A Proper Young Lady

by Lianne Simon

  “Tuxes and fancy dresses?”

  “Yes. I have a vintage gown that is rather frail now, but I think you’ll like it. Ms. Franklin will alter the dress for you. She’s waiting downstairs.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes, love. Now.” On her way out, she pauses in the doorway. “Please. It might cheer up Danièle.

  The woman has always been polite enough, but she usually assumes my obedience. That she asks surprises me. I stand and follow her.

  One of those fancy dress forms wears the antique gown. I bite my lower lip hard when I see it. The pink velvet fabric has faded till it seems almost white. A fur-trimmed cape rests on lace sleeves and a bodice worked with beads. Perfect for a winter wonderland Cinderella. “You can make that thing fit me?” Almost seven months pregnant, I’m not exactly princess shaped.

  “Yes. With a few alterations...”

  Way cool.

  Danièle

  Swollen grey clouds rumble low across the afternoon sky. Winter’s chill whistles through the treetops. Here and there an errant snowflake swirls to the still-warm ground. Jake rocks the wheelchair back, lifting its front wheels clear of the gaps between slate tiles. “You sure ‘bout this, Miss Danièle?”

  “I’ll be fine, Jake. Check on me in an hour if you’re that concerned. All right?”

  The old gentleman stares at me in uncertainty, then dips his head and walks off toward the house. Through the dormant maiden grass, past barren shrubs, and back up the trail around the pond.

  I open the thermos and sip at my tea. Well, more Irish cream than Darjeeling, actually. But hot and sweet and full of caffeine.

  Shattered memories drift at the edge of my vision, taunting me. The truth lies close at hand, hidden in the shadows of recent trauma.

  Melanie sits in her bedroom window, staring down at the garden. Perhaps at me. I hope your heart doesn’t ache as much as mine.

  Did I abandon my love when Ethan sent her away? I remember not. I’ve lost November and parts of December to the void. We were so happy together. What have I done that you reject me now?

  Mrs. Fairbairn’s stern gaze flashes by. Did I anger her as well? My heart thumps up into my throat. She’s been through chemo again. I must have gone to Atlanta.

  Another bit of memory, more felt than seen, flickers through my senses—Melanie’s hot tears running down my shoulder. Her body pressed against mine. And a silver heart. She was wearing Daniel’s heart in the hospital. I must have returned the locket to her. Which means I renewed my promise.

  I slip my new phone out of my coat pocket. The old one was never recovered. And for some reason, the text message history disappeared along with my memory.

  Melanie’s mother won’t be in my contacts, but I step through them anyway. And find a home number for Melanie, with an Atlanta area code. I don’t remember that being there. My gut clenches in fear, but I press connect.

  “Danièle?” Melanie’s sister answers, sounding none too happy.

  “Yes.”

  “What do you want?” she says, her voice colder than darkest winter.

  “May I speak with your mother, please?”

  Seconds pass in tense silence before she agrees.

  “What can I do for you, Danièle?”

  “Mrs. Fairbairn, I remember very little from the time Melanie left Victoria Springs until I woke up in a hospital bed. I was hoping you’d fill in some of the gaps.”

  “They say true love never forgets. Why should I help you?”

  Touché. “Your daughter’s my life.”

  “So I’ve heard. Yet you—or at least your family—break her heart at every turn.”

  The wind changes direction, announcing a winter storm. A drop splatters against my hand. More on my lap. Waves race across the pond. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Where’s your heart, child?”

  “With Melanie and our babies—whosever they are.”

  “Whosever? Did you lose the papers I gave you?”

  “Papers?”

  “The ones from Dr. Pierson. In an envelope that says 12VAC5-something on it.”

  Memory hits with such force that I flinch. I know where to look for an answer now. “Thank you, Mrs. Fairbairn.” I slide the phone back into my pocket and begin wheeling myself toward the manor. Inside, I find my way to Jake’s office.

  He stands to greet me. “What do you need, Miss Danièle?”

  “I’m looking for my personal effects from school.”

  “Your mother asked me to shelve your books in the den. And I think Miss Melanie returned your clothes to your room.” He studies me for a moment, his face thoughtful. Then a bit apologetic. “I forgot about your briefcase.” He rises from his desk and retrieves my portfolio from the supplies closet.

  The only unusual paperwork I find in my case is a Department of Motor Vehicles Form DL 17 signed by Dr. Pierson, stating that my gender is female. Rather pointless, that.

  “Miss Danièle, I’ve been holdin’ your mail.” Jake pulls a bundle of envelopes from his desk and hands them to me.

  I accept that faint hope from his steady hand and thumb through the pile. Someone opened my Visa bill and marked it paid. I stick it into my pocket. Most of the rest are advertisements I drop into Jake’s trash can.

  One remains—Virginia Department of Health, Office of Vital Records. My hands tremble as I worry it open to find two sheets of paper. An affidavit signed by Dr. Pierson—proof the children are mine. And a birth certificate for Dànaidh Ailean Welles.

  I grin at Jake’s uncertain face. “You just saved my life.” I make my way down the hallway to the elevator using my wheelchair, but do a happy dance as soon as the door closes. Now to plan our future.

  Chapter 28

  Melanie

  Man, is he good, or what? Cooper rocks his navy blue tuxedo, like the country’s honor depends on his dance moves. The guy’s lead leaves no doubt where my next step should go—and yet I have to concentrate to even notice his gentle pressure against my side or my hand.

  The Marine pauses between sets and offers Dani a turn. The girl paired up with her father once, earlier in the evening, but she gives Cooper a polite shake of her head and sends him back to me.

  Grace and Brent drove all the way from Richmond. Dani’s old roomie dances a few times with the Marine while I sway to the beat in the arms of her boyfriend. But Cooper and I are definitely the best dancers there.

  Dani wears braided extensions in her hair. Tortoise shell combs hold the white-blonde tresses in an up-swept style, like some ice princess on a formal visit. Her long gown sparkles in the dim light. She’s always been more into glamor than my barefoot and blue jean ways. And yet, the proper young lady’s the father of my children. Whatever Mrs. Welles says, my heart—and my babies—know the truth.

  Every time my gaze meets Dani’s, love and true happiness flow from her eyes. And vindication. The composure of a princess has driven all uncertainty from the girl’s face. Everybody else might be wearing their formal best—even Jake—but Dani owns the night. Maybe the girl remembered her love for Ethan and settled back into her role as his fiancée.

  That’s what we all want. Isn’t it? So why do I feel like puking?

  At ten o’clock, Grace hugs Dani and me farewell. She and Brent have classes early in the morning. Mr. and Mrs. Welles drift away shortly thereafter. Just Dani and me and Cooper remain.

  The Marine pulls me closer as the music slows. My weary head falls against his shoulder. A year earlier, I would have danced till sunrise. With the twins, midnight’s already well past my bedtime. “I think that was my last one.”

  “All right.” He escorts me to an empty seat at Dani’s table. “Can I get either of you ladies anything?”

  Yeah. Food. “You’re my hero. Tea with milk. And anything Jake made for the party that isn’t sweet. My blood sugar’s been high, so I gotta behave.”

  Dani just shakes her head and smiles at me.

  As soon as Cooper leaves, the girl mov
es to the chair beside mine and spreads the fingers of one hand across my belly. Like she owns the place. Both of the babies kick for her. Why not? They know their father’s touch.

  In the dim light, the girl’s violet eyes glow like moonlight. The tenderness in them probably isn’t all for Ethan. Nah. Part of her is still married to me.

  Hope your heart doesn’t hurt as bad as mine.

  Her eyes do that little scanning motion—searching for a reaction. “Why are you running from me?”

  “You gonna live in a dream? Daniel was never any more real than our marriage.”

  “Or our wedding bands?” Her hand brushes across my belly again. The little traitors both party in response. “Tell me I’m not the father of your babies. Say you don’t love me, and I’ll leave you be.”

  “You’re a beautiful young woman, Dani. Why mess with that? Marry Ethan and adopt a bunch of kids.”

  “That would certainly make everyone else happy. What about us?”

  My date returns with tea and a plate-load of Swedish meatballs.

  Dani watches with amusement as I dig into the savory morsels.

  Cooper leans close and kisses me on the cheek. “Thanks for the pleasant evening. I have other duties to attend to now.”

  “Yeah. Thanks.” I stand and give him my best hug.

  After he leaves, Dani rises and holds out a hand. “May I have the last dance?”

  “Yeah. Guess so.” But do you have to make this more difficult?

  The girl leads me out into the ballroom. Her feather-light touch draws me close as the music starts—another slow dance. After a few hesitant steps, she pauses. “Sorry, love. I seem to have forgotten how. Bump on the head, don’t you know?”

  So I lead. Well, mostly we lean against each other and sway to the beat. Like some high school kids at their first prom.

  When the music stops, Dani’s eyes beg me for one more, but the girl’s legs wobble, so I guide her back to the table. “You should be in bed.”

  Dani slides into her wheelchair. Small twitches at the side of the girl’s mouth give away her pain. She bends forward and pulls her skirts up off the floor and away from the wheels.

  And just how are you gonna wheel yourself anywhere? “I’ll push you to your room.”

  When she has everything arranged just so, she throws a sleepy smile over her shoulder. “Sit with me a while first.”

  I push her down the hallway, far from the bright lights. Beside the elevator, I lean against the wall, breathe deep, and rub the back of my hand across my forehead. I’m losing everybody I care about. “I’m tired, Dani. More so than I’ve ever been.”

  “I won’t keep you long.”

  I don’t have anything left to give. “All right. Someplace warm?”

  “I know the perfect spot.” The girl’s infectious smile and enthusiasm break through my gloom. She gestures toward the end of the hallway “Beyond yonder portal.”

  Behind those carved wooden doors lies darkness, disturbed only by the flickering amber light of a fire. Soft waves of heat ripple through the air.

  I turn on a couple of small lamps, adding a mellow background glow to the room.

  Dani motions me toward an overstuffed couch in front of an enormous fireplace. River rock climbs up the wall to the ceiling. An elk’s head glares down at us from above the hewn cedar mantel. The scent of pine needles and dried flowers permeates the air.

  After I help her move to the couch, I pull off my high heels, lean back into the supple leather, and stretch my aching muscles in the warm glow.

  The girl squirms around till her back faces me. “Unzip my dress, would you, love?”

  What moron designs clothes you can’t take off by yourself? I undo the little hook thing and pull her zipper down far enough for her to reach the tab.

  Dani kicks off her shoes and draws her feet up under her gown. For a long while, she stares in silence at the crackling fire. When the girl turns my way again, a single tear escapes and leaves a glowing trail down her cheek. “I’ll never see you again if you leave.”

  Please don’t make this forever. I start to object, but Dani shushes me and pops up off the couch, “Give me a minute before you say another word.”

  In the flickering light, the girl rummages through a large trunk. When she returns, she brings an old top hat and a white handkerchief.

  “We’re not kids anymore, Dani.”

  She arranges the cloth over my head—just so—the way I always did when we were young. With the top hat at sort of an odd angle on her head, she kneels in front of me. “Marry me.” The yearning in her eyes insists the girl isn’t joking.

  Don’t you get it? None of this is real. One hand drifts up to the emptiness at my throat. We were serious about our future. Once. Long ago. A brain injury—nothing more—led us back to an impossible dream. Will broken memories forever haunt the girl? As they do me? It’s all from a blow to your head, Dani. I want to laugh at the insanity of her proposal, weep at the damage the wreck did to her brain, but the sudden terror behind the girl’s eyes clamps a hand over my mouth. What do I say that won’t hurt you more? “Ethan adores you, Dani. Don’t waste your life chasing stupid childhood fantasies.”

  The girl leans close and kisses me on the forehead and again, on the nose. “Our promise—our love—was real. Was it not?”

  “Well, yeah.” Still is.

  Dani kisses me on the mouth. Her lips whisper memories of the boy I lost. My heart drinks it in. Me. Daniel. Together. But there’s no tomorrow. ‘Cause he’s gone. Forever. I ease back from her embrace and shake my head. “It’s over, Dani.”

  Somewhere behind those dreamy eyes burns the desire to use what God placed between her legs—that little bit of manhood. Daniel’s shadow falls heavy across her feminine face now. And yet no surgeon’s blade can divide male from female, he from she. What a cruel schizophrenia to try to force on her. She isn’t two people.

  Dani rises and stands with her back to the fire. “All my life, people have encouraged me to choose boy or girl. Well, I’ve decided.” She plops down on the couch again and slides close. “I’m happy with my body and my gender as they are—princess, little boy, father of your children. Ethan will never accept that. But you already do.”

  “Well yeah.”

  “Will you, then?”

  “Will I what?”

  “Be me trouble an’ strife. Me better ‘alf, luv.”

  Marry you?

  Ethan wouldn’t accept Dani fathering children. Am I any better, dreaming of the boy? The pretend one at that?

  I tug at one sleeve of Dani’s gown, till it slides off her shoulder and down her arm. Daniel’s breasts had already started to bud when we made our promise. Why should the blossoms bother me? Would it be such a big deal to admit I love all of her?

  It still can’t happen. “No way your parents will let us get married.”

  Those violet eyes track my every emotion. Dani grins in triumph and hops up off the couch, sending her top-hat rolling across the floor. “But you want to.” She urges me to my feet and pulls me close, her whole body demanding I surrender. “Admit it.”

  My hand creeps down to my belly for reassurance of my sanity. Dani’s babies. “Well, yeah. But how?”

  She glances toward the door. “I have some ideas, but let’s get you to bed.”

  Chapter 29

  Dànaidh

  Morning arrives too early. With my arms still around Melanie’s waist, I press my face into her ginger tresses and wait for one of the babies to move.

  What do my psychologists know of life? They showed me videos—they called them educational—of couples having intercourse. “Which of the two would you like to be?” they asked.

  I cried and hid my eyes, not understanding the rough, almost violent passion flowing from the screen. On my pretend honeymoons with Melanie, our lovemaking was soft touches and tender kisses.

  One of my children shifts position beneath my hand. Thanksgiving and contentment overwhelm me. As
Ethan’s wife, I would have missed this glorious experience.

  I ease my arms from around Melanie, press my lips against her cheek, and slide out of bed. After a quick shower, I dress in a soft and feminine skirt suit—something appropriate for meeting with executives.

  My portfolio rests on the dresser. During the few weeks I lived as Daniel, Daddy spent father-son time with me, teaching me about his business. Randy opened an online trading account using some of the money from the trust fund, and my father taught me how to buy and sell stocks.

  After I returned to being Danièle, we never talked about business again. Daughters were to be protected, pampered, and trained in the art of keeping a household. Don’t worry your pretty little head about that, Mum replied whenever I asked about Daddy’s ventures.

  Everyone forgot about my account. Except me. In my portfolio are itemized lists of stocks and bonds—the results of all I’ve learned about the market. When I sell the stocks, the funds will provide for my little family until I finish college. I thumb through the folders one last time before heading downstairs for breakfast.

  My father spends most weekdays in his study. Business partners join him via the video-conference room. A few times a month he travels to one manufacturing plant or another. I tap on his door and poke my head in. “May I speak with you?”

  Daddy looks up from writing something and gives me a tender smile. “Why of course, love.” He drops his pen, stands, and waves me to a seat. “What can I do for my little girl?”

  “A number of years ago, you and Uncle Randolph opened a brokerage account for me—for Daniel.”

  He nods, but his eyes look well beyond the room. Perhaps into the past, because he says, “My boy showed an interest in the markets. I wanted to encourage him.”

  Always the disconnect between Daniel and me. I’m the same person, Daddy. “After I—you stopped teaching me about stocks.”

  “Your mother thought you’d be happier studying manners, and dance, and other things a young lady should master.”

  Silence hangs in the air between us, a thick mass that keeps me from speaking. I tried a hundred times to tell my father who I was and always retreated in fear—that I’d hurt him, that he wouldn’t understand, that he’d reject me. Or perhaps I was afraid to admit to myself that I was never entirely a boy or a girl.