This is like a day or two after Isaac and Heidi meet and Heidi can't stop thinking about him, dreamt about him, and is essentially completely in love with him. She is getting ready with Ave to go to their cousin's wedding, in which Heidi is a bride's maid (that might not be in there, but know that it is intended) (also, I put the different paragraphs in different colors since I can't figure out how to do the tab thing)


Isaac was all that filled mt mind as I dressed for Katherine's wedding. Katherine was the only one of my cousins living in the States that I could stand to be around for more than ten minutes at a time (though considering that she and her two eleven-year-old brothers were my only cousins living here, needless to say, she didn't have much competition).
I wore my best dress - a beautiful deep blue, with a high collar, in the late 19th century style (one that you had to wear a corset with). My grandmother had made it for my mother for her 16th birthday, although my mother had turned 16 in 1917, and it was a bit out of fashion at the time. Since I had been the oldest of her daughters, my mother had given it to me a year ago for my 16th birthday.
Ave was doing my hair in some sort of intricate thing with a lot of braids (regular and french) and knots, the kind that it is impossible not to get a headache from.
I sighed.
"Isaac?" she guessed, and sounded very hopeful that it would be him.
"Am I that transparent all of a sudden?"
"No, but I hold out hope that you may actually fall in love one day," she said, smiling at me in the mirror.
"Oh, is that it?" I asked, smiling back. I sighed again, "He came to the store again today."
She looked at me quizzically, though her smile widened.
"Why are you just telling me this!?" she exclaimed when my statement had registered completely.
"I don't know. Maybe I knew that you would react like this," I said mockingly.
"Am I that transparent all of a sudden?"
"Yes," i replied, both of us laughing.

Skipping some that I haven't felt like writing yet, lol, it starts up again at the reception.


When the service was over we all moved next door for a reception. After a few minutes everyone started to clap as the bride and groom entered after having taken pictures in the sanctuary. there were many people eating and of course the traditional cutting and shoving of the cake, and finally dancing.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the wedding singer's voice came over the crowd through the microphone, "would you please clear the dance floor for the bride and groom's first dance as husband and wife."
Everyone cleared the dance floor and watched as Katherine and her new husband, John, danced for the first time as husband and wife. Slowly other couples began to fill the dance floor. Since Ave and I had both come without dates, we had decided to be each others' dates.
After a song or two of just standing off of the dance floor with our arms linked, she turned to me, very straight faced and said, "May I have this dance?" and taking her hand from mine, held it palm up, as if expecting me to place mine in hers.
"But of course," I replied and placed my hand in hers. "Should you be the man? or should I?" I asked as we walked onto the dance floor.
"Well, you are almost an entire head taller than me," she replied.
"Yes, but you did request my hand"
"And why can the woman not take the initiative and ask the man for a dance?" she asked almost appalled. Ave would not meet her equal in a woman who believed in women's rights until the late 1960's (I am very proud to say that she took part, as a 44 year-old woman, in burning her bra outside the Miss America pageant).
"Of course a woman can ask a man to dance, but it is much more romantic when the man proposes it."
"Then it is a good thing that I don't care about being romantic with my sister," we both laughed and she took my hands and placed them on her waist while resting her own hands on my shoulders.
We danced like that for three songs, but when the fourth started someone tapped Ave on the shoulder.
"May I cut in?" he wasn't looking at Ave, but at me, and I was looking back at him.
The expression on my face must have been a sight, because Ave just smiled and put my hand into his "She's all yours," she told Isaac.
"What are you doing here?" I asked when my brain would stopped going in circles long enough for me to utter the sentence.
He looked hurt at my choice of words, or maybe it was the way I'd said them, my brain was functioning enough to speak, but not enough to think about how I spoke. "If you don't want to dance with me, I'll go"
"No!" I hadn't mean to, but I had essentially yelled at him. "No," I repeated, much more in control of of the level of my voice. "I don't want you to go," I whispered, averting my eyes,. "I want to dance with you," and looked up to see his eyes silently rejoicing. He smiled at me and pulled me closer to him.
There was no song playing at the moment, but almost as soon as he pulled me against him, the band started playing and the woman started to sing a cover of "I Only Have Eyes For You."
I know that it's such a cliche, but it's true in this case, that those moments of dancing in Isaac's arms were magical. So magical, in fact, that I have absolutely no idea how long they actually lasted, though later Ave told me that it was at least half an hour.
When the slow songs ended and they began to play the faster swing, Isaac leaned his head close to my ear and whispered, "Come outside with me?" though it was neither a command nor a request. I nodded my head and with my right hand still in his left, he led me out to the beautiful grounds of the church.
It was a terribly cold January night in upstate New York, below freezing, in fact, but it didn't matter much to me.

K, so by popular request (Katie and Bailli), and the fact that even though I don't much care for this story I can't get it out of my head, I will continue to write. Again, these are random parts of the story and just rough drafts, so don't expect much :)


The day that Heidi and Isaac first meet, after she gets off work.

I entered my room, took my hair down, plopped onto my bed, and closed my eyes.
I sat bolt upright. Why that? Why had I seen that when I closed my eyes? Why had I seen him?? I had only met him once, and, though I did find him very attractive and amiable, I didn't know him very well, or his true person.
I thought about one of my favorite books: Pride and Prejudice. I was rereading it, again, and had just gotten to the part where Elizabeth meets Mr. Wickham.* It felt like a bad omen.
"Why are you so sweaty? and look like you just saw a ghost?" Ave had just walked in and a worried look spread over her face when she saw the look on mine.
"Oh, nothing. I'm fine."
"Please don't do this to me. I know when something is wrong, and something is wrong."
She was right, of course. We had been the best of friends since the moment she had stopped teething.
"Is it a guy?" the look I gave - or rather didn't give her, since I couldn't look her in the eye - must have tipped her off. She knew me so well. "Who is he!?" she exclaimed, her face immediately lighting up; Ave is such a romantic.
"This guy that came into the shop toady, though I've never seen him before," I confessed.
"What's his name?!" she was more excited about this ervelation than I was.
"Why are you so much happier than me?"
"Because you never like anyone! So what's his name?"
"Isaac," her face dropped suddenly when I said his name.
"Father wonlt like that, even if he's not Jewish."
"I know; that's why you have to promise not to tell father! Or Adolph!"
"Of course! What do you take me for? a simpleton?" We both knew that if our brother found out, so would my father. If my father found out, I would probably never see the light of day again.
"So is he Jewish?" she asked, smiling at the prospect. Ave had never been what you would call the "ideal daughter." She was very content to do whatever she wanted, especially when that meant the exact opposite of whet my parents wanted her to do. For her, the thought of a Jewish boyfriend made her, well I suppose the only word that would do it justice is "giddy."
"I don't know, to be honest," I told her, staring at my bed.
"Well, what's his last name?" I kept my eyes down, staring at a certain floral pattern on my sheets.
"I don't know," I said slowly, my voice getting more and more abashed with every moment that I though about that it. The fact that there was this much turmoil and confusion inside me because of someone who I barely knew. Ave would probably call it "love at first sight" or some such nonsense, but I had never held much stock in that. I had even held it against William Shakespeare himself for having written somthing so disgusting as Romeo and Juliet.






*For those of you not well acquainted with Jane Austen's masterpiece, the main character, Elizabeth, meets a charming young man called George Wickham. Mr. Wickham is very amiable and liked by the general population of Merryton, and Elizabeth has a thing for him for a while and vice versa. You later find out that the reason he and Mr. Darcy have been at odds for so long is because he tried (and almost succeeded) in convincing Miss Darcy (Darcy's younger sister) to elope with him for her wealth after he squandered the fortune left to him by the late Mr. Darcy.



Gonna stop here cause I have other crap to do, but I'll come back later and finish what else I have written for this portion of the story.


-Kathe