The Impossible Girl

by Lydia Kang

  The elder Cutter bore down on Cora immediately. “What is the meaning of this? Jane, can you not do as you’re told? We will suffer no visitors tonight, especially not her.”

  Cora bristled. She could have said it and had the same effect. “I beg your pardon, but I must have my say, and I will say it.”

  “And what is that?” Suzette asked. She straightened her tall figure to full effect, and stared at Cora with an icy imperiousness. “Do you wish to repay the money you have stolen from us, harassing us for scraps all these months? She said you needed it for medicines, and doctor’s visits, and to keep quiet. Clearly you haven’t needed them, and you certainly have not kept out of society.”

  “I have come,” Cora said, taking a moment to steady herself, “to apologize.”

  Suzette’s mouth closed, and she immediately looked at her mother.

  Mrs. Cutter set her brown eyes piercingly upon Cora. “Very well. Have your say and be off.”

  “I want to apologize for my maid’s letters, soliciting funds on my behalf. They were written without my consent or knowledge. If you have records of the funds sent, then I shall be happy to repay them, down to the penny, as soon as I am able.”

  The Cutter ladies again glanced at each other.

  “Then . . . this was all your maid’s doing? Leah?”

  “Correct,” Cora said. Her heart was calming now.

  “You are, in fact, the daughter of my cousin-in-law, Elizabeth Cutter?” Mrs. Cutter asked. She moved her head slightly, as if seeing something in Cora’s visage that she had not noticed before.

  “I am, but I do not carry her name, nor do I intend to publicize the connection in any way.”

  “And so . . . you aren’t ill?” Mrs. Cutter said.

  “As you can see, I’m quite well. In fact, may I please introduce Mr. . . . Dr. Theodore Flint, of the University of the City of New York. I considered having him write a letter on my behalf, but I feared you might destroy it before it was read.”

  “Indeed, I would have! You were supposedly very ill, indeed!” Suzette said, but her mother hushed her with a single glance.

  “Good evening, ladies,” Theodore began. “I am here to attest to the fact that I have known Miss Lee now for some time, and she is in very good health. Whatever her maid may have said, as you can see, it’s quite false.”

  “But there were records,” Suzette said. “We wouldn’t have given the money without proof, and we had it. How can this be? How can you survive with such a condition?”

  Cora raised her hand. She didn’t want Theo to know what they spoke of, and she must tread carefully.

  “It was a misstatement, even in writing. I have no such affliction, and I wish for it to be known that the doctor in question was a drunkard and a liar. He fabricated this story to extort money from my aunt Charlotte for unnecessary doctor’s visits. Any talk of my poor health ought to end, here and now. In that way, any stain upon your family, similarly, shall be quelled. You know how rumors spread.”

  Mrs. Cutter, twice the breadth of her daughter, walked forward and leaned her ring-encrusted hand upon a chair back. “Upon my word, you make demands as if you have a right.”

  “My life and my body are mine, madam. I may say anything I like about them.”

  Suzette actually smiled at this, and when Cora saw it, her lips twitched. Mrs. Cutter turned quickly, and in a flash, Suzette’s smile melted into a thin line.

  Cora spoke once more. “I thank you for your time. I make no apologies for the actions of my mother, or my aunt, but I will apologize on behalf of my servant. She will be appropriately punished, and neither of us shall bother this family again. It will be as if you don’t know me, and I shall return the favor.”

  “We don’t speak of you, to be sure,” Mrs. Cutter said coldly. She snorted. “A bastard child of some foreign sailor, with no claims to this family? Jane, show them out.”

  Cora’s body flushed warmly, and Theo stared at her as if he had not really seen her before. She never revealed her dual heritage, and now Theo, of all people, would know. He might put it together—the two-hearted girl with Chinese ancestry. After she had done so well and carried out the conversation without an actual mention of her affliction!

  Outside, in the cool evening air and the quiet among the uptown residences, Cora finally exhaled as if she’d been holding her breath this whole time.

  “Well. I suppose that went well?” Theo said.

  “Yes. It did. You did splendidly, Theo. I’m very grateful.” They began walking down toward Union Square.

  “I had no idea you were related to the Cutter family. They might as well be the Beekmans or the Schermerhorns or the Astors. And they’ve cast you off?”

  “Yes,” Cora said simply.

  “So, your father’s not exactly a Schermerhorn himself,” Theo said, and Cora stopped walking.

  “Oh. You heard that.”

  “How could I not?” Theo asked, curious. “Who’s your father? Where is he from?”

  He had stopped walking, and turned to face her. “I thought you looked different. What kind of—”

  Cora held up a hand. That word, what. Not asking about a person, but a thing. “Does it matter, if he were not a lofty Schermerhorn?” Cora asked. “If he were black? Would you stop speaking to me? Would you be a blackbirder, and sell me into slavery even though I’m free?”

  Theo held up his hands. “I only asked.”

  Cora spoke slowly. “My blood runs as red as yours, Theodore Flint. You of all people should know that, after all your dissections. I am no less than any other woman on this island, including the high-and-mighty Suzette Cutter.”

  “Then who is your father?”

  If he had been closer, Cora would have slapped him. His curiosity was an intrusion. The park was dark, but there was light enough from the moon to see his face. She’d seen his expression before on the nameless faces that stared at her when she walked around the city. A confusion—as if Cora were out of place and they didn’t know where she belonged. They wanted her categorized like an insect.

  “I don’t know who my father was.”

  He cocked his head at her. “The fairy tale. The girl with the two hearts. She was said to be half-Chinese.”

  Cora’s body stiffened. “Does that make her not wholly human?”

  Theo went silent.

  “It’s not me,” Cora said quickly, snuffing out her small rebellion.

  “What affliction did they think you had, Cora?”

  “It was nothing. A . . . a breathing ailment.” The lie sounded just like that, a lie.

  “Was your father a Chinese sailor?” he persisted. “And Jacob? Is he . . .”

  “We are twins, so yes, we share the same father. And as I said, I’m not sure who my father was. Are you satisfied, Mr. Flint? Are you done solving the puzzle of me? Have you finished sorting me like a coin to learn my worth?”

  Flint ran his hand through his hair. Mussed, it clashed with his fine clothes, and he, too, looked unclassifiable. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

  “Why was it relevant?” Cora demanded. “Am I different now?”

  “Of course you’re different. It’s in your blood.”

  “What is? My inferiority?”

  “Well . . . no . . . I mean, some would say yes, but—”

  “Stop. I understand. Good night, and thank you for your services. Please return your clothes to Alexander as soon as you can. Jacob shall be in touch if another body comes into our midst.”

  She began to walk hurriedly through the park, when a shrill female voice rang out behind her.

  “Miss Lee! Wait a moment! I wish to speak to you.”

  She turned, as did Theo, who was still standing there. They saw Suzette tripping toward them, a fine wool shawl hastily wrapped about her shoulders.

  “I had to leave through the servants’ entrance,” she gasped, “to escape Mother.”

  Cora said nothing; she had nothing left to say to either Suzette or Theo.


  Suzette tried to catch her breath. “I need to speak to you. Alone.” She looked pointedly at Theo.

  “As I am very much unwanted here anyway, I shall leave. Good night. Miss Cutter, the pleasure was mine,” Theo said, though he looked hardly pleased. He gave Cora a bitter glance, before walking away. When he was out of hearing, she turned to Suzette.

  “Yes?” Cora said. “What is it? I thought I made myself rather clear.”

  “That fellow you brought, Mr. Flint?”

  “Dr. Flint,” Cora corrected her.

  “He’s no doctor, you know,” Suzette said, eyebrows raised.

  “Pardon me?”

  “I went down to the archives at the university, only ten days ago. I read Dr. Grier’s diary entries myself.”

  Cora’s hearts thumped in quick succession. “Oh. You . . . read them?”

  “I did. A family friend allowed me in, as a favor. His papers were not written by the hand of a drunken gentleman. They were lucid, and professional. And when I was in the Stuyvesant Institute, Mr. Flint was there too. He was in a line of new students. I saw him, plain as day. Taller than the rest, handsome with that dimple on his left cheek. That’s why I remembered him. He is no professor. You cannot believe him, if he says you’re healthy. You ought to see a real physician, Miss Lee. He’s fooled Mother well enough, but not me.”

  “And this is why you’ve run out here to tell me?” Cora shook her head. “You hated me so only half an hour ago.”

  “Before a few days ago, Leah’s letters were enough to convince us of your ailment. She knew the date of your birth, information about Charlotte and Elizabeth. I thought—I thought I recognized you at the museum. There is a portrait of Elizabeth in our attic storage. You look a bit like her—the same figure, the same nose. A certain enigmatic air. And then I was certain at Jenny Lind’s performance, when I saw you with your maid. You looked so well, and it angered me to see you in your nice dresses. I was convinced the whole thing had been a hoax and that you were abusing my family terribly—two hundred fifty dollars since August. But I decided to find out for myself.”

  There were several benches around the oval green of Union Square, and Cora sought one out and sat down. This was too much. She had come here to cut off ties and convince them she was well, and here was Suzette telling her that none of it had worked. And on top of everything, there was an enormous debt to pay. How would she ever be able to pay back even half the sum and still put bread on her table? It was far more than they’d ever needed for daily living expenses. What on earth had Leah spent it on?

  “Why are you telling me this?” Cora asked. “Why are you being kind to me?”

  “By telling you the truth? Most people would find that’s an unkindness,” she said, laughing, like a bell in the night. She sobered. “To be honest, I don’t know.” She stared out into the darkness and sat down next to Cora. “No, I do know. I have a brother in Europe who’s ten years older than I am, and I hardly know him. I have no other cousins, no sisters. Mother says I ought to spend more time with real people, instead of burying my head in books about murders and phantoms!”

  “Oh. You’re the reader of those books I saw?”

  “I am,” she said. “I love them. Have you read The Castle of Otranto? Oh, the church trysts! Isabella stabbed! Do you know it?”

  “I confess, I do not,” Cora said, smiling. How strange to see such a lovely creature so enraptured by the macabre. And then she silently laughed at herself.

  “I do love secrets. But your servant’s is far less salacious than those in the books. Lying servants are not terribly dramatic. Now that I know you have good intentions, I do not wish you any harm. I fear that Mr. Flint is telling you falsehoods, and you may be in danger.”

  Flint was the last person she could imagine who would hurt her. She still remembered the sting of her knuckles when Jacob punched him with beautiful accuracy last week. But this truth was more deadly than anything.

  “Miss Cutter, may I ask a question?” Cora asked.

  “You may call me Suzette. I suppose you can ask, but I’m not sure I can do anything.”

  “Those diaries of Dr. Grier—where were they located? At the Stuyvesant Institute, or the new building?”

  “Oh. The new building. On the upper floor. They were quite difficult about allowing me in, being a woman, and of course I wasn’t a student. My mother’s physician had to escort me. They’ll never let you in, Cousin.”

  Cora nodded. Well, perhaps Jacob would have no trouble. He would do the job of destroying the diaries, and then Grier’s legacy and rumors would have a better chance of disappearing for good.

  Suzette stood. “I must go. I’ll never be allowed out of the house again if Mother knows I’ve spoken to you.”

  “Thank you.” Cora reached over and squeezed Suzette’s cold, soft hand in hers. She shook her head. “I am so grateful, you have no idea.”

  “You’re welcome, Cousin Cora.” She laughed lightly. “You know, if you’d stayed in our family, they might have named you Allene. There’s always an Allene in every other generation. Mother was obstinate about naming me Suzette.” She smiled. “It’s nice to have a cousin after all this time.”

  With that, Suzette trotted the two blocks back to her house in the moonlight.

  Cora was now quite alone. Tonight, she had hoped for so much. She had gained a debt, gained a cousin, and lost Theodore Flint. After the way he looked at her, any friendship between them had disintegrated. They would work in the same circles, until Cora earned enough money to pay back the Cutters and finally leave the city, for somewhere no one had ever heard of a girl with two hearts—or a girl with at least one broken one.

  IDA DIFFORD

  There are many things in the world that God will not let me understand. He keeps his hand hovering over the reasons, just out of view. He will not explain to me why, for example, he’s chosen to have this boil growing upon my neck. A chaotic collection of teeth and bone and hair. The good doctor has said that he has even seen “nervous tissue,” whatever that might mean. I do not understand his language.

  But it grew and grew until wrapping it deftly in lace or silk could conceal it no longer. It opened and drained, a foul-smelling odor like ripened cheese emanating from it, vile and abominable to my husband, and to me. It is as if God has stored the worst sins of the world beneath my skin.

  I could not stand it any longer, particularly when the coughing began. Coughing and coughing, the sensation of tickling threads deep within me, until I’d cough up a tendril of dark, silky hair. And then another, and sometimes a clump. The devil himself was growing within me, I knew it. But on the day of surgery, something felt so very strange.

  Agatha, my servant, had come in from the market and brought me a new batch of tea—a very good China tea. And in making it, she steeped it too long. It was terribly bitter, and I asked her to be more careful with the temperature of the water next time. I am loath to waste tea that has come halfway across the ocean for me, so I drank it all.

  But soon, my jaw felt tight, and I could not prevent myself from clenching my teeth and tightening my body in the most peculiar and uncomfortable ways. But the surgery was to happen that morning, and so I went, hoping to tell the doctor about my predicament. My dear husband accompanied me and begged me not to squeeze his arthritic hands so hard. But I could not help myself.

  It was nerves, and only that, the surgeon reassured me. My gown was changed, the drapery placed over my body, and the chloroform dripped dutifully onto cotton wool placed over my face.

  I was clenching my teeth so hard that I could barely speak. Every muscle in my body was on fire, alighted with a tension of a thousand Samsons pulling down a thousand temples. Only there were no temples, only me. Only a body made of sinew and meat and nails and teeth, all tearing asunder, and there was naught I could do to stop it.

  I was dead before the good doctor ever picked up his blade.

  There are murmurs that they are coming for me. My b
ody goes to God one way or another; I know this now. Have at it, you beasts. You are the ones rotting from within, not I.

  Not anymore.

  CHAPTER 15

  The next morning, Cora dressed herself in Jacob’s finest clothes and came down to breakfast. She didn’t want to go out as Jacob in broad daylight, but she had no choice. Leah was making baked eggs, and hot tea was already on the table.

  “You were home late last night,” Leah said. “Was that nice fellow Mr. Flint with you?”

  “Not so nice, but yes.” Cora sipped her tea and looked around the kitchen. The cutlery was the same as they’d had since Charlotte was alive; the crockery the same, too, save for a broken dish or two that had not been replaced. Cora always turned in the monthly rent herself. It had risen modestly by a dollar or two each year.

  “There’s a letter for you this morning.” Leah handed it to Cora, who put it down, not wanting to be distracted.

  “Leah,” Cora asked, “what became of the money you took from the Cutters?”

  “The money?”

  “Yes. Two hundred fifty dollars. We’ve had lean times this last month, I know, but such a sum! Surely we can send most of it back.”

  “Oh.” Leah went quiet for nearly a minute, but Cora waited. Finally, with no place to hide, Leah frowned with guilt. “I spent it. Every penny.”

  “On what?”

  Leah started to breathe a little heavier. “I don’t know.”

  “How could you not know?” Cora demanded.

  “I just . . . I lost it.”

  “Lost it? How?”

  Cora stared her down, not blinking once as Leah squirmed. Sometimes her stares were as loud as screams.

  “I . . . lost it betting on Hy Claremont’s dog and rat fights.”

  Cora looked at the ceiling. “Leah! Are you mad? You know Hy Claremont only plays a skinning game! Why would you do such a thing?”

  “I’d heard that May, that silly whore of a cook next door, had won ten dollars on a bet. It only cost fifty cents, and I had a little extra dibs that week. So, she put fifty cents for me, and I won! Fifteen dollars. So next time, I bet five dollars and lost it, but I didn’t have it, and so they charged me interest, but I thought I could get even, and an eight-dollar bet would take care of it, but then I lost that one.”