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| Anna with Colin |
1909—Wisps of the Future
Anna never knew what it would take to plan and successfully perform a simple wedding. But there was nothing simple to the Trent family. Every little detail had to be considered, planned, plotted and firmly set in granite months before the wedding would actually take place.
Anna was dragged from one shop to another all over Southampton in search of the perfect gown, the perfect rings, and the perfect flowers. The perfect invitations were ordered from the printers, embossed with gold scrollwork. The cost was more than what she thought possible for a small packet of papers that would most likely find their way into the rubbish of each recipient other than her mother and the one she kept for her memory book.
She tried so many different gowns they all began to look alike. Anna wanted brilliant white. Mrs. Trent, who was in charge of everything, wanted champagne.
"It will look much better in the light of the church. The church will be lit by thousands of candles. The color of the gown must match the lighting or the effect will be ruined. It must be soft, not bright." Mrs. Trent spoke with the air of a worldly matron speaking to an ignorant child.
They entered yet another shop lined with many flowing, colorful gowns. Anna followed along, ran her hand absently across the soft skirts, and enjoyed the feel of satins and brocades as she followed Mrs. Trent toward the owner of the shop, Mrs. Marlow. Mrs. Trent was already giving direction.
Something made Anna stop. Her hand closed tightly on a gown. It was dark blue satin, shiny and cool with a sheer veiling of silvery blue lace. It was heavy in her hands. She could not turn away as the color drew her in. She shivered with a sudden cold, and clutched the material.
A biting wind slapped her face, as if she moved forward at great speed through frozen air.
The gown came loose.
A cold, wet fog surrounded her. The floor tilted at an alarming angle. Anna slid downward with nothing to hold on to.
As she melted into the surrounding darkness, an icy cold washed over her face. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't hear what was happening around her.
Where had Mrs. Trent gone? Anna tried to call out but could not. Chase? Where was he?
Fear gripped Anna as she tried to free herself from the waves that clung to her face, cold and frighteningly alive. Suddenly the scream of a foghorn sounded.
Bright lights popped overhead. The sound of twisting metal creaked, tearing, as if in the distance. Voices cried out. Hundreds of voices. Silence.
As quickly as it came, it was gone. Mrs. Trent and Mrs. Marlow looked down at Anna.
"What on earth are you doing down there, Anna?" She could hear the embarrassment in Mrs. Trent’s voice. "Are you all right, dear?" Mrs. Trent lifted the gown from her, and straightened the material as Anna struggled to her feet.
"I don't know what happened." She didn’t understand what she'd experienced but felt she should apologize. "I felt very cold, like fog on my face. It was very—strange." She tried to explain as she kept an eye on the gown Mrs. Trent handed to Mrs. Marlow.
Mrs. Trent smiled at the shop owner. "You probably see nervous brides every day, don't you, Mrs. Marlow?"
"Of course, of course," Mrs. Marlow agreed as she handed the gown to her assistant. "There is no more important day in a young lady's life than her wedding day. It is difficult to make everything come together perfectly and," she placed a reassuring arm around Anna, and led her to the bridal area, "it is your day, isn't it? You want to have everything exactly as you have always dreamed it would be, yes?"
"Uh—yes, ma'am." As if anything would be what she wanted it to be. Anna was determined to be Mrs. Chase Trent and nothing, not a meddling future mother-in-law or dark blue gowns that suffocated the bride-to-be would stop her.
Anna must have tried on fifteen gowns before Mrs. Trent found what she liked. This one, too much lace, that one, not enough, and, "Heavens, child, that is not attractive at all with your figure." From across the room, the dark blue satin mocked her. She had difficulty keeping her eyes from wandering back to it as she was measured, prodded, poked, fluffed, and paraded.
At last, Anna abandoned all hope of having her dream wedding and allowed Mrs. Trent to plan her son's wedding. Anna would only be the "bride," as every wedding seemed to need one of those. She would wear the champagne gown, anything to get out of this shop and away from dark blue satin.
To Be Continued...
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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Photo - Anna Scott with Colin Marsec
(Brandi Milhon with Michael Barti)
This book may not be reproduced in whole, or in part, by any means, without the expressed written consent of the author.
Any unauthorized reproduction of this book, other than by written authorization or contract by and with the author, is a violation of Federal Law and will be prosecuted to the full extent of that law.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination, or are fictitiously used. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Any trademarks referred to within this publication are the property of their respective trademark holders.
© 2008 Jena Galifany/Marge Conrad
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