Page 10 of Enchanted in Time
“Ball gowns are also awfully expensive, and they usually need adjusting, sweetie. Even if we did have the money, I wouldn’t be able to buy one today on such short notice.”
“Let’s not give up because of that!” Frieda said, rising. “Let me see what you have hidden in your wardrobe.”
“There’s nothing hidden in my wardrobe!” Having been caught off guard, Hannah hurried after her neighbor, who was already trundling into her bedroom.
“For years, I worked as a seamstress, and I’ve made many a dream dress. You wouldn’t believe what you can conjure up with a sewing machine and a few scraps of fabric. So, Mrs. Meyer, show me what you have!”
Without waiting for Hannah’s permission, Frieda opened the creaking door of the old wooden wardrobe. “No... no... no...” she said as she rummaged through the hanging garments. “Aha, this might do it.” She slung a white summer dress with a big summer flower print across her arm and kept looking.
Hannah rolled her eyes. “Mrs.—”
“Frieda!” her neighbor insisted, correcting her as she threw an old red cocktail dress over her arm. “You are to call me Frieda.”
“Frieda, you can’t just barge in here and rummage through my things! If I tell you I haven’t got anything for a gala event, then that’s the way it is. I don’t want my children to get theirhopes up for no reason when I’m not going to this ball in the first place.”
“But Mommy, if Frieda makes you a pretty dress, then you will go, won’t you?” Emi stuck out her lower lip. The little rascal knew exactly what faces to make to soften her mother’s heart.
“Sweetheart, Frieda won’t be able to sew anything on such short notice. The coach is supposed to be here in less than ten hours.”
“But if she can do it, you’ll go, right?” Her sparkling brown eyes got even bigger in gleeful anticipation.
Emi got her brown eyes from Andrew. So did Leon. Whenever Hannah’s little daughter and youngest son looked at her, it felt like Andrew was looking at her. In those first few moments after his death, Hannah hadn’t thought she’d be able to stand always seeing him before her like that. But not long afterwards, she realized that her children alone were what kept her alive: itty bitty Emi, barely two years old; silly Marco, just five years old; and the unborn mite in her belly. Since then, her feelings had turned around, and she loved looking into her children’s eyes.
“But who will take care of you? You’re still way too young to be left alone.”
“Not me!” Marco immediately cried.
“I could look after your little angels,” Frieda offered, smiling at Emi. “I would love to!”
“See? Frieda will take care of us!” Emi cried.
Hannah rolled her eyes. Why did this old woman always have to side with her little kids? She didn’t want to turn her children down. In general, she tried to set a good example and show them that you had to take risks and try new things. But going to a ball?
Although... she could pretend that she would do it. Besides, Frieda would never manage to sew her a dress that would be fit for a royal ball. And there wouldn’t be any coaches pulling up tothe door, either. It wasn’t right to play along, but she would do it anyway. Sometimes, as a mother, you had to go easy on yourself.
“If Frieda brings me an absolutely suitable dress by six tonight, then?—”
“Then you’ll get in the coach and go to the ball?” Emi squealed, clapping her hands to her cheeks.
Hannah sighed. “Yes, sweetheart, if the coach actually comes, then I’ll do it.”
“Yaaaayyy!” Emi and Leon’s excited shouting and noisy leaping about echoed so loudly throughout the little apartment that the walls shook.
“You can’t be serious, Mom.” This was all that Marco had to say.
4
A long, long time ago
Mirabelle never went out anymore. Since she had been robbed of her perfect beauty, she only left her room for basic needs. She even took her meals in her darkened room. Neither her sister nor her parents were able to lure her out, and after their first few pathetic attempts to distract her, her friends were only too happy to stay away.
Annabelle would often visit her. Her little sister seemed the only one who wasn’t repulsed by her repugnant appearance. She would sit on the bed with Mirabelle and tell her all about everything that was going on outside. And she would try to make her laugh, which it seemed she was able to do.
“Mira, Mira, you’ll never believe what the kitchen boy did today!” And she would start to babble away. From time to time, Mirabelle would join in her sister’s laughter, which rang as clear as a bell. But it didn’t come from the heart. The truth was that she couldn’t bear to see how sad her little sister felt about her tragedy. So she would giggle at her silliness, but the laughter never reached her eyes or her heart. Doomed toeternal loneliness, she had turned from her initial self-pity and succumbed to a state of lethargy.
That morning, Mirabelle was dozing when the door to her chamber burst open and startled her awake. First, she had to orient herself in the dark room, where the thick drapes hanging in front of the windows were never drawn anymore.
“So early, Annabelle?” Mirabelle drowsily raised her head from the rumpled sheets. “You should be at your lesson. Or is Miss Breitenmeier ill?”
