While visiting Montreal in August 2015, my husband and I spent a rainy afternoon in the Musée des Beaux Arts.  We enjoyed strolling through the galleries of Canadian, American and European paintings and inspecting the unique items in the decorative arts collection.  In particular, I admired several intriguing portraits including Abraham van den Tempel’s  seventeenth century painting of Odilia van Wassenaar and her dog.  

Musée des Beaux Arts, Montreal (photo by L. Walkins 2015)

Annelise van Strum  hurried  along the rue Sherbrooke clutching her umbrella.  The red and yellow tulips decorating the rim of its clear plastic bubble danced in front of her eyes as she splashed through puddles on her way to the Musée des Beaux Arts.  She didn’t mind the weather.  A rainy day was ideal for exploring the museum galleries.

She was on a special quest this afternoon.  For the past few months she had been  researching their  family tree for her mother.  She had traced the family line all the way back to seventeenth century Holland.  Just that morning she had discovered that the portrait of one of her ancestors was hanging in the fine arts museum around the corner from her apartment.

Pulling her umbrella closed as she stepped into the museum lobby, Annelise handed it over to the girl behind the coat check counter.

“Passez une bonne visite,” the girl said with a smile.

“Merci.”  Annelise accepted the thick plastic disk numbered 143.

Portrait of  Odilia van Wassenaar, Montreal Museum of Fine Arts (photo by L. Walkins 2015)

Making her way to the Hornstein Pavilion for Peace where works from the Dutch Golden Age were on display, Annelise wondered what her ancestor Odilia’s life was like.  She located the correct gallery and began perusing the portraits hung around the softly lit room.  The expressive faces painted hundred of years earlier by the Dutch masters peered out from their frames.

At last, Annelise paused and looked into the eyes of a young woman seated in a sturdy chair with a small dog on her lap.  The girl looked to be in her twenties.  Her light chestnut hair and dark eyes were of the same coloring as Annelise’s own.

The plaque beneath the painting identified it as Portrait of  Odilia van Wassenaar.  Stepping back and hugging herself, Annelise murmured, “There she is, my tenth great-grandmother.”

Annelise carefully examined the painting, searching for clues about who Odilia was exactly.  The gold trinkets adorning her ornate fur-trimmed gown and the pearls encircling her throat and wrist spoke to a wealthy upbringing. Odilia wore an intelligent, almost mischievous expression on her pale face.  The way she cradled her dog gently on her lap convinced Annelise that her ancestor must have had a kind heart.

Raising her cell phone, Annelise snapped three photos of the painting.  Odilia’s portrait reminded her of an old black and white photo of Aunt Phillipa, her mom’s older sister.  In a family album, there was a picture of Phillipa, aged 15, with their Jack Russell terrier sitting on the front stoop of their childhood home.  Phillipa and Odilia might almost be twins.

Annelise laughed softly to herself as she retrieved her umbrella and made her way home. The rain had stopped but the pavement still gleamed with puddles that reflected the clearing sky.

She felt like she had connected with a long-lost relative and couldn’t wait to show the photos to her mother.  Together, they could go online to find out more about Odilia and her family . . . their family.