A Proper Young Lady (23 page)

Mrs. Welles takes a long sip of her tea. “Perhaps you should encourage her toward reality.”

You mean away from loving me.
“What does Dr. Ormond say? I don’t wanna risk hurting Dani till she’s strong enough.” 

The woman’s eyes echo the wounds of a battle lost. “He credits your relationship with Danièle for her remarkable progress.”

Then why mess with that?
“Okay. So we wait till she’s better then.” 

Blue eyes promise me trouble in the days to come.

Chapter 26

Melanie

Daniel lies nestled in my arms, peaceful as ever. The physical therapists worked his too-thin body, till his lower lip twitched in pain. But over the past two days he’s gone from sitting to standing to walking short distances.

Time was pretty weird in the ICU. Even in the guest rooms, it keeps its own pace.

The second hand on the wall clock sweeps around again.
Eight twenty-five. Morning or evening?
Memory fails me. 

Somewhere in the distance, chimes play an old carol. Or maybe it’s another ambulance rushing somebody to the hospital.

I grab my phone, and turn it on.
Tuesday, December 25. 8:26AM
 

Oh, wow. Christmas Morning.

Daniel’s angel face smiles at something in his dream. Violet eyes flutter open. He flexes his hand in a feather-light caress of my baby bump. Then he kisses me.
Guess I got what I wanted most, huh?
 

The boy’s drowsiness gives way to joy. Clouds of disappointment and pain shadow his face, though. “I was hoping I’d remember something more during the night. Tell me about our wedding.”

We’re not married.
The words form behind my lips, but the frailty in Dani’s eyes keeps me from speaking.
It’s okay to imagine—to cheer you up till you’re better. Isn’t it?
“Guess,” I say. Daniel and me—we’d have an awesome wedding. 

Concentration wrinkles the boy’s brow. Violet eyes scan the ceiling. He chews on his lower lip. Then a burst of illumination hits his face. He dips his head—the slightest nod. “We had the ceremony and the reception at Victoria Springs Manor. Out in the garden.” 

In Virginia?
“Go on.” 

“Your dress was straight out of a winterland fairytale. Mum designed the gown herself.”

A princess. I can deal with that.
“Yeah. Satin and tulle and velvet—all trimmed with feathers and fur.” 

Excitement glows in Daniel’s eyes. “You wore my grandmother’s sapphire bracelet.”

“Well, yeah. Fancy earrings, too. Like I was Cinderella or somebody.”

The boy nods certainty. “Yes. You’re the fairest of all women, even now.”

And a liar. If we keep going, you’re gonna hurt more when the truth comes out. Better to fess up now. But how do I explain without hurting you?
I turn my head away long enough for a tear to escape. “Our marriage is only pretend, Dani. Like when we were kids. Anyhow, I’m no more a proper lady than you are a man.” 

Hurt and confusion torment the girl’s eyes. With her warm hands against my bare back, she pulls me closer, till my baby bump presses hard against her abdomen.

The tension flows out of me.
Yes, the truth is better.
“You were hurt bad. I was afraid of losing you. And my heart longed for Daniel. I’m sorry.” 

“Whatever for?” She caresses the side of my belly. “I’m not entirely male. ‘Tis true. But I’ve given you for real what I promised in pretend—a loving husband, and children.” 

“But we’re not—” 

The girl seals my lips with a fingertip. “Not one more word, love. Would I have donned a top hat for our wedding if I didn’t appreciate your calling me Daniel?”

“Your father’s old top hat? The one—the one you always wore?” 

“Didn’t I tell you? I took it off before the processional. Cooper held it during the ceremony.”

“You don’t mind?”

“No. Mum—and probably Daddy as well—will always call me Danièle. All they know is the proper young lady. You love the rest of me as well.” 

I’m not gonna be the one who wakes us from this dream.

* * * *

Back at Victoria Springs—finally home again—Daniel lies still most of the night after taking his meds. I find a comfortable place for my head on his shoulder, my baby bump pressed against his side. Ignoring the bright morning rays streaming through the blinds, I cuddle tighter. 

Even the twins rest in quiet contentment now. The few times they kicked during the night brought a sleepyhead smile to Daniel’s face. And mine.

Time for the dream to end, though. I brush my lips against his—whisper soft.
Goodbye, my love.
Surely a kiss should awaken the princess.
What’s become of you, Dani?
 

Nothing at all. The accident knocked loose her inhibitions—nothing more. No longer pretending to be Danièle for them or Daniel for me. Simply the intersex Dani nobody knows. 

Even asleep she radiates serenity, as though the truth freed her from all earthly concerns. Yet she dreams of marriage to me—that she kept Daniel’s promise. My hand reaches unbidden for the locket at my throat. No way I’ll part with that yet. Or him. Not till Dani comes back. 

I swing my legs over the edge of the mattress, push myself upright, and survey the room. My dress lies draped over a high-back chair, my bra on the seat, both shoes on the floor. I was too tired to do more than grab a nightgown, slip it on, and collapse into sleep.

Such a blessing to be in my own room—well, in Dani’s anyhow—still a delight compared to sleeping in the bed at the hospital. 

After a quick shower, I browse the girl’s closet till I find one of her belted smocks. It fits as good as my maternity clothes. I grab my dress and shoes and sneak back to my own room.

Dani’s supposed to spend the morning being evaluated by physical and occupational therapists—and probably psychologists, so I snatch a book from the shelf and retreat to my favorite sanctuary—a rattan love seat in the solarium. My legs up over one armrest, I lean back into a small mountain of pillows and begin reading. 

Around ten, Jake drops by with a cart. “Top ‘o the mornin’, Miss Melanie. Care for some tea and scones? Got your favorite—cranberry-orange.” 

The babies have pressed the appetite out of my stomach, so instead of large meals, I snack all day. Scarfing a couple of warm scones with clotted cream has become a daily ritual. I grin at Jake and nod my eagerness. “May I have two?”

He fills a cup with black tea, adds milk and sugar the way I like, and hands me a plate of his delightful creations. I thank him, set my tea aside to cool, and lean back to savor my first morsel of the yummy pastry.

One hand strays to my baby bump. Motherhood still feels surreal at times, especially with Daniel—with Dani being the father. To have childhood dreams that lay dead for so long spring to life again has left me—as she might put it—gobsmacked. 

One day or an entire lifetime—I’ll be Daniel’s wife till the princess awakens, and she remembers her love for Ethan.
 

I take another bite of scone and lean back so the sunshine warms my face.

“Good morning, Melanie.”

My eyes snap open. Mrs. Welles sits in the wicker chair across from me. On her lap, she holds a journal or something.

“Ma’am.” I nod and take a long sip of tea, hoping my nerves don’t show.

“Your face was glowing just now. Did I miss some bit of good news?” Her eyes examine me, reading my emotions much the way Dani might.

Glad you’re not my real mom.

I sweep one hand across my belly and let all my love for Daniel warm my face. “Oh, just daydreaming about my babies’ father.”

Her eyes shine with the curiosity of a bird of prey. Game on, they say. “I thought you didn’t know who he was.”

I straighten up and grin. “Oh, but I do now.” One hand creeps up to Daniel’s heart. “Turns out he’s somebody I’ve loved my entire life.” Another bite of scone and clotted cream—I savor it while Mrs. Welles glares at me. “He gave me this locket when he promised to marry me.” 

Mrs. Welles moans in frustration, but anger grows on her face. “Would you hold a lovely young lady hostage to your foolish childhood dreams?”

Me? I’m the only one around this place who doesn’t.
“As you do Danièle? No. I love her more than that.” 

The woman’s anger slow-fades to pity. “Sweetheart, Danièle’s had a traumatic brain injury. She’s no more the father of your children than you are her wife. Don’t enable her delusions.”

I pick up the last fragment of scone. She won’t appreciate my talking with food in my mouth, but at the moment, I don’t much care. “Dani told me before the accident.”

“I’m sure she was only trying to comfort you.”

“She would never lie to me.
Ever.
” 

Clearly, the woman doesn’t give a flip about my opinion. Her shoulders twitch up—a proper old lady’s shrug. “Well, Melanie. Perhaps she believes it then. Her psychologist thinks her confusion springs from her desire for children and her fanciful childhood experiences with you. He says we should encourage her to embrace her gender.” 

Of course. Force her to be your version of normal.
“Why should I believe some stupid shrink over my best friend? Go ask Dr. Pierson if you don’t believe your own daughter.” 

“Indeed. Randolph spoke with her successor.” The woman slides a folded sheet of paper out of her journal and hands it to me.

I open the heavy stationary—a letter from Randolph Welles, Esq. to Theodore Welles, PhD. 

Dr. Villanova assures me that, even were it possible—which is doubtful—the clinic would never use sperm from a woman. So that much is illusory.
 

At this point, Danièle has limited options. If she marries a man before the children are born, she can keep the children. Otherwise, she must give them up for adoption or lose her share in the trust—now valued at a little over one hundred and twenty million dollars.
 

There’s more. Does it matter? I fold the letter again and hand it back—as my life bleeds out on the marble tiles. 

Not Dani’s children?
One hand flees down to my baby bump again.
Whose?
 

Anyhow, if she marries me, she loses her family and her fortune. For what?

Everybody knows Prince Charming lives happily ever after with the princess. He’s supposed to. What kind of fairytale ends with the heroine getting hitched to somebody’s ugly step-sister?

Mrs. Welles tucks the letter back into her journal. The victory in her eyes makes me want to puke. But what follows is an earnest plea. “Melanie, the best thing for my daughter—and for you as well—is to let someone adopt the babies.” 

The woman pauses. Like she didn’t just shred my heart. I might let Beatrice keep the kids, but they’ll still be forever mine.

“What I’m asking,” she says, “is that you stay in Atlanta until the children are born. Give Danièle a chance to recover without the constant distraction of childhood fantasies.”

All my life, I’ve waited for Daniel to return, only to realize I love Dani too. Would I give up my happily ever after for the girl? Do I care for her that much? Yeah. Guess so.
“You’ll tell her we’re not married?” 

“I shall.”

So that’s it. The end of all my dreams.

Before placing Daniel’s silver heart—and my crushed soul—into the woman's outstretched hand, I click open the locket and say goodbye. 

I tug at my wedding band, but it won’t budge. The emotional turmoil of the past month bursts loose somewhere deep inside. I stand, but Mrs. Welles pulls me into a hug before I can escape. She strokes my hair like I’m some upset little kid. “I’m sorry. In time you’ll forget all of this.”

Not gonna happen.
“No. I won’t. I’m carrying Dani’s children. And nobody’s gonna take them away from me.”
I’ll never see Dani again, though. Especially if she marries that creep.
 

Chapter 27

Danièle

Cold soothes and calms my throbbing side. I lean back in the recliner and close my eyes. Three hours of therapy—speech, occupational, and physical—have left me exhausted and sore. Amazing what two weeks in a coma does to a body. 

One of the therapists helps me move to my wheelchair and pushes me as far as one of the tables near the garden-side windows in the kitchen.

Jake brings me a fresh pot of tea there. “Would you like anything else, Miss Danièle?”

“Thank you. No. Have you seen Melanie?”

A deep sadness darkens the old man’s face, but he shakes his head. “She and your mother were in the solarium an hour ago.”

Outside, the uppermost tree limbs sway in the breeze. I sip at my tea and struggle to remember my life.

Ethan realized the babies weren’t his and sent Melanie away. Halloween—or thereabouts. Early in December I got into a motorcycle wreck. A mournful sigh shakes me at the thought of my lovely bike ruined. 

“May I?” Mum pulls out the chair across from me.

“Certainly.”

As she sits, my mother lays a silver locket and chain on the table.

My heart stops beating. “What did you do to her?”

Mum reaches for my hand, but I snatch it away, unable to bear any human touch—especially hers. My mother’s eyes flash with anger, but only for an instant. “Melanie loves you, sweetheart. Enough to acquiesce to the foolishness resulting from your head injury. But you’re out of the hospital now.” 

I reach for the locket, but Mum denies me even that comfort.

A faint hope still encircles my finger. And Melanie’s. “And what of the rings?”

“Ethan says he asked you to pick out one. Perhaps you wished to give him a choice.”

A fragment of memory swirls—like a crimson leaf in the breeze—and falls into a pile with the rest of my mental detritus. He called and apologized. But my heart refuses to let go of Melanie. To believe our relationship a mirage. “I love her, Mum.” 

“Of course you do, sweetheart. But you must let her go. She has duties that call her back to Georgia.”