Chapter 14 – Due North

The click of my heels going down the corridor of the Federal building was at a nice rhythmic pace. But things were taking twists and turns as fast as my skirt was these days. My parents sat down with me in the office of the lead agent of the FBI. With him was the local postmaster and an agent from Canada.

My parents filled out the forms and handed the postmaster photos of me and a copy of my new special altered birth certificate. Well, a modified one that the state allowed for purposes of the upcoming investigations for the next year or more. They filled out more forms and took an oath on my behalf. My passport forms were complete. Almost complete actually. I was handed a new Social Security card, a Tennessee state ID card, and a copy of a Tennessee birth certificate. There was an additional form. A birth certificate I hadn’t seen before. It was made out in the name of Jackie Samantha Miller also. But, it was Canadian. It had my birthdate. It says I was born in Myers Bluff, Quebec. Along with it was a Canadian Passport. And, a Canadian health ID card. And, a Quebec ID card. It was handed to the lead agent of the FBI.

“Congratulations Samantha, you are a Canadian too. For the moment at least. We need you to be able to pass back and forth between our countries. A guardian ad litem has been appointed for you in Quebec. It is Dr. Lefevre whom you have already met. It seems we can’t take a photo of you as a boy anymore. So, you now have two passports with you as a girl on them. Hey, why not? And, legally, for the time being, when you are Jackie Samantha Miller, you are a girl. So, if you want, you can start using the bathrooms at school because a copy of your modified birth certificate has been provided to Danvers Middle School. Just be sure to wear your prosthetic device. We will send you a few more this week. This will solidify your cover.”

The FBI agent handed my Mom and Dad a Canadian Passport too. “The U.S. passport should be Fed-Exed to you in the next day or so at your office, Paul. Canada has agreed to let the De Champs eventually immigrate to Quebec. They will be living in St. Jean-sur-Richlieu, a small town south of Montreal. For the moment, they will be here giving testimony to the grand jury during their empaneled term, which ends in December, but we need Samantha here to go with Yvonne to Montreal to give their testimony to the Crown as they also are investigating their own border patrol. They don’t use the grand jury system in Canada anymore. So, because of that, we can’t have them interacting with their border patrol upon entry into Canada. So, both Yvonne and Samantha will be travelling as Canadian citizens with an FBI agent and a Mountie to talk directly with prosecutors.”

So, within days I was both Canadian and American. And legally a girl. But not legally a girl. Well, not yet anyway. Doug was laughing his fool head off when I told him. “Really Samantha, I didn’t plan this one. It is totally happening all by itself. It fits since Myers Bluff was were you had the option of going anyway. So go with it.” We kept swinging slowly on my porch swing. Mom and Dad came out to join us. We talked about other stuff. And then my parents brought up something dear to my heart these days.

“Doug, Samantha has been telling us that you consider us family. We have been seeing how little your parents interact with you for years. We’ve known why you come over here all the time. Pamela and I both agree, if you want to consider us surrogate parents and family, we would be proud to be your unofficial Mom and Dad. You don’t have to pretend anymore. We consider that you are family.” Mom leaned over and kissed him on the head and Dad patted him on the back. Doug squeaked out a “Thank you.” We all hugged.

“Thank you Sis.”

I hugged Doug. “Your welcome. Just doing my job.”

“Well, it has been a long day. Samantha and I failed to catch any fish. And Jane is out on a date. Again! We feel like going out to visit our favorite greasy burger. You want to come along son?”

“Dad, you know not to call me that!” I pretended that was meant for me and to be insulted.

“I wasn’t talking to you Samantha!” Dad winked and Doug blushed. I went upstairs and changed.

I put on a nice blue blouse and a nice cardigan sweater. Most of my sweaters now weren’t as girly as before. I liked pastels. But I liked some bold colors too. I put on a red sweater which matched my nails. I combed out my hair and put a red headband on, put on blue ear rings, and went for blue shoes too. I put on capris instead of a dress. I put on a nice necklace I talked Mom into getting. It was a silver heart. It was strange to not be in a dress, but Mom was right. I needed to wear pants more often to school and in general. The capris were black and hugged my legs nicely. And the prosthetic gave me a nice smooth look in them. We piled in the car and headed to Pete’s Burgers. The place used to be a gas station back in the day. The doors for the car bays now can be rolled up on nice days. We ordered a round a burgers and sat down.

I looked up and my heart skipped a beat. In walked Mr. and Mrs. Allen. And she clearly had a huge baby bump. I nudged my mother and pointed to them. Dad turned around and could see them and realized that a little explanation was in order before they saw us, or rather me. He stood up and walked over to them. He pointed to us and said something to Mrs. Allen who looked at me for a moment and said nothing. Mr. Allen was very happy, I could tell. While Mr. Allen was ordering for them both, she came over and sat next to me and Mom. “Well, Paul tells me that you will explain why Samantha is here.”

Mom said, “Samantha is undercover. She is helping the police using her talents. We can’t say more, but it means that she remains as you last saw her. We can’t say more.” Mrs. Allen nodded and looked very curious to know more but didn’t press the issue any further.

“How many weeks are you now, Cheryl?” Mom asked.

“Twenty-nine weeks. I am due the 21st of January now. But, they say they could revise that on my next visit.”

“Are you excited to be having a girl?” Mom asked.

“Yes. And Samantha, you know what makes it very special?”

“I don’t know Mrs. Allen. What?” I was perplexed.

“When I feel the baby move, I remember how Cybil reacted to Valerie’s baby moving. And then I don’t feel so sad. I have a memory of her enjoying a baby moving. We were afraid of losing the baby back then. That is why we didn’t share it with Cybil until a few days before she died. I wanted to thank you for what you and Mary did for us. We were sad to lose her. But you gave us so many good memories. How is Mary, do you know?”

“She is well. I go to school with Mary now and see her all the time. I will tell her. We are the best of friends. And, she is Doug’s girlfriend too.” I nudged him with my elbow and he blushed.

“Well, yeah, I wasn’t going to let someone that cute get away. I want to tell you Mrs. Allen how sad my Dad was with Cybil’s passing. He is really working hard with my Mom to improve the odds of beating cancer. I don’t plan to follow in his footsteps though, but I am on track to become a doctor. I want to be an OB/GYN so I can help deliver babies too.”

“That is nice. Do say hello to your Dad. His telling me about Samantha sold me on her. And she was the best medicine for her.” At that moment, Mr. Allen sat down.

“Hey Paul. So good to see you again. Sorry your Indians lost the World Series.”

“I am too. I was cheering for them all season long. However, I just can’t get around a team that is named Marlins actually beat them. I don’t want a team named after something I would love to go catch and hang on my wall, you know!”

“But man, what a great series. Seven games plus the seventh went down to extra innings. That, and the underdogs won too.”

“Gentlemen, there is much more to life than baseball or sports in general.” Mom said.

“And what would that be?” Dad asked.

“Shopping!” said Mrs. Allen.

“You and me both, honey.” Mom said with a big grin. We chatted for a while when I had a thought.

“Mrs. Allen, could you use help making a nursey for the new baby and maybe help some girls too?”

Mr. Allen and Mrs. Allen looked at each other, and then Mrs. Allen spoke. “No, we really weren’t planning to do anything special. We have just a simple room. We moved in October because we wanted a different home to raise our new child in. In fact, I suspect we don’t live far from you now. Sort of a clean start. We didn’t really plan to do anything special because after your first child, you realize the baby outgrows it all too fast anyway. Why, what did you have in mind?”

“Well, Mrs. Allen, I am helping a new friend from French Guiana who is here temporarily. She has been hurt by bad people. There is also friend of mine at school who also was hurt also, but not as badly. It occurs to me that my friends and I could make a nice room for your baby. That would give them a chance to make a healthy place for the most vulnerable and maybe help them to heal their wounds.”

“Well, I am open to the idea. We would have the right to approve of the design, right?”

“Yes. Of course, we could set up a design. Then the girls and I could make it happen.”

Derek turned to dad and said, “Well then, I could use your help Paul. You know, I have a wood shop in my garage now. I could use the girls too to help me build a custom crib. The could sign the work and then they would feel part of the room too. I can make the parts and you could help them sand the wood.”

Doug added, “I can also help. I have been wanting to learn how to stain and varnish furniture too. I read a book about a furniture maker a few months back and thought it sounded fun. We could have a little factory in your wood shop. And, I am certain that Mary would love to help too.”

After a bit, it was all arranged. Mom got their contact information and where they were living. But, now I had a problem. Balancing my social life. There is Yvonne, Mary, Elysa, Doug, Sarah, the Smiths, and now the Allens want me in their life too. My life has changed so much that I don’t even think about being a girl. I just am one. I think that is a good thing.

Doug and I rode with his Dad to the hospital. He and I left to go to the office building next door and meet with Dr. Rice. He is my new endocrinologist. Doug sat in the meeting with me because he knew Dr. Rice and, well, we fudged and said he was my brother. Dr. Rice knew better, but pretended I was telling the truth.

The guardian ad litem had signed off on Dr. Cramer’s recommendations. He wasn’t really understanding what he was seeing. He was just told that they were controlling my puberty for the next year so as to allow me to continue my volunteer work. This was a plus since it allowed me to side step my parents legally. Of course, there would come a day of having to face them. But, according to Doug, by that time, it would be well established who I was and they wouldn’t even care.

“Okay Samantha, the blood tests show that you don’t have any testosterone in your system and the female hormones are where they should be at this time. I think you can expect to see breasts forming by the end of next year. You say that you are developing pubic hair and hair in your armpits?”

“Yes doctor. Small amounts. The device I am wearing means that I wax down there too, so I know I am growing hair, just not how much.”

“Well, you can expect some changes down there too. Even though you are starting a female puberty, you could even expect some growth of your male parts too as we continue administering female hormones. But more than likely some shrinkage will happen. The body is a strange machine. It should come with a warning tattoo on it that says results may vary. I will print up the test results and send them over with you to Dr. Cramer. But, based on this profile, and your family history, you can expect to start budding sometime at the end of next year. I am going to keep you on the pills for estrogen and shots for blocking male hormones.”

After we were done, we walked over to Dr. Cramer’s for my November session. She wanted Doug to participate in this one. Erin ushered us both in. I handed her the print out from Dr. Rice. She looked it over and said it was good.

“I asked Doug to join us for no special reason. I just wanted us to get to know each other. I am going to do that with your parents too for the next session. We aren’t going to address any concerns here. That is my job. And I restrict doing that to our one on one sessions. This is for me to know more about whom Samantha is talking about. Doug, can you tell me how your ballroom dancing classes are going with Mary? Are you enjoying them?”

“Oh yes. I never expected that I would. I primarily joined so I could chaperone Samantha and Dean, but learning to dance with Mary is an unexpected pleasure.”

“What is your favorite dance?” She smiled at hearing about the budding romance.

“Well, everyone goes for the waltz. But, I like the foxtrot. It is a little slower and a nice way to dance with your partner. And, I can talk to Mary while we dance unlike the other dances.”

“What is your favorite dance Samantha?”

“Oh, definitely the Waltz. It is so grand and flowing. And Dean does a terrific job of leading me. I feel like I can fly.”

“Do you watch Doug and Mary dance?”

“When I get a chance, they really like each other. It comes through their dancing. If it weren’t for his stutter, Dean would be a charmer with his speech. But Doug is much more reserved than Dean. And I like watching him with Mary as they get to know each other through the dance.”

“Do you prefer be on display with Dean or would you prefer to be with a quieter partner like Doug? No wrong answer here, just curious.”

“I like Dean’s showmanship. I am an introvert like Doug and there is something nice about being part of Dean’s show. And, seeing how tough it is for him with his stutter, it is also nice to be part of something that lets him become who he really is. And, secretly, I enjoy being led by him. He’s cute too.”

“Kind of like helping Cybil or the police is helping you become the real you?”

“Yeah, I have thought of it that way at times. But yes, helping people is helping me be the real me.”

“See you in a bit Doug, I am going to send you out to the waiting room. But this has been an enlightening chat Doug. Thank you.” Doug went out to wait for me.

“I like Doug. He is a sweetheart.” Erin giggled.

“So do I. He was the best thing that could have happened to me.” I smiled thinking about all that he had done for me.

“How are you feeling?”

“Elated. Getting a passport with my girl names on it rather than my boy names was so nice. And, seeing a birth certificate with my sex being a girl was surreal. I know it is just temporary, but it fills me with hope.”

“Well, I don’t want to change the subject, but I read the transcript of your meeting with Yvonne and you said something that has me curious.”

“What is that?”

“You felt that bad men had taken off your top.”

“Yeah, I was thinking of Josh Travers and people like him when I said that. I find that when I act the roles, I pretend the nice cop I know is really Josh. I guess it is a way of dealing with what is really a violation of my space.”

“So, are you having problems with the role then?” she asked gently.

“Only that it hurts to know that one day, when I am complete, a man might think that is an acceptable way to treat me.”

“Let’s explore those feelings. Because the roles you play do raise questions for someone just starting to realize that sex exists and they are developing sexually. Do you think girls like to be treated like objects?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Really? So, why do you think girls wear makeup and nice clothes then?”

“To feel pretty, I suppose. I like the way I feel in a dress and how people look at me as a girl. As a boy, I was invisible.”

“So, when wearing a dress, you feel feminine and the power of being a girl. Not only that, but with that power, you are finding you can attract a boy’s or a dad’s attention. To be truthful, as girls grow older, they do do it also to become an object of desire to men. Do you see that now?”

“Yes. I hadn’t looked at it that way before.”

“So, since girls do like being treated like objects to some extent, it is important to know how to use this feminine tool properly as a girl. Look at it this way, if in a close intimate relationship, you might have with a man one day when you grow up, you might let him take off your top because it pleases him. You might want to let him because he cares about you and you want to explore each other’s body because you want to give each other pleasure. How would you feel if a boy treated you that way?”

“Like I was valued. Like I was using my body to make him happy and me happy. And probably very embarrassed because I am at heart very shy.”

“There is the beginning of sexual understanding of what is called the war between the sexes. Kind of like your dancing with Dean, don’t you think? I remember talking to your Mom and encouraging her when she asked me if it was a good idea to let you take ballroom dancing. Here is what I couldn’t say to her that she might say to you if she knew you were really a girl. Protecting yourself from that impulse to show yourself off is soon going to be a problem for you as your brain rewires to being a mature female. Hormones do that. It is good to put boundaries on yourself as an object. Healthy in fact. But some women like the power it gives them over men too much. They use it to hurt men. Some men, like Josh, feel they need to control women to get what they want because they don’t respect the power a woman has. A lot of the bad men you have run into resent the power of women and like to destroy it. I heard someone say something years ago that I agree with. There are only four words we need concern ourselves with. People, things, use, and love. How we arrange those four words defines who we are.”

“How do you mean?”

Erin took four index cards and wrote out the words. She arranged them on the table.

“What does this say, Samantha?”

“Use People Love Things.”

“Would you like someone who thought that way?”

“No!” She rearranged the cards on the table.

“Now what does it say?”

“Love People Use Things.”

“Would you like someone who thought that way?”

“Oh yes, I most certainly would!”

“It is just another way at looking at how you behave. An object is a thing. The bad guys use a girl because they love using their thing or her thing too much. When proper boundaries are in place, Dean doesn’t use you, he ‘loves’ you and uses the female object he holds in his hands as something he can use to declare that love of you. Dance then becomes a thing that he uses to express love of a person.”

“Sounds like the Shakespeare play I did in summer school. I played Beatrice in a scene from Much Ado About Nothing. She turns around when she sees that Benedict loves her and starts to use her harsh words differently. A proper boundary means I understand why I would feel violated and that I know the proper use of my power as a girl is to attract someone who loves me and won’t violate me by using the me only as an object without loving the person inside.”

“Precisely! In the future, when you feel troubled by your work for the police, use the ballroom dancing or choir or whatever you as a tool to replace that bad feeling or experience by loving what it is you are protecting, a human being. Even babysitting. Look at those times as a chance to enjoy being a girl as a reward of what you do for the betterment of girlkind. But, also use the culture to protect you too. Asking for respect isn’t a bad thing. It makes you more desirable. The power of your ‘no’ is something worth exploring too. We will discuss that in another session. We won’t have a December session, but we will have two January sessions.”

“Thank you, Erin. Merry Christmas.”

Mom picked me and Doug up from the doctor’s office.

“Mom, when you met Dad in college, how many boyfriends had you had before you married him in college?”

“Oh, about five I guess. The first was Tommy Hughes in sixth grade. I dated James Collins in high school. Your dad and I married as freshmen in college. It was tough getting our degrees with two kids, but it was worth it.”

“So, do you think I am hurting Dean?”

“Not now nor in the long run. As long as you can keep the proper relationship between you and Dean, you will be giving him the chance to grow and learn how to treat a girl right. He will find someone that much faster after you become Sam again. Right now, your relationship is mutually beneficial.”

“How are we going to explain my departure?”

“I told ‘Mom’ that you need to go on a student exchange program. Then, you will disappear. When you return at some point, Dean will have moved on.” Doug said. He also winked at me letting me know that the outcome could be different.

I picked up on the non-verbal communication. “Good, because I don’t want to hurt him. He really is a nice boy. And, as a girl, he treats me nicely and kindly. I don’t have any desire to be cruel to him.”

Mom said, “I am glad you asked. In the long run, you really aren’t hurting Dean at all. He is getting to learn how to get around his stutter. Believe you me, the girls at school are noticing him even right now. When you disappear, he will be gobbled up in no time at all. You could even lose him now.”

The thought that I could lose him now sent chills down my spine. I didn’t think about that before. It never occurred to me that I could lose him now and I found I had trouble dealing with that fact.

At lunch during school, I stopped and talked to Vicki. “Hey there, how is going?”

“Been busy. The school year is going by fast. I haven’t had a chance to stop and talk to you.”

“Would you be interested in helping a girl who was harmed by bad guys much worse than we were?”

“How can I help?”

“We are going to do a baby nursery for the family that lost their daughter to cancer this last summer. I was wondering if you would like to help?”

“I may. But how can I help this poor girl? It sounds like very little was done to me or you in comparison.”

“I know. But, the more she can find others who understand her, the better the outcome for her. She is isolated because of language and culture.”

“Does she speak English?”

“No, she speaks French. And it will be months before she can be in a French speaking area again. I am thinking this will be a chance for her to be around other girls who were harmed. And if they are reaching out to her, she will feel less lonely.”

“Would it be okay to bring along a couple of the other girls Josh hurt too. We formed a kind of small group to talk about it. I have been meaning to invite you, but it is other sixth graders at this point, and I didn’t know if you would be interested.”

“I might like to join your group. Although, I have been seeing a counselor. I have been busy too with learning to dance with Dean and my helping girls like Yvonne out that I haven’t had a chance to talk to you. I am sorry that I didn’t talk to you earlier.”

“No problem, I will get us together at lunch tomorrow and we can discuss what you need to do.”

I went over afterward and told Dean that we had to talk to my mother about something important. After lunch, Dean and I stopped off at the office. My Mom needed to talk to him briefly.

“Dean, the school district won’t let Jackie take ballroom dancing for P.E. credit. We really tried. But they will allow ice dancing. So, in January, we have to make a change for Jackie’s schooling because of bureaucracy. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind switching to ice dancing for next semester and then going back to ballroom? I have talked to your Mom and she will leave the decision to you. The good news is that many of the outfits you already bought will work for ice dancing. The only real expense is going to be ice skates. So, you can do ballroom every other week with Jackie on a reduced schedule or ice dancing twice a week with Jackie. Which would you prefer?”

Dean beamed. The prospect of spending more time with me was thrilling to both of us. I held his hand and looked up at him hoping for this reaction. “O-of c-course, ice d-dancing.” It was obvious that he cared more about spending time with me that ballroom dancing.

“Now, you will need to learn to skate and it just so happens that Jackie knows how to ice skate already. So, I have talked to the ballroom teacher and they are going to let us take a hiatus until the end of May. You can start meeting with Jackie at the rink and learn to skate until the start of January. Then, you both can do ice dancing. And here is the other cool thing. You can use it for your P. E. credit too if you would like.”

“I-I would like t-that!” Dean was clearly happy to find out that he would get out of P. E. in the bargain.

What my Mom didn’t want to say to Dean was that we were progressing at such a rate with our classes that the rumba and the tango were likely to become a sexy issue soon. Which is why she let a bureaucrat make the decision for us. I was a bit disappointed. I had already scoped out places to buy red roses for doing the tango. On the other hand, spending more time with Dean was a plus.

At lunch the next day, I was surprised by the quantity of girls at the table. There were four girls in addition to Vicki. I hadn’t realized how many Josh had harmed. It made me wonder how many he had really harmed. I would need to ask Bill later. Vicki introduced me to the girls. There was Candace, Tiffany, Deborah, Connie, and Susan.

“Ladies, this last summer I befriended a nice young girl who passed away. She meant the world to me. Anyway, her parents are having another girl. And, I would like to do something special for them by helping them make a nice nursery for their new baby. My counselor helping me get over being violated by, well, you know the story, tells me that doing something like setting up a baby room can help heal us. It gives us a good memory to wipe out the bad memory. And, there is a friend of mine who only speaks French who could use that time with us to help her too.”

“I already talked to them Jackie. We would love to help. When would we be doing this?” Vicki said.

“This weekend, I hope. Sunday afternoon would be nice. It is a holiday weekend for us. Monday is Veteran’s day. I figure about four hours.”

A vote was taken and Sunday was the best choice. Everyone arrived around noontime at the Allens. They were thrilled. A group of girls went with Doug and my Dad to the garage to work on the crib. He gave Mr. Allen two emergency birth kits to keep in the house and the car just in case. The rest of us went to the nursery and began to paint. Because they knew it was a girl, they decided on pink. We laid down a drop cloth and carefully painted the room. With four of us, the room was done in no time. Mr. Allen ordered pizza and we assembled in the kitchen to relax and talk. I played translator for most of the time.

“Yvonne, how do you like living in the United States?” Tiffany asked and I translated.

“I love it. But it is lonely right now. I can’t wait to move to Canada and make friends.”

“Can we help you learn English?”

“Yes. I would like that. I am learning now with Jackie. She has taught me, ‘Hello, how are you?’”

“Did you know that all of us have had bad people use us? We want to know you are welcome to talk to us anytime.”

“Thank you. I am on the phone with a counselor in Canada. But, it would be nice to have girlfriends again.”

They began to set up her being able to visit one of us a day and practice her English lessons. We all hugged and I could tell that Yvonne felt welcome. In the afternoon, we switched. The girls went into the nursery to paint designs on the walls from stencil. Butterflies, Bird, and trees. Yvonne and I went out to the garage and started helping with the crib. The girls had sanded the parts in the morning. During lunch, Mr. Allen started assembling the crib. And we began to stain the wood. It was rewarding. At the end, we signed a side with our names. Then Mr. Allen took a soldering iron and etched all the signatures into the wood. After he was done, it was stained. Doug a I would come back a week later to varnish the crib.

We assembled in the living room when the doorbell rang. A group of women and our mothers showed up. They gave the Allens a surprise baby shower.

Mom came in with the outfits I had made over the last few weeks for them. She also brought in the curtains I made for them. I took them into the nursery and put them up. Mr. Allen poked his head into the room.

“Thank you Samantha.”

“You’re welcome Mr. Allen. I really appreciate you letting us do this for you.” I finished putting up the curtains and started to test them.

“I never got a chance to tell you something.” He said.

“What?”

“You gave me a reason to sleep at night. When I was on that oil rig, I was worried. And then I heard that someone was volunteering her time to spend with my little girl. You let me sleep in the hospital too when I needed to rest up for her too.”

“That’s nice to hear. I am glad I was there. How are you sleeping now? It has only been months since she left us.”

“I’ll be frank, it was hard on Cheryl and myself. But, we believe that the peace you brought us meant that she didn’t miscarry.”

We began to walk back to the living room. “Well, I promised I would take care of you two for my best friend. As long as you need me, I will love to babysit so you two have time together. And, if you haven’t heard, you can drop her off at my place and I will take care of her too. That way you two can have some alone time too. I know my folks really enjoy that time together too.”

“Samantha, I don’t know who is the lucky guy who will be your husband, but if he ever hurts you, you have another man in your life who will let him have it.”

“Thank you, sir. Between my Dad, Doug, Robert, and now you, I feel like a very special girl.”

“You are Samantha. Trust me, you are.”

Agent Harvey drove Mom and I along a dirt road leading down into a cabin that sat along a roaring creek that was fed by run off from the Smoky Mountain National Park. It was near Davenport Gap where I-40 crosses from Tennessee into North Carolina. The fall leaves had long since left the trees and the fiery blush of fall had been replaced by the cold reality of winter coming on. I was window dressing. No top being pulled off. The goal was simple and straight forward. There was a child porn ring being run out of Charlestown, NC, that used the hills to ply their trade in her secret hollers. They had to identify the men involved. The cabin was part of a string of cabins that were rented during the weekend often by fishermen who wanted to fish the streams nearby. Intel had come in that one of the guests that weekend in the cabins was one of the runners for the child porn ring. The guest list for the cabins were filled with too many from Charlestown to figure out who the bad guys were in fact. And researching it could alert those in Charlestown that they were found out. The agents needed to identify them out of the many fishermen who would scatter that day for parts unknown and come back late in the day with their catch. They wanted tail him to the site of the porn factory and put it under surveillance.

Our best hope was for a slip up on their part and that is where I came in. It helped that no one had brought their daughter on their trip. I would stand out like a sore thumb. In our group was one of the profilers I had met in the safe house. We chose a cabin that was in the middle. Agent Lynn sat in a van watching me and the guests file in and out of the general store. I was set up on a step reading a book on fishing next to where a pay phone was. Now, how she would know which one of the men was a likely suspect, I don’t know. All I know is that as each man passed by me, she would rate them. The book was “An Idiots Guide to Fishing.” The problem was that having gone fishing with my Dad so often over the years and with Doug, I knew most of the stuff in the book already. But, I poured through the pages anyway and would watch the men pass me by. I had a couple of ribbons in my hair on the pony tails on either side of my head. I didn’t like the style. I was too old for it. There was a video camera in the van recording everyone walking by me and their reactions.

After about an hour and a half, almost everyone had left the place and it was just me and the agents out and about. Mom came up to me and motioned for me to follow her. After a few minutes, the profiler shuffled into the cabin and headed to a VCR machine set up for playing the tape. She put it in and waited. About an hour later she got the news that all the men were legit.

Agent Lynn started to explain what she was doing. “The book gave every man an excuse to look at you Samantha. What I looked for is someone who disregarded the book and looked at you. Of those that looked at you, I ranked them in terms of how many things they looked at. For example, shoes, jeans, ribbons in your hair, and more. If they passed you by again, I ranked them again, but only on three items. Your shoes, your pony tail, and your purse.”

She continued, “Now, in and of themselves, these things don’t mean that someone is a pervert. What they mean is that the person is evaluating you because they are comfortable with girls. They might be thinking your hairstyle is wrong, or those are shoes you don’t wear when fishing, or something. There were three men that walked by you that got the highest ratings. I was counting on our man being opportunistic. I signaled them to our agents and had them followed to their fishing spots. None of them has turned out to be our man.”

As we watched the tape, I saw something. “Excuse me, ma’am, can you rewind the tape for a moment please.” I said.

She did and started to play it. “Why not him?” I pointed to a man going in.

“He didn’t even look at you honey.” She said with a sense of confident certainty.

“True, but he is wearing low top shoe’s that are exclusively being sold by Eastern Mountain Sports right now. They have special laces that you pull up and can tighten rather than tie.”

“I don’t get it.”

“There is no Eastern Mountain Sports in the south. They are exclusively in the north east. With one exception, a store in Denver. When my Dad went to visit my brother Robert in September, he bought a pair of those at their store in Denver. We started getting their catalog soon afterwards and I like looking through it. See, even the emergency whistle he has attached to his backpack is from EMS too.”

“The only thing that proves is that he is from the New England area and not just from North Carolina.”

“Maybe, but agent Harvey here is aware of the girls being shipped to Canada for exploitation from south of the border. What if your pervert is part of that trade too or interested in it for his own desires? Then he would be travelling up north frequently.” I said.

“Do we have a name for him, Larry?” It was nice that she listened to me instead of shutting me down.

“Jonathan Albert Palmer, aged 39.” Larry reached for a phone and made a call. “Yes, George, Larry here. Can you check to see if a Jonathan Albert Palmer has been making trips to Canada? Yeah, I’ll wait.” A few moments later. “What have you got? Passed through American passport control in Montreal five times in the last two years on a plane to Philly. That’s the hub for U.S. Airways, right? Does it show his final destination? No, just Philly. Gotcha, thanks George. I’ll let you get back to sleep. Yeah, I owe you one, again. Okay, the usual. Backyard BBQ soon, I promise.”

“Thanks Samantha, sounds like we have someone else to check out.”

“Well, the cabins here don’t have kitchens, so what are we going to do about lunch?” asked Mom.

“Ever hear of Shoney’s?” said Larry.

We headed out to Lunch and, afterwards, they dropped us off at Knoxville and flew home. I learned from Bill the next day that they tracked him the next morning and all he would say is that he didn’t go fishing. But showed back up with a nice catch of fish to take back to Charleston. But, as far as the profiler was concerned, I made the biggest catch of the weekend. The profiler appreciated my eye for detail.

We prepared for the return of my grandparents. Robert Correy Miller, my grandfather, was a Marine for ten years. He married my grandmother, Amanda Hamilton, when he was nineteen and had my Dad the next year on February 29th, 1956. He got out of the Marines before Vietnam became hot. They finally settled in Spring Valley where he worked as a Park’s Service cop for ten years and then joined the foreign service after the end of the Vietnam war. All in all, he had worked for the federal government for forty plus years and now he was retiring. He was a security officer in so many embassies that he had lost count. He did eighteen month hitches. They required him to come back to the states for one hitch, which was before I was born, in Washington D.C., and then they headed out again. His last duty assignment was in Argentina. I heard he was happy to be coming back to Spring Valley to spend time with his family at last.

According to my Dad, he and my grandmother were not too happy to find out that their youngest grandson was now their youngest granddaughter from an FBI agent. With Jane and Robert out of the house, I was their last chance to have any real time with grandchildren. It didn’t help that my Dad was an only child. Grandpa Miller was a man’s man. He like things rough and tough. But, good Marine that he was, hearing that I was a government sponsored girl, he accepted my role as a girl as my duty to my country. I figured that he rationalized it by saying that he was away from family all these years serving his country, so how could he complain that his grandson was now a girl for the time being.

This still didn’t take the edge off of our seeing my grandparents again for the first time in years. The last time they saw me was when Grandpa died. They came back on emergency leave and attended the funeral. They gushed over me for a few minutes and rushed out on me just as quickly the next because there were more important people to see. It stung and made me feel even more isolated than before. It didn’t help that Grandpa Miller spent a huge amount of his time with my older brother Robert either. Grandma Miller spent her time with Jane. I felt all I got was their luggage. I just remember it saying Hartman. Wrong kind of heart.

The trouble they had accepting me I could tell started with my voice. Early on, Doug had taught me a female voice and cadence. So, when it came time for me to do Shakespeare, Mrs. Duncan had complemented me on how fast my voice became feminine. My parents heard it early on, so they took it in their stride now. Then, over the last three months of being a girl, all signs of Sam had disappeared and no one noticed my voice as being anything but Samantha’s voice. And then there were my mannerisms. While my family chalked it up to my acting skills, early training from Doug taught me how to be more girl like in my deportment. And finally, the coup de grace was my wardrobe which was all girl now. From my pants to my dresses, I couldn’t really see any boy there either.

So, when my grandparents landed in Nashville and we picked them up, their reaction to me couldn’t have been any colder than an Alberta clipper bringing a deep winter chill in from Canada. Upon meeting their all too girly grandson, no gifts were brought out. No hugs given at seeing their long lost grandchild. They were matter of fact, “so good to see you Sam, Paul, Pamela, and sorry we can’t see our real grandson yet. Nice to meet you Doug.” I got pats on the back and “we understand you are working for the government now and are on assignment too.” At least Grandma Miller was kinder to me that my late grandmother. She did complement me on what a fine looking young lady I was playing. But, as always, she took the lead from her husband and played it cool. Somehow, this iceberg needed to meet a tropical gulf stream or lava flow. I was grateful that Doug came along. He got their sunshine and warmth instead. I could see from his reaction to them, he was plotting already how to shatter their frozen wall of indifference with the summer of content.

Thanksgiving was just days away and they would be in close proximity to the Smiths. My biggest fear was if my grandparents would blow my cover? The triplets were eight months now and getting harder to manage. But, that is why Mrs. Smith needed me so much. It was also a great opportunity for me to ask Yvonne for help in taking care of them. I would help her with English. In moving to Canada soon, she would need to be bilingual. Having me as a teacher was a serendipity. I could help her understand idioms in English and she could teach me idioms in French. She helped me out a couple of times a week. She was scheduled to move to Canada shortly after my birthday in December. And, the De Champs would be our guests for Thanksgiving. The one irony in the whole thing is that Grandpa Miller spoke French. He had done a stint at the Defense Language Institute in Monterey, CA, back in the fifties. He liked to show off the photo of him and Bing Crosby he took at something called the Clam Bake. Speaking French was how he got his job with the foreign service since they require proficiency in a foreign language.

And, due to Doug’s foresight, we would be traveling to Montreal on the Tuesday after Thanksgiving to give testimony to the Crown. Doug’s well placed comment to Bill meant that my grandfather would go with me because he still held a Canadian passport that he used for his work. Being on terminal leave meant he was still a government employee and under orders, so they didn’t need to send an FBI agent with us. I learned from Doug that it was not uncommon for diplomats to carry foreign passports for other countries in case of problems. This was a lesson he said they learned after a hostage crisis in Tehran, Iran, in the early 80s. So, we would all pass through immigration as Canadian citizens in a heartbeat. Yvonne was Yvonne Jeanette Miller on her passport. We were technically sisters. I liked that.

I had the week off from school Thanksgiving week. So, let the chain of events planned by Doug bring about the changes needed. First, there was breaking down of my grandmother’s wall. The Leitners brought over Sarah. Then Yvonne came over. And finally, the triplets. And, Sarah got her chance to do dress up with us girls. Grandma Miller sat and watched us in Janes room. We threw off our clothes and were down to just our panties and bras as we tried on several outfits at a time. Grandma Miller commented on a couple of the outfits that Sarah put on that she remembered them from years earlier. But, the iceberg remained. I began to despair of hope that she would change. Still, I had a good time with Sarah and Jane. Yvonne was thrilled to have girl time too. I enjoyed trying on some of Jane’s clothes. Jane enjoyed it too.

My grandparents were staying for the moment in Roberts room. One of the things Doug told my parents is that I should keep wearing my government issued appliances during their stay and to trust him. Like I wouldn’t. He also suggested the divide and conquer approach to my mom which had resulted in my grandmother watching our time of dress up. I had just gotten cleaned up after a brief shower and was drying off my face when Grandma Miller opened the door to the bathroom. The look on her face was mind blowing. She saw me naked, but as a naked she. She closed the door quickly and said she was sorry. A little while later, I was cooking breakfast for everyone and she came downstairs. No one was in the kitchen but us.

“Honey, have you had surgery to become a girl and you aren’t telling us?” she asked

“No, that is some equipment I wear to make sure I am not discovered accidently and my cover blown.”

“Well, this sounds strange, but how do you pee?”

“Just like you. I have to sit down. It has been specially molded to me so that my real appendage doesn’t get hurt and still works. It is meant to look and function as though I were a female.”

“Do you mind looking at yourself in the mirror like that?”

“No, my body hasn’t changed yet. Well, it is only recently started. So, there is nothing for me to see.”

“Well, it concerns me. You should talk to someone about it.”

“I do. They send me to a psychiatrist to discuss my reactions, needs, problems. She will tell me if I need to do something like she did this last time. Overall, her job is to make sure this experience isn’t harming me in the head as well as the body.”

“Really! How long has this been going on?”

“Since we started just about. The police felt it was important that I be well adjusted and not walking away from this work harmed in any way. That was very kind of them. They really look out for me.”

“Well, is this affecting how you feel about being a boy?”

“I can truthfully say that it hasn’t changed my opinion one bit about being a boy. I am just as happy to be a boy as I was before.” I wasn’t lying. I hated being a boy.

I heard Mom come into the kitchen. “Grandma Miller, I have to over to the Smiths and help her feed her babies. My Mom can finish cooking breakfast. I bet you two want to talk.”

Mom interjected, “No honey, I think your grandmother should go over with you to the Smiths. Amanda, I think you should see how well she works with the babies at their place. Samantha is amazing.”

“O-okay, if you insist. But, do you ever call Sam a male pronoun anymore?”

“I understand it bothers you. But, we are protecting Sam. In the police reports, Samantha is listed as a boy. By keeping Sam a girl, we prevent the bad guys from finding Sam. So, please use female pronouns and treat Sam like a girl. Especially in front of Mrs. Smith. If you feel you can’t, then please don’t go over with her.”

Grandma Miller and I walked over to the Smiths. “Thank you for coming. I love taking care of these babies, but Mrs. Smith doesn’t believe in boys taking care of babies. It really is unfair. But, that is the way the cookie crumbles.”

We were ushered in. I put Alice, Brian, and Carol into their high chairs while Mrs. Smith pulled out the Gerber bottles of applesauce and began to cook up oatmeal for the babies. The three of us sat down to feed each of the babies. I had Carol again. My secret favorite. It was fun. A real bonding experience. “What was Samantha like? You must have fed her when she was a baby.”

“No, sadly, we were overseas. We have missed all of … her growing up years.” She caught herself almost saying ‘his growing up years.’ “We hope to change that now. She is the only grandchild we have left who is still at home. It is only a matter of time before Jane gets married or Robert too. So, we don’t want to miss out on Samantha’s remaining years.”

“That is nice. And she is such a sweet girl too. I love the way she takes care of my babies. And, here,” she handed my grandmother a photo of the babies, “see the outfits she made for my precious babies. It was the nicest house warming gift we could have ever received.” My grandmother looked at the photo and saw the outfits I made during the summer.

“You made those?” I could tell she was impressed.

“Yes, Grandma Miller. I can sew too. I learned in my Shakespeare class. Mrs. Duncan has taught me how to do alterations. I also can make outfits from scratch. I even made my costumes for my Shakespeare class too. And recently, I made the costumes for my madrigal’s group at school.”

“You cook and you sew! Do you clean house too?” The way she asked the last question sounded mildly sarcastic. I ignored it.

“Since after fourth grade, I have been helping Mom clean the house.” I said plainly as though her question was for real.

“I was going to complement your Mom on how clean your house was and particularly your room, but, are you telling me that you keep your room clean all by yourself?” She was having a hard time believing this, I could tell.

“Yes, Grandma Miller. I like having a clean room. I also clean bathrooms, toilets and do laundry. I even taught Robert to do his laundry. I help around the house as much as I can.” I answered as sincerely as possible.

“Amanda, your granddaughter is so helpful to me also. She cooks and cleans. I love how she will do laundry, clean the house, and take care of the babies while I take a nap. She is quite the multi-tasker and helper. She has a generous soul.” After an hour of hearing my praises sung, we headed back home.

On the walk back to our place my grandmother asked me, “When did you become so well behaved and helpful? I remember you could be such a brat when we last saw you. We really didn’t like you.”

“I was a brat because I thought no one noticed me or cared. Doug came along and he taught me a better way to get attention. I learned from him. Last year, we were studying ‘Taming of the Shrew’ in Shakespeare class, when Doug pointed out to me that the shrew, Katherina, was the way she was because everyone ignored her. It is when she finds that she doesn’t have to fight for attention that she stops being a shrew. Shrew is another word for brat.” Thanks to Dr. Cramer’s observations, I understood better what Doug had taught me.

Grandma Miller thought about what I said for a moment. It finally clicked with her. “I am sorry I didn’t notice you. I really do care about you. Can you forgive me?”

I stopped and hugged my grandmother, “Sure, I can. As long as you forgive me for being a brat. I missed having you here. I love having family. And I love you.”

“I love you too. I am glad to have you back in my life. It looks like you make a better girl than I do.” I could feel her start to melt. I could still see the gears turning in her head even as we walked into the house.

A few minutes later, Mom was preparing a shopping list. “How big a turkey do you think we should buy, Samantha?”

My grandfather spoke first and said, “Why are you asking Sam, he is just a kid?”

“Her name is Samantha and she has grown up. Tell her you are sorry!” Mom and I were shocked when we realized that came out of my grandmother’s mouth.

“Amanda, stay out of this.”

“I will not Robert Correy Miller. You tell her you are sorry right now!” I was in a family fight all of a sudden. And I was the object of that fight.

“Amanda …”

“Don’t you Amanda me. I have dutifully followed you around this globe and it has cost me time with my family. And now that I have them back, you will behave yourself just as I did for you. You promised! This is my time now. We are moving here because this is our family. And this is our granddaughter for the moment. And you will get over it for my sake!”

Dad backed up his mother. “Dad, you know Mom is right. You need to understand. I chose to have Sam be Samantha for her protection. You, of all people, understand security protocols. And I would appreciate it if you accept my rules as I had to accept yours when I was growing up.”

“Son …”

“Mom is right. Please tell Samantha that you are sorry.” I had never seen my Dad be so forceful with his dad.

In a very long moment of introspection, my mother and I witnessed a miracle. Grandpa Miller stopped and thought before he spoke again. “I am sorry Samantha.” It was better than my brother’s sorry a few months back. But it was a big step forward.

“Thank you Grandpa Miller.” My mother and I went back to planning our Thanksgiving dinner.

My brother couldn’t make it for Thanksgiving. He would be home for Christmas. I rose early in the morning and went down to the kitchen. I started cutting up celery and onions. I threw them into a pan adding spices and butter. I began to sauté the mix. Grandma Miller came into the kitchen and sat down to watch me. I went over and started the coffee maker for her. While the celery was in the pan finishing up, I started to break apart cornbread we had let get stale days ago and put it into a bowl.

“Your mother has taught you well, Samantha. To be honest, I fully expected to find your mother slaving away and for you and your sister to be not helping at all. That is why I came down early. Are you going to stuff the turkey too?”

“Jane will be down later to help. She is doing the pies and the salads. I just like to get an early start so I am out of everyone’s way. We will cook the stuffing separate from the turkey anyway. There is less risk of salmonella poisoning that way. With a twenty-eight-pound turkey, it might not hit one hundred and sixty degrees in the bird’s cavity.”

“Where did you learn that?”

“From my Mom. She is really smart.”

“Is there something I can do?”

“Yes, would you help me peel potatoes please.” I handed her a peeler and she and I went to work on the twenty-five-pound bag. Mom is doing the mashed potatoes, but I like to spoil her by having them peeled already.”

“I used to do this with my Mom growing up. I loved to just talk and gossip with her. I miss times like that.”

“Gossip about what?” I inquired.

“Like about what boy I was seeing at the moment. Or which boys had invited me to the dance. So, Samantha, who has invited you to the dance?” She was just teasing. But I caught her off guard.

“That would be Dean Pilsner. He took me to the school dance back in October. My next dance is in a few weeks with Dad at the father-daughter dance. I am really looking forward to dancing with Dad.”

“Really, you have got to be kidding. You have been to a dance with a boy? Did he know you were a boy?” She giggled.

“Yes, I went to a dance with a boy. And no, he didn’t know I was a boy. And he still doesn’t. We take ballroom dancing classes together. We are also about to start ice dancing together.” I told her the cute story of how he asked me. Grandma Miller laughed and said it was sweet too.

“I am confused. Are you sure you didn’t have surgery to become a girl?” She teased.

“No Grandma, I didn’t. I still am a boy.” I giggled

“But you sure don’t act like a boy anymore. I don’t see any boy in you.”

“Well, I had to grow out of being a boy sooner or later. At least I am not a macho Robert. What else do you see when you look at me?” I looked at my grandmother and smiled.

“A happy person who is comfortable in their skin. A big difference from the last time I saw you.”

“I think it is because I am making a difference in the world. I am stopping bad guys. I don’t think it can get better than that. Sam is not lost. He is where he is supposed to be.”

“Samantha?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you for calling me Grandma.”

“You’re welcome Grandma.” I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. She then leaned back and kissed my cheek. We kept peeling away and gossiping.

Agent Jeanette arrived around one o’clock with the De Champs. The Rylands came across the street. The Smiths soon came in too. We had set up the dining room table to accommodate everyone. The Smiths were coming too. There were fourteen seats and thirteen of us at the table. With a satellite table for the triplets. It was a grand meal. Yvonne and I were positioned so we could feed the triplets. I was in heaven.

Before we served Thanksgiving dinner, we each said why we were thankful.

The Rylands began. They were thankful for good neighbors. The Smiths concurred and for me too. My grandparents said they were grateful for family. The De Champs said they were grateful for me. Jeanette said that she was thankful for a place to be on a holiday and for her job. But mostly grateful for the work I was doing. Mom and Dad said they were grateful for family. But Jane stole the show. She was thankful she wasn’t the turkey. And then for family.

“Well, Dr. Ryland, will you do the honors. I guarantee there will be no malpractice suit for this surgery.” My Dad teased. Dr. Ryland laughed. He did an expert job of dissecting the bird. The afternoon was awesome. Never in the history of our house had so many people been in it for Thanksgiving. I was grateful to be a girl with a future. I looked over at Doug and mouthed the words, “Thank you!” He smiled and had an extra piece of pumpkin pie. I went back to my girl like portion.

My trip north was something else. Agent Jeanette pressed my grandfather into service. As a government employee, he was the same as an agent of the FBI. Even better, he was family that could be ordered around. He didn’t mind. He liked the cloak and danger missions he had done before and this was a chance to do it with family. In that respect, my being a girl was giving us a chance to bond. Yvonne and I arrived at the airport and checked in with my grandfather. We were met by an undercover RCMP who introduced herself to us. Her name was Mary Leveque. We took out our brand new passports. Grandpa Miller already had one because of his being in the foreign service. He had yet to do his final week in D.C. where he returned all of his tools of the trade. We flew through Chicago and then to Montreal. We arrived and the Mountie led us to a van and drove us to a building out in the outskirts of town. There were two men and three women waiting for us. They were professionally dressed. I had to wait while they deposed Yvonne in another room. Then my grandfather and I were called in. Most of it was confirming that it was me on the video from the states and my interpretation of what was said. Then they put pictures in front of me to help me identify the men at the party outside of Nogales. Pretty straight forward.

But, then, my grandfather looked at the photos. “I know that man.”

The prosecutor looked surprised. “How would you know him? We have been trying to identify him along with your country.”

“I was the consulate security officer in French Guiana two years ago in the American consulate. His name is David St. Jean. He came in to get an entry visa. I never forget a face. Especially one that I wrote up and put on a watch list. I checked him out with the local police. While he had committed no crimes, he was a person of interest in a few murder cases. He was allegedly associated with a Jean-Claude Thomas who had served time for extortion and blackmail. Thomas ran a small drug empire too. Since we couldn’t tie St. Jean for sure to Thomas, we had to allow the visa. But, I put him on a watch list so that if there was every any association that could be proved, we could yank his visa right away. Now it looks like you got him and he can be brought in.”

“Not really, your government lost track of him weeks ago. He has gone missing and we are concerned about his whereabouts.”

“Do you think he presents any danger to my grandchild?”

“Probably not, but talk it over with the agents back in Spring Valley to be sure.”

For the next twenty minutes, Grandpa Miller gave all sorts of information on the possible associates of Thomas and St. Jean. Apparently, my grandfather was the very person the prosecutors needed to talk to next. I watched him. He was alive. He lived for moments like this. He was in on the hunt for bad guys. He was like that mouse I saw in a cartoon once whose whiskers twitched when he had an idea. And, he loved being in the midst of other cops.

While waiting on my grandfather, I spied a guitar behind one of the desks. The person at the desk smiled at me. Apparently, she had seen the video of me. She brought the guitar over and a pick. I took the hint. We had time to kill before the plane left to take us back home the next morning. We would be spending the night anyway. The legalities over with, I started strumming. Since there was a fair contingency of Mounties present, I decided to have a little fun. I played a few notes and sure enough, quite a few grins told me they knew the song. I began to sing ‘Ride Forever,’ by Paul Gross and David Keely, “Well I was born up north of Great Slave, 1898 … .” Pretty soon, we all were singing together “We are going to ride forever. Can’t keep horseman in a cage ... .” Even Grandpa Miller joined in at times. It turned out that a few of the Mounties had performed the song during an awards ceremony with Paul Gross in ’95. My grandfather sat beside me and watched me sing with all the Mounties too. He clearly didn’t know I played the guitar. But he also was intrigued that I knew how to connect with them. Afterwards, the Mounties and my grandfather started to swap war stories. Grandpa Miller had a long career in law enforcement around the world and being with kindred souls was nice for him. Having his granddaughter by his side listening to his every word only made it better. In a way, we were bonding through our work.

The head Mountie stuck his head in the door at one point. His name was George French. He asked if I would like to grow up to be a Mountie so I could join their band. I laughed and said no. But I thanked him kindly for the offer.

At the end of our interviews, the Mountie took us back to the airport hotel. She said her goodbyes. Yvonne and I chatted into the night about what she was looking forward to doing in Canada. Afterward, we spent the night in a restful sleep. The next morning, the three of us passed through American passport control with our American passports and flew home. Bill met us at the airport and drove us home. We dropped off Yvonne to her place and continued to our home.

“Bill, is there any word on this Jean-Claude Thomas and David St. Jean? Any reason we should be concerned?”

“No. If Yvonne and Samantha were to drop out of the picture, they still would be charged.” My grandfather didn’t press the point. But he looked concerned anyway.

Dad came in from work to find Bill and my grandparents relaxing in the living room. “How did the depositions go Dad?”

“Samantha was spectacular. I was shown her video interview with Yvonne. Incredible. How she reached that poor girl was amazing. I can see why you are so proud of her son.” Grandpa Miller called me Samantha!

Bill commented. “I think you would be impressed what she did last week too. She spotted a criminal that the professional profiler missed. I have been getting reports back from the field that she was again instrumental in breaking wide open a case.”

“Bill, is there a job I can do at Samantha’s school so I can keep an eye on her and my daughter-in-law. I would feel better if I was there to were there to keep an eye out for David St. Jean. Since I already know him, I can spot him faster than anyone else. I don’t care if I do janitorial work. I just want to be there to help protect them.”

“I will see if we can get you a job where you can mow lawns and take care of the outside of the school. That way you can keep an eye out for someone who is watching the school. However, you must realize that you can’t be armed.”

“Yes, that goes without saying. But, at least I can be in a position to notify the authorities when I see something.”

“Or someone.”

Soon, my grandparents had rented a furnished condo. The house was much quieter than the last few weeks. I gave my dad and mom a hug and kiss and went upstairs to bed. I sat on my bed and started to play my guitar. I had the door open, so Mom wandered in and sat down.

“I love hearing you play Samantha.”

“Thanks Mom.”

“Grandma Miller has really taken a liking to you. She can’t get over how much you have changed.”

“I hope it has been for the better.”

“Yes. Yes, it has.”

“Mom, I heard a song at school the other day that I like. You know me, if it is modern and pop, I really don’t care for it. But, I thought it would be a good one to learn and sing to you. I like its message.”

I began to sing the Spice Girls “Mama” to my mama. Tears ran silently down my face as I sang it. She sat there listening to the lyrics. I could see tears start to stream down her face when I sang …

“I'm not ashamed to say it now
Every little thing you said and did was right for me.”

After I finished, I said, “I love you Mom. I don’t think I can say that enough.” I put down the guitar and we hugged.

“Oh Samantha, you are such a blessing to me. And I love the person you are becoming.”

The next weekend, Dad had arranged with Mr. Thompson that one of our concerts would be at the local Country Club. He had a good working relationship with the golf course superintendent and hinted that things might look better if the club had the madrigals show up for a concert. Simple blackmail. Both of them knew it. Both of them pretended it was for real.

We all assemble in the foyer of the club. Our outfits looked very nice. The concert in front of the special Christmas dinner was very nice. We got to perform for the audience after their meals. All the members applauded us. Then, it was time for everyone to bring their child up to see Santa and we dispersed into the foyer again. As we were milling about, Mary looked panicked. She looked at me and then at someone coming towards us. I turned around and it was Wilson MacDonald. He was one of the boys who teased me this last summer.

“Sam?”

“No, it’s Jackie. Jackie Miller. Sam is my cousin.”

“Are you sure? I could have sworn for sure that you are the same guy I knew from this last summer. Right Mary?” Wilson was looking for support. He got none.

“She is right Tom. They are identical cousins, so to speak.” As he looked at me, Mary rolled her eyes and bit her lip.

I pulled out my Canadian ID and showed it to him. “See, I am Jackie Miller. I think you are confusing me with Samuel Coleridge Miller, my cousin and my doppelganger, that is, when he is in a dress.”

“Oh my, you are from Canada. And a girl too. I am really confused.”

“Yes, I was born in Myers Bluff, Quebec. It is a city just south of Sherbrook by about twenty kilometers.” I pulled out a photo of me and the Mounties my grandfather took for me and showed him. See, my dad is a constable in the RCMP. He happens to have the last name Miller too.

“I haven’t seen Sam at school this year. Where is he then?” Wilson asked.

“He is in Myers Bluff going to school. He and I exchanged places for the school year. He was so sad to lose his friend Cybil, that our parents decided to let us switch places. That way he could have some time to grieve over her without all the boys teasing her, I mean him. And his parents, my aunt and uncle, would have someone at home so they didn’t miss him too much.”

“Then why aren’t you going to my school?”

“Because my aunt teaches at Danvers.”

“Oh, I am sorry then. So you are really a girl!?”

“Yes, I am. And I have the birth certificate to prove it too. I’ll slap you if you ask for other proof.” Well, I was being honest.

To add credibility to my claim, I remembered that this was my purse had my Canadian passport too. I pulled it out and showed it to him. Thankfully, the contact address was Myers Bluff and the name on the passport was Leon Miller, RCMP.

“Wow, you two look so much alike.”

“Yes, I think that is why Sam wanted to take the Shakespeare class. So he could pull a practical joke on me. Cousins do that you know.”

“Well, tell him hi for me. I have to get back to my parents. But I had to tell them I knew one of the singers and I thought she was really a boy. They will laugh when I tell them the rest of the story.”

As he left, Mary looked at me and shook her head. “Quick thinking Samantha. But, had that been Tom Hinks, it wouldn’t have worked. Wilson has the IQ of a rubber ducky. I could sell him swamp land in Florida and he would come back asking for more.”

“I think it is time I went blonde or something. That way if this happens again, I won’t get caught.”

“Means a trip to the salon, girlfriend!” She looked at me with this mischievous grin.

I smiled back at her. “Blackmailer! Yes, you can come too.”

“Hey, if it works, why not? Blackmail can be a good thing sometimes.” Mary giggled.

We locked arms and both laughed as we talked about what I could do to change my appearance. We joined the others on the bus and headed back.

The day was coming for the Father-Daughter and Mother-Son dance at school. Mom agreed that changing my hairstyle and hair color could help avoid another Wilson encounter. Grandma, Mary, Mom, and I headed to the salon for our hair styling. I opted for a shade darker hair and a layered look with bangs. It was very much a different style. It was also nice to have time out with the girls.

Jane and Grandma helped me get ready for the dance. I had a nice simple blouse with long sleeves and a belted skirt that went to my mid-calf. I wore stockings and heels. Nice ear rings and necklace with a silver heart. I had a sweater wrap to keep me warm. It would be nice to twirl in the skirt. And it looked like a nice outfit to a father-daughter dress. Mom dressed in a similar dress. We went downstairs where our men were waiting for us. Doug took Mom’s arm and Dad took mine and we walked down to the car and drove to the school. They had set up tables with candles. They had red and green table clothes and looked very festive. It was a dinner dance, so we sat down to eat first. Dad pulled out my chair and I smoothed my dress and sat down. Doug did the same for our Mom. There were two choices for dinner. Chicken Cordon Bleu or a Mac and Cheese. We all chose Chicken. The students from the school were the staff. We could have a soft drink, fruit punch, or water. I went with water.

We ate and chatted. I sat like a lady with my legs crossed and my left hand in my lap. Dessert was a nice chocolate cake. In the background was Christmas music. Then, finally, they cleared the plates and the dance started.

It was mostly slow songs from the past. A little Glen Miller or Mel Torme. A little Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby. We danced the fox trot mostly. “Daddy, you should have taken some classes with me.”

“Sorry honey. Dancing wasn’t big in school for me. Do you mind?”

“It’s okay, Daddy, I am dancing with you. That is all that matters.” He pulled me closer. We danced slowly. I could tell he was enjoying the experience.

After four or five songs. Doug and I let Mom and Dad dance together. We danced for the first time. We had danced in class, but never together. It was nice to be in his arms. He was a good dancer.

They started to play Seal’s ‘Kiss from a Rose.’ We started to do a waltz. Doug knew that I enjoyed dancing and let me shine. He let me twirl and spin out from his embrace as we did a nice waltz. We promenaded and I realized that his talents as a dancer had grown. He and I worked well together and I was lost in dancing with him. I didn’t even notice what was going on with us. We didn’t see the parents and their kids stopping and backing up to watch us dance. We dance how we were instructed by our dance teacher. Our focus was each other. As the last lyric was song, Doug released me and I twirled to a stop and looked at him. I curtseyed to him and he bowed to me. Then all I heard from the dance floor was applause. I looked over and Mom and Dad were holding hands and smiling at us. Dad leaned over and kissed Mom and caressed her face.

Doug took my hand and led me over to Mom and Dad. We switched back and began to dance again.

“Honey, you are quite a beautiful dancer.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“And yes, I needed a father-daughter dance. This was an excellent suggestion.”

After a bit, we came to the last dance of the night. Mr. Thompson was again at the controls. Bless his heart, he did it again. He knew that I loved the music of Francis Cabrel. He put on his ‘C’est Ecrit.’ Dad and I started to dance and Dad let me dance away from him and around him in time to the music. It is a beautiful piece of music that invites that kind of dancing. We would dance and then I would release from him and dance solo and then back to him. My dancing was more interpretive than the foxtrot that my Dad did with me, but it was fun to twirl to turn and look at him in the eyes. Little by little, we became better dancers together. By the end of the song, we were dancing together. Not as many people watched me as they did with Doug, but we were watched.

As we were leaving, the principle came up to us. “Mr. and Mrs. Miller, I can’t tell you what a joy it is to have Jackie as a student here. At first, I thought she might be a gang member because of being sworn to our secret. But, she is a real delight. You must be so proud of her.”

They both looked at me and said in unison, “We are! We are!”

Dad leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “Thank you sweetheart. I think I had the two most beautiful girls tonight. Your mom and you.” I blushed and smiled.

“Thank you, Daddy. I think we had the two handsomest men too.” My dad smiled and hugged me.

Christmas Day was wonderful. The house was decorated and we were doing a simple meal this time. Robert was back from College. He and Grandpa Miller were having a grand time. Doug came over in the morning for opening of presents. It was communicated to my grandparents that we were a surrogate family. Truthfully, they didn’t mind. With me being a girl, he got all the attention from my grandfather which took the pressure off of me.

My presents were simple. I made for Grandma an apron that said ‘World’s Greatest Grandma!’ On the apron were all the countries they had visited during their time in the foreign service. She was thrilled. For Jane, I made a custom cashmere sweater with her name on the back and the numbers of the year she graduated from high school. It was a soft and warm sweater. She loved it. For Dad, I astonished him by making him a high quality suit for work. And for Robert, I made him a jacket in CSU’s colors with his name. It wasn’t a letterman’s jacket. But it had that feel. For Grandpa Miller, I made him a ‘World’s greatest Grandpa!’ apron with pockets for holding stuff for the grill when we did a backyard BBQ. And for Doug, I made him a tux for the prom with a note that I would make a matching outfit for Mary.

My gifts were interesting. From Jane, I got lots of makeup. Oh yes! Mom gave me accessories to go with my full closet. Yippee! Grandma gave me books which included ‘The Secret Garden.’ I noticed they were mostly books for girls. Nice! And Grandpa Miller got me a fly fishing pole. Well, a start. It could have been a football. I also got a new pair of ice skates which were perfect for a girl and for ice dancing.

For my birthday, however, I usually got very little. Mom had arranged for Doug and I to help Mrs. Allen with her house. “I know Mom, it sounds crazy, but I really want to help Mrs. Allen. She is getting too far along in her pregnancy to be able to do things for herself. I think it will be a fun way to spend my birthday.”

“Okay, but you know that a snow storm is headed here. It is going to be bad. You had better be prepared to stay the night.”

So, Mom made sure I was dropped off with back up clothes and other items. Same for Doug. The snow was already falling heavy at nine in the morning. It was the wet kind which means that the roads were going to be soon icing. Mom headed back home. Dad would try to pick us up after four. Mr. Allen was going out shortly to go grocery shopping since Mrs. Allen wasn’t up to it.

“Oh, thank you for coming Samantha! You have no idea of how much this means to me. Derek isn’t the best of housekeepers. Oh, and thank you Doug for coming too.”

We began in the kitchen. We washed pots and pans. Cleaned the refrigerator. Cleaned counter tops. Scrubbed the floor. And had it clean in a few hours. Mr. Allen poked his head around the kitchen door to say he was headed out now that he knew what they needed. We handed him a grocery list. He looked relieved that their kitchen looked like a kitchen again. He would be gone a couple of hours. Traffic was going at about twenty miles per hour around town even with the snow plows operating at full tilt.

We took a break. “Doug, do you think my grandparents are there yet? Are they accepting me?”

“Not completely, but the foundation is laid. Your grandfather will come around sooner than you think, but slower than you want. Your grandmother is just about there as you have already found out.”

Mrs. Allen appeared at the door of the kitchen with her legs slightly apart. A puddle of liquid was forming at her feet. “My water just broke guys. Call 911.”

Doug sprang into action and went to take care of her. “Call 911 Samantha.” I called and Doug got her to sit down at the breakfast table. He then went to the nursery and grabbed the emergency birth kit he gave them as a gift last month when we redid their nursery. “Samantha, you start to time the contractions.”

I did as he asked. A few minutes later, I told him, “Three and a half minutes apart.”

“The phone rang. It was 911. There was a huge delay. They were overwhelmed. They would try and get here as fast as possible, but the roads were very icy and there were no police even available to help. Doug took the phone, “I have an emergency kit for birth. Yes, I have assisted at the hospital with deliveries, so I should be able to help her. Get here as fast as you can. The front door is unlocked.”

Doug went up to Mrs. Allen, “I believe you are going to have a fast labor. That is not uncommon after the first child. If you are already at three minutes, I need to check the position of the baby as quickly as possible. I need to make sure she has dropped. Do you trust me?”

“I guess I am going to have to trust you.” Mrs. Allen looked a little worried, but Doug’s reassuring smile had her calmed down in no time.

“I have assisted about twenty births at the hospital thanks to my Dad pulling a few strings. Let’s get you into the living room. There is a chair there that can double as a birthing chair. Samantha, grab a bunch of towels and cover the chair after you put down this pad from the kit on the seat.” I went to do as he asked.

Soon, Doug led her into the living room and placed her in the chair. “Mrs. Allen, your contractions are at two minutes. I am sorry, but I need access to you in order to let the baby come out. This isn’t anything I haven’t seen before. I will also need to feel your stomach and make sure your baby is pointed right.”

Mrs. Allen removed her panties and with her wearing a dress, we saw everything. But, she didn’t care. She knew why. Nor did we care. I played a breathing coach encouraging her to breath and take deep breaths after every contraction. Doug began to feel around her stomach.

“Whew, we aren’t looking at a breech baby. She is pointed right and has dropped. How many weeks are you at this time?” Mrs. Allen clearly liked hearing Doug say this and knew he was asking the right questions.

She said, “Thirty-four I think. We just revised the date to January 14th. So, she is almost 35 weeks. Oh, I don’t know.”

“Mrs. Allen, relax, she will be fine if she comes now. She is at thirty-six weeks. All right Mrs. Allen, you are at nine centimeters dilated at least. I think she is coming in the next half hour. Just keep pushing. We’ve got this. Your baby is going to be fine.” I held her hand and Doug kept cleaning up. The gurgling sounds of birth and the fluids were flowing was unexpected on my part. I discovered that birth was a messy business. She was pushing more and more. Each contraction was stronger than the last.

“The head is crowning Mrs. Allen. I am going to massage the area to ease her exit. Just like I have seen doctors do before. Samantha, I am going to have you catch the baby, when I tap your shoulder, I am going to let you sit here. You have the receiving blanket, so when the baby comes, you just let her come out at her own pace. Don’t pull her. That way I can check her breathing after she comes out and clear her airways while you hold her.”

Doug tapped me and on the shoulder and as he stepped out, I stepped in. Seeing the birth canal was totally awesome, I could see her head. I put my hands out underneath her. With each contraction, the baby was coming out more and more. I took her head in my hand and waited for the rest of her. Her head looked oddly shaped. I found out later that was normal. Then, with the last few pushes, she came out and I caught her. It was the best feeling I could ever have. I held her while Doug checked her airways and cleaned them. At the same time, he began to rub her feet. Suddenly, she started to breath and cry. A good healthy cry too. Doug and I cleaned her up and put a blanket around her leaving the cord intact.

“Mrs. Allen, I need you to try and breast feed her. As you do that, I am going to rub your belly. This will encourage your body to expel the placenta. I am not going to cut the cord. I want Mr. Allen to do that if he can or for the paramedics to cut it.”

I switched places with Doug again and Mrs. Allen took the baby and pulled out a breast and offered it to her. She had done this before so she already knew how to get her to take a nipple. I watched in awe as mother and daughter bonded. I reflected for a moment that I had held Samantha in my arms for the first time. I held a baby’s hand when it was seconds old. The memories of the last words of Cybil echoed in my head. I was taking care of her mom and dad. Even better, I was holding my namesake on my own birthday too.

I looked out the window and the storm was getting worse. Soon, there was a knock on the door. I opened it expecting the paramedics and it was my Dad who had come to pick me up early. He saw the blood and goop on me and the smile too. Behind him came an anxious Mr. Allen with groceries. He came in to find his newborn daughter.

About twenty minutes later, the paramedics arrived. They let Mr. Allen cut the cord.

“Doug, you are going to make a really good doctor!” said Mrs. Allen.

We assisted getting them into the ambulance. I kissed Samantha Mary Allen goodbye. Mr. Allen would follow in their car. So, I got to meet Samantha Mary Allen face to face on her birthday. I was glad I was wearing old clothes. We cleaned up the living room, put away the groceries, quickly cleaned the nursery and the master bedroom, master bathroom, and locked the door on our way out. We hadn’t finished all of our cleaning, but we would come back in a few days and help them again. This time, I would be seeing and helping a new born too that I helped deliver.

When Dad got us home, I walked through the door and Mom took one look at me and asked, “Are you okay Honey? What happened to you?”

I was grinning from ear to ear, and said tearfully, “Mom, I just got the best birthday present ever!”

Copyright © 2017 by AuP reviner

[Author’s note: Please, take some time to play the videos I have linked. They will explain some things in the story.

I once talked to a relative’s fiancée about the four words on cards, People, Things, Use, Love. I warned her that my relative was coming out of a bad marriage and wanted to use her. She married him anyway telling me it was okay for him to use her saying I was too immature in the ways of the world to understand what true love was since I was not yet married (16 married years now). Three years later, they were getting a bitter divorce. She asked me after it was all over why I hadn’t warned her about him. I reminded her of the cards and said I did. You could have heard a pin drop. Little did she know I grew up reading my mother’s Ladies Home Journal and McCalls magazine articles on relationships. Silly me. I should have been reading Sports Illustrated like every other boy instead. – AuP]