Emmy laid the box down between them and gently took hold of one of Julia’s hands. “Julia, listen to me.You have to trust me. Sometimes grown-ups have to do things that don’t seem to make sense and—”
“You’re not a grown-up!” Julia snatched her hand away.
“Yes, I am. I’ll be sixteen on my next birthday. I’m not a little child anymore. I have to think of my future and what I am supposed to do with my life.”
“You’re supposed to be with me.” Julia turned from Emmy, frowning.
“Julia, look at me.” Emmy waited until Julia had turned her head back to face her. “You know how much I love my brides dresses. You of all people know how important they are to me. I have a chance for them to become real. Some chances in life you only get once. Just the one time. I have to go.”
Julia stared at the brides box that lay between her and Emmy. Her expression was part loathing and part desire. At that moment Emmy could see that Julia hated the brides inside that box as much as she loved them.
“Take me with you,” Julia said.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can!”
“Julia, think for a moment. You are happy here. You have a lovely room. And Aunt Charlotte and Aunt Rose. You have the tea set to play with and Guinevere and Henrietta and all their beautiful clothes. Next week school starts, and you’ll get to play with all the little girls you have seen at church and in the village. You have the chickens to take care of. And the pond and the turtles. You love it here. I know you do.”
A tear had formed in the corner of each of Julia’s eyes. “Don’t you love it here, too?”
Emmy moved closer and put an arm around her.“This is a lovely place. And Charlotte and Rose are wonderful people. I am not leaving because I don’t like it here. That’s not it at all. If I didn’t have this chance to make my dresses real, I would stay. But I have to go. Someday when you’re my age, you will understand why.”
“I want you here with me.”
“And I would stay if I could. But I can’t. And you will be fine here without me.” Emmy tightened her arm around her sister.
For a moment Emmy thought she had Julia convinced, but then she felt her stiffen in her half embrace.
“No.”
“Julia.”
“Take me with you or I’m telling Aunt Charlotte.”
Emmy’s breath caught in her throat. She put both hands on Julia’s shoulders to turn her sister toward her. “Julia, I can’t take you.”
Julia wriggled out of Emmy’s grasp, climbed off the bed, and stood in front of her. “Take me with you or I’m telling Aunt Charlotte right now.” Julia’s gaze on Emmy was like steel.
“Don’t do this, Julia. Please?”
“Don’t go, then. Stay here.”
“I have to go!”
“Then take me with you. Or I’m telling Aunt Charlotte.”
Emmy wanted to scream at her. Throw something. Pound the wall. She could do none of those things.
She could only agree to take Julia and then hope that when she got ready to leave in the middle of the night, Julia would not hear her and she could steal away unnoticed.
“All right,” Emmy said. “I’ll take you.”
Julia stared at her for a moment, wondering, it seemed, whether she had heard Emmy right. She had expected Emmy to tell her she would stay; that was clear.
“When?” Julia asked.
“Very early tomorrow morning, before the milkman comes. But you can’t pack anything, Julia. You can’t bring your suitcase or your fairy tale book. They’re too heavy. Do you understand? You have to leave those things here and you might not see them again. I’m leaving all my things here. I’m only taking the brides box. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
