Cinderella's Dress

by Shonna Slayton

  Josie blushed. “Does it look homemade? Honestly, does it? I would die.”

  Kate rolled her eyes. “Nothing you make looks homemade. When this war is over, you could go to Paris and start your own collection.”

  “Only if you come with me. Imagine, the two of us in Europe?”

  If I became the next Keeper, I could take the dress back for Elsie. “Maybe.”

  Chapter Seven

  After the last day of school, Kate and Josie bounded down the hallway to Kate’s apartment armed with cutouts of Bette Davis, Cary Grant, and Bing Crosby for Josie’s scrapbook.

  “Does Italy have a king and queen?” Kate asked while digging out her key. She had spent too much time at school counting up all the royalty she could name and feeling bad that she couldn’t name that many. Since Josie’s mom was born in Italy, Josie should know.

  “Sure. Victor Emmanuel and Queen Elena. But don’t talk about them near my mother. She blames the king for the mess Italy is in. He’s the one who put Mussolini into power, after all.” She hoisted her bag on her shoulder. “Never mind that he eventually made him step down. Too little, too late, my mom says.”

  “You can’t stay long, okay?” Technically, she was still grounded.

  When they tumbled through the apartment door, Adalbert was already home from work. He had spread newsprint over the table and was painstakingly gluing a glass milk bottle back together. Instead of clear glass, it looked like a spiderweb dripping with morning dew.

  “Hello?” called Kate, trying to keep the questioning look off her face. She hoped her mother wasn’t home, too.

  Adalbert stood and nodded at the girls. He waved his hands in front of him as if searching through the air for the words to say. A bandage was wrapped around his thumb. “Elsie was feeling not good today. I come home early.” He looked at the closed door to Kate’s bedroom. “She dropped bottle and was very upset, but now she is resting.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Kate said, pointing to the half-constructed bottle. “I’ve broken plenty before.”

  “Thank you. But will make Elsie feel better if she sees bottle whole again.”

  At that moment, Elsie opened the door and shuffled into the living room. Her eyes were red and watery. She gave a start when she saw the girls.

  Adalbert rushed to her side. “This is Kate, Katja’s granddaughter, and her friend Josie.”

  “Is nice meeting you,” she said, giving a little smile. “You looking like Katja. In the eyes.”

  Kate and Josie exchanged glances as Adalbert gently helped Elsie to the bathroom.

  Josie headed for the door. “I think I better leave,” she whispered. “Those pictures can last a few more days in my schoolbag. Besides, you’re still grounded, right?” She was out the door before Kate could call her back.

  Adalbert’s deep voice rumbled from down the hall, followed by a quiet whisper of Elsie’s. What had just happened? Despite living in Kate’s bedroom and seeing her every day, Elsie hadn’t recognized her. Had Adalbert known Elsie was sick? He should have warned them. Her family had already been through Babcia’s illness, which was difficult enough. Kate’s heart squeezed at the mere thought.

  Feeling out of place in her own home, Kate dove into matching pieces of glass. Nothing goes together. However had Adalbert managed to glue half the bottle already?

  Minutes later, Uncle Adalbert left Elsie alone in the bathroom and joined her at the table.

  “Do we need to call a doctor?”

  Adalbert shook his head. “Our travels are catching up with Elsie. Now that we have stopped, she is learning again to relax and feel safe. Not have to always be watching. It has been long time in war. She will adjust.”

  Kate stared openmouthed at Adalbert. Who was he kidding? Elsie’s confusion was serious. Adalbert wouldn’t look at her. He kept his gaze on the table as he searched through the broken pieces. He, too, was thin, though not as much as Elsie. His hands, mottled with age spots, displayed steadiness and strength.

  “Is her mind, um, okay?”

  “Elsie has always”—Adalbert paused, his eyes looking up as if searching for the words on the ceiling—“thought differently from other people. She has great imagination. But, lately, she is also starting to forget things. There are times she needs help. That is all.”

  Kate bit her lip. Different. A great imagination. Could Elsie have been telling stories all this time? Confusing reality with imagination? What if there was no such thing as a Keeper? “The trunk you brought with you. What does she think is in it?”

  Adalbert’s face clouded over. “Elsie would say ‘The best thing in the world. Love.’” He found a matching piece of glass and glued it in. “She will not go anywhere without trunk. She would rather sit on it while Nazis storm our house than leave without it. So I bring trunk around the world. Is important to her. So is act of love for me.”

  “She told me something,” Kate said. She needed to choose her words carefully. Elsie didn’t want her telling Adalbert, but Kate needed to know if there really was a Kolodenko family or if Elsie was living some childhood fantasy. “Some of our family history, and how our family helps another family.” There, that was vague enough, yet obvious if Elsie was speaking the truth.

  Adalbert was so still beside her, she wondered if he heard. Finally, he let out a slow breath. “Elsie wants you to be Keeper.”

  “So it is true.”

  Adalbert held up his hand. “But dress needs to be with Kolodenkos. Your family has had trouble enough. Is time to let go.”

  Kate bit her lip. But what if she didn’t want to let go? This was all so new. She didn’t know enough yet. How could she let Adalbert make such a decision for her?

  He shook his head, looking defeated. “What is it with women and this dress? Is nothing but trouble. Elsie will not tell you these parts. She only thinks of the good. You need to have understanding. Her whole life she watches. Even on ship. I relax, enjoy eat the apple pie. We are free. Nie. She searches faces, looking. Thinks she sees a Burgosov in the crowd. Now she is afraid they follow her here to steal dress. If you are wise, you let me take trunk back when war is over. Did she show you dress?”

  “She tried, but I think she forgot where she put it.” An empty trunk and wishful thoughts did not make a dress.

  “Is strange business. I am sorry. She should not have spoken to you.”

  He got up from the table and motioned for Kate to follow him. “There used to be dress. Elsie took very good care of it. But then the dress begins to disappear. At first, is faint. Like ghost. Then only she can see it. I don’t know if she can even see it now. She is afraid to leave trunk because it was the last place she put dress. She hopes it returns before the Kolodenkos ask for it.”

  Could both her aunt and uncle be crazy? Kate followed him over to the trunk. He pulled out a key like the one Elsie carried. His knees cracked as he bent to unlock the lid. The contents had shifted since the last time Kate had looked, but there was still no fancy dress.

  “There. You see nothing? No dress.” Adalbert asked, his bushy eyebrows furrowed at her.

  A little piece of lace peeked out from the bottom. “What is that?” asked Kate, pointing, her hopes rising. She wanted Elsie to be right. She wanted there to be a dress.

  “Mmmph.” He reached in and pulled out the fancywork. He gave it to Kate. “Elsie is always making these.”

  It was a scrap. A piece that Elsie had started working on but never finished. As Kate examined the threads, a glimmer appeared in the corner of her eye, drawing her attention back to the trunk. She blinked her dry eyes, and the vision was gone. She stared at the bottom of the trunk, trying to bring back a dream after waking up. The image was there, but beyond her reach. She could feel it. Colors swirled. Blue. White.

  “You can keep lace.” Adalbert closed the trunk and locked it, snapping Kate away from what she was desperately trying to see. “Forget dress. Enjoy your life. We return after war and you can grow up and get married. Have chil
dren. Live peaceful life.”

  He quietly left the room and met Elsie on her way back from the bathroom. He held her arm as she walked to the bedroom to lie down again.

  Not knowing what else to do, Kate returned to the broken bottle at the table, and she thought about all her uncle had said. Soon Adalbert joined her and they worked in silence. By the time Floyd and her mother came home, the bottle was mended, but Kate’s mind was fractured. Adalbert’s warnings only made her want to find out more.

  …

  Later that night, Elsie joined the family in the living room as if nothing unusual had happened. Kate hadn’t had a private moment to tell Mom or Floyd about Elsie’s strange behavior. So it was only Kate and Adalbert who skirted nervous looks at Elsie as the family gathered in the living room waiting for the president to come on the radio with the latest report.

  Elsie pulled out a ball of white thread and a small object made of wood with amber inlays. Her hands worked the thread over and over, her fingers a blur she worked so fast, and a trail of lace began to form.

  Kate smiled tentatively at her.

  Elsie spoke first. “I was not myself today. My husband tells me you help fix bottle. Dziekuje.”

  “You’re welcome. It’s been a while since I put a puzzle together.” Kate scanned Elsie’s face, looking for reassurance that she was better.

  Elsie held out her work. “Tatting. Making lace traditional way. Important for every girl in our family to learn tatting. Hold thread like so—wrap around hand, drape thread, pass shuttle under, over, and keeping going. Must make thread flip to make proper knot.”

  She placed the object in Kate’s hand. “You try.”

  The shuttle was smooth with a worn spot where years and years of lace-making had left an impression. It was still warm from being in Elsie’s hand. Kate draped the thread around her left hand and pinched it. Then she looped it around two fingers on her right hand the way Elsie showed her. Her hands felt large and awkward for such a dainty task.

  It was hard to keep track of the threads. She ended up producing a string of mismatched knots. She laughed. “This reminds me of learning to make pisanki eggs. It might take me a while.”

  “Is fine,” said Elsie, but a shadow passed over her face. She quickly smiled. “Katja learned easy. You might learn slow, like me.”

  “Babcia knew how to do this? She never showed me.” Kate continued the pattern: under, over, over, under. The threads were beginning to feel less of a tangled mess on her hands, but she still couldn’t make the neat row of double stitches like Elsie did. The thread wouldn’t flip.

  “Mama teach all her children, even our brother. Katja was best.” Elsie looked wistfully at Kate’s hands. “You practice, and I tell stories.” She took over the shuttle again to demonstrate the correct method before giving it back. “Did your babcia ever tell you story of Kopciuszek?”

  Kate shook her head. Wasn’t that the name of the queen whose dress Elsie was “keeping”? She stopped her attempts at tatting and waited.

  Adalbert closed his paper and placed it on the coffee table. “Not that old story again, Elsie? Can you not be telling another this day?” His voice was stern.

  “Yes, that old story. It is time. A young girl made to be servant, shoveling out cinders for her stepmother. Then she escapes to ball where she meets prince of the land. I found her English name. You call her Cinderella.” Elsie winked. “When Adalbert is not here, I tell you Polish version. I think you find very interesting.”

  Kate felt the room spin. Did Elsie call Queen Kopciuszek…Cinderella?

  “Do you mean the fairy tale?” she asked, hoping to clarify the English.

  Elsie smiled broadly.

  Holy Toledo! Elsie thought she was the Keeper of the Wardrobe for Cinderella. That Cinderella! Kate glanced around the room to see if anyone else reacted to the announcement. Mom was staring at the radio, looking lost in her own thoughts as she listened for an update on the war. Floyd had just picked up the paper. And Adalbert was focused on scraping lint off his sweater. Finally, he looked up and met her eyes. His look was earnest. It said: Believe her.

  Kate’s mouth went dry. They actually thought their family was responsible for keeping Cinderella’s dress hidden. The fairy-tale character.

  “Yes. I would like to hear your version, Aunt Elsie,” Kate said. Their story was getting stranger by the minute. There had to be a way to make the pieces fit together. Many legends were based on reality, so maybe the Cinderella fairy tale was, too. But why would Babcia give her the necklace but not tell her its significance? “Whenever you’re ready to tell me.”

  “Hey,” said Floyd, turning up the radio. “This is what we’ve been waiting for.”

  President Roosevelt’s voice crackled over the speakers:

  “Last night when I spoke with you about the fall of Rome, I knew at that moment that troops of the United States and our Allies were crossing the Channel in another and greater operation. It has come to pass with success thus far.”

  “Bam!” Floyd pumped his fists. “We’re going on full motors now.”

  With each word the president spoke, Kate found herself pulled out of the fairy tale and back into thoughts of the war. Back onto something she understood. If someone could ever understand war.

  “And so, in this poignant hour, I ask you to join with me in prayer: Lead them straight and true; give strength to their arms, stoutness to their hearts, steadfastness in their faith. They will need thy blessings.”

  Floyd leaned into the radio, head down, focused, like he could jump through the airwaves and join in the fighting himself.

  Watching him like that, Kate couldn’t help but think that this prayer should be for him, too. He would not come back the same Floyd. He might even come back a hardened soldier. She’d already seen him toughening up, getting ready.

  “They fight not for the lust of conquest. They fight to end conquest. They fight to liberate. They fight to let justice arise, and tolerance and goodwill among all thy people. They yearn but for the end of battle, for their return to the haven of home.”

  Dad. When would he be back?

  “And for us at home—fathers, mothers, children, wives, sisters, and brothers of brave men overseas—whose thoughts and prayers are ever with them—help us, Almighty God, to rededicate ourselves in renewed faith in thee in this hour of great sacrifice.”

  Sacrifice, indeed. Father. Brother. For the duration.

  “Thy will be done, Almighty God. AMEN.”

  To my Katydid:

  I’m sending this early with the hopes you will get it close to your birthday. (Hopefully a package will arrive as well. Be on the lookout.)

  Adalbert and Elsie sound wonderful. I’m glad your mother has guests in the house to keep her busy. I’m guessing you do, too. (Haven’t heard about any advanced modeling plans lately.) It’s too bad they came too late to see Babcia. That would have been one interesting reunion to witness. Your grandmother didn’t speak often of her Polish relations, but when she did—there was fire in her words.

  Now, keep this a secret: Next letter, could you trace Babcia’s necklace for me? And draw a little sketch of it? I’ve met someone who works with amber. Thought I’d cook up a little surprise for your mother. I would have had it taken care of already but forgot the exact look of the necklace. This way you can both have one. Shh!

  Happy birthday. Tell the others I love them, too, but this letter was special for you.

  Love,

  Dad

  Chapter Eight

  It was halfway through the workday morning, and Kate was on the fifth floor of Harmon-Craig in a back room where they kept the clothes steamer. The humidity was suffocating, and the other girls somehow managed to wiggle out of the work, leaving it all for her to do.

  Getting the wrinkles out of clothes gave her plenty of time to think, and she was musing over Aunt Elsie’s latest troubles. Only yesterday, Kate had come home to find her wandering the hall—she’d forgotten which apartment
was theirs. And one night after she and Elsie made pierogi, Elsie’s hands expertly sealing most of them, she went right back and started making a new batch, having completely forgotten about the first.

  If it weren’t for Adalbert confirming the Cinderella connection, Kate would have chalked the idea up to Elsie’s ailing mind. He was a level-headed man, so she had to keep her mind open to the possibility of there being a dress somewhere. Besides, her intuition seemed to be urging her to believe. She could tell there was some truth to what Elsie was saying. She needed more time to work out the mystery.

  But Adalbert wasn’t going to be any help. His goal was to get the dress back to the Kolodenko family. Somehow, Kate needed to reach Elsie and find out all she could about this Keeper responsibility—what was expected and who was trying to steal the dress away from them. Only then could she make up her mind about whether or not she would become the next Keeper.

  “Kate,” called Miss Lassiter. “Come with me, and I’ll show you my display cupboard.”

  Kate shut off the machine and eagerly followed Miss Lassiter to the elevator. The doors opened, and out walked Johnny from Windows, carrying a clipboard and piles of papers. His eyes opened wide, but he quickly turned his attention to Miss Lassiter. “Mr. G wanted to know if you have your collection ready for window night.”

  Kate automatically stiffened, preparing herself to be teased. But while his attention was diverted, she took the opportunity to study him. Josie was right, he was dreamy. But there was also something different about him. Those blue eyes…one of them looked a little crooked at times. But then he’d blink, and it would fall into line again. Interesting. Knowing Johnny Day was not completely perfect made her feel not quite so intimidated by him.

  Miss Lassiter smiled and squeezed Kate’s arm. “This is just the thing,” she said to Kate. Then to Johnny, she said, “Tell Mr. G that Kate will bring everything down later this afternoon.”

  “I’ll be on the lookout for any wayward clothing racks, then.” He bowed slightly at Kate and stepped aside to clear the way into the elevator.