“Right.” I tried to lean my head on his shoulder, but it was tough because the console came between us. “If we keep her, do we need to tell everybody about her gender dysphoria? What will your parents say?”
I thought about Anya’s paternal grandmother, Sheila Lowenstein, who had recently married Robbie Holmes, our chief of police. “Sheila’s still in rehab out west. Robbie’s with her. What, if anything, do we tell them?”
“Is it their business?”
“No. Actually, it’s not.”
“Okay, just to be clear, we’ve decided to let Brawny stay, barring any information that she was inappropriate with Anya. We both assume that Anya will come around. If not, we’ll deal with that later.”
Although it was dark in the garage, the security lamp outside the window cast a cone of warm yellow light. I loved looking at the profile of my new husband. Point of fact, I loved everything about Detweiler. I particularly felt a thrill of pride in his belief that all of us can be of service in our lives. Not just cops or nurses. All of us.
“I admire how the young royals try to socialize their children and bring them out into the real world,” he said. “Just like Princess Diana did. I also support what Prince William is trying to do to stop poaching.”
“You know what a total animal lover, I am,” I said. “Brawny really is the perfect person to protect the youngest royals.”
“Yes, but this has to be her decision.”
“I agree.”
“Let’s shake on it.” Detweiler put his hand in mine. First we shook and then we kissed.
I laughed. This was our newest ritual, a way of signing off on any disagreement. With that handshake, our course of action became clear.
CHAPTER 14
Not surprisingly, we discovered that Brawny had been waiting up for us in the family room. She’d taken a wingback chair, facing the fireplace. On her lap was a pair of navy blue socks she was knitting on four needles. I thought they were for me, but I didn’t ask. Her face was drawn; her eyes ringed with plum-colored circles. There was an air around her, a suggestion of defeat. Even so, her posture was ramrod straight, almost as if she were facing a firing squad. She stood to welcome us and then sat back down in front of the modest fire she’d started in our fireplace. The crackling logs and cheerful glow helped to drive the chill from my bones.
“How are the boys?” I asked.
“Better. Their temperatures are down. Erik drank a bowl of chicken soup broth and kept it down. He had an ice pop before he went to bed. Ty has been fussy, but he drank Pedialyte, and kept it down. As the doctor said, it was naught but a tummy bug. Both will be right as rain. ‘Tis probably just as well that Anya,” and here her voice broke with emotion. She gathered herself and continued, “that Anya isn’t here. I imagine this is something she’s already developed an immunity toward, but you never know.”
“Kiki? I’m going to get a cup of decaf. Do you want anything? To warm you up?” Detweiler asked as I sank down onto the sofa. Gracie had greeted us at the door. Now she jumped up and sat beside me with her head resting on the back of the sofa.
“Decaf tea, please. Brawny? Yes? One for her, too, please.”
“What else have you been doing this evening?” I asked, trying to make conversation until Detweiler joined us. “Working on socks?”
“Aye. Knitting is soothing. So is crochet. I hope to get these done for ye this week.”
“Thank you. You might want to make a baby afghan next.”
“Are you?” Her face lit up, a study in pure joy. Brawny loved children. You could tell by the way she spoke to them, the care she took, and how she perked up at the mention of a child. Now I sort of felt bad because she was so excited about me having another baby. As far as I knew, that wasn’t happening.
“Not me. Laurel. She and Joe had planned to start a family as soon as they got married, but I guess the stork moved faster than their wedding planner. They’d been discussing what to do, what sort of ceremony to have, but every option seems problematic. There are a lot of factions to keep happy.” I took a cup of hot tea from Detweiler. He delivered a second mug to Brawny, and then went back into the kitchen for his coffee. When he’d joined me on the sofa, Brawny turned sad eyes on us.
“We want you to stay,” I said in a rush. There was no good reason to prolong her misery. “Yes, we’ve had a shock. Yes, Anya’s having trouble getting over being embarrassed, but we think the world of you. We know how dedicated you are to our children. You’ve proven you’d give your life to protect any of us. We can’t imagine finding anyone more capable, reliable, or kind.”
To my horror, she burst into sobs. Seeing the strong, warrior-like nanny go to pieces sent my head spinning. I went to her side and hugged her. “It was just a shock,” I repeated. “That’s all. It took us a while to process this. I’d never heard of intersex. Now I have, and I’m sorry that you were put through that. It must have been horrible.”
Brawny pulled a white cotton handkerchief from a pocket of her gray sweatpants, her after-work uniform. Wiping her eyes, she said, “I regret that I didn’t tell you earlier. Truly I do. Aye, it’s been hard. I can best describe it as wearing somebody else’s clothes or shoes. Being a man never fit me properly. No matter how hard I tried. No matter how many mornings I woke up and rededicated myself to being masculine. I couldn’t be someone I wasn’t.”
After giving her a pat on the shoulder, I went back to my spot on the sofa. In my absence, Gracie had gotten up, turned around, and rested her head in Detweiler’s lap. Fortunately, she’d left space for me, but only because she was nearly on top of my husband.
“I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you,” Detweiler said. “Or for your parents. They must have been just as confused and frightened as you were.”
Brawny’s hands shook as she lifted the cup of tea to her mouth. “I was lucky, actually. I’ve since learned that a lot of doctors took it upon themselves to do surgery immediately. They called it ‘corrective,’ but effectively it took away a person’s right to make a choice when they were older. It’s still a battle for many. There are doctors who label intersex as belligerent when they refuse surgery or when they disagree with the gender they’re assigned.”
“How hard it must be for parents facing a decision like that for their baby. The option of a boy or a girl is something most of us are content to leave in God’s hands.” I sipped my tea and thought about my two little boys upstairs.
“Most parents are told it is a sort of birth defect. They want to hurry the process along rather than deal with the indecision,” Brawny said. “I was lucky that my parents didn’t allow the doctor to carve me up. If I were born today, I would probably be allowed to choose my gender when I was old enough, and then I’d be given hormones to help bring my body into compliance. As it is, I muddle through.”
Detweiler faintly colored, so I changed the subject. “I spoke to Jennifer Moore today. She’s confident that Anya will come around. Evidently, she’s embarrassed about the personal matters she shared with you.”
“Aye, I hope Anya will give me another chance. I felt torn over that. I considered trying to stop her from sharing, but I lacked the courage. I am trained to care for children of all ages, but I used my education as an excuse. To my mind, ‘twas nothing more than she would tell a doctor or a nurse, but now I see that might have been the wrong decision. I don’t blame her for being angry. I am sorry she feels that I misled her.”
“She’ll get over it,” I said with a confidence I didn’t feel. “She’ll need time. That’s all. If anyone can judge how Anya is taking this, Jennifer’s the one.”
“I’m hoping young Stevie can help her come to grips with it. They text each other all the time.”
“Moving on to the visit from the royals,” Detweiler said in true left-brain fashion. “I explained what little I know to Kiki. The big question in our minds is, ‘Do you want to be involved?’ I know they brought up your time in service to the Crown as leverage, bu
t as long as we remain your employers, it’s well within our rights to refuse giving our permission. Not that we would do that. I’m just saying there’s a reasonable excuse if you don’t want to help out. Don’t let the authorities back you into a corner.”
Brawny stared long and hard into the fire. The sweet fragrance of cedar drifted up. Unlike the fire at my store, this one made me happy. I loved staring into the flames. “I do feel it’s my obligation to do what I can to help the young royals. You see, I met Prince William years ago. We were both stationed in Belize as part of the British Army. He’s a good lad, the kind of fellow anyone would be proud to call a mate. Of course, I don’t know what sort of plans have been made by your country’s diplomatic protection service. I imagine they’ll do everything in their power to keep the royals safe.”
“Of course they will.” Detweiler sounded confident, and that gave my spirits a lift.
It had been such a long and draining day, that we all said goodnight.
CHAPTER 15
Not surprisingly, I found it difficult to get to sleep. The emotional stresses of the day had kicked my body into high gear. If it hadn’t been so cold outside, I would have grabbed Gracie and gone for a long walk. Instead, I snuggled next to my husband and did my best to get a little rest.
The next morning, after Detweiler got up to run, I dressed and went down into the kitchen for a cup of tea. Brawny was already up. She announced that the boys’ fevers had broken. She’d used one of those flexible thin-strip thermometers so she didn’t have to wake them. As usual, I ate a slice of Ezekiel cinnamon-raisin toast with peanut butter and apple slices. Then I woke Ty up. He nursed for just a little bit and then promptly fell back to sleep. Erik was zonked when I tried to wake him.
“Brawny, is it okay with you if I let the little boys stay home and rest up? I know you usually run errands on Tuesdays. Will that mess with your schedule?”
“’Tis nothing that won’t keep.” She poured a glass of orange juice. “Have ye heard anything this morning from Anya?”
“No.” I put a second slice of Ezekiel bread in the toaster. “But you have to remember, she’s Sheila Lowenstein’s granddaughter. If anyone can hold a grudge, it’ll be Anya. Her pouts are legendary.”
“I miss her. I want to apologize to her and ask her forgiveness.” The emotion in Brawny’s voice surprised me. I knew she was upset, but obviously this estrangement with Anya bothered our nanny more than I would have guessed.”
“Sooner or later, she’s going to miss her cat and Gracie. I bet she’ll also miss Erik. Maybe even Ty. Try not to take her behavior too hard. Remember, she’s been through a lot of changes recently.”
Brawny gave me a sad nod of agreement.
A glance up at the kitchen clock sent me hurrying around like a crazy woman. “Gee, without the kids underfoot you’d think I’d be ready for work in nothing flat.”
“Will ye be working all by yourself? How’s the mess from the fire?”
“Laurel is coming in.” I stood with one hand on Gracie’s leash and the other on the doorknob.
“Why not leave Gracie here? The little boys will enjoy her company.”
“All right,” I said, handing her the leash.
“Can the two of ye clean up the mess from the fire?”
“We won’t need to. Jennifer texted me with the number of a man whose company specializes in disaster clean-up. He’s even got a general contractor’s license, so if there’s structural damage he can fix it. Jennifer has used him and likes him a lot. I’m supposed to meet him at the store. If Laurel makes it in, she can wait on customers while Clancy and I finish taking inventory.”
“I hope she’s back to feeling bright as a copper penny.” Brawny paused. “It must be wonderful to be in a family way. I can’t imagine…”
The wistful tone in her voice reminded me that she probably couldn’t have children of her own. It’s one thing to make a decision not to have children, and another whole thing to have the decision made for you. Considering how much Brawny loved kids, the inability to conceive must have broken her heart.
How easily I’d taken my fertility for granted!
~*~
On my way to the store, my phone rang.
“Anya is fine,” Jennifer reported without the preamble of a salutation.
“Thank goodness. We’re planning to keep Brawny. We decided last night that she’s a terrific person, a fabulous caregiver, and her gender history is nobody’s business.”
“I thought you’d come around. You just needed time to get over your shock.”
“Okay, I’m over it. How’s my daughter doing?”
I could almost hear a grin in Jennifer’s voice. “She Skyped Stevie, and he told her in no uncertain terms that she was being a brat. He sent her all kinds of information on gender and identity. I have to tell you, that kid of yours takes after her grandmother. She was resistant to the bitter end, but finally Stevie hit her with, ‘Where’s your sense of compassion?’ Anya told him that she deserved compassion, too. She said she was embarrassed by what she’d shared with Brawny.”
“Wow. I’m glad she opened up to your son.”
“Stevie took advantage of her confession. He asked her point-blank, ‘Your embarrassment is more important than a person’s livelihood? Than her character? Than the struggle she’s had?’”
“Double-wow.”
“I have to tell you, more and more I’m seeing that my son has a future as a talented activist. When Stevie was little, he was so quiet and shy. Now, he’s a man on a mission. He is knowledgeable about the LGBTQ community and their issues. He is totally driven to help people understand that gender is not a binary construct. People of our generation were raised to think in terms of boy or girl, either or, and that was the end of the conversation. Life is much more nuanced than that.”
“It certainly is. I can’t thank you and Stevie enough for helping Anya through this tough time.”
“I still haven’t asked Anya if there was anything else that happened. Anything inappropriate. I’m pretty confident the answer is no, but you asked me to find out for sure, and I promise you that I will. I think I’ll get the chance this afternoon when I pick her and Nicci up from school. Hey, I’ve got somebody on the other line. Got to go!”
With a sigh of relief, I arrived at Time in a Bottle. I parked and rested my forehead against the steering wheel of my old red BMW convertible.
“Dear God, thank you for my friends who love my children. Please help me to be compassionate toward those who are different from me. I ask you to help me be generous of spirit so that they might have an easier path to travel. Amen.”
I looked up to see a van with the Speedy Service Cleaners logo on its side, pulling into the lot at Time in a Bottle. This would not be a fun experience, going through the mess the sprinklers and the fire had made, but it had to be done. Getting out of the car, I picked my way across the icy patches. As the sun rose in the sky, ice and snow in the shade would melt, only to re-freeze later as the sun went down. Because our parking lot is asphalt, you can’t always tell you’re walking on ice until too late. I’ve slipped and fallen more than my fair share of times. That’s caused me to be extra, extra cautious. Anya says I move like an old lady. And she’s right. I do.
The man who got out of the van met me at the back door. He wore a white shirt with Speedy Service Cleaners embroidered in blue over the pocket. His navy pants sagged a little at the knees, but all in all, he projected the sort of capable personality that would run a cleaning service. “You Mrs. Lowenstein-Detweiler?” is what he tried to say. Instead, he totally mangled both names, calling me, “Low-stine-de-why-lair.”
Holding out my gloved hand for a shake, I decided to make his life easy. “Call me Kiki.”
“I’m Curtis Priva,” he responded, looking me straight in the eyes. His were a watery blue and he had a tiny scar above his left eyebrow. The color of his hair was hard to define, somewhere between black and dark brown. Most striking about the
man was the chiseled structure of his face. Curtis looked as though he’d lived a hard life, and it had taken a lot out of him.
“Heard you had a fire and then the sprinklers turned on. Plus,” and he consulted a clipboard, “a fire extinguisher was used. That right?”
“Yes.” I unlocked the back door and let him in. There I shrugged off my coat and pulled off my gloves to hang them up. I felt strangely vulnerable without my big dog at my side.
But I didn’t have to feel that way long because a heavy knock on the back door demanded my attention. Another man greeted me. This one wore a black cashmere topcoat and fancy dress shoes. “Mrs. Detweiler? I’m Frank Folger, your insurance agent.”
Not surprisingly, both men wanted coffee. Frank carefully hung up his nice coat next to mine on the small rack we used as a closet. Curtis seemed impervious to the temps outside.
“I’ll take a quick look around to see what needs doing, but I won’t get down to the nitty-gritty until your agent has had the chance to take photos,” Curtis explained.
Both men wandered around while I put on the coffee pot. It felt totally weird to have two guys I’d never met before wandering around my store. Most of our customers are women. We have a few gay men who shop with us. Once in a while, a guy will come in and shop for his wife, but typically, this is Girl Land.
Frank did his circuit and returned to the back room. He reached eagerly for his cup of coffee. After draining the cup, he ran through what we needed to give him for a claim. “Here’s a brochure to help you. I’ve taken pictures of the mess. The clean-up can start. However, you will have to document the value of what you’ve lost. Invoices are the best proof, but obviously you’ll need to inventory the losses first.”
Luckily, Clancy had done a count of the paper rack before I’d set it on fire. I’d planned to put a lot of the paper on sale after the inventory. However, my invoices would reflect the full cost, the retail cost, of what I’d lost. If I was really lucky, that extra money would cover my deductible.
Fatal, Family, Album Page 11
