A Proper Young Lady

by Lianne Simon

  “Then you must prepare now for her continued presence.”

  “How so?”

  “Your fiancé’s a man, sweetheart, and Miss Fairbairn’s pregnant with his child.”

  “I intend to be very active as mother.”

  “And as Mrs. Davis, no doubt. All well and good. But you must also satisfy Miss Fairbairn’s emotional needs or your husband may.”

  “We’re best friends, Mum. She knows she can come to me with her concerns.”

  “Perhaps. But will she if you spend insufficient time with her?”

  “No.” She’ll withdraw rather than bother me.

  “Are you set on finishing college?”

  “Our wedding’s the first week of March. The baby’s due later that month. Finals are in May. Ethan graduates in June. This spring will be hectic, but I’ve got the summer to devote to being a mother before starting my senior year.”

  “You have six months remaining with Miss Fairbairn before your nuptials. To ensure the young woman’s loyalty. And your husband’s fidelity.”

  “We’re already best friends.”

  “She’s the mother of your child.”

  Adrenaline sends a wave of heat up my throat before I realize she’s simply trying to make a point. “Yes. I suppose so.”

  “You must always see her in that light if she’s to remain under your roof. Meet her emotional needs as you do your husband’s sexual ones.” She pauses, her eyes suddenly intense. “Let me be clear—I’m not suggesting you sleep with the young woman.”

  Mother of my child or not, I’m daft to let her stay. She threatens not only my husband’s fidelity, but mine. I’ve broken enough promises, though. Whatever the cost to me, I’ll not deny her access to our child. “I haven’t the heart to send her away, Mum.”

  “Then do what you must for her to protect your marriage.” With that, my mother ends our little chat. She stands and walks across to the breakfast bar.

  I turn on my phone again and read my email, but my mind remains on Melanie and the child she carries.

  Melanie

  Bright light and utter silence interrupt my sleep. I blink away tears till my eyes adjust. Dani grins at me from the bedroom doorway. “We’ve arrived,” she says.

  She leads me out of the bus and across a cement floor.

  We’re inside. I stop and survey my surroundings. Work benches line the back wall of the building. Sunlight filters through skylights overhead. Six garage doors all in a row. One large enough for a full-sized motor home. One bay with a hydraulic lift.

  Through the open door I glimpse a drive that winds through giant trees to iron gates and a stone fence. Where are we? Panic bares its ugly teeth at me. Prep school after all?

  Dani tugs at my arm. “Let me show you your room.”

  We pass a laundry, a bathroom, and several closed doors before the hallway turns a corner, and we stroll through an archway.

  My heart stops for a few beats while my eyes drink in wonder. A grand ballroom stretches out before us. At the far end of the dance floor a wide stairway leads up to the second level. To my right is a line of columns, and beyond them, a dining area and kitchen. On the left is a formal entryway with massive double doors. On three sides of the two-story dance area a narrow balcony provides a walkway around the base of tall windows.

  Dani grins at me and bows low. She takes my hand, lifts it above my head, and twirls me around. “Mum’s well known for her charity cotillions. She’ll expect you to dance with any gentleman who asks—including Cooper—and do so with both manners and grace.”

  She leads me around the room in a waltz before bowing again. “Are you hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  On the breakfast bar in the kitchen we find a crock pot full of what Dani says is lamb stew. Fresh biscuits wait nearby, in a bread warmer.

  The girl shows me how to use the single-serve coffee maker to make hot chocolate.

  Dani loads our stuff on a tray and leads me outside to a table shaded by an umbrella. “This is Mum’s garden, but I think my father spends more time here than she does.”

  I take a seat facing away from the house so I can study the grounds. A brick wall topped by a wrought iron fence surrounds a fairytale park. A pond—or maybe a small lake—takes up almost half of the space. To one side stands a grove of huge trees. Between the house and the water, the grass lawn gives way to boulders, decorative plants, and flowers. A flagstone path leads off around the lake and out under the largest of the trees.

  “Your supper’s getting cold.”

  “Huh? Oh. Yeah.” Lamb stew isn’t my favorite, but I take a spoonful. “Jake made this?”

  Dani does her little bobble-head nod and keeps right on eating.

  I scarf down quite a lot more of the stew before nibbling on a biscuit. Minutes later, I find myself staring at an empty bowl. Jake’s gonna make me fat. I lean back and survey the garden once again.

  Dani stands and gathers our dishes. “Finished?”

  “Yeah.” I gulp down the rest of my chocolate and set my cup on the tray.

  Back inside, Dani rinses our bowls, puts them into a dishwasher, and loads up a plate with scones. Her pace quickens then, and she rushes me up the stairs. At the top, I spin around. My imagination fills the ballroom with men in fancy tuxedos and women in their Cinderella gowns. Mom said it was okay to dream. What if he ever did come back? I shut my eyes and imagine he had.

  Somebody touches my cheek. My eyes snap open to discover Dani brushing a stray lock away from my face. “It’s good to see you smile,” she says.

  Down the hallway and around the corner our journey ends. Dani leans against an old wooden door. “An English cottage once stood here. My parents loved the house so much they saved some of the architectural elements and incorporated them into the new building” For a moment, her mischievous grin reminds me of the Dani of long ago. She swings the door open and steps aside.

  Oriental rugs cover much of the worn plank flooring. Rough-plastered walls rise to meet exposed beams and a vaulted ceiling. A stone fireplace and bookshelves cover the far wall. A seat in the bay window overlooks the garden. A full-sized Jenny Lind bed, an antique oak dresser, and a rocking chair complete the furnishings.

  I pull open a door at the back of the room to find a modern bath. Sweet.

  The old wooden bed squeaks when I flop down on its feather mattress. Not as plush as the Biltmore, but certainly comfy.

  Dani’s grin turns downright wicked. “Mum suggested one of the other guest suites. They’re larger and more modern. Would you like—”

  “No! This is perfect.” I run across the floor and hug her.

  “Well, then. I’ll leave you to unpack. If you need anything, my room’s around the corner.”

  With the door closed, my imagination blossoms—my own cottage in the woods. A place away from the rest of the world. Just me. And my baby. And him.

  I retrieve Mom’s envelope from my backpack and worry it open. A check for one hundred and twenty thousand dollars falls from my trembling hands. It’s all right to have your own dreams, honey.

  God, please let Mom be okay.

  Chapter 14

  Danièle

  Flowers ambush me just inside the bedroom doorway. A bevy of balloons jostles the ceiling above my bed. Chocolates wait on the dresser, along with a kilo tin of Darjeeling and a quart of Irish cream.

  The aroma of latkes and aged Asiago draw my senses across the room. A magnum of vintage French Champagne relaxes in a cool bath on my desk. Two wine glasses provide formal escorts.

  Leaning against the bottle stands a card. I slide a fingernail under the flap and open the envelope. Joy of my heart and mother of my child—I love you more than life itself.

  A scene from an old Alfred Hitchcock movie flashes through my mind. Adrenaline floods my veins, but the terror soon fades. It has to be him. “Ethan? Are you here?”

  He pokes his head out of the bathroom. “Yeah, babe. Hope I didn’t scare you.”

>   I fling myself into his arms and kiss his sweet lips. When we break for air, I glance over my shoulder. The decorations speak more eloquently than my fiancé usually does. Mum. “This is all very lovely. Were the flowers your idea?”

  “Your mother suggested them. The Champagne was mine.”

  So she knows you’re in my bedroom. Which means she approves.

  The psychologists consider vaginal intercourse the fundamental measure of a person’s sexual health. Without that, one simply isn’t complete. Hence the importance of surgery. Or dilation. They measure the success of their treatment, however, not in width and depth, but by my willingness to have Ethan penetrate me.

  If I hesitate—if I don’t jump into bed with him— Unthinkable. Such would mean utter failure. To everyone. Excepting perhaps me. And Melanie.

  Mum can’t hold my hand on my wedding night. But she hesitates not to push me into the deep end of the pool. Enjoy the water, sweetheart.

  Are my psychologists in on this as well?

  I capitulate, Mum. “Open the bottle, will you? I think I’d like a drink.” I slip off my heels and toss them aside.

  Ethan sits on my bed and pats the bedspread next to him. “Relax, babe. I won’t hurt you.”

  “I’m not like the other women you’ve known.”

  “But you had your surgeries.”

  “Vaginoplasty and orchiopexies. Nothing more.” Not now. Not ever.

  “So you’ve got a super-sized clit. I don’t care.”

  I’ve fathered a child. “My testes—”

  He silences me with a fingertip. “Get it through your pretty little head, Danièle—I love you. I’ll adjust to your body being different. I’m a patient man.”

  “Dr. Pierson said there was a problem with your—”

  A firm shake of his head stops me. “I read her letter. We’ll sort out the details after I see a urologist in October. What counts is Melanie’s pregnant with my baby.”

  “Ethan—” I meet his stubborn eyes before sighing my frustration. “All right.”

  With a practiced hand, Ethan unfastens the top button of my blouse. Heat rises in my chest. The two of us have never ventured beyond kisses and a bit of heavy petting, but the memories of childhood games rise like sweet magnolia blossoms.

  A gentle kiss. A brush of his hands down my sides.

  Champagne—spiced apple and fresh-baked bread tickling my nose—a hint of nuts and yeast on my palate. I savor the delay.

  Another kiss. Two more buttons. One step closer to the threshold.

  I can do this.

  Melanie

  Puffy white clouds drag their sorry reflections across the garden pond. Once in a while, some fish gobbles a bug stupid enough to fall into the water. On an old tree trunk that stretches out from the bank, a family of painted turtles enjoys the last of the evening’s rays.

  From the bay window I watch the sun set. When blue sky turns red and purple, I punch in my sister’s number. If my mother’s sick, I don’t wanna know. But I gotta find out.

  Beatrice picks up. “Melanie?”

  “Yeah. Mom there?”

  “Sure.”

  A minute passes as a couple of chipmunks gather some of the fallen acorns in the fading light. My imagination keeps wandering out into the garden, expecting to see the father of my child come walking up the path. Ethan—the dude had better be some kinda special.

  “Are you settled in?” My mother’s voice sounds chipper, like maybe she’s okay after all.

  “Hi, Mom. Yeah, I’m unpacked. You sure about this check?”

  “Would I have given you your inheritance if I didn’t trust you?”

  “No. Guess not.”

  “Well then. Ask Danièle to help you invest the money. All right?”

  “Yeah. Sure. You okay, Mom?”

  “I’m fine, honey.” One of my sister’s kids squalls in the background. “I’d better go. I promised Beatrice I’d entertain the boys.”

  “I love you, Mom.”

  I toss the phone on the bed and lean back against the window frame. My life’s here now. With Dani. The image of us standing in front of my mother’s grave sends a creepy chill down my back. Yeah. Maybe forever. Might as well be married.

  I brush a hand across my abdomen. Not much there yet. Did I really go through IVF and get myself pregnant for the girl?

  Well, yeah. I promised to have a baby when we were old enough.

  Not for Dani, though. Not her.

  As a kid, I wanted my own little one so bad that my best forever friend pretended to be a boy so she could be the father. When the doctors told Dani she couldn’t bear children, I promised to have one.

  For Daniel. His baby.

  Well, it made sense at the time.

  I shake my head and force my gaze back out the window. Moonlight has turned the garden into a wonderland of silver and midnight blue. A breeze sends ripples across the pond’s reflected stars. Jet black trees sway to some silent beat, waving their arms above it all.

  Sometime later, a fat drop of water spatters against the window and down the pane. Others join in, till a steady chorus patters syncopation on the metal roof, till my eyelids succumb to the reassuring music.

  Would you stay if Ethan left?

  Yeah, Mom.

  Movement in the garden snags my attention. The breath catches in my throat. A wraith drifts along the path beside the lake, white hair floating in the breeze, her body wrapped in stars and silver moonlight. That you, Dani? What’re you up to?

  The ghostly vision passes under the trees and comes to rest, a pale blue glow beneath sheltering arms of black. Spellbound, I perch above the garden and wait while the moon drifts across the night sky.

  The wind picks up again. Lightning flickers in the distance. The trees whisper to each other above our heads.

  A curious longing tightens my throat. Is this what I want—me and Dani alone in the garden of my imagination?

  Raindrops start their chorus again—a warm summer lullaby tapped out on the window and roof above. A branch scrapes the wall outside. Mist rises from the ground.

  Yet the apparition moves not.

  Are you nuts, girl? It’s raining.

  Lightning flashes a portrait of her seated form. Then darkness. Her after-image floats across my vision. The garden remains shades of midnight blue and dark grey.

  After a moment of indecision, I step into the hallway and ease my bedroom door shut. In the dim light I rush to the stairs and pad in silence down to the grand ballroom.

  Across the dance floor, past the support columns, beyond the kitchen, a glass wall stands between me and the outside world. Rivulets of water distort my vision of the garden. Where was the stupid door? In the darkness, I don’t remember. So I run along the wall, one hand on the glass. On the left, the barrier ends in the quiet darkness of a hallway.

  I find the garden-side entrance past the kitchen in the other direction. The security panel beside it blinks red. Wonderful. Cooper’s probably gonna shoot me when I set off the alarm.

  Eyes closed, every muscle tense, I push the door open and stumble outside into warm rain, a stiff breeze, and darkness thicker than I imagined.

  “Dani!”

  Moon and clouds above send their ghostly children dancing in blue and silver shadows across the garden. I draw in a deep breath of the moist air and shuffle my way closer to the water. With the stone pathway under my feet, I turn back toward the manor and scan the darkness for my bedroom window.

  Yeah. This way. As long as I stay on the flagstones, things should be okay. I take a step into darkness. Then two. Ankle-deep mud greets my third and steals away my balance. I teeter over a black abyss.

  In a flurry of motion, something white grabs my arm, pulls me to a stop, and holds me in its relentless grip.

  When the echoes of my scream die away, Dani nudges me toward the manor. Once inside, the girl punches a code that makes the security system happy.

  The wall sconces seem bright as daylight after
the darkness outside. Dani stands there like a statue, dripping on the tile floor. The redness in her eyes says she’d been crying—something I’ve never seen her do before. Ever. “Are you okay?”

  “Brilliant. Just brilliant.”

  “Let’s get out of here then.” Before Cooper shows up. I tug her a step toward the ballroom, but she shakes her head and leads me down the hallway to an elevator.

  When we get to my room, she pauses in the doorway. “Can I borrow a nightgown?”

  Her robe is soaking wet. I get that part right away. But her room’s just around the corner. She must have a dozen clean ones there.

  Then I notice the blood. “Yeah. Sure.”

  Well, okay. It’s only a few drops. Like what I used to get between my periods.

  I pull out one of my old nightshirts—an oversized baseball uniform top made from a soft cotton flannel. “The stains might come out if I soak your nightgown in cold water...”

  After a glance down, Dani nods. Tears fill her eyes.

  I draw her into a tight hug. “What happened?”

  “Ethan and I—we had sex.”

  You just got home. “Here?”

  Her head bobs in slow motion, like one of those little dolls. “He’s asleep now. In my bed. His snoring kept me awake, so I took a stroll in the garden.”

  “Are you in pain?”

  “Does it matter? I’m a normal woman now. Maybe they’ll leave me the bloody hell alone.”

  “Huh?”

  “Vaginal intercourse—that was always their measure of success. I did it. Now screw them.”

  Not knowing what else to do, I help Dani take off her robe. While the girl is drying her hair, I put her soiled nightgown into cold water. I strip and throw my damp clothes into the corner, then put on my own pajamas.

  Dani hugs me again. “I should go.”

  But she doesn’t. She perches on the window ledge and peers out into the night. I settle in beside her and wait till the girl turns to look at me. Guess it’s my time to be the strong one. “Dani, if I’m gonna spend the rest of my life being a nanny for you and Ethan, you need to come to me when something’s wrong.”

  Dani lets out a soft bark of laughter. “Mum thought I might need to lend you emotional support.” Tenderness floods her violet eyes, but she says nothing more.