. Besides the small puddles left from Andrew’s entrance, there was now a large area of water left from where Tony had been standing.

  Annie had just started up the steps when she heard the familiar whir of the refrigerator as it came back to life; she leaned over the banister to see light shining from the kitchen.

  “The electricity is back on!” she exclaimed. She came back down the steps and walked over to flip the switch that illuminated the hallway and the staircase, and blew out the candle. “Feel free to turn on a couple of lamps in the living room, Andrew.”

  Annie went upstairs to help Dervla get out of the wedding dress, and then they returned it to the mannequin and put away the gloves and veil. Leaving Dervla to finish changing clothes, Annie found Andrew studying the “Betsy Original” that hung in the hallway halfway between the living room and the library. Betsy Holden had been a first-rate designer and cross-stitcher, and this one was a prized possession of Annie’s since it was her grandmother’s very first desig
n. The country scene it portrayed contained intricate details that gave it a photographic quality, and yet it was very painterly too.

  “What do you think of it?” asked Annie. “Before you answer, you should know that it was designed and stitched by my grandmother.”

  Andrew smiled and said, “I was just about to comment on what a skilled hand the creator of this had. The nuance of the colors really brings the scene to life. It has depth and a sense of movement which is very difficult to achieve. Your grandmother was a fine artist.”

  “Thank you, Andrew. That means a lot coming from you.” Annie paused and then continued, “So, where would you like to start your guided tour of Grey Gables?”

  9

  Andrew left the “itinerary” of the tour to Annie, so she decided to start at the back of the house in the library. Annie was sure that the details of the room were original to the house—the solid, dark oak bookcases were permanently built in, as was the window seat where she had spent many an hour reading when she was a child, during her visits to Grey Gables in the summers.

  The room was somewhat cluttered, but that was the way that Annie had always remembered it. Both her grandparents had kept writing desks in the room. Gram used hers for writing letters and working on sketches for her designs. Gramps had been a veterinarian and kept a log of all of his cases, including various anecdotes of his experiences. One of her fondest memories was sitting in the window seat reading as Gram and Gramps sat writing at their desks. She hadn’t had the heart to change the arrangement, so she left the desks where they were.

  “I like this room,” said Andrew. He ran his fingers over the molding along the edge of one of the bookcases and examined the intricately carved pattern along the top facing board of each section. It reminded Annie how glad she was that Dervla had been around to help with the housework—the woodwork was shiny and dust-free!

  “Do you mind if I do a few sketches?” asked Andrew.

  “Not at all,” replied Annie.

  Andrew opened the vinyl-sided bag he had carried in with him and took out a large pad of drawing paper with a rigid back and a tube-shaped leather case, from which he extracted two drawing pencils. Helping himself to the brown leather, rolling desk chair from Gramps’s desk, he moved it across the room to face the window seat and sat down. With his left ankle resting on his right knee, he propped his pad of paper across his legs and began to sketch.

  Trying to stay out of the way, Annie stood to one side, scanning the titles of the books on the shelves, smiling at her remembrances of so many of them that she had read. Gram had all the classics that young girls should read—Little Women, Pride and Prejudice, Jane Eyre, Heidi, Anne of Green Gables …, but her grandfather made sure she was well-supplied with “boys” classics as well. She had reveled in the adventures of Jim Hawkins among the pirates in Treasure Island and the story of young Arthur in The Once and Future King. Those, along with so many other stories by authors like Rudyard Kipling, Jules Verne, and Mark Twain, had fed a love of reading that she had maintained to that day. It occurred to her that she might revisit a few of those beloved books; she was certain that she would enjoy reading them now as much as she did then, and perhaps even more.

  Besides fiction, there were plenty of nonfiction books as well—her grandfather’s veterinarian medicine books, a set of encyclopedias from the early 1960s, books on art and history, a couple of dictionaries, various reference books covering things like geology and astronomy, and there was a large collection on more mundane topics like sewing and gardening. Next to the flower guide that Dervla had replaced on the shelf after she’d looked at it on Sunday was an old, worn-looking book called The Language of Flowers.

  Annie had just reached out to pull the book off the shelf when the doorbell rang. She excused herself to go and answer it, though Andrew barely seemed to notice. At the door was Tony, closing the umbrella that he had used this time coming from his car. His hair was still wet, but he was dressed in dry clothes—blue jeans and a henley-style shirt. At the sound of the doorbell, Dervla had come downstairs too. She was back in her normal attire—light slacks and a short-sleeved top. She was lovely as always, but Annie still had in her mind the vision of Dervla in the wedding dress. Annie imagined the impact that it would make when Dervla finally did walk down the aisle. She wondered when that would actually happen.

  The rain had begun to taper off, and it looked like the clouds were beginning to clear away. The temperatures were cooler, and the air felt lighter. Tony and Dervla decided to go downtown and wander about the unique stores located along Main Street, saying that they would eat dinner at The Cup & Saucer that evening.

  After they had left, Annie thought a cup of tea might be just the thing for a rainy afternoon. On her way to the kitchen to put on some water to heat, she asked Andrew if he would care for a cup. Barely looking up, he said, “Yes, thank you,” and continued with his drawing. Annie could see that he had finished the basic outline of the room and was filling in details. It was amazing how quickly he worked.

  In the kitchen, Annie first put away all of the candles and candleholders she had set out on the kitchen table earlier when she had thought the electricity might be off for an extended period. As she set about making the tea, Annie wondered if she would be able to broach the subject of Captain Grey with Andrew to see what she could learn about him and his family, if he even had any. Perhaps Andrew had come across someone in his research with the initials from the hatbox—P.R.G. But it seemed that Andrew was intent on making sketches, so discussing the original owner of Grey Gables might be a distraction he wouldn’t care to indulge in for the time being.

  Annie supposed studying what Grey Gables was like on the inside was the same thing as studying human anatomy in order to be able to draw a person properly—it was important to understand the underlying structure in order to make the drawing look realistic. She didn’t quite see how that would work with a house, but he was the artist; he must have had some purpose for being so interested in all the little architectural details of Grey Gables.

  The whistle of the tea kettle interrupted her thoughts, and she removed it from the heat. She had already warmed the teapot with hot water from the tap, and after letting it set for a few minutes, emptied it and measured in the loose tea leaves—a teaspoon for each cup, plus “one for the pot” as she had always been told. She had purchased the specially blended tea when she and Alice had visited a new local restaurant—Lilia’s Tea House—where they enjoyed an authentic “high tea,” complete with cucumber sandwiches, scones, and tea cakes.

  Remembering that delicious meal, Annie checked her cupboards. All she had to offer Andrew by way of a snack were some rather stale sugar cookies she had purchased a month ago. She wished she’d thought to make something earlier … but she’d been so busy cleaning, and then the power had gone out. Well, that’s a good excuse, she thought.

  Then she contemplated getting out some of her grandmother’s best china—her Aster Blue teacups—from the cabinet in the dining room, but realized it might be more practical to just use a couple of her nice floral porcelain mugs instead. At least she didn’t have to offer him tea in the set of mugs she’d found in Gram’s cupboard that were emblazoned with “Portland Sea Dogs” and a ferocious-looking dog with a baseball bat in its mouth. Knowing her grandfather’s love of baseball, she thought he must have picked them up at one of the many games he attended. She just couldn’t see her grandmother buying a set like that. But then, she reminded herself, Gram could surprise a person.

  She was just about to go ask Andrew if he wanted sugar or honey, or if he put milk in his tea, when he stepped into the kitchen. Glancing about, he said, “Looks like there’s been some remodeling done in this room.”

  It was true. That was one of the first things Annie did after she had arrived and had determined that she would be staying for a while. It had taken weeks of painstaking work to remove the built-up layers of old wallpaper that her grandmother had added over the years. Annie ha
d chosen to redo the walls with paint in a brightening pale yellow shade called Jersey Cream. Wally had refinished the cabinets and replaced the old tile counter with a new, high-tech one that resisted heat and scratches, and had the look of granite. Then Annie had purchased new appliances, staying away from the current popular look of stainless steel and chrome. She had kept ceramic finishes that would fit in with the original decor. The redo was fresh and new, but still in keeping with the character of Grey Gables.

  “Yes,” said Annie, “it was long past due for a change. Shall we sit at the kitchen table and have our tea? Then I can show you the rest of the house afterward. After that, if you’d like to do more sketches, you’re welcome to do as you please.”

  After they were seated, and Annie had poured out the tea, Andrew said, “Thanks, Annie, for being so accommodating. As I mentioned when we met, I have a special interest in Captain Grey and Grey Gables. It’s fascinating to see the plans ‘in the flesh’ so to speak.”

  “What do you mean by ‘the plans’?” asked Annie.

  “While I was researching Grey Gables, I came across the name of the architect who designed it. Turns out the firm that he established near the end of the nineteenth century still exists in Boston, so I went there, and luckily, they have an archive for the original plans for every building the firm has designed—including Grey Gables. They were good enough to allow me to purchase copies of all the plans—floor plans, schematics, elevations … it’s all there, including the plans for the carriage house. Speaking of which, do you know the people who live there? I’d love to get a close-up look at it as well.”

  “I think I can be of help to you with that,” said Annie, smiling. “It just so happens that my best friend, Alice MacFarlane, lives there. I don’t think there would be any problem with you having a look sometime. I think she’s got a party planned this evening, so she’ll be getting ready for that, but I’m sure another time can be arranged.”