Shadow Tales

by Shirley Damsgaard

  Emma gave her great aunt a solemn look as she picked up a cookie. “Hmm, yes, I believe you have...” She paused, breaking into a grin. “Since I was four, but I’m not little kid anymore, Aunt Tildy.”

  “No,” she said, placing a hand on Emma’s cheek. “This time next week you’ll be a married woman, and Nick will be tucking you in, not me.”

  Emma’s eyes flared wide. “Aunt Tildy,” she exclaimed, “please don’t tell me your going to give me one of those talks.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she said with a wave of her hand and broke off a piece of cookie. Popping it her mouth, she chewed it thoughtfully before speaking. “You’re a woman full grown.” Her eyes took on a sly look. “I suppose I’m still thinking about that body stocking. Are you really going to wear it?”

  “Aunt Tildy,” she exclaimed again.

  Ever since she’d been a child, she shared everything with her great aunt—all her young dreams, all her teenage heartbreaks and drama, and all the struggles she’d faced as an adult finding her place in the world. But she had no intention of sharing any wedding night plans.

  “Oh, Emmy,” Aunt Tildy said with a chuckle, “don’t look so serious. I’m just teasing you.” She chuckled again. “If you could’ve seen the look on your face when you pulled out that body stocking.”

  “You weren’t shocked?”

  “Honey, regardless of what you might think, your generation didn’t invent sex,” she cut off, grinning. “Though I will admit...we never wore anything like that.”

  No, no, Emma thought with a shake of her, there’s just something so wrong about this conversation.

  She squirmed under the quilt. “Do you mind if we change the subject?”

  Aunt Tildy leaned in and gave her a hug. “Time for talking’s done for tonight.” She rose to her feet and smiled down at Emma. “You’ve had an exciting evening, and tomorrow we pick up your wedding dress.” Her hand reached out and stroked Emma’s hair. “You look so much like my sister...your grandmother, with all that thick auburn hair and those green eyes. You’re going to be a beautiful bride.” She bent and placed a kiss on the top of Emma’s head. “Now eat your cookies and go to sleep.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Emma said, using the same words she’d used a hundred times before.

  Aunt Tildy crossed the room and pausing at the door she turned and blew Emma a kiss. “Sweet dreams, my little love.”

  *

  The dreams were sweet...in the beginning. She stood in the garden with Nick as he looked down at her with eyes full of love. Their friends and family surrounded them and it was perfect. Finally the moment came and the minister asked, “Do you take this man...”

  Emma started to speak but her mouth wouldn’t open. Her throat clenched and her jaws locked. A nervous buzz hummed through the wedding guests while they waited to hear her say, “I do.” She couldn’t get the words out. The look of love slid away from Nick’s face, and one of dismay replaced it. The bouquet made of roses and lily of the valley slipped from her hands as she clawed at her mouth, trying to pry her lips apart.

  Suddenly Emma’s eyelids popped open. She lay on her back, staring at the dark ceiling with her hands still clutching at her face. Dropping them, she kicked off the covers and flung her legs over the side of the bed.

  “Oh my god,” she whispered, sitting up, “what a nightmare.”

  Flicking on the bedside lamp, she took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “The dream didn’t mean anything,” she told herself. “It really didn’t. It wasn’t some harbinger of doom. It was nerves. Nerves combined with too much cake at the shower and too many chocolate chip cookies,” she thought as her stomach did a slow roll.

  She grabbed her robe and yanked it on. Creeping softly out of her room, she headed for the bathroom to splash cold water on her face. She’d almost made it when she had the sensation of someone behind her. Great. All her thrashing around had disturbed Aunt Tildy. She turned, ready to make her apologies.

  No one was there.

  Man, she was more spooked than she thought. First the dream, now her imagination was kicking into high gear. Turning around, she hurried into the bathroom and flipped on the light. She crossed to the sink and turned on the water, but not before glancing at herself in the mirror. Her attention held. She looked awful, not like a happy bride at all. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her hair looked like it had been combed with a whisk. Groaning, she turned on the water and splashed it on her face. After another quick glance in the mirror, she dried her face.

  Once back in her bedroom, instead of getting back in bed, she crossed to the window and stared out into the night. From her vantage point, she could see Nick’s house clearly. This time next week it would be her home, too. A shiver of happiness ran through her, chasing away the last vestiges of her nightmare.

  They’d make a good life inside those four walls. Just like Aunt Tildy and Uncle William had here. Except hopefully unlike Aunt Tildy and Uncle William, there’d be children. They’d already discussed it and decided two would be perfect. She smiled imagining Aunt Tildy holding her first baby, cooing and cuddling it as Aunt Tildy had done to her when she was little. Turning around, she crossed back to the bed. Was that too much to ask? Aunt Tildy living long enough to see her and Nick’s first child? It was possible. She was getting up there in years, but except for the hip replacement, her health had always been good.

  Crawling back into bed, she said a quick prayer that her dreams would come true. With visions of her future children firmly affixed in her mind, sleep claimed her once again.

  *

  It’s nerves, it’s nerves, she told herself for the umpteenth time that morning as the seamstress slipped her wedding gown over her head. She had finished the night sleeping dreamlessly, but even in the bright light of day, she couldn’t seem to shake the memory of her nightmare. It left her jumpy and out of sorts. She had been looking forward to this day since she’d picked out her gown over six months ago. Now after that terrible dream, her excitement faltered.

  Had it been her subconscious trying to tell her something? No, impossible. She knew with every fiber she wanted to marry Nick. Then why hadn’t she been able to say “I do” in the dream? Did she have reservations that were struggling their way to the surface?

  “Absolutely not,” she whispered as her head popped out of the dress.

  “Did you say something?” the seamstress asked.

  Glancing down at her from the riser, Emma smiled. “No, just mumbling to myself.”

  The woman gave a quick nod, smoothing the heavy lace over Emma’s hips. “Every bride’s different. If mumbling helps, you go right ahead, dear.” She stood and smiled at Emma in the mirror. “What do you think?”

  “It’s beautiful,” Emma gasped.

  It was more than she’d ever expected. The off-white lace clung to her upper body before flaring over her hips into a full skirt, while tiny seed pearls glowed from around the sweetheart neckline and down the front of the bodice. Capped sleeves floated over her upper arms. She’d been drawn to this gown because it had reminded her of Aunt Tildy’s and now she knew she’d made the right choice. She couldn’t wait to see the look on Nick’s face when he saw her coming down the aisle.

  From behind her, the seamstress fluffed out the skirt. “Are you happy with the fit?”

  Emma nodded. “It’s perfect.”

  The seamstress smiled again and patted Emma’s shoulder. “Good. When you’re ready, step out and show your aunt.”

  “Okay,” Emma replied unable to take her eyes away from her reflection.

  She heard the door close as she lightly caressed the pearls on the front of the bodice. With one hand, she picked up her hair and held it on top of her head. The baby’s breath and flowers that she’d wear in her hair instead of a veil would be the final touch. Wonderful, she thought, dropping her hair back into place.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the shape of someone standing in the corner. She’d been so intent on
admiring her gown that she hadn’t heard the door open.

  “Sorry to be taking so long,” she said, picking up the skirt and making a half turn. “I was—”

  The room was empty.

  *

  At lunch, Emma picked at her salad, half listening to Aunt Tildy going over the final wedding preparations. Finally a hand on her arm caught her attention.

  “What’s wrong,” Aunt Tildy asked, her face full of concern. “You seem troubled. You didn’t have a fight with Nick, did you?”

  “No,” Emma replied with a shake of her head.

  Should she tell her about the dream, about the strange sensation of not being alone in the dressing room? No, no sense in worrying Aunt Tildy over what she knew was simply a bad case of nerves.

  She gave Aunt Tildy a reassuring smile. “I’m fine. A little tired...I...I didn’t sleep well last night. Too much tossing and turning.”

  A look of relief crossed her face. “I see. Do you want to change the appointment with Jackie?” she asked, referring to Emma’s wedding planner.

  “No, I’ll be fine.”

  “Well,” she said, sitting back. “After we’re finished, I’m going to insist you get some sleep.”

  “I don’t have time to nap. There’s too much to do.”

  “Nonsense. Everything’s under control,” Aunt Tildy said firmly, “I want you to rest, then go out and enjoy your dinner with Nick. Forget about all the hustle and bustle for a few hours.” She glanced down at her watch. “And speaking of Jackie, she’ll be at the house soon. Are you finished?”

  “Yes,” Emma said, standing and placing her napkin by her half eaten salad.

  Later, as she and Aunt Tildy strolled through the garden with the wedding planner, Emma let herself be swept up in Jackie’s description of how her wedding day would play out.

  “The arch will be right here,” she said, waving at the spot between the two ancient maple trees. “It’s going to be covered in hydrangeas, peonies, and double roses.” Turning, she faced the house. “The chairs will be placed here. We’ll have a runner covered with rose petals leading down from the flagstone steps, through the center of the chairs, and ending at the arch.”

  Emma did a slow pivot, picturing the day in her mind. It really was going to be beautiful. With Aunt Tildy’s old fashioned flower beds in full bloom, the white chairs, and the flower covered arch, all the months of planning were coming together. Aunt Tildy was right. Everything was under control and she had no cause to worry.

  But what about the dream, she asked herself, feeling the tension creep into her shoulders. If all the plans were falling into place, what caused the dream?

  Shaking herself out of it she hurried to follow Aunt Tildy and Jackie toward the house.

  “After the ceremony,” Jackie continued, “while the guests are having cocktails inside, my crew will set up for the reception. Tables, linens, centerpieces.” Her eyes narrowed while she sketched a diagram on her notepad. “The dance floor will be here, and a second bar will be set up at the end of the patio with the buffet at the other end.” Flipping her notebook shut, she smiled. “Let’s go inside. I want to check out the dining room.”

  Half-way through the French doors, she stopped. “The cake topper,” she said with a snap of her fingers. “Do you have it, Emma? I’d like to drop it off at the bakery on my way home.”

  “Thanks,” Emma said with a sigh. “That’s makes one less worry for me.”

  “You’re not supposed to worry at all.” Jackie gave her a big smile. “It’s my job to handle the details.”

  Emma’s thoughts flashed back to the night before. Maybe that was it. Maybe the countless details involved in pulling this wedding off had been simmering in her subconscious without her being aware of it and they were coming out sideways in her dream. It wasn’t about Nick, it was about the wedding. All she had to do was let go and let Jackie handle it, and everything would be fine.

  Fighting the desire to dust her hands together, she hurried through the house and up the stairs to the guest room that had been given over to store wedding supplies.

  Finally she found the box holding the cake topper. Pausing, she removed it from the box. Instead of the traditional bride and groom, two interlocking hearts made of blown glass would nestle amid sugar flowers on the top layer. Holding them up, she smiled as the light playing through them cast a rainbow on the far wall.

  The hearts had been one of the first gifts Nick had given her after their engagement. She had been so touched by his romantic gesture that she thought it only fitting they hold a place of honor by gracing the top of their wedding cake.

  She moved the hearts around and let the rainbow dance across the wall. Yup, that’s what the next week leading up to the wedding would be—rainbows—no more clouds cast by nasty dreams. No more doubts. She’d relax, concentrate on the life ahead of her, and enjoy herself.

  Placing the hearts back in the box, she ran out of the room and to the stairs. Her right foot had almost touched the top step when suddenly she pitched forward. Fighting to right herself, she grabbed the banister and the box containing the hearts flew out of her hand. She watched horrified as it bounced down the steps. When it hit the marble floor at the base of the stairs, the lid came off and the hearts landed with a crash on the stone floor. The hall echoed with the sound of the fragile glass breaking into a thousand pieces.

  Immediately, Aunt Tildy and Jackie appeared at the bottom of the steps.

  Taking in the shattered hearts and Emma, still clinging to the banister, Aunt Tildy took a step forward. “Are you alright?”

  Straightening, Emma walked down the stairs, her legs still trembling. “Yes,” she said, unable to turn her attention from the glass littering the floor. Her eyes filled with tears.

  Jackie stepped forward. “It’s okay,” she said, stroking Emma’s arm. “We’ll go with plan B. We’ll top the cake with a mound of sugar flowers instead. It will be lovely. The important thing is that you didn’t fall.”

  “But...but...” Emma began before Aunt Tildy cut her off.

  “Jackie’s right. You could’ve been seriously hurt. I’m glad you chose to save yourself instead of the hearts,” Aunt Tildy exclaimed, looking back toward the top of the stairs. “Did you catch your heel?”

  “No.” Emma covered her eyes with trembling hands. “It felt like someone pushed me.”

  *

  Placing one hand on the wall of the shower, Emma bent her head and let the hot water cascade over her. She felt better after her mandatory nap, but the sensation she’d experienced at the top of the stairs still bothered her. Jackie and Aunt Tildy had been very solicitous—patting her back, stroking her arm, murmuring reassuring words—but she could tell that they didn’t believe her.

  “Damn,” she thought, lifting her face to the water as she flipped her hair back, “I don’t believe me.”

  After wiping the water out of her eyes, she turned off the shower, and stepped out on the bath mat. She grabbed a towel and dried off with fast, furious strokes. What was going on? The dream, the sensation of not being alone, the feeling of being pushed...was she having some sort of breakdown brought on by the stress of getting married? Impossible. She knew she was doing the right thing.

  She slipped on her robe and crossed to the sink. Picking up the blow dryer she quickly fixed her hair and slapped on some make-up. With a quick glance in the mirror, she made up her mind. She would stop thinking about it. Quit going over everything in minute detail. Chalk it up to nerves as Aunt Tildy and Jackie had. She gave her reflection a determined nod and proceeded to her bedroom.

  She’d finished dressing when her attention strayed to the bed. A neatly folded lace handkerchief had been placed on her pillow. Crossing to the bed, Emma picked it up and shook out the folds. The lace matched her wedding gown. Where had Aunt Tildy found this? Holding it in her palm, she traced the delicate pattern until her finger stopped at a small “M” embroidered on one corner. “M” for Matilda she thought. Aunt Ti
ldy must’ve come across this in one of her drawers and decided Emma could use the handkerchief as her “something old.” What a great idea.

  Snagging her purse, she left to search out Aunt Tildy and thank her for her thoughtfulness. She found her in the library, reading.

  Crossing to her, Emma leaned over and gave her a big hug.

  “Thank you,” she said, straightening. “It’s lovely.”

  “You’re welcome,” Aunt Tildy said with a smile, “but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Grinning, Emma held out the handkerchief. “This.”

  Aunt Tildy’s face lost its color as her smile dropped away. “Where did you find that?” she gasped.

  Confused, Emma motioned toward the stairs. “On my pillow. Where you left it.”

  “I never gave this to you,” Aunt Tildy hissed as she snatched the handkerchief out of Emma’s hand. “You were snooping through the attic, weren’t you?”

  “No,” Emma exclaimed, shocked by her aunt’s reaction. “I would never go up there without your permission.”

  “You have before,” Aunt Tildy shot back.

  “Yeah, when I was ten.” Frustrated, Emma cocked her hip and stared at her aunt. “And as I recall, I got into a lot of trouble.”

  Aunt Tildy gave an angry sniff. “I don’t like people rummaging through my things.”

  “I wasn’t in the attic today,” Emma insisted.

  “I don’t believe you,” her aunt replied, rising to her feet. “William should never have kept this.” She grabbed the embroidery scissors lying on the end table.

  “I don’t understand,” Emma said, reaching out and touching her great aunt’s wrist. “Why wouldn’t you want Uncle William to save your handkerchief?”

  Aunt Tildy’s lips curled. “It isn’t mine.”

  She shook off Emma’s hand, and with a jab, stabbed the point of the scissors through the gossamer lace and ripped.

  Stunned, Emma watched in disbelief. “I don’t understand. Why are you doing this?” she cried.

  Aunt Tildy paused and gave Emma an angry glare. “None of your business.” She continued to gouge and tear until the beautiful handkerchief was nothing more than a tattered ball. Throwing the scissors down, she turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, leaving Emma staring after her in astonishment.