But she wasn’t ready. She was used to the girl with the limping hip and wounded heart. If she changed, became someone else, how would she manage her world? All of her tiddly winks were carefully laid out.
Even worse, what if an encounter with an angel and this timeless wedding dress produced no change in her at all? What if she’d be just as guilty, just as shame-filled as before?
Gemma pressed her hand to her queasy belly, her palm brushing a row of silky, incandescent pearls.
“Come round when you need buttoning,” Adelaide said.
“O-okay.” Clearing her throat and breathing deep, she adjusted her arms in the bell sleeves and when she moved around the room divider, she couldn’t stop the tears.
Also, she could’ve sworn she heard the sound of a chain unlocking.
“Well, love, aren’t you just, just,ummm.” Adelaide smiled, her sapphire blue eyes shining as she inspected Gemma. “Just as I pictured. Beautiful.” Adelaide began to work the buttons. “Nothing like the gown you wore to the ball. That was something, wasn’t it? But it had no power to change you. It was a man-made gown intended to be more art than dress. But this gown was sewn with love. Meant to unite, meant to heal and bring peace. This gown God had in mind from the very beginning.”
“You mean to tell me God Himself wants me to wear this dress?” Gemma looked over her shoulder and down at Adelaide. “And the others? He wanted them to wear it too? You’re not going to be able to button it up. It’s too small. I’m taller and thicker than Hal and Jo.”
“There. Done.” With a soft pat on her shoulder, Adelaide guided Gemma toward the floor-length mirror where a blend of warm and bright lights seeped into the antique threads, then through Gemma, chasing away her shadows. “How lovely and fine you are.”
Gemma refused to look at first. Not full on anyway.
“Look up, love,” Adelaide said.
Gemma complied with a quick glance, only to be captured by her own image.
A sob burst through as she pressed her fingers to her lips. Until this moment, every time she caught her reflection in the mirror—not the cracked one by the door at the house—she saw the girl she despised.
She’d relied on her acting skills to front happiness and confidence. Fake it until you make it, right? But every time she was alone and passed by any mirror, she loathed herself.
“What do you see?” Adelaide said.
Gemma shook her head. “I can’t…”
“Would it help if I told you I’ve helped princesses before who felt lost and broken, and even more unworthy than you?” Adelaide very casually fluffed the skirt again which seemed to grow fuller and wider each time. “There, I think you dreamed of a large, sweeping skirt, didn’t you?”
“I wish you’d stop calling me a princess.”
“But it’s who you are. Your identity is a disgraced actress, but your essence, if you choose to believe, is a princess. It’s there for the taking with access to the highest of all royal thrones.”
Gemma looked into Adelaide’s face and suddenly they were the only two on earth. She wasn’t the Gemma of yesterday or even sixty seconds ago, she was new and clean, redeemed. A fresh light washed the mezzanine, rising like a river and soaked every part of Gemma.
Her darkness could no longer hide. Another sob rolled through her and echoed in the room. A wail of sorrow and regret. The light continued, moving and shifting, accenting the gold threads of the gown and weaving through Gemma’s hair.
She tried to find Adelaide but she was obscured by the glow. All she could see, and feel, was light. Good, clean, redeeming light.
“Oh, why? Why did I do it?” Gemma slowly sank to the mezzanine floor. “I’m sorry, so sorry. For everything. For everything. I don’t want to ever do it again. Ever.” Her forehead touched the wide, polished planks. Her tears filled the scuffs and scars. “Lord, here I am. If you want me… I’ll be your princess.”
The fragrance of spices grew stronger then faded, and peace began to press into her from the gown. A laugh bubbled up instead of a sob. Then another. And another. With each one, the echo of breaking chains followed.
She was free. Free! Jumping up, Gemma spun to celebrate with Adelaide, but when she glanced about, she was alone and under the normal lights, normal scents of the mezzanine.
“Adelaide?” She ducked into the storeroom. No angel of princesses was to be found. “Adelaide?” Gemma stood in the middle of the room and looked up. “I think you can hear me so thank you. I believe.”
Gemma took one last look in the mirror, expecting to see her sad eyes propped above dark circles and pale lips. But what she saw changed her even more. A spark of life. Hope. Even more than what she saw in the cracked mirror. And there was a touch of pink on her lips and cheeks.
With a final glance at the dress, she wondered what happened now. But even more important, how was she to get out of the dress with a bazillion buttons?
“Adelaide, you must come back and help me.” She didn’t want JoJo and Haley to catch her in their dress. Not until she had a chance to explain.
But she wiggled and tugged, working the buttons, and at last she slipped free from the wedding dress. As she carried it back to its box, Gemma stopped short.
