Ethan’s World

by Daphne Childress

Ethan Martin and his mother live a simple life in a small Southern town... with a twist: She makes dresses to pay the bills and he helps out as best he can.
 

Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Magical Girl Returns

Ethan is declared a magical girl!
 

The satin cupcake-print party dress was just a bit too short—Colleen had said so herself—but since it was only Niecy coming over, she figured Ethan could get away with it. The puffed sleeves and snug, shirred bodice—which emphasized his charmingly flat chest—gave the outfit a storybook sweetness. A pale pink satin sash cinched the high waist just under his ribcage, tied into a generous bow in the back that made him feel like a birthday present wrapped up in frosting and sugar.

“This dress is just awful,” the twelve year old mumbled in frustration. “I can’t believe you expect me to wear this thing.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad.” Colleen smirked. It probably was, but she wasn’t about to say that out loud. “It’s perfect given your task today, so please don’t complain or I’ll have to dock your pay.”

Since the beginning of summer Ethan had grown used to wearing a wide range of girlish clothing, from elegant ballet-inspired gowns and tea-length dresses to the most juvenile party and sundresses. But this one was the worst. Not only was it skimpy and uncomfortable, it was just plain embarrassing for anyone—girl or boy—over the age of five. He tugged at the tight elastic hugging his chest, then tugged at the short hem, then tugged at the tight sleeves.

“Seriously, Mother… I feel like an idiot.”

“You look like a doll,” his mother sang warmly. “A perfectly sweet dolly to keep company with a perfectly sweet little girl.”

He certainly felt like a doll, partly thanks to his dress, but also the wig on his head—a bleached blonde pageboy with curled ends and a pastel hairbow pinned on one side. It itched slightly where it met his scalp, but he dared not touch it for fear of raising his mother’s ire. Colleen had insisted on white lace-trimmed ankle socks and shiny patent Mary Janes, though Ethan had quietly kicked them off after a while, padding about in sock feet like the little girl he appeared to be.

The doorbell rang at precisely eight o’clock, and Ethan—well, Emily—rushed down the stairs on careful tiptoes. His petticoats swished with every step, the ruffled hem barely covering the tops of his thighs, exposing the edge of his lace-trimmed panties with every movement.

Niecy squealed in delight as she came through the door.

“Emily!” she chirped, flinging her arms around him. “You look so pretty! Like a birthday cupcake!”

Ethan giggled nervously and hugged her back, his cheeks pinking to match the bow in his wig. “Hi, Niecy. Come in!”

Behind her, Mrs. Jackson gave Ethan a bemused smile. “My goodness, Emily—that is some dress. It’s hard to believe that you’re… you know…”

“Yes, ma’am,” the cross-dressed boy squeaked. He wanted to apologize for his absurd appearance, but struggled with the words. “It’s hard for me to believe sometimes, too.”

“Well, I just want to thank you again, sweetness,” she said, her voice touched with fatigue. “I was hoping to get the day off, but they are running short-handed at the salon. I’ll be back by six, I hope.”

“Don’t you worry about a thing, Thelma,” Colleen called from the kitchen. “They’ll be just fine. Emily got so excited when you called. Niecy is in good hands.”

Ethan flinched slightly at the confident ease with which his mother used his girlish name, but Niecy was already tugging him inside.

The moment they reached the top of the stairs and stepped into Emily’s room, the little girl gasped audibly.

“Ohhhh my gosh! It’s so pretty!” she cried. “Emily, your room is almost as pretty as you are! It’s like living in a doll house!”

The cross-dressed boy winced to hear such a comparison, but he could not disagree. The walls of his new bedroom were pink and white, tastefully decorated with framed illustrations of ballerinas and vintage fashion sketches. A white canopy bed sat in the corner with a ruffled duvet and a dozen decorative pillows, and the soft carpet under their feet was so plush it made their steps soundless. An assortment of dolls and accessories decorated every available space—some were his mother’s from when she was a child, the rest gifts from his cousin Dani and his Auntie Penelope.

Ethan gave a bashful smile. “Thanks… my family fixed it up this summer. They made it… y’know… all for Emily.” He bit his lip as he suddenly realized what he said—Niecy wasn’t supposed to know he was a boy—but the little girl didn’t seem to notice.

“I love those ballerinas!” She twirled in place. “That's what I wanna be when I grow up—I wanna be a world-famous ballerina!”

Before Ethan could reply, she took off, running around the room, dancing and jumping and pointing at everything. “Look at all the dolls! So many! And that bed—oooo, so fancy! And all those pretty dresses! Omigosh!—you even got your own sewing machine? Wow, it looks like a real live princess lives here!”

She suddenly looked at Ethan, giggling like the six-year-old she was. “I know your secret!

The cross-dressed boy froze. “My secret? What secret?”

“You can’t fool me, Emily! You’re not really Emily after all!”

“I… I’m not Emily?” He reached up to check his wig. “Wha-… what do you mean?”

“You’re not just any ol’ Emily,” Niecy squealed. “You’re actually a princess! You’re Princess Emily, the Magical Girl!”

Ethan let loose a sigh of relief. For a moment he thought he’d given himself away. Trying to maintain composure, he guided the little giggling child to the little play table near the sewing station and sat down carefully, knees bent and tucked to one side as Colleen taught him. The silky layers of his party dress rustled as he adjusted his posture, and he felt a chill where the short hem didn’t quite meet the tops of his thighs.

“I made you something,” Ethan said shyly, reaching under the table and producing a sparkly pink and white gift bag. “It’s kind of a late birthday or early Christmas present… whatever. I really hope you like it.”

Niecy gasped, pulling out an old-fashioned-style rag doll with dark brown cloth for skin, black yarn for hair and eyelashes, and pink embroidered lips in the shape of a puckered smile. It was adorned in a pink ballet costume with real chiffon for the tutu and actual satin slippers.

“Is it okay? I know it’s not fancy like the ones you see in the store, but…”

“Omigosh! Emily! You made this?”

Ethan bit his lip. “Well, yeah, I found a pattern and got the material together and… I tried to make it look—”

“She’s just like me!” Niecy squealed, hugging the doll tight. “I always wanted a ballerina doll! And now I got one that looks just like me! She’s got skin like me, and hair like me and my lips and—”

The little girl paused and stared at the doll’s eyes, which had been carefully embroidered with iridescent green floss—

“Omigosh! She’s even got eyes like me!” She looked up at Ethan with an expression of pure wonder. “I never seen that before! Mama always says ‘You got pretty eyes, Niecy’ but I never get to see'em ‘less I look in the mirror… and now I got a dolly with my eyes!”

Ethan cleared his throat. “I thought you might like that,” he murmured.

“I love it so much!” Niecy jumped up and down, she was so excited. “This is better than some old doll in the store! Way better ‘cause you made her ‘specially for me! Oh, thank you, Emily! Thank you, thank you ever so much!”

“There’s, um… more.” Ethan—Emily—blushed furiously, the praise as warm as the hem of his dress rode up his thighs. He pulled another bag from beneath the sewing table, doing his best to ignore the rustling sound of his petticoats as he shifted. “I put together some clothes for her, too. She can be a ballerina or a doctor or a cheerleader or go to school….”

He carefully laid out a small wardrobe across the child-sized table: a set of mint green medical scrubs and a white doctor’s jacket, a blue and yellow cheerleader outfit with a flippy pleated skirt, a gingham jumper with a daisy pin and matching hairbow, and several other outfits, all made by his hand with scraps from his mother’s sewing projects.

Niecy’s eyes grew wide. “You made all these, too? For me? Gosh, Emily, I can’t believe you actually made all of these clothes just for me and my new dolly!”

Ethan beamed despite himself, cheeks hot with both embarrassment and pride.

“Oh, Emily! You really are a magical girl!” Niecy declared. “A real live MAGICAL GIRL!” she squealed.

Ethan winced at the silly, childish words, but he smiled anyway. The joy on Niecy’s face was genuine, and besides, it wasn’t like he could just not use the sewing machine now. Over the summer it had become part of his identity, somewhere between obligation and unexpected talent. His mother always said: “If you’re going to wear dresses, you may as well know how to stitch a hem.”

“I wasn’t wearing dresses until you tricked me into it,” he’d replied.

“That’s not how I remember it,” Colleen said with a crooked smile. “But whatever.”

And so, the two “girls” spent the major part of their morning playing dolls together. Ethan helped Niecy undress her doll and try on all of the other outfits, showing her all of the little details he’d sewn into them, the buttons and pleats and pockets—for secrets—and changed out her shoes and slippers. He then braided the doll’s hair so it looked like Niecy’s, helped decorate it with ribbons and bows. He looked like a big sister hosting a very glamorous birthday party. He felt foolish—imagine a twelve year old boy (almost a teenager!) playing such a silly game, especially while wearing that frilly, cupcake-print confection with matching bows in his blonde wig and white lace-trimmed ankle socks—but his childish appearance and performance sold the illusion.

I’m just glad Dani’s not here to give me a hard time, he mused as he watched Niecy fuss over her gifts. His thoughts drifted to the worst of the worst—What if Samuel Torres saw me like this?—and a sick feeling hit him in the stomach.

I’ve got to stop thinking about things like that, he told himself. This is who I am now, I guess—worrying about guys like him doesn’t do any good.

Lunchtime came and Colleen called for them to come downstairs. Niecy happily watched as Emily played hostess, serving up homemade chicken noodle soup, little peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, fruit cocktail with whipped cream and tiny cupcakes with a variety of pastel-colored frostings.

“This is like a fairy tale lunch!” Niecy declared. She reached over and pretended to give her new doll a bite of her sandwich. “I love coming to visit you, Emily!”

Ethan smiled. “And I love it when you come visit me,” he replied.

At one point Niecy asked curiously, “Emily, how come your voice is different sometimes?”

The surprised boy looked at his mother, but instead of coming to his rescue she added to his distress.

“Gosh, Niecy, I noticed that, too. Tell us, Emily, how come your voice is like that? You almost sound like a boy. Don’t you think she sounds like a boy, Niecy?”

The little girl giggled. “She does sometimes. But that’s silly, Mrs. Emily’s Mom. Boys can’t look as pretty as Emily!”

“Well, I don’t know. She sure talks like a boy.” Colleen smirked. “Sometimes she even acts like one. Don’t you think she acts like a boy sometimes, sweetie?”

Ethan’s face reddened as the two females studied him with curiosity.

Niecy bobbed her head from left to right, nibbling on her sandwich, thinking. All of a sudden she giggled. “Emily can’t be a boy, Mrs. Emily’s Mom. Mama and I don’t like boys—they’re all mean and stinky and cause nothing but trouble. Emily don’t do none of those things.”

“Oh, I don’t knooow.” Colleen stretched out the word, playful, full of mischief, her eyebrow raised. “I still think she sounds like a boy.”

“Oh. Um… I had a little cold,” Ethan said with a weak smile. “But I feel better now.”

Niecy nodded, thinking over his explanation. “Oh well, okay then. As long as you’re feeling better.”

Colleen didn’t let him off that easily. “Are you sure you’re all right, sweetheart? Maybe we need to take you to the doctor. What do you think, Niecy? Do you think maybe we ought to take Emily to the doctor?”

The little girl made a frowny face. “I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t want Emily to get sick.”

“Oh, you don’t want Emily to get sick? That’s so lovely.” Colleen said in complete seriousness.

“Well, sure! Emily is my best friend and I don’t want her getting sick! If she gets sick and dies, who’s going to take care of me? I don’t want to have to train a new babysitter!”

Colleen nodded, very businesslike. “Well, we can’t have that! Training new babysitters is hard work.”

Niecy nodded. “You got that right! Come on, Emily—let’s get you to the doctor!”

Ethan shot a dour look at his mother, who in turn raised an eyebrow as if to say, How are you going to handle this one, dear heart? The bewildered boy blinked, then turned his attention back to the little girl.

“I’m not sick anymore, Niecy.” He made sure to use his best Emily voice as he spoke. He took her hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I promise. I’ll always be here to take care of you. Don’t you ever worry about that, okay? I’m always going to be around, just for you.”

Niecy grinned. “I sure hope so, Emily. You’re the best babysitter in the whole wide world!”

The cross-dressed boy gave a sigh. He then thought about what he’d just promised. When he glanced back at his mother she merely smiled at him and shrugged.

After cleaning up the kitchen, Ethan headed toward the stairs with Niecy.

“Have fun, you two,” Colleen called out. “And Emily, since you have company you don’t have to take your afternoon nap. Niecy, let me know if she gets grumpy, okay? If she does, we’ll have to put her to bed.”

“I sure will, Mrs. Emily’s Mom!” The little girl giggled. “You heard your mommy, Emily. Don’t you get grumpy, else you got to take a nap!”

Ethan shot his mother a scowl. “Thanks a lot, Mother,” he grumbled.

“You’re most welcome, Magical Girl Emily.” Colleen blew her son a kiss and smiled.

The two children resumed playing dolls for a while. Ethan got down a couple of his mother’s old Barbies and the Susie Homemaker Dani had given him, along with some of Susie’s homemaking accessories. Niecy supervised as he pretended to make Susie vacuum the rug and the Barbies iron and fold some of the doll clothes he’d made. It was all silly fun and he didn’t mind so much until—

The doorbell rang. Then it came—the distinct voice of Penelope Whitaker.

“Yoo-hoo! Anybody home? It’s me, my darlings, your Auntie Penelope!”

Ethan’s stomach dropped. “Oh no. Not her… not now!”

Colleen’s voice rang out. “Go on up, Penelope! The girls are in Emily’s bedroom.”

Moments later, Auntie Penelope’s head poked around the door. She took in the scene—Ethan in the childish dress and cross-legged on the floor beside a giddy little girl—and her eyes sparkled with delight.

“Well, well, what have we here?” she cooed. “Our little housewife and her charming guest?”

“Hi, Auntie Penelope,” Ethan said meekly.

“Hi, Auntie Penelope!” Niecy chirped, though she had never met the woman.

“My, but you’re a polite little lady,” Penelope said approvingly. She turned to Ethan. “Have you two been playing dolls like good little girls?”

“Yes, Auntie,” Ethan replied, almost automatically.

Niecy giggled and echoed her babysitter’s reply: “Yes, Auntie!”

“You must be Niecy. I’ve heard so much about you, and it’s all true.” She grinned. “And what a delightful little girl you are today, Emily. That cupcake print suits you perfectly—frosted and sugar-sweet, just like you.”

Ethan flushed—Niecy giggled. “Mother picked it out,” he mumbled.

“I know she did.” Penelope winked. “She has excellent taste.”

“Auntie Penelope! Auntie Penelope!” Niecy exclaimed, because that’s what six-year-olds do. “Emily made me a dolly! She even made all these clothes for her! She’s amazing!”

Penelope winked. “Yes, she is. I always say my niece Emily has the sweetest heart. And you’re very sweet, too.”

“You’re sweet, too! I’m sweet and Emily’s sweet! Everybody’s sweet!” Niecy jumped up and gave the old woman an enthusiastic hug. ”Wow, I never had an Auntie Penelope before!”

“And I never had a niece named Niecy!” Penelope gave the giggling girl a kiss on the forehead.

“Come and watch us play, Auntie Penelope!” Niecy grabbed her by the hand and led her to where Ethan was pretending to brush the hair on the rag doll. ”See the dolly Emily made for me? Isn’t she pretty?”

“She certainly is, sweetheart. Emily did such a fine job on her, too, didn’t she?” The old woman gave Ethan an approving nod and a wink. ”Have you named her yet, darling? A dolly that pretty needs a pretty name, don’t you think?”

“I think you’re right, Auntie Penelope.” Niecy pursed her lips, tapping her chin with her finger. “Well, Emily made her to look like me, sooo... I’m gonna call her—Li’l Niecy!” She looked at Ethan, her green eyes glowing with excitement. “Is that okay, Emily?”

Ethan smiled. “I think that’s a good name for her. Li’l Niecy—yes, that’s just perfect.”

“You hear that, Li’l Niecy? That’s your name now, Li’l Niecy!” The six-year-old jumped up and down and giggled with joy while Ethan and Penelope laughed. “Li’l Niecy! Li’l Niecy! Li’l Niecy!”

To Ethan’s dismay, Penelope settled in her seat and insisted that the two “girls” carry on. “Don’t mind me, darlings. I’m just having fun watching you have fun.”

The cross-dressed boy squirmed as his aunt watched him play dolls like the little girl he appeared to be. He changed out clothes on one of the Barbies, showed Niecy his Adeline doll—”She’s not for playing,” he explained solemnly, “but caring for”—and made Susie Homemaker fix a pretend-lunch for Li’l Niecy. All along he fidgeted and twitched in his childish outfit—his puffed sleeves itched slightly, and the short hem of the dress felt like a mocking reminder of his predicament. But Niecy’s joy was so infectious, he couldn’t help but keep smiling—even when Penelope took out her phone and snapped several pictures.

“Say sugarplum fairies!” she chimed. Ethan sighed, but he joined Niecy in making several poses, some with the dolls, some just the two of them, hugging and kissing and dancing about while singing silly songs. He had no doubt that Penelope would be making a full and detailed report on Emily’s activities to his mother, complete with a slide show. He felt beyond humbled, acting out the role of a child so much younger than his twelve years, but he decided to just give up and give in and live for the moment.

 

* * *
 

Before long it was time for supper. The “girls” followed Penelope downstairs where they dined on meatloaf, a grilled vegetable medley, roasted potatoes and a homemade four-layer lemon cake with icing for dessert. Penelope, of course, had seconds of everything, including the lemon cake. Ethan wanted a second piece himself, but Colleen denied his request.

“We don’t want Emily getting chubby,” she told a delighted Niecy.

“Yeah, we don’t want Emily getting chubby,” the little girl said, covering her mouth, laughing. “Chubby Emily might not fit into her dresses,” she whispered loud enough to be heard next door.

Penelope hooted and Colleen smirked. Ethan just sat and stewed, having been one-upped by a child half his age.

After supper, Niecy insisted on following Ethan as he cleaned up, imitating him at every step, carrying dishes and silverware to the sink and putting things in the refrigerator—she even asked if she could wear an apron “like Emily,” declaring: “Aprons give magical girls their magic powers!”

Colleen and Penelope exchanged grins to see the two best friends prattle about the kitchen, clearing the table and doing the dishes together; Ethan scowled at them when he could, taking care to not let Niecy see. Frustrated as he was with his elders, he had to admit to himself that it was almost fun playing house with this remarkable child, and he began to wonder if he was actually turning into a magical girl.

 

* * *
 

Shortly after six the doorbell rang, and Mrs. Jackson was back to pick up her daughter. Ethan gathered up Niecy’s new doll and the doll clothes he made, and he put them in a little tote bag his mother had donated to the project. The two women—Colleen and Penelope—spoke with Niecy’s mother in the hallway while the little girl hugged Ethan tightly.

“I got to go home now, Emily,” the little girl said, eyes glistening. “But don’t be sad. I’ll be back again, I promise!”

Ethan wiped away her tears and said: “You can come over whenever you like, sweetie. You’re always welcome.”

Niecy looked up into his eyes and squeezed him as hard as she could. ”I love my new dolly, Emily,” she whispered shyly, her expression earnest. “And I love you.”

Ethan’s breath caught. As she kissed his cheek he blinked back a sudden rush of warmth behind his eyes. “I love you, too, sweetheart,” he whispered, brushing a hand through her curls. “Next time you come over we’ll come up with something cute for you to wear, just like we did for Li’l Niecy. We’ll make you a dress just as pretty as hers.”

Niecy pressed her nose against his, her shiny green eyes looking deep into his own. “Promise?”

“Promise,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and quivering.

Mrs. Jackson approached the two with a strange smile on her face… quiet astonishment, perhaps… or something else—gratitude? Maybe even… love?

“Hello, baby girl,” she said to Niecy, who ran to her. “Did you have fun with Emily today?”

“Oh yes! She’s so nice and she gave me a new dolly and made clothes for her and everything!” She held up her new treasures, her excitement bubbling over. “See? She looks just like me! I’m calling her Li’l Niecy!”

“Ooo, I like that,” Colleen said. “That’s the perfect name for the perfect doll for the perfect little girl.”

Niecy giggled. She cradled her doll in her arms like a baby and kissed it. “You hear that, Li’l Niecy? You’re perfect! Everybody’s perfect! This is a perfect day!”

Everyone—including Ethan—laughed as Niecy danced around the room with her new doll, as happy as a child could be.

Thelma Jackson looked over at Ethan—at Emily—and smiled with soft, maternal warmth. “You’re a sweet one, aren’t you?” She then pulled him close, hugging him tight. “You’ve done so much for us, Ethan,” she whispered. “Thank you for making my little girl’s day… her life… so special.”

The cross-dressed boy was caught off guard by the kiss planted on his cheek. He noticed that her eyes were wet, which worried him.

“It was my pleasure, Mrs. Jackson,” he said softly. “Niecy is fun to babysit.”

He bit his lip and waved goodbye as they left.

 

* * *
 

Ethan sat on the ottoman, still wearing the cupcake-print dress with its infuriating puffed sleeves and that silly short hem that barely covered the tops of his thighs. He held the blonde wig in his hands, playing with the curls and plucking at the satin bow attached at the top. His frilly petticoats tickled his skin every time he shifted, and the snug bodice and flouncy skirt still clung faintly to the warmth of Niecy’s earlier hug. His ankle socks were still on his feet, with their lace trim curling around the edge. The worst part was how his panties had ridden up his crack, but he didn’t dare adjust himself for fear of giving his elders something else to tease him about.

His mother and Auntie Penelope sat comfortably in the nearby reading chairs, cups of tea in hand, smiling in that same indulgent, knowing way that made him nervous.

“You looked so darling with Niecy,” Colleen said gently. “You really made her day.”

Auntie Penelope raised an eyebrow. “And what about your day, young lady? Did you have fun, too?”

Ethan fidgeted. “I mean… it was fine, I guess. Niecy is a good kid. Sweet. You know.”

“Oh, I know, baby,” Colleen added, folding one leg over the other with graceful ease. “She adores you. And I can’t imagine she’d have such a lovely time with just plain old Ethan.”

He tried to object, but Penelope interrupted, raising her hand and pointing at his posture. “Emily, back straight, knees together. You’re still in a dress, remember?”

The reminder sent a fresh rush of heat into his cheeks. With a sigh, he smoothed his skirt and sat up straighter, knees pressed awkwardly together, socked feet pigeon-toed; even with his boyish hair exposed he looked like an oversized porcelain doll.

“Yes, Auntie. Thank you, Auntie.”

“Better,” the old woman murmured, sipping her tea. “Now tell us—do you really like playing with dolls, Emily? Don’t you dare deny it—I have the pictures to prove it!” she added, chuckling.

“Auntie!” Ethan wanted to fuss, but he hesitated, lowering his gaze. “Well… I don’t like it, exactly. I just… you know, Niecy likes it. And I like making her happy. She’s fun, and it’s just easier to go along with her sometimes.”

A moment of silence.

Then Colleen smiled and said, “That’s very mature of you, sweetie.”

“You’re a very kind girl,” added Auntie Penelope, eyes twinkling. “And you were so generous with your skills, making that ragdoll and all of those little dresses and costumes for her. I was very impressed. You’ve got so much talent, darling. You really do.”

Colleen smiled proudly. “She really does.”

Ethan blushed harder. “I was just helping…”

His mother’s voice took on a teasing lilt. “You know, darling, you looked every bit the doting big sister. Honestly, it’s hard to imagine you as a grubby little boy anymore.”

“I’m not grubby!” Ethan huffed, only to realize he was pouting like… well, like a girl. His legs suddenly felt exposed and he instinctively pulled down the hem of that silly dress.

Auntie Penelope giggled softly. “So refined! So precious!”

“So radiant,” Colleen said sweetly.

“Mom, please. There's that word again.” He looked between the two women helplessly, unsure what else to say.

Then Colleen grew quiet for a moment. “Sweetheart, I want you to know something. All the teasing aside… you did something really good today.”

Ethan glanced up.

“It wasn’t just the babysitting,” she continued. “You made Niecy feel loved and seen. Her mother, too. And that’s why your Auntie Penelope did what she did.”

The cross-dressed boy’s eyes narrowed. “What, um, did you do, Auntie?”

Penelope gave a little shrug. “Well, I spoke with Niecy’s mother while you two were saying good-bye. I own some rental property not far from here and I had a vacancy, a very nice place, actually, just been renovated and completely furnished. So I asked if she’d like it. She’d be my building manager, you know, to watch over things for me, so there'll be no rental fee, of course.”

Ethan looked at his adopted aunt with surprise.

“Close your mouth, Emily,” his mother teased. “You’ll let a fly in.”

He shot her an annoyed look, rolling his eyes. He then turned his attention back to Penelope.

“You mean, they can move out of that neighborhood… and she won’t have to pay?—” She gave a little nod, and he felt a flutter in his chest. “Wow. That’s very nice of you, Auntie. I didn’t know you had anything like that.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, sweetheart.” The old woman smiled. “Anyway, they’re headed over there now to take a look. It’s closer to Hudson Private Academy, which is a very good school, you know.”

Ethan nodded. “Okay…”

“So, while I was at it, I talked to my friend Dora—you know, Mrs. Vanderpool—she’s the chair of the academy board. They’re offering a scholarship to Niecy to attend school there. And she’s also invited Mrs. Jackson to come in for a job interview. Steady hours, benefits, that kind of thing.

Colleen cleared her throat. “Tell Emily what else you did, Auntie Penlope.”

Penelope huffed. “Well, since you insist… I also made some phone calls… Niecy doesn’t know it yet, but she’s going to take ballet lessons from Mrs. Cranston and piano lessons with Mrs. Gilkey. They’ve got donor money for these kinds of situations so it won’t cost anybody anything.”

Ethan blinked in astonishment.

“You did all that for Niecy and her mom?” he asked faintly.

“No, you did it all, Emily.” Penelope said. “My friends and I are just helpers. You inspired it, darling. You talked so much about that little girl—how sweet she was, how much you wanted to do something special for her. And when I heard about how you were working so hard on that beautiful little doll… that was the tipping point.”

“It is a beautiful doll,” Colleen quietly commented. “The craftsmanship is superb. Not that I’m prejudiced, of course.”

Ethan lowered his gaze again, cheeks warm and flushed, but now for a different reason. He processed all that he’d just heard, nodding his head.

“Thank you, Auntie.” he said softly. “That’s… that’s really nice.”

“Really, Emily? Is that how we talk to our elders?” The old woman had a gleam of mischief in her eyes.

“Sorry, Auntie Penelope.” Ethan sighed. He stood up and did a perfect curtsy, which felt odd given the skimpiness of his little-girl frock. “Thank you, Auntie Penelope.”

“That’s my girl.” Penelope beckoned for the blushing boy to lean closer. She gently brushed his hair—his real hair, for once—away from his eyes, then gave him a warm kiss on his forehead.

“I want you to know I did those things because of the girl I see right here,” she said. “She is thoughtful and creative and full of love. Even if she is a little boy once in a while.”

Ethan sat back down, unsure whether to feel proud or embarrassed—or both.

Colleen leaned closer. “Isn’t it funny, sweetheart? You’ve done some of your kindest, bravest things while wearing dresses and bows.”

Ethan squirmed. “Mother…”

“And I know, I know,” she said lightly. “You still see yourself as my boy. But from where I’m sitting, Emily’s made quite a mark.”

He didn’t answer. The hem of his dress fluttered around his thighs as he shifted, and he caught a glimpse of the pastel panties beneath. Too frilly. Too childish. And yet… somehow, it didn’t feel so awful.

After a quiet moment, Auntie Penelope leaned in and tapped a manicured finger to his nose.

“You know what I think, poppet?” she said sweetly. “You’re a better boy when you’re being a girl.”

Ethan gave a soft little sigh, somewhere between a groan and a giggle.

“Maybe,” he whispered.

The three of them sat together in the parlor as the evening light dimmed, the scent of tea and lemon cake still lingering in the air. Somewhere on the other side of the house, a brace of sewing machines waited patiently for their next project, and in a pink and white room upstairs a thousand more memories waited to be discovered.

This was a strange day, Ethan thought as he leaned against his mother’s shoulder. And I suppose there will be more.

 

Next up, Jolie’s Little Adventure