The Gowns
Legacies

 
If you give, you will receive, dear one.
If you let go, you will lay hold of my heart.
If you change, you’ll be exactly what you are!
If you love you’ll be loved. In fact, you’re loved already!

Previously...
 

She knew what the bags held; she had helped Terry with them the day they were purchased. Nevertheless, she pulled the small key ring out of her sweater pocket and found the key that fit the locks. Inserting the key carefully, she turned it slowly until she heard the click....

“I do trust you, and I trust God for this….I just hope we’re doing the right thing, Terr, because one…..you won’t be here to help me if we’re not, and two, if we’re wrong, it won’t be us that gets hurt.” She sighed again at the thought before walking back downstairs.

Years before...Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania...

The woman sat at the table, nervously picking at her fingers; her demeanor belied her garb, which was the clothing of what appeared to be a very confident lioness of business, to coin a phrase. From head to toe, her appearance shouted professional. She wore a skirt suit; the charcoal grey might have appeared drab on any other woman, but she made it look fascinating. Her blouse was silken pewter with a Peter Pan collar. A cameo was pinned to a pewter satin kerchief softly caressing her neck.

“Stop that!” The woman behind her said with a laugh. “You’ll ruin your manicure, Ms. Bellino!”

“I’m…I’m nervous. I can’t help it.”

“Yes you can; you just need to remember who you are and your calling.” The woman placed her hand on Theresa’s shoulder and squeezed gently thru the fabric.

“It will be alright.” She smiled as she walked around the table and grabbed the coffee carafe off the credenza and poured two cups.

“I look more like a CEO than an artist, Nancy.”

“I know, but looking professional may just be the thing that swings this whole deal.” She nodded and sat down. Her own outfit was similar, but for the substitution of slacks for a skirt. Nancy preferred comfortable, and with her father the owner of the company, she didn’t need to convince anyone. A knock came at the front door. Nancy rose and walked over to the entrance and opened the door.

“Hi, honey.” James Gleason kissed his daughter’s cheek and walked into the house; noticing the very slight but attractive woman sitting at the dining room table.

“Ah…you must be Miss Bellino. I am very impressed with your work. You have a subtleness that really lends itself to illustration; my youngest children really loved your rework of Tenniel’s Alice. You managed to bring new life into the story without sacrificing the connection to Lewis Carroll’s era. I'm just surprised that I haven’t heard of you before this. Theresa blushed as Nancy brushed her ear softly while walking behind her to the credenza.

“Coffee, Daddy?” James nodded and sat down across from Theresa Bellino. He smiled and nodded at the woman whose cheeks grew redder.

“Nancy says you studied in Europe? A great place to glean from centuries of example. I understand you spent a lot of time in Florence?”

She had spent a lot of time in Florence, but not as an art student. She managed to live fairly comfortably in a hostel while earning her keep as a cartoonist and caricaturist at the entrance to the Giardino dei Semplici near the University of Florence where she managed to take one class. Many of her clients were couples who chose to have their pictures drawn after a nice romantic stroll thru the garden.

“I usually don't pander to office gossip, but I understand you’ve found someone at the office already. Excellent. I do so love romance. Nancy’s mother and I travel to Italy once a year just to renew our wedding vows. With a name like Bellino, I’m sure that you’re an incurable romantic as well.” He turned to Nancy, who was bringing some pastries to the table.

“Who’s the lucky young man? Dave Anders in Sales, I’ll bet. He’s a handsome lad, and a real catch.” She shook her head, mirrored by a bit more frantic shake of the head by Theresa.

“Daddy….” Nancy said softly, almost as a question. She sat down and patted his left wrist and continued.

“Not everyone ….likes boys.” She did a very good job of maintaining her composure as her father looked her wide-eyed.

“Oh, my goodness, Nancy. I’m not a fossil. I’d like to think I’m progressive.. Your mother and I understand these things.” He turned to Theresa and smiled.

“So, I stand corrected. Who’s the lucky girl?” Theresa bit her lip, getting a bit of carmine red lipstick on her teeth. She breathed out heavily and lowered her head slightly. Nancy smiled at her before tapping her father’s wrist with one hand. She raised her left hand just a bit and said in a near whisper,

“Uh….that would be me.”

James Gleason turned only a bit red before stammering,

“Uh…..that’s…..nice.” It was only then that he noticed Nancy’s left hand, which sported a very attractive gold ring with an equally attractive sapphire.

“You…you’re…you’re engaged?” He stammered once again. His color seemed to be modulating between her answers as she shook her head no; he was glad for the cool breeze that came through the open window behind him. His relief was short-lived as Nancy reached over and grabbed his left hand with her left hand, displaying the jewelry. He looked down and noticed the very simple but pretty gold band that nestled on her finger just behind the sapphire ring.

“You’re married?”

He shook his head, and his face went from a pale red to magenta in a second. Nancy looked over at Theresa who shrugged her shoulders and bit her tongue. She shook only a bit, but enough where Nancy felt compelled to let go of her father’s hand to pat Theresa on the arm. James’ eyes widened in wonder and then in seeming relief as he looked at his daughter and laughed softly.

“You’re kidding…I see. You can’t be married...they don't do that here...Very funny. You had me going. Well, that’s a relief.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket and wiped his forehead.

“Daddy…we….we’re….” Nancy stammered. Up till then, Theresa hadn’t uttered a sound, but she looked over at Nancy before she sighed deeply and said very slowly in a voice more suited for the tenor section in the church choir,

“Mr. Gleason? Dad? We’re married.” It was then, even after several minutes of sitting in the presence of the two that he finally noticed the very subtle but still decided difference in his daughter’s chosen mate.

“Dear god in heaven! You…you’re a man.” It was almost comical; Nancy actually stifled a laugh at her father’s tone as his voice cracked like a thirteen year old boy.

“Y…yes, Mr. Gleason. That I am.” Nancy looked over at her husband with pride; as much pride as a woman can muster when her husband is wearing her best suit. She breathed a sigh of relief as her father shook his head and wiped his brow once again.

“Well, I guess…introductions ….what are you? “ James Gleason was nonplussed for only a moment; regaining the composure and confidence you’d expect of someone progressive.

“I can do this…We can do this,” he thought to himself.

“He’s my husband, Daddy, and I love him with all my heart.” Nancy nearly cooed as she put her head on Theresa’s shoulder.

“He? I’m pretty much a progressive person, Nancy, and I consider myself fairly well-read and open minded. But this?” Theresa read his body language, or at least thought she did and cringed a bit. James certainly appeared angry, and he was definitely confused, which didn’t at all help whatever confidence she and Nancy had until he continued,

“You sure you’ve got your pronouns right?”

“I don’t…what do you mean, Daddy?” Nancy was nearly in tears over what she anticipated was going to be a lifelong rejection of her spouse; she could hardly continue to call Theresa her husband.

“I mean…I can hardly call her a he, can I?” He laughed softly before reaching across the table and offering his hand to Theresa.

“Welcome to the family.” He smiled before shaking his head.

“This is really going to throw your mother for a loop.” He frowned, trying not to spoil the lightness of the moment, but it was something to consider.

“I suppose you’ll adopt if you want to have children; your mother will be happy either way, but she’s only just been waiting for grandchildren since you were born.” He laughed nervously; it was an awkward moment as he was still trying to make sense of having a daughter-in-law who wasn’t a daughter at all from what he knew.

“Dad…Theresa isn’t going to have anything done.” Nancy patted her on the arm in reassurance.

“I’m pretty sure that you have to do something….are you going to dress like this all the time?” Theresa went to speak but Nancy cut her off with a squeeze of her arm as she laughed.

“No, Daddy…she’s awfully fond of slacks as well!” Nancy smiled as her father shook his head in confusion.

“Theresa….Terry loves me with all her heart, but she’s willing to live….we want our own children. Oh we might adopt some day, but really, Dad, you’ll just have to get used to being a grandfather real soon. I’m pregnant.” James dropped his empty coffee cup on the table.

A few months later...

“What are we going to do?” Nancy shook her head as she watched Billy crawl quickly past Terry’s feet and under the dining room table.

“We prepare for all contingencies,” Terry said as he sipped his coffee. Working at home was always relaxed and with the benefit of being at home with Billy while Nancy worked. But the odd day into the office to talk with authors; at least for the time being, was always accompanied by male drag. He hated it, but it was the only way things would work without risking losing potential illustrating jobs. Oh, there were some authors who knew about Theresa, and actually preferred working with her. But some conventions die hard, and she was forced to live between two worlds.

“Well…the Bellino family is an odd bunch. Mom actually sent me to a specialist, but couldn’t find anything remarkable. But my Uncle Nick and my grandfather and his uncle Giovanni all…and several further up the family tree, from what Mom told me. All favoring our femme side.” Terry’s countenance seemed to change as he recalled his family ‘curse,’ as his brother Marco referred to it. Still in male mufti, he nonetheless transformed in a way into Theresa.

“I don’t know what the future holds for our child, Nan….I just know he’s going to be what he will be. We might never see anything different about him. But I…I have to go away.” Nancy choked back a sob. She loved her husband with all her heart, of course, but both of them preferred Theresa at home; it just was what worked for them, in every facet of their relationship.

“If he’s to discover who he is, or who…she might be, I can’t influence her. It has to be her choice…or her discovery, actually. And she has to know we will support her or him, no matter what. I know this is crazy, but I’ve been reading that there are some studies that suggest that in some small percentage of families; this is a tendency. So we’ll see.”

“I don’t want to say goodbye to her,” Nancy said as she stood behind Terry at the table, embracing him warmly. She began to cry softly as she kissed Terry’s cheek.

“Not good bye…just vai con dio, il mio caro donna!” Terry said, once again appearing to dissolve into Theresa. Nevertheless, Nancy wept as she continued to hold Terry in her arms.

“It’s going to be okay, honey. Billy will be okay and so will you.” It was almost as if both halves of him were saying good bye.

Several years later, Burlington, Vermont...

“Billy, can you get the door? I’m in the laundry.” Nancy called from the rear of the house. Billy got up and walked to front door and peered through one of the windows flanking the doorway.

“Mom…it’s a policeman,” the boy shouted as he opened the front door.

“He…hi…hey, what’s your name?” The officer said.

“Billy…Billy Bellino. Do you need to see my mom?” The boy was only seven, but he was smart enough to realize the policeman was there for something that required an adult, and his father was at the office. A moment later his mother walked to the door and stood behind Billy, her arms draped over his shoulders.

“Are you Nancy Bellino?” The officer asked before blowing out a breath. Nancy stepped closer to Billy and held him tightly.

“Yes…what…is something wrong?”

“I’m afraid there’s been an accident on I89…..your husband Terrence?” She put her hand to her mouth to stifle a sob as she nodded.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Bellino. Oh, jeez,” the officer said as he realized the boy was still standing there.

“Mom…Mom?” The boy turned to see his mother’s face; etched with grief and a look Billy would swear for the rest of his life was the most precious thing he had ever seen as his mother’s love for his father seemed to push the grief quickly aside in a moment of peace.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am….truly sorry. We’ll need you to come to…”

“It’s alright, officer…it truly is.” She was crying, but seemed to have a strength that no one would be able to understand unless they knew Terry and Nancy. She knelt down and hugged Billy.

“They’re gone, aren’t they?” Billy asked. He looked at the face of the officer, who was confused and quickly said instead,

“Daddy’s gone?” Nancy nodded and the boy burst into tears. She pulled him closer and held him as the officer stood back away from the door to give them space. His partner put her head down and began to cry softly.

“Yes, honey, he’s gone.” She wept almost in harmony with her son, but as her sobs abated she realized just what Billy had asked at first. She shook her head; only with a bit of denial, but mostly in amazement at her son’s perception. From the moment Theresa had gone away’ when Billy was nine months old to that moment, she was never seen again.

And Nancy repeated her son's astute and entirely unexpected observation.

"They're gone!"

Next: The Blessing!