Mirror Bride

by Jane Peart

  Oh, Cara, how could you do this to all of us who love you?

  Kitty knew that her mother would be heartbroken. And her father? She closed her eyes, What would he say? And Kip would be devastated.

  Kitty turned off the lamps and went to sit in the window seat. Outside, the wind whistled eerily around the eaves, and icy pellets of sleet fingered the glass panes with small, tapping sounds. Were they out in this storm? She closed her eyes, felt the slow trickle of hot tears escape from under her eyelids and roll down her cheeks.

  She never knew how long she sat there in the darkened room, lost in her own thoughts, mourning her runaway twin. Then she heard an unusual amount of activity downstairs, voices raised in surprise, exclamations. What was going on? Unexpected guests?

  Kitty remained seated for another minute or two, straining to listen, trying to make sense of the flurry below. Then one voice, clear and distinct, drifted up from the hallway. Cara! At the sound of running feet on the stairs, Kitty started up from her seat. But before she could reach the bedroom door, it burst open and Cara was there.

  After the first excited hugs, they sat down together on the bed, arms around each other, just like in the old days when they had shared everything.

  "Oh, Kitty," Cara began, "I never imagined such happiness! We planned to elope, at least I did. I wanted to avoid all the fuss. But after Owen thought about it, he wouldn't hear of it. He said we owed it to my parents and that we simply couldn't start our life together without their blessing. Kitty, he's so wonderful, so good and pure! I don't know how I'll ever live up to him." Her eyes were moist, soft and shining. "All I know is . . . I'd follow him to the ends of the earth—"

  Stunned by all that Cara was telling her, Kitty waited. Then she had to know. " B u t . . . what about Kip? All along I thought it was you and Kip. I know you tried to make us believe you were interested in Vance, but I never did. In spite of everything, I thought it would eventually be you and . . . Kip."

  Cara looked pensive for a moment, then shook her head vigorously. "Kip and I are too much alike . . . you know, temperamental, independent, wanting our own way and trying to get it. We'd make each other miserable. I'm sure in time he would have realized that on his own . . . or talked me into marrying him and destroying us both!"

  Then her frown melted into a radiant smile. "Oh, Kitty, don't look so sad. Be happy for me . . . please?"

  "I am, really I am, Cara. It's just that I remember what we talked about one day that summer at Fair Winds—the summer you met Owen. Of course, I didn't know you'd fallen in love with him—" Here she gave her twin a reproachful look. "I was chiding you about the way you were treating Kip, and you told me there was someone else, only you wouldn't say who. But I remember something else you said, and that's why I'm reminding you of it now—"

  Amused at Kitty's serious manner, Cara's mouth twitched. "What in the world did I way that was so profound?"

  "You said, 'Being first in someone's life, being the most important person . . . that's love.' Don't you realize, Cara, that you can never come first with Owen? You can't be the most important person to him, because he's made a commitment to Someone else. . . . God will always come first with him."

  "I know that, Kitty." Cara lifted her shoulders in a shrug and gave her a sidelong look. Then her smile came back. "But I guess I'm willing. Somehow I think it will be enough."

  The two looked deeply into each other's eyes for a long moment. Then Cara's eyes twinkled with mischief "Since you have such a phenomenal memory, do you remember when we did all those dramatic performances at Fair Winds? Remember the night we acted out Tennyson's Maud? Well, let me quote you a quote, and this should satisfy you about my decision to marry Owen: 'I embrace the purpose of God and the doom assigned.' Only, Kitty, it's not going to be 'doom,' it's going to be heaven!"

  For a moment Cara closed her eyes as though in rapture, but Kitty saw with surprise that she was praying. "Dear God, thank You, thank You for Owen! I know I don't deserve him, but I'm so grateful, and I'll try, I'll really try to make you both glad he married me!" She clutched Kitty's arm. "Come on now, Kitty, come downstairs with me. We have so much to talk about, so much to plan." She got up and pirouetted across the room, pausing at the door. "Owen and Daddy are having one of those man-to-man talks, and I don't want to leave them alone together too long!" She laughed gaily. "Daddy might tell him all my faults and talk Owen out of marrying me." She held out her hand to her sister. "Come on, Kitty, I need you to back me up with Mama, too. As you might guess, she's all in a dither about getting a wedding together in such a short time, so I need your support to convince her it will really be very simple—"

  Kitty had to smile. To Cara, of course, who floated above the earth most of the time, everything seemed simple. She would continue to occupy her particular cloud while everyone else scurried about, doing what needed to be done. Kitty took her twin's hand gladly, feeling the mix of joy at her happiness, and sadness at the knowledge that soon they would really be living in different worlds.

  In the drawing room they found Owen, his expression rather dazed but his manner composed and confident. The three—Rod, Blythe, and Owen—were already deep in conversation when the twins arrived. At the sight of Cara, Owen's face lighted up. All during the subsequent discussion, his eyes never left Cara, and again Kitty felt the bizarre sensation of pleasure and pain. She was truly happy for her sister, yet grieved over the prospect of parting with the one person with whom she had been most closely bonded since before birth. What her life would be like without her literal "other half," she couldn't imagine.

  "It will simply be impossible to have any kind of real wedding on such short notice—" Blythe was saying, looking distracted yet smiling at the shining faces of the two sitting opposite her together on the love seat. "We'll just have to do without some of the traditional things one always has—invitations, a reception—"

  "Oh, Mama, you know I've never been one for tradition," protested Cara. "Owen and I will just start some new traditions of our own."

  "But what about friends . . . especially the Montroses—" Blythe's voice faltered.

  "Please, we just want everything kept very simple . . . truly. Just the family, Mama."

  "But couldn't you at least wait until spring, until after Owen graduates from seminary and is ordained?" Blythe pleaded.

  "No, Mama, we've waited so long already." She cast an appealing look at Owen for support.

  At the same moment, Blythe's eyes met Rod's penetrating gaze, and in that glance was communicated all the agony they themselves had endured in their long separation before they could be married. They would not wish that pain on their daughter.

  "No, we can't wait," Cara was saying as Blythe redirected her attention to the young couple. " T h a t is, Owen has to be back the day after New Year's to apply for a married students' apartment for us, and right after graduation, he's due to report to the little church in Ohio where he's been accepted as pastor—"

  "Ohio!" the three Camerons echoed in unison.

  "Yes, Owen went for an interview and helped at the services during Easter week and . . . they want him, need him as soon as possible really, since their former pastor is retiring."

  "But Ohio . . . is so far." Blythe's voice sounded weak.

  "Not so far, Mama."

  Kitty saw her mother's eyes brighten with unshed tears which she managed to control before changing the subject to more immediate practicalities. "But what will you wear? There's no time to have something made—"

  "I can wear the dress we had made for our coming-out party . . . it's never been worn, remember?" Cara reminded her that the twins' debut ball, planned for the summer of 1912, had been canceled after the sinking of the Titanic.

  "Oh, yes, of course. What a good idea," Blythe conceded and rose. "Well, come along, both of you. We'll have to get the dresses out of the storage room. You, too, Kitty. You'll be your sister's bridesmaid—"

  In the next twenty-four hours, Cameron Hall was the scen
e of frenzied activity. Cara insisted that no one outside the family be informed of the four o'clock ceremony scheduled at the small Mayfield church. On a weekday afternoon and with holiday services over for the season, it would be unlikely to attract any special notice. At least, she was hoping.

  As the twins dressed that gray winter afternoon, Cara was uncharacteristically quiet, although quivering with excitement. Kitty thought that her sister had never looked more beautiful—paler than usual but with her dark eyes sparkling with deep confidence and joy.

  The debut gowns had been made by the same well-known Williamsburg seamstress, yet designed to suit their different personalities. Today, Kitty thought, as they put them on for Cara's wedding, they might have been fashioned for this very occasion. Kitty's dress was an Alice-blue silk, with fluted chiffon panels floating from the shoulders, while Cara's was of shimmering gold satin with an overskirt of beige net sprinkled with amber beads.

  Cara was just putting up her hair when Blythe came in, carrying something wrapped in tissue paper. "Look what I've found among my treasures!" she said happily, then proceeded to unwrap an exquisite piece of ecru lace, intricately embroidered with gold threads. "It's a mantilla I bought in Spain years ago. I'd forgotten all about it actually. But won't it be perfect for you to wear on your very special day?" she said triumphantly, holding it out for Cara to admire.

  "Oh, Mama, it's-it's . . . beautiful," Cara said in a hushed voice.

  "Here, let me drape it just s o — " Blythe placed it carefully on the twist of shiny hair.

  As Cara had insisted, the wedding was private. Just Owen's elderly aunt and uncle, his only relatives since his parents had passed away several years before, and the Camerons were present. The Reverend Canby, feeble now at seventy-five, his voice a little quavery, conducted the ancient ceremony.

  The church, still decorated with evergreen boughs, bright poinsettias, and holly wreaths, held the scent of spruce and pine, mingled with beeswax candles.

  Kitty, standing beside her twin and hearing her speak the eternal promises of love, faithfulness, and devotion, fought back tears, but it was the final benediction that caused them to fall upon the small bouquet of white hothouse roses she held.

  "My blessing for this young couple as they start out life's road together is taken from Colossians 1 : 9 - 1 1 , " intoned the Reverend Canby. "We ask that Carmella and Owen may be 'filled with the knowledge of His will in all wisdom and spiritual understanding; that they might walk worthy of the Lord unto all pleasing, being fruitful in every good work, and increasing in the knowledge of God; strengthened with all might, according to His glorious power, unto all patience and longsuffering with joyfulness.'"

  After the ceremony, back in their bedroom at Cameron Hall, Cara flew about, flinging things haphazardly as she packed. Just as typically, Kitty picked them up, refolded them, and placed them neatly in the suitcase open on her bed.

  At last, Cara looked around. "Well, I guess that's everything." Then she turned to her twin. "Oh, Kitty, thank you!" she said, hugging her hard. "I'll write and you must, too, and maybe you can get up to Washington for a weekend." Even as her eyes misted, they danced with mischief. "And maybe we can even find you a suitable seminarian to escort you to the theater . . . Oops! I suppose I should say lecture! I'm not quite used to my role as a parson's wife!"

  To hide her own rising emotion, Kitty busied herself detaching the nosegay of violets from the circle of roses in Cara's bouquet, taking a full minute to pin it on her sister's muff. 'There!" she said finally. "You're all set."

  "Aren't you coming down to see us off?"

  Struggling with the threat of tears, Kitty shook her head. "You know how I hate good-byes."

  Cara looked at her steadily for a moment, her own eyes glistening. "Promise you'll come to see us once we're settled?" Unable to answer, Kitty nodded, then Cara gave her another hug. "Good-bye, darling twin," she said, then twirled across the room. At the door, she blew Kitty a kiss and disappeared from sight.

  Standing alone in the middle of the room, Kitty pressed her hands tightly together. She could hear Cara's voice singing out, "I'm coming, Owen!" and heard the tap of her sister's high-heeled fur-trimmed boots as she ran downstairs to her new husband.

  Kitty moved over to the bedroom door, leaning against the frame, listening to the farewells in the downstairs hall.

  "You will be back before you leave for Ohio?" Blythe's voice caught, betraying her emotion as she and Rod walked with the couple to the door.

  "Of course, Mama. Won't we, Owen?"

  "Until June then, Mrs. Montrose, sir." Owen kissed Blythe lightly on the cheek, turned to shake hands with Rod.

  "It was a lovely wedding, exactly what I dreamed it would be. Thank you, Mama, Daddy—"

  "There's Willis. He's brought the carriage around." That was Rod's voice, a little husky now.

  "We'll have to go, or we'll miss the train," came Owen's gentle reminder.

  "Yes, darling, I know. Well then, good-bye, Mama, Daddy . . . Thank you so much for everything!"

  "Good-bye, dear. Good-bye Owen." By now Blythe's voice was faltering.

  Kitty ran to the window, knelt on the cushioned seat, and looked out. There were Owen and Cara running, hand in hand, down the terrace steps. The snow was swirling around them. Willis stood to assist them into the closed carriage, then mounted the driver's seat, and with a flick of the whip, the carriage moved down the winding drive. Kitty saw Cara's face pressed to the icy glass pane until it disappeared around the bend.

  Cara was gone, really gone . . . and Kitty felt as if a part of herself was missing, too.

  She turned away from the window, back to the room still full of visible as well as subtle traces of her departed twin. Discarded articles of clothing—silk stockings, Cara's quilted robe, her mari-bou- trimmed slippers, a scarf, a pair of gloves, the golden wedding dress tossed on the bed.

  Even the gossamer lace mantilla lying abandoned in a glittering heap on the dressing table—left behind, like a symbol of her transition from maidenhood to wife. Kitty went over and picked it up, letting the fragile fabric slip through her fingers. She held it for a moment. Then gazing into the mirror, she lifted it and placed it on her own head, letting it fall over her hair, the light from pink-shaded dressing table lamps catching the red-gold glints under the gold-threaded lace.

  Kitty did not know how long she had stood there, regarding herself, fantasizing herself as a bride, when she became aware of a slight movement behind her. Still looking in the mirror, she saw the reflection of her father standing at the open bedroom door.

  Before she could turn around or speak, he left, his expression saying all there was to say.

  After the impromptu wedding, the household returned to normal much too soon, Kitty thought in alarm. It was almost as if they were denying that Cara's sparkling presence had left a void, one that Kitty felt could never be filled by anyone else.

  Of course, Rod had his horses, a business that never ceased to be demanding, and Blythe was totally occupied with Lynette.

  Kitty was the only one who seemed to be at loose ends. Without Cara, she was only half alive. She couldn't even begin to get her back by trying to imagine what Cara's new life was like. She knew that her sister had found work in a small dress shop while Owen continued his studies at the seminary, but it was beyond her to think that now Cara belonged more to her husband than she did to her twin.

  Several weeks after the wedding, she got a note from Kip, who had finally returned to Virginia. He wrote that after working on the ranch in Montana, he had traveled even farther west, roaming aimlessly in other states. She knew he had lost his bearings after his mother's death, and now there was Cara's unexpected marriage to contend with.

  Reading his note, Kitty sensed the pain in the scrawled words, asking her to meet him. Even the suggested meeting place was significant. It was the clearing in the woods halfway between Montclair and Cameron Hall, where they had met to play as children. Here was the snug l
ittle house called Eden Cottage, now abandoned and boarded up, where the Brides of Montclair traditionally spent their honeymoon year.

  Kitty hesitated. Was it really wise to go, feeling the way she did about Kip? His need overcame her own self-protective reluctance. Finally she put on her warm coat, grabbed a scarf and mittens. She would go to meet him, but first, she needed guidance. All the way there, she prayed earnestly to know what to say, what to do, how to comfort.

  "I've lost her," Kip moaned when he saw her.

  Instinctively, Kitty leaned toward him, feeling his grief, wanting to console him. "Oh, Kip, I'm sorry, so sorry."

  "I know."

  But he didn't know, he couldn't know that she was sorry, not only for his pain, but for her own, sorry that he couldn't have loved her, who loved him so much.

  Oh, Kip, she thought, I want to give you so much more. But, of course, she couldn't say that. All she could do was look at him, eyes moist with love and pity. She couldn't even offer him the solace that in time he'd get over losing Cara. For she was afraid that Kip, like her, loved this passionately only once and then for a lifetime.

  After a moment, Kip gave a harsh little laugh. "And we didn't even get to open our time capsule."

  "Time capsule? What do you mean?"

  Kip shook his head. "Nothing. Never mind. Just one of Cara's and my silly secrets."

  But from the tone of his voice, Kitty knew that he didn't consider it silly. None of the things he had shared over the years with Cara would be anything but precious to Kip. She also knew that there would always be those "secrets" that bound them together, separating Kip from her even more.

  Then, suddenly, he reached out for her, pulled her against him and held her close for a long time. "You're so sweet, Kitty. I appreciate your understanding," he said huskily.

  She lifted her head. "Kip, I just wish I could—" She started to say "help you," but unexpectedly Kip kissed her, and there was sweetness and tenderness in the kiss. But as he drew away, holding her at arm's length, Kitty knew it wasn't enough. It wasn't the kiss Kitty longed for, the one that was really for her.