The Christmas Ball

by Lily Seabrooke

  “The showstoppers, of course! The last dancers, the best dancers. You know, they’re the most likely to have a long, healthy marriage!”

  I really wondered how successful this tradition had been so far in predicting happy marriages. “I-I don’t know,” I said. I was going to turn down Henry again, and having that as the showstopper was a bad possibility, the only worse one being Lisette kissing Seth as the showstopper.

  “I think we can do it,” Lisette said, grinding my world to a halt. “I’d be honored to.”

  Aunt Gina lit up before I could say anything. “That’s wonderful! Wonderful! Oh, you know, that does put you in charge of all the little ones, but I know you two will do fine. They’ll love it.”

  “That wouldn’t be a problem,” Lisette said. I just stared between the two of them.

  “So fantastic, oh, Lisette, am I glad you’re so dependable! And Alice, I’m surprised. I didn’t know you were such a skillful dancer. Now, let me see the dance in full—just once so I can see—”

  And Lisette took me, and she led me in dance. Only once Aunt Gina was on the other side of the room did I dare whisper to her.

  “What—why—why are we doing this?”

  “Do you not want to? I thought you liked the dance.” She flushed a little. “I mean… you’d said last time you wanted to be the last dancers.”

  I felt myself blush fiercely. I’d said I wanted to have the last dance with her. It was my idea of a confession and she completely misinterpreted it.

  “I… I did…”

  “Sorry,” she said. “I can mess it up if you want to get out of it.”

  “No, I just—” I swallowed. “Hold on. Let me think about it.”

  I danced, spun with her, and all the time I could barely even think about the steps because of the swirling thoughts in my mind. On the one hand, thinking of being expected to do the showstopping dance made my skin crawl—and on the other, I’d get to dance more with Lisette. Gather the kids around and teach them the dance with Lisette.

  And no matter how much I tried to fight it, that thought warmed me up. No matter how much I tried to fight all the fuzzy thoughts that gave me, god they were fuzzy, like thick wool sweaters in a cold winter.

  And besides—my more rational side spoke through all the yelling in my head—they might have been willing to overlook some things about me they might not like and still pay my tuition if I did their fancy last dance. And Lisette would get the same treatment. And Henry? They’d be expecting him to have babies with me, which grossed me the hell out, but at least he’d get some good treatment, too.

  As much as my family scared me, they were rich. And if I could get myself and Lisette something good out of it, maybe it was worth it.

  “I will,” I whispered just before the dance ended. “I’m up for it.”

  She beamed so much brighter than I’d have expected, and I couldn’t regret the choice. It was meaningful to her. “We’re going to have to practice a lot, you know. We’ll have to teach all the girls.”

  “I know,” I said. “I know. I’m willing to do it.”

  She pulled me in close for the ending, and with my body held up to hers, I felt fuzzy things in my mind, blotting everything else out. “I’m glad,” she whispered. “I’m really happy.”

  “Not bad,” Aunt Gina called. “Not bad. Needs work, but you’re not bad at all. Well, let’s go ahead and bring the other dancers in! Better get ready. We’re going to be drilling!”

  I dared to keep holding onto Lisette, looking up into her eyes, and when she looked back into mine, I felt my world light up. It was just the look in her eyes—powerful, confident, and inspirational.

  She reached up and brushed a strand of hair out of my face, tucked it behind my ear, and said, “We need to put your hair up for this.”

  “Do you not like my look?”

  She laughed. “I love it. You’re incredibly beautiful. But if it keeps getting in your face, it might block your eyes, and they’re pretty enough we wouldn’t want that.”

  I felt like I forgot how to stand up for a second and only managed by sheer miracle. My face felt hot, like I never had under attention before. “I—”

  “You know,” she added suddenly, a blush creeping into her cheeks. “We want Henry to like what he sees.”

  And that broke it all into pieces. That was a slap in the face all of a sudden and I just wanted to cry, so I said the only reasonable thing I could think of, and that was, “Guess… so.”

  She pursed her lips, looked me over, and cast her eyes away when she said, “I mean—I think you’re beautiful. If he sees you like I see you, I’m sure he’ll like you.”

  I forced myself to laugh. “You just like playing with my heart,” I said before I could stop myself, and I was saved from her response by the doors opening again and a dozen pairs filtering in—all girls, of course. We couldn’t be around the boys dancing. We had to save it for that one special dance with a boy.

  Part of me wondered, just for a second, what if I asked Lisette to dance with me at the last dance?

  But there wasn’t any time to think terrible things like that. It was time for rehearsal.

  Chapter 6

  Lisette

  After I finished the performance and lowered my violin, my arms were aching, but the part where I was usually tired and resentful, I felt satisfied. And I was pretty sure it was because of the brunette sitting to one side, two of the kids we’d danced for earlier sitting on the sofa with her, and the way she watched me like I was the whole world and clapped once I was done.

  “Remember not to be late for dinner, everyone,” Gina said, leaving the room. “Best be starting now, yes—”

  And she was gone, most of the room trickling out after her. My applause hadn’t lasted long, but I didn’t care about that. I’d gotten enough from the audience of one I was really playing for.

  Well, maybe more than one. The two kids sitting with Alice stuck around, and when I put my violin away, I joined them, crouching by the sofa.

  “You can sit down,” Alice said, moving over. I felt my breath catch in my throat looking at the tight space next to her she’d left on the sofa, but I couldn’t just ignore it, so…

  I sat down next to her, feeling my leg up against hers, and she gave me a smile so sweet I felt my heart turn into a sticky paste.

  “Are you and Lisette friends?” One of the two kids—they were both Richmond girls, both with brown hair, but one was shorter and her hair much curlier, Alice’s second cousin’s daughter Rose, and one was taller and had Alice’s freckles, Alice’s niece Rhys. It was Rhys leaning over and looking between us with wide eyes. “You’re so close and so good at dancing together.”

  “We were you ten years ago,” Alice laughed. “Lisette was my rehearsal partner, just like Rose is yours.”

  “Do you think we’ll be able to dance like you?” Rhys said.

  “Of course. You like doing it, and that’s all that matters. Lisette and I loved dancing, so that’s why…” She glanced back at me and grinned. “And we were really good friends.”

  Rose spoke up. “Did you dance together at the ball?”

  I suppressed a weird sound in my throat. God, did I wish we had. Rhys laughed at her.

  “They’re both girls, Rose,” she said, turning on her.

  “For some reason, they don’t like it when girls dance with other girls at the ball,” Alice said, “or boys with other boys. Even though there are lots of girls who like other girls, or boys who like other boys. Maybe one day they’ll change their minds.”

  Rhys squinted. “But I thought you were supposed to marry the person you danced with…”

  “Only if you decide you want to when you get older.” Alice patted her head. “And you can marry whoever you want, whether you’re both girls or a boy and a girl or whatever.”

  My heart fluttered a little just listening. I knew it wasn’t a big concession to acknowledge gay marriage was legal, but just hearing Alice talk about it i
n that way to her family’s kids—

  “You can do that?” Rhys said, her voice small.

  She was probably eleven years old? Leave it to the Richmonds to shelter a child from the existence of gays that long.

  Alice laughed. “Do you think you’d want to?”

  Rhys looked down. “I don’t know…”

  Alice put a hand on her shoulder. “You can decide any time. It’s never too late to decide, too.”

  “Well,” I said, “probably don’t tell your parents, though.”

  Alice shot me a look. Rhys looked up and said, “Do they not want—”

  “They get really confused about it,” I said.

  “Lisette,” Alice said, her voice small, and then just shook her head, turning back to Rhys. “Well, she’s right. Some people will try to tell you only a boy and a girl can fall in love. But that’s not true. Now, I don’t want to talk about that anymore, I get sad thinking there are people who don’t like it.”

  She got sad thinking about it. I wasn’t going to read into that.

  Rose was the one who lit up and looked over at me. “Lisette, can you teach me to play the violin, too?”

  “You want to play?” I raised an eyebrow. “It’s hard and it’s really exhausting. It’s not an easy instrument.”

  “Lisette, you don’t need to discourage them,” Alice laughed.

  Rose’s face did fall. And I did feel bad for it. “I could teach you if you wanted,” I said, “but I have another offer. I can teach you to sing instead, if you like. You have a beautiful, clear voice.”

  They both looked up at me with their eyes wide. “I love singing,” Rose said.

  I stood up, and an instant later, Alice joined me, still standing close to me. There was just something about being next to her—I expected this whole event to be depressing and nervous, but with her next to me, I felt at peace. “I guess it’s settled, then,” I said. “Let’s develop your singing voice. Everyone will notice you at the ball, in the chorus.”

  Alice hit me playfully on the wrist, beaming with that same radiant smile. “You’re taking my kids away from me. I don’t have any musical talent to offer.”

  “You have the talent of being a better person than I am,” I said. “I’m mean. Balance me out.”

  “You’re not mean. You’re sweet.” She turned to Rhys and Rose. “Don’t listen to her, she’s not mean.”

  Still, Alice stood by, off to the side, watching. Rhys and Rose stood in front of me, looking up, and I took a deep breath.

  “Are you going to sing for us?” Rose had her hands clasped at her waist.

  “I’m going to sing the song first and then show you through it.” I didn’t know why I was nervous, why I was fluttering, except obviously I knew—Alice was right there, sitting to the side, looking up at me with her sparkling eyes, her freckled cheeks, and I was about to sing for her.

  I started with O Holy Night, the one we’d all sing after the ball, starting with one long, soft note, and Alice’s eyes went wide. I forced myself to look away from her, back to the girls. Rhys giggled and stopped herself just as quickly.

  I couldn’t help myself, though. I found myself drifting back to Alice again and again through the song, as she leaned in, looked up at me with that contented expression, that warm glow on her face.

  When I finished, her eyes sparkled as she clapped for me. The kids joined in, and I bowed.

  “So, that’s the song,” I said, more than a little breathless. "Do you think you two would like to practice it too?”

  “Yeah.” Rose replied in a heartbeat, her eyes wide. Rhys just nodded, looking over at Alice, who stood up and walked over to me, and just when I’d turned my attention back to the kids, she pulled me into a tight embrace.

  “You’re amazing,” she whispered into my ear.

  I was too dumbstruck to react before she stepped away and brushed her dress off.

  “I’m going to be right back. I’ll make some hot cocoa. You all want some, right?”

  Of course, we all wanted some. I wouldn’t turn down chocolate even if it weren’t from Alice.

  We went for a long time. The kids surprised me with their tenacity, Rose especially—she was so quiet and shy most of the time I wasn’t expecting her dedication to this. I led them through vocal exercises, helped them develop out the first section of the song, Alice always close by and encouraging them.

  It was a while in before Rhys turned to Alice and said, “Alice, you should sing, too.”

  Alice laughed. “I could sing, but I’m not any good. I think I might make Lisette cry.”

  “We can do a duet,” I said. “I’ll try not to cry too much. I’m sure I’ve heard worse.”

  “A duet? All I can think of is…” She scrunched up her face. “Let it Snow?”

  I laughed. Mom would hate me doing that one. But I didn’t get a say in the matter before Rhys demanded we sing Let it Snow, and so Alice stood up next to me, drew herself up, looked up at me, and burst out laughing.

  “Seriously, you know I can’t sing. It’s going to sound funny.”

  I nodded. “Just have fun and you’ll be perfect.”

  “Oh, do you think I’m that perfect?” She tucked her hair back, a teasing smile on her face, and I struggled not to react.

  “Of course I do. Ready?”

  She nodded. I turned on the speakers, playing the backing, and I started with the first line.

  Alice took a deep breath, leveled her shoulders, put her chest out, and focused intensely. When she started, it caught me by surprise.

  Her voice wasn’t just beautiful. It was so much more powerful than I expected, so much more character than I’d expected—she had the warmth of a soul singer, the notes smooth as warm honey, and I almost missed my line to sing next.

  We fell into the moment. I felt like the rest of the manor fell away, just Alice looking up into my eyes as we traded lines quickly. The heartfelt warmth of her voice with the clear sound of mine, and her chestnut eyes looking up into me, for a little while I didn’t feel like anything else in the world mattered.

  When we finished, harmonizing up on the last note, there was part of me that just wanted to sweep her off her feet and kiss her then and there. God, if I didn’t feel tempted. She had the sweetest smile on her face, and I just—why was it that none of the girls at college could make me feel this way?

  The ones I pulled in, courtship rehearsed to a ritual, finding them and working the same steps to get them in my hands. It was a little act of rebellion against the world that tried to shape me otherwise. It wasn’t like I was trying to use them all, one-and-done flings—I tried to like them, I really did, tried to get attached and always told myself I could make it long-term. But there was never a spark.

  I was beginning to feel like it was all pointless. And then I opened that damn door and saw Alice Richmond on the other side.

  The kids clapped. And so did someone else.

  When I looked up, there was Seth, leaning back against the wall by the door, slow-clapping for us. I felt a weird rush in my chest like I was caught in the act, even though I hadn’t been doing anything—as if him just looking would let him see the feelings I had for Alice.

  “You’re a choir now,” Seth said. “Magnifico, isn’t it?”

  He strode towards me, and Alice stepped in front of me. “Oh, Seth!” she said, her voice all strained smiles. “You must be here to grab us for dinner. It’s ready by now, isn’t it? Are you hungry, Rhys, Rose?”

  Rhys nodded. Rose looked down and mumbled, “I wanted to hear you sing again.”

  “I’m not the singer here,” Alice said, kneeling to put a hand on Rose’s shoulder. “That’s you two. But next time we can all sing together, the four of us.”

  “I’d be much more interested in hearing my partner sing alone,” Seth said, stepping around Alice and reaching for my hand. I clasped my hands at my waist, and it seemed to deter him. “My Lisette—I had no idea you had a voice brought to you clear from the h
eavens.”

  Alice could tell I was a singer. Just one more reason I notched down Seth had nothing on his cousin. “Well, if dinner is ready, we should go,” I said, my voice strained.

  “Of course, mi amor,” he said, bowing with a dramatic flair of his hand. “But tell me—my partner—”

  “Seth,” Alice snapped, jumping to her feet and whirling on him, “she is not your partner.”

  My head swam listening to her. Alice fighting him over me—I knew it wasn’t like that, but…

  “Tell me, cousin, why are you so possessive?” Seth laughed. “I always knew you were a standoffish one, not one with many friends, but I didn’t think you would be so desperate—”

  “Uncle Seth, they’re really good friends,” Rhys said, and Seth glared at her.

  “Let the adults talk about these things, Rhys. You’ll regret talking back later on.”

  Alice snapped. She twisted her face up into a scowl and lurched towards Seth, and when he staggered back, she kept walking after him until he backed into the wall, and the sight of that slimy macho-man literally backed into a wall by Alice was something I wished I could have gotten a picture of.

  “Hey, Seth,” she growled. “Remember when you said I was a nasty B-word? Don’t make me be one. Rhys is my friend too and she has just as much say as you, even if for some reason you consider yourself an adult.”

  She spun away before he could say anything, leaving him just shaking his head, and she forced a weak smile at me and the kids.

  “C’mon. Let’s go have dinner,” she said.

  Chapter 7

  Alice

  I felt a flush of guilt still as I changed into my pajamas and headed into the bedroom, where Lisette was setting up on the floor. I swore to myself I’d be on good behavior here, but Seth just got on my nerves in a way I couldn’t last more than a day. And I’d had the whole meltdown right in front of Lisette and my nieces too.

  And it was right after totally embarrassing myself trying to sing with her. No matter how beautiful that moment was, just standing there across from her, staring up into her eyes, wishing I could match that pure crystal sound that was her voice, I was aware how much I sounded like an awkward little boy straining his hardest to sing.