A Proper Young Lady (7 page)

She cranes her neck, like the answer’s written across the sky or something. “Yes. And sunscreen.”

“Great. Suit up. We’ll grab lunch somewhere and head to the beach. Okay?”

“Sure.”

Two towels, extra sunscreen, bottled water—I stick that and Dani’s handbag into my backpack and hand the bundle to Dani. 

Our first pass around the block is to see what kind of passenger the girl makes and find out how Tommy’s motorcycle handles the extra weight. Dunno what I expected, but his bike’s pretty lame. We aren’t gonna be drag racing anybody. Dani, however, musta been born on a motorcycle—her balance is perfect. 

We stop at a little seafood joint along the way—the only place I know that serves conch fritters. Our helmets draw a few odd looks, but the fried shrimp and other stuff taste yummy. 

On the way out of the restaurant, Dani gives me puppy eyes. Let me drive, they plead.

“On the way back, okay? Let’s see what traffic’s like.”

Even without a passenger, taking a dirt bike on South Dixie Highway would be nuts. No way we’re going to Miami Beach or Crandon Park. Matheson Hammock, then.

We spend the next half hour exploring the two lane drives leading south and east toward the park. Shade trees stand guard over most of the neighborhood streets. Outstretched limbs join above the pavement.

I park the bike, and we find a spot on the white sandy beach surrounding the atoll pool. There, I strip off my T-shirt and jeans and slather another coat of sunscreen across my freckled skin. “You gonna go swimming?”

“Wading.” She gathers her hair up under the old floppy hat I loaned her.

“If you meet a crocodile, don’t harass him. They’re protected.”

She grins like she thinks I’m kidding. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The girl sports a two-piece navy blue swimsuit—a cute halter top with a miniskirt bottom. Even with her hair all tucked up under her hat, her demeanor suggests a model waiting for her photographer to arrive. Dani’s boyish figure has given way to feminine curves. Why does that bother me? Isn’t that supposed to happen to girls—even some intersex ones? 

Well, yeah. Her body converts a little of her testosterone to estrogen. And the girl’s got plenty of testosterone.

I roll over and let my back absorb some rays. Warm grows too hot fast. I get up and shield my eyes. Not a cloud in the blue sky. Beads of sweat leave tiny salt trails across my skin.

When Dani returns, I wade out into the cool water. Bright reflections off the surface whisper their warning—a reminder of how little exposure will burn me. I wander back to shore and don my T-shirt and jeans again. Enough sun for one day. 

“Are we leaving?” Dani brightens at the prospect. Her face expresses no regret as she dresses and packs away our towels. She grins when she hands me the backpack.

Yeah. Your turn.
“Mind if we drive past the Biltmore Hotel?” 

“Not at all. Why?”

“Mom and I always dreamed of staying there. I don’t think we ever will now.”

Out of the park, we turn north on Old Cutler Road. Heavy traffic, no passing—not the greatest place for small motorcycles. I signal Dani to take the first left. Hammock Lakes Drive cuts through to Southwest 52nd Avenue. Much safer—the few impatient drivers we encounter zip right on by us. 

After a few miles, we turn left on South Alhambra Circle. The speed limit drops to twenty-five, but it isn’t like we’re in any hurry. A lazy drive takes us to Ponce De Leon Boulevard. I wave as we zip past Dr. Pierson’s house on our way up Granada. By that time, Dani has demonstrated her ability to handle traffic. The girl drives better than I do.

The tower on the Biltmore rises in the distance as we turn on Anastasia Avenue. I motion for Dani to turn on Columbus Boulevard and park on the grass beside the street.

The girl pulls off her helmet and sets it on the tank in front of her. “Shall we take a tour?”

“No.” I slide off the bike and stroll closer to Anastasia. “What a wondrous sight. A palace hidden away in Coral Gables.”

“Why not go inside?”

“Not all covered in sand and sweat.”

“We can come back.”

“Maybe someday.” I force my gaze away and leave the dream behind. Time to go home.

We head back down Granada. Traffic picks up as we approach the light at Blue Road.

A few blocks further on, the presence of danger sends a cold tremor down my sweating back. I twist my neck around like an owl searching for prey. Nothing at all behind us. Trees line both sides of the street. No threat anywhere. Except the car approaching on Granada. Half a block away. Yeah. Gotcha, Miami-Dade. I peek around Dani to check her speed.

Oblivious to the cop, Dani rolls the stop sign. Doesn’t everybody? The cruiser passes through the intersection before flashing his blue lights.

My arms spasm and I scream at Dani, “Park!” The police might leave us alone if they think we’re students.

As soon as the motorcycle stops, I slide off the back, put down the kickstand, and pull Dani from the bike. The girl yanks off her helmet. “What are you—” 

“Cops!” I hang my helmet on one of the rearview mirrors and climb on the motorcycle again.

The officer pulls up close to us and gets out. “License and registration, please.”

I step between Dani and the woman to hand her my license and a copy of Tommy’s registration. “Here you go, ma’am.”

Confusion flashes across the officer’s brown eyes, but she takes my papers. Then the woman gestures at Dani and waits while the girl scrounges through her handbag.

“This is all I have,” she says, and hands the officer a US passport.

“No license?”

“No, ma’am. Not yet.”

The officer grunts exasperation and aims a finger at me. “In the passenger side.” Her eyes track me as I walk around the vehicle and open the door. She speaks with Dani for a few minutes and hands the girl something before joining me in the car. “Do you know how many kids your age I’ve scraped off the pavement?”

“No, ma’am.”

“You understand what you did wrong?”

“I rolled a stop sign.”

She taps her dash-cam. “Your friend was operating a motor vehicle without a license.”

Outside, beyond the officer, Dani stands beside Tommy’s motorcycle. Hollow eyes stare back at me. My hand creeps up to the locket at my throat. I’ve gotten the girl in trouble again. “Are you gonna bust her?”

“She could face six months in jail and a $500 fine. Take her home and see she doesn’t drive again.”

“We can leave now?”

“Don’t ever try to deceive a police officer. You hear me, young lady?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re free to go.”

Chapter 8

Danièle

I’m dead. Mum’s bound to find out.
I set Melanie’s helmet on her dresser and lie on the bed. My phone rings even as I hook it to the charger. 

Randy? How’d you find out so soon?
I thumb the accept button. 

“Hi, Uncle Randolph.”

“You at Melanie’s place?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes with your surrogacy agreement.”

“Do you—” No point in finishing my question—he’s already gone. 

In a panic, I throw off my T-shirt and jeans, and grab a dress from the closet. My hair will have to do—no time to brush it out if I want to apply makeup. Seconds before I finish dressing, Randy’s black BMW pulls into the driveway, and he steps out of the car. 

I thump on the bathroom door. “My uncle’s here. He’s got our contract.”

“Woot! I’ll be right out.”

Randy sits at the kitchen table and drums his fingers until Melanie finishes dressing. As soon as she settles into the chair across from me, he faces her. “I represent Danièle in this matter. You should have your family’s attorney review the document before you sign anything.”

She nods, but her eyes say it’ll never happen.

My uncle pulls a manila folder from his briefcase and lays it open on the table. “I’ve drawn up a Preplanned Adoption Agreement for you and Melanie.”

“Not Ethan?”

“No. If the engagement fails to result in a marriage, he has no rights under this contract.” Randy plans for any eventuality, but at times he borders on paranoid.

My uncle sets a copy of the document in front of each of us. “Keep in mind that Virginia won’t recognize a surrogacy contract between two single women.”

“But Ethan and I will be married before the child’s born.”

My uncle’s eyes brook no disagreement. “I practice law here in Miami. You and Melanie will return to Florida a month before her due date and we’ll see this properly finished.”

Melanie glances at me and shrugs.

I nod acquiescence. “Yes, sir.”

He points to the first paragraph. “Florida law requires the adoption be reviewed and approved by the court. We’ll take care of that when you get back.”

“State law dictates that the mother be allowed to rescind the agreement any time prior to forty-eight hours after the birth of the child. Melanie, when you sign be sure to initial next to each of these next paragraphs.”

Melanie retrieves a pen from her tote and signs her MRF on the paper.

Randy eyes her as though she’s an unruly child. “If Danièle terminates the agreement early, the baby becomes your responsibility.”

Melanie shoots me a look of confidence and trust. “She won’t, but my sister would be happy to have another kid.”

My uncle stares at her a moment before continuing. “The trust will pay all reasonable medical and living expenses. Danièle agrees to take custody of the child regardless of any disability.”

He pulls another sheaf of papers from his briefcase. “Dr. Pierson requires that each person involved in the surrogacy provide her with access to their medical records and complete a lifestyle questionnaire. Here are your copies. I’ll overnight Ethan’s. Dr. Pierson will contact him regarding his sperm donation.”

“There are a few more details you can read later. They’re mostly included to meet the requirements of the law. Any questions?”

Melanie shakes her head. I doubt she understands all the legal jargon. I certainly don’t. But I trust Randy, and Melanie trusts me.

Might as well take my lumps now.
I pull the citation from my purse and slide it across the table. “A rather polite Miami-Dade police officer gave me this.” 

After a casual scan, he passes the form back to me. “I thought we agreed the motorbike off limits.”

“A friend of Melanie’s taught me to ride his.”

“Were you involved in an accident? Speeding? What?”

“No. We rolled a stop sign.”

“We?” My uncle blinks—an indication of dismay for his poker face. “Please tell me you weren’t carrying a passenger.” 

“Melanie and I spent the afternoon at Matheson Hammock Park. I drove us from there up to the Biltmore. The officer stopped us just north of the University of Miami.”

“All right. As soon as you return to Virginia, sign up for a state-sanctioned rider training program. Call me when you have your motorcycle license.”

“Will I need to appear in court down here?”

“No. I’ll represent you.” He slides his chair back and stands. “Anything else?”

“No, sir.”

“Then I’ll leave you two to discuss the agreement.”

I follow my uncle to his car and hug him goodbye. His BMW vanishes into the distant haze of evening while I stand on the front lawn and collect my thoughts.

Melanie pops out of the door and runs to me. “There’s a notary on Ponce. Let’s go sign this thing now.”

“You sure? The contract’s a complex document. You should have your attorney look at it.”

“Nah. I trust you, and I want your baby.”

From my earliest years, Mum and Daddy and Dr. Pierson explained my medical condition—sometimes overwhelming my young mind. 

I’m a girl with XY chromosomes, and testes in my abdomen. My vaginal canal’s too short and my clitoris too big, but I’m still female. Even with sperm, right?

“Are you okay?”

“Fine. Let’s do this.”

Signing proves surprisingly straightforward—show our IDs, sign our names, and wait for the notary to sign and stamp the documents. 

By the time we’re through, Melanie’s bouncing up and down.

Me? I pace the front yard until I’ve worked up the courage to call my fiancé.

“Ethan?”

“Hey, what a pleasant surprise. Everything all right?”

“Yes. Brilliant. They’re sending you some forms to complete for the surrogacy, and Dr. Pierson will let you know how to donate sperm.”

“Outstanding. Wish I was there to celebrate with you.”

“I do miss you so. I’m sorry I can’t have your babies myself.”

A moment passes in deadly silence. “Not your fault, babe.”

“I know. But still.”

“It doesn’t matter. I love you the way you are. Okay, babe? No more of this, now.”

“All right. I love you, too.” I drop my phone into my bag, step inside, and close the door against approaching night.

Melanie runs to hug me. I pull her head against my shoulder and press my face into her curls. “You’re the best friend a girl ever had. What would I do without you?”

Melanie

The entire week flashes by, disturbed only by lingering doubts about Ethan. What do I know about the boy? Dani wouldn’t marry a creep, would she?

This is for you, girl. Not your beau. Not anybody else. Okay, except me, so maybe my life won’t suck anymore.

A nurse comes in and draws blood. Another goes over all the stupid paperwork I did in the waiting room. She repeats half of the same questions the psychologist just asked. No wonder Dani gets all nervous around these people.

After my pelvic, I hop off the table and start getting dressed. No sweat, huh?

The nurse practitioner waves her hands. “You still have your ultrasound.” She leads me down the hallway to another room—another examining table. I lie down and force myself to relax. 

Ten minutes later, the technician arrives. “If you’ll put your feet into the stirrups and slide toward me, we’ll get started.

My heart thumps in my throat, but I do as she asks.

The lady tears open a small packet. Tommy showed me one like it the last time he tried to talk me into having sex with him. She unrolls the condom onto a long rod and squirts clear jelly along the side.