The Midnight Dancers: A Fairy Tale Retold (31 page)

“Could you keep this conversation between us a secret?”

He looked at her, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, don’t share about it with your men’s group, or the pastor, or anyone,” she said. “I want it to just be between us. Is that okay?”

“That’s important to you?” he asked slowly.

She nodded. She hated it when the personal interactions between family members became fodder for public “sharing” with other people. “I want this to be a secret just between you and me,” she said stubbornly.

A bit of understanding came into his face. “All right, Rachel,” he said. “It’ll stay our secret.”

“Thanks,” she said, and hugged him again. As she did so, she suddenly remembered her own secret, the sisters’ secret, and flushed with shame. Because she wasn’t ready to give that up. Not yet.

Awkwardly, she kissed her father on the forehead, squeezed his hand, and said, “I’d better get back to work, if that’s all right.”

“Sure. I’m going to run out and buy this thing,” he said, and stood up as she walked out. “Thank you again, Rachel.”

“You’re welcome, Dad.”

Her face red, she closed the door, feeling a sudden need to get away from him.

Prisca returned in the afternoon with Sallie, beaming with self-importance. “Guess what?” she cried to the twins and Rachel and Melanie. “I’m actually really sick!”

   “No!” Tammy exclaimed, but Prisca nodded. She ticked off on her fingers. “I’m allergic to wheat. I’m allergic to dairy products. In addition, the doctor thinks I’m developing a glucose intolerance problem. He said it’s a good thing they caught it now, because it might turn into diabetes.”

“Oh my gosh,” Taren breathed, and then her face fell. “That means you can’t have any birthday cake.”  They had just finished the cake about half an hour ago, frosting and everything.

Prisca shrugged. “Oh, that’s okay. I’m just so relieved to find out there’s actually something wrong with me.” She laughed. “Isn’t that funny? But I knew I was always feeling sick and irritable and moody, and I never knew why, and now it turns out there was a reason.” 

Rachel shook her head, dumbfounded. “Then Paul was right,” she said. “That’s just what he guessed.”

“What?” Prisca yelped. “Is that the reason Sallie made the appointment for me?”

Sallie, who had come in from putting away her purse, nodded. “It is. Paul said something to Rachel, and Rachel talked to me. Then I talked to Paul, and your dad and I thought we should have you checked out.”

Rachel was still in wonder. “So Paul was right. He said he thought you should get some allergy tests and blood sugar tests. He wants to be a doctor himself, you know,” she added.

Prisca was impressed. “Well, you have to invite him to my birthday party as a thank you. That is truly amazing!”

Sallie reminded her, “You have to watch what you eat from now on. I’m going to get you some spelt bread from the health food store and rice cakes. Actually, maybe you should come out shopping with me and pick out food for yourself. We have to make sure you take good care of yourself so your problem doesn’t get any worse.”

Prisca waved her hands. “Sure, sure. That sounds great. Man, I am just so relieved. I can’t tell you—it’s like having a weight off my chest. I’m going to go upstairs and change.” She hurried off.

Sallie looked at the girls. “Have you already invited Paul to her birthday dinner? No? Well, make sure you do. I think we owe him a lot.”

The other girls nodded their heads in agreement. Tammy looked at Taren, “Isn’t there a recipe for a wheatless cake somewhere?”

“A wheatless cake? Is there such a thing?” Rachel asked.

“Actually,” Sallie drummed her fingers. “There is. I made it for Valentine’s Day one year. It’s made with eggs and powdered chocolate. It’s not half bad. Let me get the recipe.”

“I’ll go and tell Paul he’s invited,” Melanie pushed back her chair. “He and the girls are out swimming in the bay.”

The family birthday party was an unparalleled success. Paul joined the family for dinner, which was London broil, Prisca’s favorite. Prisca herself was radiant in the attention, unabashedly basking in it. But beside that, Rachel noted that Prisca actually seemed more peaceful. The note of tension was missing from her voice.

After dinner, Rachel and the other girls presented her with her first gift—a big basket of cards. “You can look at these on the couch while the rest of us clear the table,” Rachel said. “There’s one from everyone in the family. We each wrote a card to you describing what we like the most about you.”

“Wow! Thanks!” Prisca said, amazed, taking the beribboned basket heaped with pastel envelopes. 

“Perhaps while you do that, I could provide some background music,” Paul suggested. “I brought over my flute.”

“Yes, do,” Rachel said, and Prisca heartily agreed.

“And I’ll be doing the dishes,” Dad said, getting up from his chair.

So Paul sat on a chair perched in a convenient position between dining room and kitchen and played a soft, waffling melody while Prisca sat curled up on the couch, ripping open envelopes and reading cards. The sisters heard her giggling over some of them. But others she spent a long time over, reading slowly. Apparently, she was very touched.

Dad, who had heard about the project at the last minute, had disappeared into his study a half hour before dinner and come out with a big ivory envelope, which he added to the basket.  “Whose idea was this?” he had asked.

“Rachel’s,” Debbie had volunteered, and Dad, surprised, had beamed at his oldest daughter.

“Now that was a great idea,” he said appreciatively.

They didn’t talk much while doing the kitchen, since everyone preferred to listen to the flute music. Everyone, that is, except Jabez and Robbie, who were as boisterous as usual.  Brittany bundled them out to the garage and played monster with them until everything was done.

When Prisca finally finished the cards, her face was wet but her eyes were full of light. “I love you all!” was all she said, and gave each of them a hug. Rachel couldn’t help noticing she hesitated at hugging Dad. Instead, she said something in his ear. He smiled at her and said, “You’re very welcome,” and kissed her. Then he walked back to his office. 

Prisca sat down at the head of the table beside Rachel. “Well!” she whispered, raising her eyebrows. “You should have read what Dad wrote! Sometimes even I get surprised!”

Rachel couldn’t help grinning at the thought of how much more surprised Prisca was about to be.

About an hour later, Rachel looked out the window. The family party was winding down, and the moon was rising. Dad was sitting on the couch with Sallie, watching Prisca, who was sitting on the floor, holding the silver manicure-makeup kit like a treasure on her lap. Prisca was painting Linette’s nails pale pink. Rachel was reminded of parents watching their child open her first Christmas presents. Jabez was asleep on the couch, his fat arm thrown up over his face, his cherub mouth open in tiny breaths. The other girls were watching a video on the computer with Robbie.

Paul was packing up his flute. “I’ll say goodnight now,” he said, and went around, shaking hands and giving Prisca a hug, as she insisted.

Rachel watched the sky darken, and felt the shimmer of excitement run through her. Not too long now, and Prisca’s second party would begin. And the midnight butterfly dress was finished.

“Rachel?”

She turned, and Paul was standing there, his flute case in his hand. His dark eyes were somber.

“Good night.”

“Good night,” she said, and gave him a brief side hug, the sort that she gave publicly to male church members. Tonight she had started to like him again.

“Meet me in the herb garden before you go tonight?” he asked softly.

“All right,” she whispered back, guarded.

She wondered what was up with him as he turned and walked out.

But accordingly, she got out of bed early, before the other girls had started to get ready. “I’m going down now. I’ll see you there,” she whispered to them, disappearing into the secret stairwell.

Down in the cave, she had prepared a special toilette for herself. She brushed her hair, and using the battery lamp, applied her makeup judiciously. She had already put on black nylons and a slip upstairs. Now she slid into the midnight butterfly dress with a luxurious sigh. The satin whispered over her, and like a butterfly’s cocoon, transformed her from ordinary beauty to extraordinary splendor. The short cap sleeves curled back over her shoulders, embroidered sporadically with glass beads that winked in the light. She had appliquéd a piece of darker blue satin, cut from a stained dress-up dress, to the full black skirt so that it cut across her front in a graceful swathe, studded with more clear glass beads. The effect was like scattered dewdrops.

Eagerly she zipped up the back and strapped on her black sandals, which she had decorated for this occasion with glittering silver curlicues of fabric paint. Sadly, there was no full-length mirror to see herself in, but she knew, she could feel, the phantasmagoric change.

Like a glittering shadow she passed through the woods up to the lawn, feeling herself growing more graceful as she moved. A good dress, she thought, made you walk like a lady. It was nearly impossible to slouch.

She approached the gray mist of the herb garden, which Sallie had planted for her prayer times. Rachel found it convenient for private conversations, since you could neither see it from the house nor hear anything that was going on there—and vice versa. As she entered the garden, she heard the soft lowing of a flute once more, and knew that he was waiting.

He was sitting cross-legged on the bench, crouched over his flute. She saw he was all in black, a black half mask, black shirt, and his usual black pants and soft shoes that fit his feet. Once again, she thought of Pan, but said nothing. As she drew near, he ceased, and looked up at her. For a long moment, he did not speak. Then, he set down his instrument, got to his feet in one fluid moment, and took off his black mask. But she couldn’t see his expression in the dimness.

“You wanted to see me?” she queried, swaying her hips slightly, a tad impatient.

“Yes,” he said. “Did you make that dress, Rachel?”

She nodded. “I did.”

“It makes you look—” he began, and halted. After a second, he said, in a lower voice, “I was going to say you look beautiful, but you always look beautiful. I don’t know how to say that it’s amazingly increased your beauty without sounding trite.” He paused. “So I won’t try.”

“Do I look like the Queen of Sheba?” she couldn’t help asking.

“More beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she half-smiled, and reclined on the seat, putting one elbow on the arm of the bench. “So what do you want to tell me?”

He sat down on the ground, holding his mask in his hands. Now she saw his face was growing uneasy.

“I wanted to ask you not to go to the island tonight,” he said quietly.

“But we can’t not go,” she said. “Michael’s having a special party for Prisca.”

“I know,” his voice was low. “That’s what worries me.”

She stared at him. “You really don’t trust him, do you?”

“No, I don’t,” he said.

“Michael is a very nice man.”

“‘Nice’ is not the same thing as ‘good,’” he said.

“What’s the difference?” she said, irate. “You’re not making sense.”

“Rachel, please. I know you don’t have much of a desire to listen to me, but I just have—a bad feeling. A very bad feeling. So I wanted to ask you to try to keep the girls here tonight.”

She studied her polished nails. “I’m sorry, Paul, but that’s impossible,” she said.

He sighed deeply, as though he were in pain. “I knew you’d say that,” he said simply. “I just thought I would ask anyway.”

Perturbed, she said, “You
are
coming, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” She looked up at the moon. “I should go soon.”

“All right.” He moved, and before she realized it, he had vanished into the shadows. Amazed, she got up and turned this way and that, but he was gone.

Unsure of what to do, she said softly, “I’ll see you there.” And hurried back to the cave.

The other girls were downstairs now and dressing. “Okay, the birthday girl gets first dibs on dresses,” Tammy was saying.

“You can wear my brown tank dress,” Taren said generously.

Prisca wavered, her hand hovering over the trunk of evening dresses. Then she plunged down and brought up a cream v-neck dress with a collar and short sleeves. It had belonged to the Durham girls’ mother.

“I think I’ll wear Mom’s dress tonight,” she said.

The sisters were a bit surprised but agreed that it would look stupendous on her. Despite her flippancy with Paul, Rachel was secretly relieved that Prisca hadn’t chosen to flaunt her endowments tonight.

“Rachel, you look magnificent!” Cheryl gasped, catching sight of the dress. Rachel flushed, realizing that she would seem more dressed up than Prisca. But Prisca didn’t seem to mind.

“She is gorgeous,” the birthday girl declared, creasing the cream collar on her own dress. “Rachel, the dress suits you completely. Make sure you stay away from Michael tonight!”

There were titters all around, and Rachel said, “All right, let’s hurry it up! We don’t want to keep the guys waiting!”

After making sure that no one was dallying, she made her way down to the beach carefully (she was wearing heels tonight) to await the boats. Soon a half-dozen of the other girls joined her, including Prisca, who was preening herself in delight. When they heard the motor of a boat approaching, Prisca actually bounced up and down with anticipation.

But as the sound drew nearer, the sisters stared in dismay. Instead of three boats, there was only one, Alan’s boat.

Rachel drew close to the willows as Alan pushed his boat towards the shore and tied up.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

Alan jumped out of the boat and pushed aside the willows to get on to the beach. “Girls, I’m really, really sorry,” he said. “Taylor’s dad is having a midnight fishing expedition, and Keith and Pete’s dads are going. None of us knew about it—Pete’s dad just told him at dinner. And Keith wants to go out and do something with Rich, Pete and Taylor, and I’m supposed to join them. But I know you girls have that party tonight, so I thought I would drive the boat over for you to use.”