Chapter 8

Annie Dates a Boy

Sunday July 19

Last night, I dreamed that I went home. I unpacked all my Annie clothes into a closet and dresser that just contained more Annie clothes. I went to the bathroom, looked in the mirror, admired my long hair, and pulled it back into a pony tail, tying it with a blue ribbon that matched my nails. I sat down to use the pot. There was no external plumbing between my legs. I adjusted my bra, and felt the weight of my own breasts move within it. When I left the bathroom, I noticed that my home was now the Holding house, and the banner in the living room said, "Welcome back, Sarah and Annie." Sarah was wearing shorts, showing off two real legs. Julie was there, too, but she seemed to belong to my parents now. It was as if all this were just an apprenticeship, and I had passed–I was now Annie for good. And in the dream, that seemed okay.

I figured all along that I would go to church with my parents today. That's just something our family does. And I was looking forward to seeing Rev. McGrail again–her first name's Barbara, by the way. Sarah woke up feeling better than usual, so she decided to go, as well. What surprised me was that the Camerons were going, too. I was just trying to be polite when I invited them during Saturday night supper. Of course, I introduced my parents to them as my aunt and uncle, since they might meet Sarah's parents another weekend.

Sarah and I rode with mom and dad.

"I really love that outfit on you, dear," mom said to me. It was the maroon skirt and white blouse with matching trim that she had brought for me in Fort Russell. Added to it was the maroon hair band and the thin gold chain with a tiny fake ruby in it that day when I had to hide from those visitors from home. My sandals looked fine, but it bothered me a little that I didn't have matching maroon shoes. Then it bothered me that it had bothered me.

"Thanks, mom," I said. "But I don't think I'll wear it to church once we get back to Fort Russell. Hope you don't mind."

The church was accessible and the parking close to the sanctuary, so Sarah Beth used her walker. This delighted us all, and especially Rev. McGrail, who remembered that the last time Sarah visited, she was using the wheelchair. We had hugs and introductions all around, as the Camerons had joined us by that time. The sanctuary had a short pew in back to allow space for wheelchairs. Roger insisted that I sit at the end of the pew, near him. His mom just smiled and sat in the pew in front of him. Sarah sat next to me in the pew, and that was a good feeling, too.

The Camerons treated us to dinner at one of those shiny chrome and glass diners near the campus–I ordered Mexican. I don’t know which I want most–to get back to being a guy again, or to get away from Hope Haven food.

"Aunt Fran?" Sarah asked my mom while we were eating. "I was glad she preached on Ruth and Naomi today. I always loved that story, and it means more to me now. 'Where you go, I will go,' the way those two stuck together? It sort of reminds me of me and my sis here."

My mom agreed. "One thing that I thought about during the sermon is that for some people, tough times drive them apart

Monday, July 20

All my days are strange, but some are stranger than others. After breakfast, Mrs. Cameron asked me for a favor–a strange favor. "Annie, I am going to ask you something that will sound very strange. You have all the freedom in the world to say no, but please listen what I have to say first." The last time I heard such a line I ended up living as a girl for six weeks. "Have you heard of these foundations that grant special wishes to children who are seriously ill, or dying?"

"Yes," I said. "The kids go to Disneyland, or meet a famous baseball player, that sort of thing?"

"Roger isn’t doing well, I’m afraid. The doctors don’t hold out much hope for a recovery. The chemo and radiation may stop it, but it isn’t likely to. He may have a year or a little more. And he has a wish. We would both like you to be a part of it."

What was she getting at? "Roger is a really nice kid, and I’d be glad to help him, if I could."

"Do you remember Roger saying how sad he was that he didn’t have enough nerve to ask that pretty girl back home to go on a date?" she asked, staring intently at me.

"Are you asking me to help arrange a date for Roger? I’m not exactly a social butterfly, but I guess I could help," I said.

"Actually, Roger and I would like you to go on a date with Roger. A dinner date, actually, a double date with father and me." My mouth dropped open at her suggestion.

"But, I’ve only known Roger for a few days. And I care for him deeply, but a date? I…I’m going steady with someone I love very much."

"Annie, Roger and I both know that you don’t have any romantic feelings toward him, but he has a real crush on you. Haven’t you seen the way that he always wants to be around you? He hangs on your every word. You’re kind to him without being patronizing or frightened of him, and that’s so important to him right now. You don’t have to even pretend to be romantically interested in him. Just go to a nice dinner with him. It’s what he wants more than anything else–just a nice evening out with a girl who is very special to him."

"A girl who cares for him as a friend, but doesn’t love him?" I asked.

"Yes. As I said, he knows that. You don’t have to love someone to go on a dinner date and have a nice time. I’m not even asking that you kiss him. Well, maybe a peck on the cheek would be nice, but that’s not what this is about." She was pleading. I felt very uncomfortable about this. I wanted to do it for Roger’s sake, but I was still a heterosexual guy myself under all this stuff. She went on. "If you do this, we will pick up all the expenses. I’ll buy you a lovely evening outfit and a wonderful makeover, and of course, you would get to keep everything we would buy for you." I frowned and fiddled with the collar of my pink Snoopy sweatshirt. Sarah and I both came from families that had a tough time making ends meet, and I felt definitely outclassed by the wealthy lady talking to me–not that she was trying to make me uncomfortable. And a new dinner gown and a makeover didn’t have that much appeal to me. "Oh, I’m sorry," she said. "I don’t mean to imply that we think you’d do this for what it would get you."

"No, of course not," I said. I’m sorry. Really, Mrs. Cameron. I do want to help. But I need to think it over, okay?"

"Certainly, dear. I know you won’t be here that much longer, so I was thinking that next Saturday would be a good time for the dinner date. If you decide to go, that is. And it would mean so much to all of us. But it is your decision." She patted my hand.

I told Sarah about Mrs. Cameron’s request as I pushed her to PT. "So, what do you want to do?" she asked.

"Which me do you mean?" I asked. "Annie, or Mark? I was honest when I told her that I felt uncomfortable dating anyone when I loved someone else. I couldn’t tell her that I was uncomfortable dating a boy because I was a boy."

Sarah and I had stopped so we could look at each other. "Annie," she said, "This is a decision for Annie to make, not Mark. And as the one you love, I give you permission. Go for it. It’ll be fun." I said I’d think about it.

We were about halfway through PT when a lady came in carrying a tiny baby. All the staff gathered around her, making adoring noises at the baby. I walked over out of curiosity. Kevin introduced us. "Pam Willets, Annie–I mean Julia–Holding here is a new volunteer. She’s a healing partner with her sister Sarah, and has been a great help to me with other patients, too. Annie, Pam is our assistant PT director. She’s away on maternity leave. Pam smiled at me, introduced my to Lori, her baby, and then looked puzzled. "Somehow, I think we’ve already met, haven’t we, Julie?"

Sarah had rolled over by that time. "Hi, Pam. I remember you from that family conference we had just before I left the hospital in May. You were a little larger then," she smiled. "Julie, you met Pam there. The whole family was there, with Pam representing PT, and my oncologist, and Mrs. Berdugo. That’s when they discussed Hope Haven with us."

"Oh, of course, now I remember. You were pregnant then. I was blond," I said framing my wig with both hands. (One of my survival skills–women use both hands in the air near their heads while talking about their hair.) "I guess we both look a little different." Pam smiled and let me hold the little girl.

"I still have the feeling I’ve seen you more recently," Pam said, when I handed little Lori back to her. "But don’t worry. It’ll come to me." I was glad Sarah had covered for me, but something about the situation made me nervous.

The rest of the day wasn’t easy. Sarah felt frustrated at her lack of progress in PT. The prosthetic people hadn’t come in yet with the new cosmetic parts to her leg. Chemotherapy made her sick and grumpy. And I agreed to go on a date with a guy.

Tuesday, July 21

This morning, as I was scraping my plate from breakfast, the cook called me. "I have Kelly Cassidy on the line. Would you like to talk with her?"

"Sure," I replied. "Can you transfer it over to the first floor phone booth?" She did. I ran to pick it up on the second ring. "Kelly, Hi. It’s good to hear your voice again. What’s up?"

"I had to call to change my appointment for my monthly checkup," she said, "and when I was done, I asked them to transfer the call over to the kitchen, to see if anyone I know was eating breakfast–like you. I see that you’re still there, and you’re still answering to Annie, so the forces of evil must not have caught up with you yet."

I laughed. "No one’s quite as perceptive as you, my friend, and we’ve learned to be even more careful. It’s really good to hear your voice again. Is everything okay?" We went on to play catch up. I told about Sarah’s progress, and about Roger Cameron and his mother. Finally, I told her about agreeing to go on a date with him.

"With Roger Cameron? Wow!" she said. "If the Cameron ranch isn’t the largest in the state, it’s at least second. Annie, these are people who hobnob with senators and representatives–not just in our capital, but in Washington, DC. They’re good people, but they are as rich and powerful as anybody in the state." Now I was starting to get nervous. I knew they were well off, but now I was going to go on a social function with the rich and famous. "Annie," Kelly said. "I have one piece of advice. Marry Roger! You’ll be rich and powerful."

"What?" I yelled. And then more softly, in case anyone walked by, "You’re forgetting a few things. I don’t love Roger, I love Sarah. He doesn’t love me, he just has a crush on me. The poor kid probably won’t live to marrying age, anyway. And last but not least, I’m a guy."

"I know that," she teased. "If Roger does survive, though, believe me it would be worthwhile to consider a sex change, if you can get him to marry you. You’d be the richest girl in the state, Sarah could be the richest girl’s sister, and Julie could be the richest girl’s other sister. You can do this, Annie…" By then she was laughing so hysterically that I got laughing, too.

"Kelly," I laughed. "I’ll give your ideas all the consideration that they deserve, believe me!" I was pleased to hear that she would be coming back to town for a medical evaluation before Sarah and I were scheduled to leave, so we would have a chance to see each other. After I hung up, I rushed upstairs to help Sarah get ready to go to PT. But now I started worrying. If the Camerons, nice as they were, were that rich and powerful, what would happen to me and my family if they found out that their son’s "dream date" was a guy?

Mrs. Cameron took Roger over to PT the same time I took Sarah. With the prosthetics people working with Sarah on attaching the cosmetic portions, the "skin," to her leg, and Kevin working with Roger, I sat with Mrs. Cameron and tried to talk her out of the idea. I just wasn’t the right type. My social graces were zilch. Surely there must be somebody else that Roger would like to go out with. "My dear Annie," Mrs. Cameron laughed. "Please don’t be frightened. Roger is so excited about this. I haven’t seen him so happy since he became ill. Don’t worry about social graces or money or anything like that. I was the daughter of a small town barber when I met Roger Senior in college, so we’re not as different as you think. Just enjoy this, and don’t worry about a thing. You are a jewel of a young lady. By the way–speaking of jewels, I hope that we can go shopping this afternoon. Saturday will be here before you know it, and we have things to do. I already asked Sarah if she would like to come–we’ll do dinner and everything. She said that if she felt okay, she’d love to. One of the hands from the ranch who is a friend of Roger’s will be arriving today, by the way, to help with Roger from time to time. So it’ll just be a lovely girl’s night out." Oh, my. What will that ranch hand do to me if he finds out that I’m not who everybody thinks I am?

By that time, though, the prosthetics guys finished their work, and Sarah called me over to show off her new limb. Actually, it was the old one with a covering, but it looked much better than I thought it might. The skin tone was close enough to Sarah’s own, and it did have a soft, skin-like texture. Sarah was delighted, and I was too.

Sarah had a brief meeting with her oncologist after lunch, but then the afternoon was free. She felt good enough to come, but the cumulative effects of the chemo made her feel weak enough that we agreed she should come in the wheelchair. We all agreed that from now on, stores that weren’t wheelchair accessible weren’t worth our attention. I had assumed we would buy something nice off the rack at a department store. Wrong. We went to an exclusive boutique in the affluent part of town. I admitted to everybody that I didn’t know much about high fashion, and was glad to let Sarah and Mrs. Cameron share opinions as the clerk held one gown after another up to my chest. Some were way too old in their style. Others would look great on a beautiful woman, but strange on a plain Jane (plain Mark?) like me. I was getting a bit bored by it all when Sarah called over from a row of hanging garments. "Wait! I think this is it!" Mrs. Cameron rushed over, agreed, and brought it to me. I did like the color and the fabric. It was a rich, elegant navy blue gown with a slightly flared skirt, high bodice, and low back. I went back to try it on. Since I really did think it was beautiful, I was disappointed that it didn’t fit well. Neither my padded waist or padded breasts were padded enough. That didn’t stop the clerk, Mrs. Cameron, or Sarah Beth. Since the dress looked great and its colors flattered me, my next stop was in the lingerie section, where they found undergarments with the appropriate padding built in. The clerk and Mrs. Cameron didn’t know that it was to be padding on top of padding, but Sarah came to the changing area with me and helped me make all the necessary adjustments. The gown didn’t have a price tag, but I had a hunch that Mrs. Cameron wasn’t worrying about that. She left it at the store for alterations. At one point in the dressing area, I whispered to Sarah. "She said I could keep the clothing. Will you be able to wear this, or will I have to give it to Julie?"

"I guess it depends on how much I grow," she whispered back. "But it’s lovely. If I take it up a few inches and I grow a few inches, I can wear it to Senior Prom. You’re a lucky girl, Annie. And maybe Kelly was right," she chuckled. I had told her earlier about the strange conversation. We left the dress there for alterations.

The wig shop was next. It was the same one we had visited earlier, except this time we were looking at much more expensive ones than we had seen before–all human hair. Mrs. Cameron said that we didn’t have to go with something they had in stock, that they could ship one in by air that would be exactly what I wanted. I was about to say that wasn’t necessary, then I remembered that if I got to keep it, Sarah could wear it. "If it isn’t too much, I would like one with hair the color of ginger snaps, thick and wavy, and a little longer than shoulder length." I could see Sarah grin as I described her former hair.

"No problem," the clerk said as she made notes. It will be here by Thursday. And if it isn’t right, we can ship in another by Saturday morning, in time for your trip to the beauty parlor." Again, Mrs. Cameron pulled out her plastic.

Next came the jewelry store. I was astonished when Mrs. Cameron started picking out jewelry for my evening. She wasn’t going for top-of-the-line, but the diamond earrings and necklaces she was examining were a long way from cheap, or even affordable by me. "Mrs. Cameron, I’m getting concerned about the cost of all this. I know that you said I would get to keep what you brought, but I just would feel way too guilty keeping any of this. The dress, wig, and undergarments I can understand keeping, because you wouldn’t have another use for them, but surely if we buy this jewelry, you can keep that."

"We’ll see, dear," she said with a smile. We agreed upon three small diamond studs for the upper holes in my ears, and a small dangling sweep of diamond-encrusted gold for the lower ones. She was looking at diamond necklaces to match when I saw the rings. I had another idea. "Mrs. Cameron, would it be all right to get something simpler for my neck, like a single string of pearls, and to get a small solitaire diamond ring like this? I could wear it on my little finger. And if it is possible, I would like to be able to keep it as a reminder of this time." Actually, I had someone else’s finger in mind for that ring. I was pleasantly surprised when she agreed. We had supper at a little French café and bakery. When Mrs. Cameron left to be with her son, Sarah looked at me again. "Maybe Kelly was right. You would make a good wife for Roger. And I could get used to living on a ranch." She was grinning wickedly.

"Nope," I said, in my best western accent. "Ah reckon ah have what ah want right here, ma’am, and when we get married, you’ll be the one in the white gown."

Wednesday, July 22

Sarah had a struggle getting through the day. She felt that she made no real progress in PT and wondered if it would be less embarrassing just to use a wheelchair when she went back to high school, and not even try to walk. "They’re just going to pity me either way," she muttered. "Do you really love me, Mark," she asked on the way back, "or do you just pity me?"

I got angry and defensive. "Would I be here dressed in a blue skirt and a frilly blouse if it was just out of pity? Get beyond the self-pity, kid. You can have a life if you want to, and you know it. Now I am risking total embarrassment here for you, so quit discounting my motives, okay?"

She looked up and backward from her wheelchair. She gave me a sly grin. "You mean you don’t like to dress this way? I thought yesterday you were just in this for the clothes. Sorry, love."

Chemo this afternoon was rough on her, too. We both miss Amanda. Her series ended last week. At least she could cheer up the waiting room for us. Wendy and her mom were there, but we don’t relate much. She and her mother pretty much stay to themselves. Wendy is a lot sicker than most of the kids at Hope Haven, and it looks like she might have to go back into the hospital full time.

When we got back from chemo, Sarah was feeling rotten, and just went to bed. I took one of my old Star Trek movie videos down to the living room and watched Kirk zap Klingons. Mrs. Berdugo walked through.

"How are things going, Annie? Your sister didn’t look too good today."

"Rough day for both of us, I’m afraid. Sometimes I think I can solve all of her problems just by being here for her and being her own personal cheerleader. It isn’t that simple, I guess. I can’t just zap the bad feelings and the depression and discouragement with a phaser and make them go away."

"No," she said, "I guess not. Even when she has rotten days, though, she knows that you’re here for her, and that you love her. She’s the age where she should just be worrying about getting her license or how a new hairdo might look, and instead she’s dealing with being crippled, and worrying if her life-threatening disease will come back. It’s no wonder she feels overwhelmed sometimes. For the most part, though, I know she has the spunk to make it. She knows she’s important to you and her family, and to her boyfriend, I guess. Are you sure he’s still there for her, by the way? I thought that even with him working full time that he’d be by at least on a weekend."

"Mark loves her more than you imagine. He won’t give up on her any more than I would," I answered. "Besides, they talk. Quite often."

Thursday, July 23

Sarah Beth felt a little better today, but she was still frustrated with her lack of progress in PT. She wanted to make the transition to using a cane instead of the walker, but she isn’t strong enough yet. She took a few falls trying. Thank heavens for the mat. I was wearing my bandana skirt again, hoping it would cheer her up.

Since we had the afternoon off, I took her over to the church, so we could talk with Rev. (Just call me Barbara) McGrail. Sarah Beth and Barbara were pretty comfortable together, and Sarah started telling about some of her feelings. It was pretty heavy, but I think it helped us all. One thing she encouraged us to do was that if someone discovered my secret identity, not to try to lie our way out of it–that would only get us into more trouble.

We ate dinner together with the Camerons at Hope Haven. Roger is so excited about Saturday! I’m dreading it for a lot of reasons, but I guess I’m stuck doing it. After supper, Sarah Beth was tired enough we went upstairs to our room. We played cards. She played cards. I flossed my teeth. Another exciting day at Hope Haven.

Friday, July 24

I’m back in my Tigger bibs today. I try to help Roger, and keep my eye on Sarah, as Kevin works with her. She’s back to the walker today. When I glance over, I notice that Kevin glances over at me. Around ten, it’s time for a break. "Grab a soda and come out to the courtyard with me, Annie," Kevin invited.

I got one and followed him. There’s a basketball hoop in the courtyard. Kevin picked up a ball. "Wanna play?" he asked. I hesitated. Everybody knew that Julie was a hoop hotshot.

"I usually don’t play when I have the long nails on, Kevin," I said.

"We’ll just play horse, then. Just relax, Annie. We won’t break a nail."

He shot from the left corner, even with the basket. It bounced off. He tossed me the ball. I shot. It missed the rim. We moved. He hit. I missed. He hit. I missed. We both missed. He hit. I hit. He hit. I hit. I missed. He didn’t gloat, he just kept looking at me. He got horse. I got ho. He asked me to go to his office, and for Sarah Beth to join us. I was surprised when Sarah moved toward us on her walker. I had planned to go get her in the wheelchair. It gave me more time to worry as she slowly made her way across the floor. Finally, we both sat down, across the desk from Kevin.

"You’re not Julie Holding, are you?" he asked me.

"Just because you beat me at horse, you think I’m not Julie?" I asked.

"No, there’s more. That just helped confirm it. Remember Pam? She remembered you. She asked if Julie Holding had another sister, maybe even a twin sister, because she saw your whole family at a restaurant. I knew that Julie and Sarah were the only kids in the family. Still, you could have been Julie, and the other girl a friend or a cousin. But it made me wonder. But since you’ve been such a good help here in PT, Annie, I really wanted you to be Julie. I wanted to help you with your education, and try to get you into studies to be a physical therapist. So yesterday I called Westlands College phys ed department. I wanted to see if we could work out a work-study plan between Westlands and the university here. When I called and told the basketball coach I wanted to talk with her about Julie Holding, she asked, ‘Do you want to talk with Julie? She’s in the building.’ So, Annie, you’re not Julie. Who are you?"

I stammered. I prayed for an earthquake, so the earth would swallow me. Or a tornado. What should I say? Barbara McGrail said I should tell the truth. But what would happen then. To me? To Sarah? I was surprised when Sarah spoke. Shy, quiet Sarah.

"She is Annie. He is Mark Andrew Jensen. She–he–is saving my life, if you don’t mind."

Kevin’s mouth fell open. He stared at me. "You’re a man? I had no idea! I thought you were maybe a cousin or a girl friend. This makes it even worse."

"I–I’m sorry," I squeaked.

"We’ll have to report this to Mrs. Verdugo and the Healing Partners director," Kevin said. "I’m shocked, angry, and disappointed in you, Mike, or whatever she said your name was. And you too, Sarah." He started to reach for the telephone.

"And I’m disappointed in you for not even trying to understand what’s going on here," Sarah shouted. I tried to shush her, but she wouldn’t stop. "Mark didn’t agree to do this to shack up with me. He isn’t a guy who puts on a dress to sneak into the girl’s dorm. His becoming Annie was my idea. My parents are behind it. His parents are behind it. We agreed that if he we did this, we wouldn’t have sex, and we haven’t. Do you think this is a game, a prank? Then you try getting your hair dyed and permed, your ears pierced, your eyebrows waxed, you try to live six weeks in fear of being ridiculed, laughed at, trying to be a believable girl just to help somebody else. It’s harder work than you’ve ever done, believe me."

"Sarah–Miss Holding–now let me–" Kevin was stammering now.

"My illness–this–this amputation–do you have any idea what that does to a family? They have so many thousands of dollars of bills because of me. If one of them came to stay here with me, we would have to sell our house to pay the bills, because either mom or dad would lose a job. So that left Julie. If she came, she would never get to college, and it would all be because of me. There’s no way I could come here if I didn’t get into that Hope Haven program. Then what would be left? I would have stayed home in my wheelchair, hoping my friends didn’t come by, hoping the cancer would come back and take me. Annie–Mark–saved my life. And if that doesn’t mean anything to you, I’m sorry."

Kevin looked at me. "Is she always like this?"

I shook my head. "She’s never like this. You just bring out the best in her."

"And Mark brings out the best in me–and so does Annie," Sarah said. "I love Mark, and we’re going to get married someday. I love Annie, too. Each step I’ve taken has been because of her. Okay, because of you, too, Kevin, and we appreciate that. But I don’t feel bad about what we’ve done. Go ahead and call Mrs. Berdugo and whoever. I’ll call my folks and have them come get us." She looked at me. "And Annie, I’ll explain it to the Camerons why you can’t go on that date with Roger."

Kevin frowned. "Sarah, you don’t understand. You don’t have to go home. We can arrange for a room and a private nurse to help you with PT and chemo. It’s just another week, but it’s a very important week for both your health and your rehabilitation."

"No, you don’t understand. Either I stay here with Annie, or I go home," my stubborn Sarah said.

Kevin shook his head. "I’ll have to think about this a little. I will let you know of my decision on what to do before I tell anybody else. Come by this afternoon after your chemo and we’ll talk." I suggested that he call Rev. McGrail, since she knew about our situation. He waved us away and plunked his chin down on his fists.

As I rolled Sarah back across the street, we were both stunned and silent. We found a quiet place on the Hope Haven porch where we could have some privacy. "You were really tough in there, Sarah Beth. I was proud of you, except I was so busy being scared spitless. But–did you mean that about going home if he turned us in?"

Sarah gulped. "Yes. I really meant it. I really mean it." We didn’t go in for lunch. We weren’t hungry. I didn’t know whether to pack or not. I didn’t want for Sarah not to complete her program, but I could understand why she wouldn’t want to be at the hospital by herself, without me, or her other friends from Hope Haven. She looked at me. "Mark, I can’t bear to think about how this is hurting you. What will happen if he reports us? Can we be arrested? Will it get in the news? It could ruin your life. Maybe it would be better if I had just stayed home. Honestly, Mark, don’t you wish you would have had enough sense to say no to this stupid idea?"

"Honestly, I’m unhappy that we’ve been caught, but I would do it all again," I said. "We are so close now, in so many ways. If this was the only way I could get to be with you, sure, I’m not sorry. In some ways it’s kind of fun being Annie, too. It’s something not many boys get to experience."

"How many would want to?" she asked. "But I’m glad you’ve enjoyed it. I’m afraid, though. What will happen now?"

"Kevin’s a decent guy. He might figure he has to turn us in for breaking the rules, but I’m sure he’ll try to keep it quiet. And even if it gets out, I can live with whatever comes. As long as I can be with you, anyway." I talked braver than I felt.

Chemotherapy is always the low point of the week. What’s fun about sitting around while people pump poison into patients? Today was worse than usual, because we were so anxious about what Kevin would do. Finally, we worked our way back to the physical therapy area.

Kevin waved us into his office. "I talked with Rev. McGrail, like you suggested. She was very persuasive, and recommended that I let you stay on in the program. But if I don’t report this and anybody discovers you and finds out that I knew about you, it could be my job." Sarah and I just sighed. We could see it coming. "But if I do report it, I have great concern for what will happen to you both–and I’m not just responding to your threat to leave without completing your treatment, Miss Holding. So I will hold my breath and pretend I never found out about this scheme of yours, Miss Holding, or your true identity, Mr. —Jensen?"

"Uh, it’s Jansen, sir. And thank you. For both of us. We really appreciate it."

"However, since you falsified information on your application form, Annie, Mark, I can’t keep you in the volunteer program, and my offers of assistance on seeking a career in physical therapy no longer apply." I wanted to protest, because I had my heart set on that as a career. But I didn’t.

Sarah spoke up. "Annie can still help with me, since she’s my healing partner, can’t she?" Kevin agreed. "And what about Roger? You know that he has a crush on Annie, and the only enthusiasm he shows for PT is when Annie helps him. Can’t Annie help Roger on an informal basis, as a friend, not as a volunteer?"

Kevin nodded. "I will inform Mrs. Cameron that Annie isn’t an official volunteer anymore. If she asks for Annie to help with Roger on an informal basis, that will be up to you, Roger, and her."

"Thank you," I said.

"Yes, thank you," Sarah said. "But do you mean that Mark can’t apply to your program when he finishes high school, that you won’t want him? That would be a big mistake. Mark is just as caring, just as smart, just as nice as Annie. He would make a wonderful physical therapist. And because of me, he has the motivation. You don’t have to answer now, but I hope you’ll reconsider."

"Sarah, I will have to think that one over. I didn’t mean that Mark can’t apply on his own merits when the time comes. I won’t hold this against him, but he won’t have an inside track like I was going to give Annie. Fair enough?"

I swallowed hard. "More than fair, sir. Thank you. That’s all I would expect." I took off the smock that female volunteers wear and handed it to him.

Saturday, July 25

I had worried so much about Kevin’s discovery the day before that I hadn’t thought much about today. Maybe that was just as well. Somehow, receiving another makeover didn’t thrill me as much as Mrs. Cameron assumed it would. It comforted me to know that my role model Julie, the eternal tomboy with a few feminine frills, probably wouldn’t be too excited about it, either. My mom came to spend the day with Sarah Beth, and the man from the ranch would stay with Roger. I made sure to shave extra close, then I put on base makeup. Sarah Beth thought that if I asked the beautician to let me wear my own base makeup because of a skin condition, I wouldn’t have to worry about her discovering my beard. I wore an extra large men’s white shirt to cover my larger padded breasts that I would need later so the gown would fit better, a denim skirt, and sandals. I rolled up the shirt sleeves past my elbows, and wore a clunky bracelet that Sarah loaned me, and I pinned a blue ribbon clip onto my wig.

Soon Mrs. Cameron had me in the Lincoln SUV driving to the dress shop. The seamstress had done her job well. It fit both beautifully and comfortably. She made a few notes for some quick little adjustments, and then we stopped at a tea room for lunch before the trip to the beauty parlor. Lunch was fun in a sad sort of way. Mrs. C told me stories about Roger when he was a little boy. They would have totally embarrassed him had he heard! It was sad to think that before too many months passed, memories would be all she had. One thing made me perk up my ears. She told me that their family had a charitable trust, the Cameron Foundation. They were changing the emphasis on it to be a scholarship fund for young people who had experienced catastrophic illnesses. She said that eventually the fund would become a memorial fund in Roger’s honor. She seriously hoped that when Sarah Beth was ready for college that she would apply for a Cameron scholarship, since it would cover all her expenses. That started my mind racing. Both of us had good GPAs. If I could get scholarship into the physical therapy program here at the university and Sarah Beth could get a full ride, too, maybe we could get married sooner than we had planned! That solitaire diamond ring that I had encouraged Mrs. Cameron to buy may find its way to Sarah Beth’s ring finger in a year instead of several years! Of course, I couldn’t tell Sarah Beth about this yet. This put me in a much better mood.

The beauty salon, not surprisingly, looked classy and expensive. Miss Fiona, the woman in charge, likewise looked classy and expensive. The beauty stations were well screened, so I didn’t feel too self conscious when she asked me to remove my wig. Then she brought in my new one that Mrs. C had ordered. It was a beauty! The thick, wavy reddish brown curls were almost a perfect match to Sarah Beth’s hair. The kids at school might not even know the difference. I beamed when they put it on me and adjusted it. Then Miss Fiona removed it, covered my naked cranium with a scarf, and said that they would put the wig back on later, after my facial and makeup. Facial? What did that mean?

"Miss Fiona," I whispered. "I just as soon wouldn’t have a facial. I have some complexion problems anyway, and I’d feel better if you just worked on the foundation makeup that I already have on."

"It’s okay, honey. Don’t be embarrassed around me. I see it all. Birthmarks, scars, whatever, they don’t bother me. And I’ll turn you so that Mrs. Cameron doesn’t see."

Maybe it was time for truth. Or partial truth, anyway. "It’s nothing like that. It’s a hormonal imbalance. I have facial hair. Mom teases me that it’s what I get for being an athletic girl, but the doctors say its just hormones, and I’ll grow out of it."

"Maybe we can wax it off?" she suggested.

"It’s really pretty widespread," I said, trying not to wince. "I prefer just covering it up."

"Sure, dear. But let me go ahead with the facial. Your problem will be our little secret." Fiona was persistent. Finally I agreed. She cleaned off my makeup and rubbed my beard against the grain. She frowned, but said, "Don’t worry, dear. It’ll be our little secret." Did she just mean my facial hair, or did she guess I was a boy? I was afraid to ask. Soon my face was covered with some sort of green goop that felt cool and pleasant, and my eyes had cucumber slices on them. I felt like a salad. It was comfortable, though. The tensions of the past few days seemed to slide away, and I was either asleep or very close to it. Miss Fiona had gone to help other customers. Finally, she came back and cleaned off the green stuff. My face felt nice, clean and relaxed. She applied more base makeup to me, covering up my telltale whiskers.

She called Mrs. C over for a consultation on colors and stuff. "Would you like to see her lashes a little longer?" Miss Fiona asked her. "I have some very nice sets that don’t look artificial at all." Mrs. Cameron agreed, and the beautician went back to get a little plastic box. She applied glue just above my lashes and glued another set on, both lower and upper. I could see the silly things. They partially blocked my vision, and did even more so when she applied mascara. She used a hand mirror to show me the results. She was right, they didn’t look fake, just long and pretty. Then I felt her apply something warm and thick to my eyebrows.

"Wait!" I cried. "I just had my brows waxed last weekend, and I don’t want them any smaller." The beautician explained to me that the last treatment had left one brow thicker than the other, and the thinner brow longer than the first. She just wanted to even them up. I was resigned to my fate. I didn’t bother to argue. A few minutes later, rip!–more brow hairs sacrificed to the beauty gods. Again, the look in the hand mirror. They did look better. For a girl. But my transition back to manhood just got a little harder. Fiona did a beautiful, subtle job with eye makeup, cheek color, and my lips. I had to admit that I had never looked prettier.

Of course, I looked even better with the wig on. Miss Fiona worked on the bulky mass of hair to bring into a dramatic upsweep, held up with jeweled clips, and with tendrils hanging down. She said, "Annie, dear, I’d like to call Betty, our nail tech, over. Your nails are lovely, but a little too flashy for a formal dinner. Would you mind it if we put new color on, something more subtle?"

I agreed, but said that I wanted to stick with my trademark blue, in some shade or the other. I ended up choosing a very pale shade, which Betty applied to fingers and toes as Fiona finished my party hair. Betty reshaped my nails, cutting them from blunt tips rounded at the ends to oval tips. It made them seem a little less huge, which was fine by me.

When Fiona finished with my hair, she let me get a good look at myself. I had always thought since my first makeover, I looked like a pleasant but plain girl–which pretty well describes Julie, who I was trying to impersonate. All I could say looking in the mirror was "wow." I still wouldn’t win a beauty contest, but I wouldn’t run for Miss Steak, either. In spite of my ordinary features, I looked classy and elegant, and I was still just wearing the man’s white shirt and simple skirt. I hugged Fiona. "Thank you, Fiona. I’ve never looked this good before. I love it." Mrs. Cameron smiled.

After Mrs. C charged the makeover expenses, we drove back to Hope Haven, and carried my clothes for the evening upstairs. Wendy and her mom were in the lobby. Wendy looked me over and whistled. When we got to the room, both mom and Sarah said "wow!" But after her first smile, Sarah looked a little concerned. "Your eyebrows–they waxed them again, didn’t they?" I knew what she was thinking, and she was right. I thought the same thing. They were going to be a big problem just a week from today. So I explained that Fiona was just evening them out, trying to stay in character. "I’m sorry, Annie, they look nice," Sarah said. "It’s just that eyebrow hair is delicate, and after too much waxing it might not grow back." I really wish she hadn’t said that. But then she smiled. "You really do look great, Sis, doesn’t she, Aunt Fran?"

Mom agreed, then pulled out her camera. I hammed for a few shots before I went to the bathroom to take off the skirt and shirt, and change into my hose, panties, and bra for the evening. When I came out, Mrs. C and mom helped slip the dress over my head so it wouldn’t mess up my hairdo. Dress in place, Mrs.C helped put on the diamond earrings, the solitaire ring, and the pearl necklace. I stepped into my heels, and was ready to go. Of course, mom was firing off pictures like crazy. Sarah called me over while Mrs. Cameron went out to tell her husband we were nearly ready.

"If it comes to a time that a kiss seems appropriate, just be Annie and don’t worry about Mark, okay? I won’t be jealous. Just have a great time." She handed me my purse. I kissed mom and Sarah on the cheek as we left.

When we went downstairs, Mr. Cameron stood behind Roger’s wheelchair. They both looked at Mrs. C and me and smiled. Mr. Cameron stepped over, took my hand, and kissed it. "Annie Holding, it is so nice to meet you. You have been such a blessing to both my wife and Roger. Thank you so much for going out with us this evening."

"Thank you," I smiled. "I’m just so glad to have the opportunity. I’m looking forward to a lovely evening." Both Roger and Mr. Cameron were dressed in expensive western cut formal dinner attire, with lizard skin boots. An expensive Stetson covered Roger’s bald, scarred head, and Mr. C held a matching one in his hand. After loading Roger into the Lincoln using the wheelchair lift, I sat in back with him as his parents rode in front.

"Roger," I said softly with a grin, "Wouldn’t you rather us go boogie somewhere where the kids hang out?" We had teased each other about that earlier.

"Maybe we can sneak out later, you suppose?" he grinned back. Actually, Roger’s condition was starting to deteriorate. I didn’t know whether it was the cancer coming back in his brain, or just the effects of the chemo and radiation, but he was weaker, more slouched, and talked less clearly. Still, though, he was alert and happy. "Thank you, Annie. I know this may be a bit stuffy for you, but it makes my parents happy to have this kind of dinner. And me, too, but just because of the company."

"I like the company, too, Roger, both you and your folks. And This isn’t stuffy for me, it’s a totally new experience. We aren’t in the country club set, you know. Just keep me from drinking the finger bowl, okay?" I held his hand. We pulled into the country club. Under the canopy, we parked and unloaded Roger. We were escorted to a private dining room with wood-paneled walls, candles on the tables, fine linen, silver service, the whole bit. The salads had fancy greens and blue cheese crumbles in the dressing, the soup was tasty and rich, and the steaks were big, thick, and cooked just right. Mr. C had carried them from his ranch in their corporate jet. I just relaxed and we all had a great time, with the Camerons telling me funny stories about Roger, and Roger telling me about his parents. I don’t know if the patrons in the regular dining hall heard us or not, but our laughter got pretty loud.

And yes, I kissed him, softly and gently, on the lips. He just swallowed and said, "Thank you, Annie. "I’ve had my dream date now."

"Roger, maybe we can sneak out and boogie later in the week, huh?" I suggested.

"Cool," he grinned.

Mrs. C came upstairs with me and helped me undress. I unfastened the diamond earrings from my lobes. "Would you take the jewelry tonight, Mrs. Cameron?" I asked. "I feel uncomfortable being responsible for something that expensive."

Mrs. Cameron shook her head. "Let me make this clear, Annie. I brought that jewelry for you, just like I brought the outfit and paid for the wig and makeover, because I like doing nice things for nice people. And you are among the nicest. When you go to college this fall, you will have formal dances, and you will look like the lovely young woman you are, and you will drive the boys crazy. You have helped make my son happy, and brought him some peace, no matter what happens down the road. In a way, I feel that you and Sarah Beth have become like daughters to me. I know you have become friends." She choked up. "As I said earlier, if things were different, I would love to have you as a daughter-in-law." I choked up, too. We hugged and she left. Mom finished helping me get undressed, and left for her motel room.

After I came back to the room from walking mom to the door, I took the scarf off Sarah Beth’s head, removed my elegantly styled wig from my head, and carefully placed it on hers. "This can be your hair now," I smiled. Carefully using my nails as pincers, I put the dangling diamond earrings into her ears. "You’re beautiful," I said softly, as a tear trickled down the side of her nose.

"Did you have fun?" Sarah Beth asked. I told her about the evening, described the food, and told some of the funny stories.

"Well, did you kiss him?" She asked. I just smiled. "I figured you would," she said, smugly. "And if he gets better and you want to marry him, I’ll just try to adjust."

"But I don’t want to be Mrs. Cameron’s daughter-in-law, Sarah Beth Holding. I want to be your husband. And I want to do some more kissing, right now." We kissed as long as we dared, but then we heard the hallway floor squeak and gave it up for the night.