Ylva shook her head. “Please don’t be offended, but to people Charlee’s age, you’re very old. Taking her to the prom would just make her look even more strange.”
He sat stewing in his fury. How could kids be so goddamn mean to each other? It defied comprehension.
“Don’t you remember your own high school days, Darwin? That would have been sometime during or just after the second world war, yes?” Ylva asked softly.
“Everyone was odd, then. There were no clothes, no food, not much of anything. Making fun of kids because they had funny clothes was pointless, because everyone was dressed funny.”
“What about your prom?” Ylva asked. “Were there girls every boy knew it would be fatal to ask out?”
“Sure, there was Maureen Taggart, but that was because her parents were divorced, which in those days was practically the same as being a commie….” He trailed off. “Or black,” he finished softly. “Or having a scar, or red hair.” He blew out his breath. “Shit damn,” he said with feeling.
Ylva smiled. “Agreed in triplicate.”
He scrubbed at his hair. Proms were important. They were a rite of passage that every kid in America should go through. The idea of Charlee sitting at home at the kitchen table with him while her class was whooping it up in the gym…it made him feel sick all over again. “What am I supposed to do, bribe some kid to take her?”
Ylva pursed her lips. Even she didn’t bother responding to such a stupid idea. Then she pressed one manicured fingertip against her pouting lips. “I have an idea.”
Chapter Eighteen
Three days later, Charlee was waiting in the kitchen for Darwin when he got home. Her eyes were shining. She held up the cable sheet in her hand. “Lucas has shore leave! He’ll be home in a week…and Darwin, he wants to take me to the prom!”
Darwin managed to look surprised. His pleasure was completely genuine, though. “That’s great, Charlee. He looked pretty impressive in his Class A’s, too.” Then he added the question that would never have occurred to him to ask without Ylva’s coaching. “What are you going to wear?”
Charlee’s eyes widened. “Oh my god!” she said. “A dress! I’m going to need a dress, and my hair, and….” She started to look horrified. Terror wasn’t far off.
He held up a hand. “Prom dresses and old men don’t mix. I couldn’t help you out with fripperies like that even if I was forty years younger. But I just thought of someone who might.”
“Who?”
“Ylva, the lady from the restaurant.”
Charlee crumpled the cable in her hand as she gripped her hands together. “Darwin, you’re brilliant.” She reached up and kissed his cheek. “I’ll stop by to see her tomorrow.”
* * * * *
Once they were both settled, a cup of tea in front of each of them, Ylva looked Charlee over. “I’m so pleased to see you, Charlee.”
Charlee bit her lip. “I didn’t know if I should come back. I could barely remember being here, that last time. I wasn’t even sure I had the right house.” She realized she was touching her scar and put her hand back in her lap. “It all seemed so…well, secret.”
“But you would have been very welcome,” Ylva told her. “There’s nothing wrong with a friend stopping by, and we did become friends when I was working at the Ash Tree.”
Charlee looked at the teacups and the squat pot of tea. There was a small stack of pancakes on a plate close to her knee, and the sight of them had made her smile. “Just like old times,” she said.
“I was hoping you’d feel it was,” Ylva said, sounded very pleased with herself. “I’m quite sure my pancakes are nowhere near as good as Pierre’s, though.” She put down her cup. “How can I help you, Charlee?”
Charlee felt suddenly bashful. “Darwin said you would know… I mean, you could help….” She stopped and blew out her breath. “Oh, Ylva, I’m going to the prom next week and I haven’t got anything to wear, and Lucas will have his Class As and I didn’t even think about a dress, even when Elizabeth was trying hers on weeks and weeks ago. I didn’t think I would ever be going, but now I am and it’s only a week and I need shoes and stuff I probably haven’t thought of yet—”
Ylva was smiling.
“What?” Charlee asked, feeling silly.
“You’re asking me to help you with your prom dress,” Ylva said. “I’m so pleased.”
Charlee blinked. “You are?”
Ylva nodded. “I’ve never had a daughter I could help dress up for her prom.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t thought about it that way. “Really? You’ll help?”
Ylva stood up. “I’d like to do more than help, if you’ll let me. I’d like to buy your dress for you, as a graduation present.”
Charlee pressed her fingers to her lips, to stop them trembling. But she couldn’t do anything about the tears in her eyes. She blinked furiously. “If you’re sure,” she said, her voice wobbling.
“I’m very sure. Come along.”
“Where are we going?” Charlee asked, putting her cup aside.
“To buy your dress.”
“Now?”
“Why not?”
* * * * *
Charlee ran up the stone stairs, calling Ylva’s name. Already, the house was familiar to her and she already knew the first name of most of the women who lived and worked there.
Ylva stepped out of the room she called her day room, one hand on the doorframe. “The shoes didn’t fit?” she asked, sounding worried.
Charlee stopped in front of her and realized with something of a start that they were the same height. She had always had to lift her chin to look at Ylva before. “No, the shoes are perfect. It’s just…” She could feel her cheeks heating.
Ylva waited with the graceful patience that was so much a part of her.
“I can’t wear my hair down with that dress,” Charlee said, forcing it out.
“I agree. Wearing your hair down would ruin the style.” Ylva tilted her head a little to one side.
Charlee raised her hand to her cheek.
“Of course,” Ylva said and took her arm. “Come with me.”
* * * * *
Charlee stepped in front of the mirror once more and turned her head, studying her scar.
Ylva stood beside her, looking in the mirror as well. She held the little pot of whatever it was in her hand and a cloth in the other one. “I don’t think you can completely hide it, Charlee, because it’s raised above the skin around it. But we can cover the redness, and if you make sure the makeup you use is completely and absolutely matte, it won’t pick up the light. That means in photos it will recede rather than draw attention to itself.”
“Photos….” Charlee let out a shaking breath. “I hadn’t thought about photos.” She bit her lip. “Perhaps I should just leave my hair down, after all.”
“If you do, I’ll take back the dress,” Ylva said quickly.
Charlee looked at her, startled.
Ylva smiled at her. “You know that you’re the only one who cares about the scar, don’t you? You’re the only one who notices it.”
“Strangers notice. They stare at me all the time.”
“But the people you know, they don’t even see it. You’re going to be with Lucas and Darwin, and people like your friend Elizabeth.”
Charlee blew out another breath. “Okay….” she said uncertainly.
Ylva gave her a hug, then stood with her arm about her shoulders as they both looked in the mirror. “Stars above, your legs do go on forever, Charlee. You should wear hot pants to the prom. No one would notice your scar then.”
They both laughed at the idea.
* * * * *
Charlee was at the hairdresser’s when Lucas called. Darwin took the call, the tea towel in his other hand, for he had been chopping onions for the early dinner he was making. He remembered how much alcohol had been consumed at his own prom, and he wanted Charlee to have a full stomach when she went out the door. “Baxter house
.”
“Darwin, it’s Lucas.”
Darwin gripped the towel harder, his heart sinking. “Tell me you’re in New York and about to catch a cab,” Darwin pleaded.
“I’m in fucking L.A.,” Lucas replied. “The transport got diverted. They’re giving me a commercial flight to New York, and it leaves in fifteen minutes, but then I have to get from the airport to your place. And my dress uniform is in the suitbag back in Manila. Fuck.”
The distress in his voice came through clearly, and contrarily that calmed Darwin, letting him think it through. “Just get here as fast as you can. I’ll pull out my suit, you can wear that. I’ll even meet you at the airport with it and you can go straight to the prom and meet Charlee there.”
“But—”
“No buts, not tonight,” Darwin said firmly. “I won’t allow it.”
* * * * *
The front of the school’s big gym was flooded with light, making the open area right next to the long series of glass swinging doors that led into the gym bright as daylight. The concrete slabs that made up the open area between the gym and the road looked almost white in the harsh lights, but no one noticed that except Charlee.
She stood close to the brick walls that flanked the gym, holding back terraces of grass and low-lying bushes. There, she wasn’t in anyone’s way and no one noticed her. She pulled her wrap closer around her, scanning the road and the steady line of private cars and rented limousines and cabs that were dropping off kids and their escorts and sometimes their parents.
Thickly clustered about the concrete slabs were four hundred and twenty-three seniors, dressed up in their very best finery. The boys were sober, darkly suited punctuation to the astonishing array of dresses dotted between them. If she wasn’t feeling so ill, Charlee would have been happy just to stand here for the rest of the night, watching the endlessly fascinating dresses go by. There were big, full, hooped ball gowns and short, tight, shimmery dresses. And there was everything in between, in every color possible.
But Charlee was too worried to enjoy the pageantry. She had stopped being nervous thirty-five minutes ago. Now, a sick, sinking certainty was filling her, convincing her that Lucas wouldn’t make it here in time. It was already seven-forty, and the prom was supposed to start at seventy-thirty. Any second now, Principal York would get up on the stage and announce the start of the evening, and Charlee would be left standing here, patently without an escort, clearly friendless and alone. Elizabeth had sailed by on Tommy’s arm, incandescent with happiness and almost oblivious to Charlee’s dress or the fact that she was standing by herself.
She shouldn’t have come. She wouldn’t have come, except that Darwin had almost forced her into the cab and pushed a fifty-dollar note at the driver, before grabbing his own cab to the airport, his suit folded over the other arm.
“He’ll be there,” Darwin had assured her. “Just wait out front where he’ll be able to spot you when he gets there.”
But waiting out front also meant drawing attention to herself, so she had chosen this shadowed spot by the wall where she would be out of the way. She could scan the arrivals and would see Lucas when he arrived. Then she could step out where the floodlights were brightest.
As the minutes ticked on, she became more and more certain that Lucas was not coming. Her cheeks heated and her gut roiled. She was being stood up. Stood up by the poorest date possible, her own big brother. How stupid was she to even think this was a good idea?
It was Elizabeth’s fault. If she hadn’t spent so many weeks dreaming out loud about her dress to Charlee, then Charlee would never have started to think how wonderful it would be to dress up in a long evening gown. Now she was here, alone.
The worst of it was that she wasn’t completely out of sight. Heads kept turning. Their gazes would light upon her and take in her solitary state. Then they would bend back to whisper to each other. Then there would be a second glance as they all looked at her. Who? It didn’t matter. It was kids she knew and kids she only knew by sight. But they knew her, oh yes. She was the freak who had turned up at the prom, waiting for a date who couldn’t be bothered to show up.
The stream of cars out front was starting to slow down. Music fired up inside the gym. After a few seconds, she recognized Janet Jackson’s “Because of Love.” That would get everyone on the dance floor. Everyone who was already inside.
Charlee knew it was time to leave. She eyed the arriving cars. There was a cab pulling up to the end of the queue. She could grab that when the passengers got out, and go home. She could escape this humiliation and spend the rest of the weekend wondering how she was going to keep her head up at school on Monday.
She settled the wrap around her once more, picked up the skirt of the dress so she wouldn’t trip on it, and headed for the spot where she estimated the cab would stop. She timed it almost exactly, for she was only a few steps away when it came to a jerky halt and the back door was flung open almost instantly.
Asher stepped out and straightened up. He was sliding his other arm into a black tuxedo jacket and paying the driver all at once, his blond hair in the floodlights looking pale and thick.
Charlee halted. Her legs, her face…her entire body went numb. She couldn’t move. Breathing was hard. Was he really here, or was she just projecting one of the private fantasies she had been having for the last week, ever since she had brought her new dress home?
Asher turned, scanning the crowd the same way she had been.
“Asher,” she said and was surprised when her voice came out at all. It sounded different, not her own.
He turned his head at her call, then saw her. He smiled, and it was one of his warm, private smiles. “Surprise,” he said.
She nodded. “Yes, it is.” Her throat was closing up, but she was not going to cry, even if she had to step on her toes with her own stilettos to halt the tears. She worked her throat hard, pulling them back, getting control of herself.
Asher threw his hands up. “Damn the gods, I nearly forgot—” He turned back to the cab, which was starting to leave. He thumped on the roof, and when the driver jerked it to another stop Asher opened the back door. He leaned in, then re-emerged.
This time, he was carrying a single, long-stemmed flower. A lily. It looked a lot like one of Ylva’s purple calla lilies. Asher brought it over to her and held it out. “Ylva insisted that I bring this, not a wrist corsage. Now I see you, I can see that she was right. A corsage would have been pretty, but it wouldn’t have matched you.”
Charlee reached out for the stem and took it. “Thank you.”
Asher offered his elbow. “Shall we go in?”
“Are you sure?” she whispered.
“Now I’ve seen you, I’m sure. Do you care to know what happened to Lucas and why I’m here instead?”
She shook her head. It didn’t matter. Lucas had been delayed and someone—Lucas or Darwin or perhaps even Ylva, who was apparently mixed up in this, too—had yelled for Asher to step in, and he had arrived still throwing on his tux. But he was here.
As they wended their way around the clusters of belles and their escorts, she saw that heads were turning again. Their eyes were even more rounded than before as they took in Asher, beside her.
Charlee gripped Asher’s arm even more tightly. “I would have asked you,” she said. “I wanted to. Of everyone I know, I wanted you to take me to the prom, but…”
“But now I’m here.” He gave her a small smile. “Enjoy the night, Charlee. You deserve to.”
She didn’t walk into the gym. She floated.
* * * * *
In the foyer, there were kids everywhere, laughing, screaming, shouting at each other, swirling multicolors everywhere. It was loud, and Asher could see heads turning and elbows nudging as one by one, they noticed Charlee.
Charlee seemed to shrink into herself. He could see her shoulders hunch under the wrap. So he stepped up behind her. “Look them in the eye, Charlee. You’re with me. Do you have any doubt I won�
��t beat the snot out of anyone who even thinks about giving you a hard time?”
She smiled up at him. “They’ll arrest you.”
He held up his finger. “One finger. That’s all I need.”
Her smile became a laugh. “I think I would actually like to see you do that. There’s some creeps here who would be better people if their egos took a beating.”
Asher leaned down so he could drop his voice. “Don’t look now, but I think you’re already crushing some egos. There’s some girls over by the doors there that look ready to kill you.” Then he straightened. “Give me your wrap. I’ll check it, then we can go in and find a table.”
Charlee hesitated. Then her shoulders lifted as she drew in a breath and took off the wrap and held it out to him.
Asher took the offered wrap, moving purely on automatic. His gaze, all of his attention had been riveted to Charlee and whatever it was she was wearing. It was a dress, he knew. Ylva had mentioned it was some designer or another, but he’d paid no notice. He still didn’t care, except that the difference between this dress and every other dress he’d spotted since the cab had pulled up was as vast as the Pacific.
Creakily, his mind restored itself to normal order. He made a small fuss of folding the wrap over his arm while he gave himself a moment to clear his head and get his reaction under control.
Every other girl here looked like exactly what she was: a seventeen-year-old high school student in a pretty dress. Charlee looked like a woman.
He glanced at her once, quickly, as she stood tall and slender, her chin up, a small, black evening clutch in her hand. Then he forced himself to move over to the coat check counter and deal with the kids behind the counter, while his mind raced.
The dress was some velvety black material and it clung. To everything. When had Charlee grown so tall? When had she filled out like that? She had curves. Everywhere.
There was a white band at the top of the dress. He didn’t have the skills or knowledge to know what it was called, but it wrapped around her shoulders and met in the middle with a bow. There was nothing else holding up the dress.
The Branded Rose Prophecy Page 28
