My Amish Bride

Chapter 19

I stumbled downstairs with the invitation in my hand. Mom and dad were talking in the kitchen so I headed there. Mom smiled as I entered. I gave her the card and smiled a wan smile. “What’s for dinner?” I asked. Mom took the card and dad answered. “Spaghetti.” I nodded. “Amy!” mom gasped, “This is, is wonderful!” mom exclaimed and looked at dad. Dad looked at her and then at the envelope. “Isaac’s getting married,” she said. His eyebrows went up but he smiled slowly. I looked at them and then looked away as dad looked towards me. “I’m happy,’ I said. Mom hugged me. “Can’t you wait to go shopping?” she yelled. I smiled and held on to her as she shook me. I joined in although I was feeling far from joyous.

                Being home felt different and a bit strange. We finally went shopping and where else but the mall. I asked myself when we reached. “What exactly did you wear to an Amish wedding?”  Mom and I walked through the mall while I kept wondering until we stopped. The store was small and I would not have noticed it if mom had not seen it. We entered and I swore that I was transported to a land of peasants and a bit of 15th century thrown in too. I stood there as mom combed the racks looking for what I did not know. She finally pulled out a long light blue satin dress that fell to her ankles. My eyebrows rose and she nodded. “This is it,” she said. I usually gave her advice on clothes but for this occasion even I was not sure of myself.

                She found something for me too and as much as I wanted to complain I held my tongue. It was a deep red dress that fell past my knees and a bolero to match, pretty modest. We bought some ballet flats and I just stared at them. Everything about the wedding seemed to past me by. I flopped on my bed when we came back and sighed. “Why was I feeling this way?” I asked myself. A tear rolled down my cheek and I closed my eyes. A moment later I reopened them and stared at the dress hanging from my wardrobe. It was something that fancy me would not wear to a wedding, I mean I could be simple at times but that dress really did not suit me. I got up on impulse and pulled the dress out of the bag. I looked at it and marked a couple of inches up my knees and also pulled the sides firm and pinned it. I lounged out my old sewing machine and smiled. This dress was not me but maybe I would make it into me.

                I hemmed it and took in the side and then held it up. “Great,” I thought. I pulled open my draw and found my jewellery box. If I was going to that wedding I would with myself. My hands caught an intricately woven gold necklace and a pair of dangling matching earrings. I smiled and put it on my dresser. I strode over to my closet and looked at my shoe rack; I smiled when I glanced the box that I held a pair of shoes I had worn only once. I drew it out and took off the lid. It was perfect. The velveted black pumps seemed to smile at me. I put the box near to my dresser and then sat back. “What was I doing?” I thought.