An Address in Amsterdam by Mary Dingee Fillmore

Author:Mary Dingee Fillmore
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: She Writes Press
Published: 2016-11-03T16:00:00+00:00

Rachel was sure her mother would object to the interfaith match, but Rose saw eye to eye with Mrs. Posner, and took over the important matter of the wedding gown with pleasure. “I have a dress we can alter. I’ve hardly worn it.”

By 2:30 the next day, Rachel was beginning to fret about Anna. Had she been stopped? What will Jan think if he finds out that I put her in danger? For an hour, Rachel sat by the window and watched the rain make concentric circles on the brownish canal. Apart from those plops, the tree reflections were like mirrors, but they gave her no comfort. The carillon’s music barely reached her.

“What’s wrong with you? She’s only a little bit late,” Rose said.

Rachel kept worrying. Every outdoor sound made her jump. At 4:00, she at last heard a knock.

“I’ll go!” Rachel shouted, flung open the door, and threw her arms around Anna. “Are you all right?” she hissed.

“Of course. When I got to Klara’s, her brother started telling me all about how worried he is about his sister. He asked me to keep an eye on her once he’s gone, that sort of thing. I couldn’t cut him off. But here I am!” Rachel’s relief was as intense as Anna’s enthusiasm while they bustled upstairs to Rose’s dressing room, its walls covered equally by English chintz and bookcases.

Rose kissed Anna, ordered her to shed her plain cotton dress, and handed her a cream silk party frock from Rose’s youth.

Anna, normally so serious, giggled as she slipped it on. Rachel held the pins as her mother took in a tuck or two here and there. For the first time in weeks, Rachel was fully absorbed in something other than her work. She basted in the alterations while Rose piled Anna’s hair on top of her head. A few gold locks cascaded down her neck.

When Anna stepped into the dress, her fine figure transformed it from merely pretty to beautiful. The gently form-fitting top ended below the waist, where the skirt flared out, falling to mid-calf. Gold undertones in the cream set off Anna’s finespun pale blond hair. She looked with wonder at the shimmery skirt.

Rachel couldn’t believe her eyes. “Mams, how did you do it?”

“It’s not just the dress and the hair,” she replied. “Anna’s in love.” Rachel turned away. If Michiel came back, he would hardly recognize me, I look so different, she thought, and felt tearful. Stop it, she told herself. Be happy for Anna.

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