Down to Earth -
Book One (Prologue)
All Souls Night

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sHVLEvK5dbE

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Three women stood in a circle around the table in the middle of the old, roofless church. Moonlight illuminated the figures that held hands and spoke in a low, almost indiscernible tongue. On the table lay a young man, barely conscious, but still able to see his captors loom over him.

He writhed, pulling against the bonds. Three women, all clad in black, stood over the table where the man struggled in vain to free himself.

“Are we agreed?”the first said, pulling her cowl back to reveal raven hair and a terrible beauty.

“We must, for it is the only way to restore the balance,” the second woman said. She too, had her cowl removed, displaying a shock of long red hair. She glared at the man, whose eyes widened in terror at her words.

“Yes…there is no other course of action; we must act now before midnight strikes. It is time.”the third woman said, pulling her own cowl back, uncovering a face filled with sadness.

“I wish I had a choice, I really do,” she said to her sisters, but she looked at the man bound before them, noting his fear.

“It will be over quickly.”she almost smiled, indicating mercy, but her voice filled with sadness. What they were about to do would be over in moments, to be sure, but the effects of their efforts were permanent.

“I don’t want to…I’ll do anything you wish…just please don’t do this,” he pleaded, but it was clear that they would not be swayed. He must have committed some unpardonable sin, whatever that was in their eyes, and he was going to pay, and dearly.

The moonlight cast an eerie pall on his figure, partially overshadowed by the remnants of half-lost stained glass and broken lead filigree. The hourglass sat on a large stone in the middle of the church next to the table. He looked at the quickly escaping sand fall into the bottom half, marking his impending doom.

They circled around the table almost in a dance. Reaching across him, they clasped hands quickly directly over the his forehead.

“It is time,” they said in unison,

“Time to restore balance!”A crackle of static sounded, growing louder even as the final grains of sand fell into the globe below.

An almost guttural scream escaped his throat. In moments, the scream had subsided, replaced almost with the sound of a contented purr. The women looked down, and in the place of the man who had plead only moments before, seeking mercy…lay a beautiful young woman, clad in a robe similar to their own.

The black haired beauty pulled back their new sister’s cowl, revealing long blond hair, curly and full. Her face was beautiful. A new sister was born, no longer evil or twisted or cruel as some might have imagined, but understanding, compassionate, and caring.

---

Across town, a figure lay on a bed in a room above the garage. The neighborhood dog could be heard barking through the slightly open window. The glare of the street light pierced through a partially torn curtain, revealing the figure to be that of a sixteen year old boy.

On his wall posters displayed his love of animals; he wanted to be a veterinarian. Pictures of cats and dogs filled his room. A large cage held an old flop-eared rabbit along with a brindle-colored guinea pig.

He lay asleep after a fitful unrest, his pillow stained with tears, and not just from this night. A copy of a Bridal magazine lay half hidden under his bed, and he gripped a stuffed kitten tightly with his right hand... He wore a soft, cotton night gown and one felt slipper still clung to his left foot.

No one stood over his bed…he was alone in his pain, wondering if he would ever live a day without sadness. He was kind and considerate and such a lovely boy whose only offense to his neighbors and class mates was that he wanted to become…no, she wanted to be known for the girl she already was.

Above the house, looming almost like monoliths, but living and beautiful, stood four giant-looking figures, all women, all clad in soft, gossamer gowns. They peered through the window and saw the child writhing in pain, much like the young man in the church, but she was bound by the constraints of convention, held fast by lack of acceptance and resource, shackled by fear and ignorance.

The oldest of the four turned and shook her head as tears streamed down her cheek. Her weeping was soon joined by the other three, who spoke silent but futile and powerless prayers. Upon closer look, the women weeping over the girl were the very same trio who had now welcomed the new sister only moments before.

“Why can’t we intervene?”the redheaded woman asked her sisters. “Why could we transform the meanness and cruelty into beauty, but be helpless to do anything for this poor innocent creature?”she pleaded almost desperately, as if she knew the poor child.

The older woman looked down at the sleeping girl and then at her sisters and simply said,

“An imbalance that needed change…in our world. It was magic that changed him into something… someone better; it always works that way.”

She smiled gently at the newest member of their group before looking to the girl below, who had awoken and was weeping into her pillow once again.

“But why not her, why not this poor hopeless child?” The fourth woman asked, her own weeping echoing the sad girl's sobbing.

The older woman looked upon the sad girl before urging her sisters to depart, while pointing to the girl on the bed one last time, saying,

“Because this, my dear sweet sisters, is real life.”

---

All Saints Day

The four women stood together outside the house where the girl still slept.

Only moments before, the women wept in frustration over the poor girl's sad tears. Calleigh, the oldest of them, looked at her sisters, and her expression changed, as if she had remembered something long forgotten, but really had in her mind all along.

She looked back; the sun’s rays illuminating the sky; its warmth slowly replacing the glare of the streetlight, as if hope had begun to rise.

"Come, dear sweet sisters, we have work to do." She smiled softly with a smile that says, "I know something that you do not, but it isn't a secret; I just have been around long enough to learn this." She looked again at her sisters, who were rapidly diminishing in size. The glow to their clothing was replaced by ordinary shadows and contrast as the fabric of their dresses grew opaque, losing their shimmer.

"What other tasks await us, Calleigh?" Orla, the redhead faced the oldest of the quartet, who appeared to be in her thirties, despite the centuries between that moment and the moment of her birth. "Who can we help, now that this child is beyond our care?"

"Yes, said Maired, the newest member of the four, innocent and wide-eyed, no longer encumbered by doubt and illusion. While "he" had been cynical and sarcastic, she was filled instead with wonder and awe. "If we can't help her, can we at least do something? Maybe sing a song through her window to dry her tears?"

Maired had already begun to understand something important, even if she didn't know she understood. While they couldn't change things for the poor creature who awoke with tear-stained cheeks; they could at least provide comfort.

"We will sing, dear little one, but not now. Soon we will sing, and it won't just be for comfort, but in joy and hope."

"I don't understand," Orla said. "What could possibly bring this poor girl joy if we cannot?"

"Orla, sweet dear Orla, it isn't our place to bring her joy, that is the place of others. We simply do what we can to help those of her race to find it in themselves to help her."

Calleigh smiled wisely, remembering when she was new, a babe as it were, feeling that power must be the key. She discovered, and would help her sisters understand that it was not power, but love and compassion and understanding that transformed the hidden into knowledge; weakness into strength, and the doubt and sadness into hope.

"Then what is our part," the newest sister said, wanting so much not to seem too eager, but her enthusiasm was contagious and wonderful, prompting her older sisters to reply in kind, "Yes, what can we do?"

"We, my sweet dear sisters, wait and pray and nudge and suggest and urge those who can help to choose to do so. We are four, and they are four as well. Three love this girl so much that it will just be a matter of direction and guidance.

"Orla, there is a girl who is friends with this child...she needs your help in order to be a help herself. She will need you to show her she can make a difference for her friend, even if it is at the peril of losing her own love for the girl."

"Fiona, you must remind the man who has been a help not to give up, for it his passion to see this child succeed that will in turn give him what he needs to help her."

"As for me, I know that the one who loves her most feels the most helpless, and she will need to know that her own wisdom is what will give this child courage."

"You, Maired,' she said to the newest, "have the hardest task of all, that of helping the fourth understand, so that he can become better even as he learns to love and accept this girl for who she really is. You, of all of us, will understand and will have the hardest task, since that person who needs to help this girl is the person you once were and shall again become."

Fiona and Orla looked at the oldest in shock, almost horrified that their newest sister would return to her former form, robbed of the chance of immortal service to the lost and hopeless, deprived of the joy of living beyond mortal life to see countless others receive hope. Calleigh looked at them and said simply,

"We must hurry; there is no time to lose.

Maired looked at her sisters, blinking out tears, but the change in her heart already had brought her acceptance of the task at hand and the enormity and responsibility placed upon her shoulders. She wept, but not out of sorrow; she wept from relief and a new-found sense of purpose.

Her transformation had begun even as they wept with her, and in a moment, Maired no longer stood in their midst, but instead the young man barely out of boyhood who had been transformed the night before. In place of the powerful but gentle woman, he stood; nervous but still relieved, given a second chance. A young man...one who only days before had been the first one to shout and tease and curse the poor girl; her own brother Michael

'What about the balance, what do we do to restore that?" Fiona asked, nervous over the possibilities.

"Another will take her place, do not worry, all is as it should be."

---

The girl woke with a start, fearful as she was every morning. Her door was closed, and no one would know how she had fallen asleep after a fitful night, wearing the nightgown she had found in the box under the stairs. She treasured it so, although one might wonder why.

Her mother, wanting to be a liberated woman, had decided quite on her own that she didn’t need a father’s help to raise her child, and she never told her boyfriend about the baby she had carried alone.

The girl rose from her bed and walked into her bathroom. She looked in the mirror, once again expecting something different, as if Shaylee or Eolande, the fairies her aunt told her about when she was small might have come in the night to grant her a wish.

“No change,” she thought sadly as she got dressed for the day. The mint-green night gown was replaced by a tee shirt and jeans. The hair was pulled back and the face scrubbed for the day, revealing not Maura or Sinead or even Shawn, but Padraic, or Patrick, as her mother named her. Her name, a name she almost despised, was pretty much all that her mother had left her, abandoning her and her brother Mike to the care of her Aunt Breena.

A knock came at the door.

“Paddy, are you decent, love?” Breena’s voice came from the hallway.

“Sure, Aunt Breena, just a sec.” The bathroom door opened and in place of the girl who had cried herself to sleep the night before, a boy stood facing his aunt.

“Now I want you to promise me somethin,’ darlin’? Will you come to me when the teasin’ gets like it did yesterday.” Breena had overheard Michael, Paddy’s brother, repeating all the nasty insults that the boys in the neighborhood had yelled as they stood in the alleyway the previous day. Michael was almost as bad as his friends when it came to insults, but it hurt beyond hope since he was family.

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‘You’ll be fine…you’re among your kind now, dear, never forget that.”Calleigh reminded Michael that he was no longer the man he had been the night before. Today was a new day and he had been blessed with the wisdom that persuades and convinces softly, kindly, to bring him to a place where he’d never imagined he’d ever be; to a life he never thought twice about living. No longer cruel and uncaring, he was now kind and understanding.

The task before him was daunting, since in order to convince his family he had really changed, he would have to change on the outside. In order for Paddy to believe that Michael understood he would have to endure the same taunts and cruel treatment that only days before he had given Paddy.

He’d have to become a girl. Not with magic, but by standing alongside his brother as the two became sisters together. Easy enough to manage in an instant with a spell and deep magic; quite another to manage with nothing but imagination, some clothes, and a new-found love for his baby…sister.

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A brief synopsis

Four women, centuries old, versed in the ways of Draoidheil, the old art, not of witchcraft as we know it, but rather blessings and help for mortals; they are charged to bring hope and courage to a child living in doubt and fear.

Each woman has the task of influencing one mortal only that knows the child, so that they in turn can bring hope. Power was useless; it usually was, Persuasion imbued with love, acceptance and understanding would be the weapon they would use to fight this battle.

Calleigh the Wise would enable a fearful woman find the courage to stand up for this child

Orla the Passionate would bring the girl’s best friend to understand that in order to love the child, she had to let her go.

Fiona the Resourceful was given the task of helping a man understand that he had it in him to help the child, provided he could receive help from the one who love him more than life itself; his wife

And Maired the Innocent? Endowed with the understanding of centuries even if she in a way was only a day old... Her task was the hardest, for she was charged with returning the immortality she had just received only to resume her former self; that of the child’s brother.

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It had not even been twenty-four hours, and Michael was already reverting to form…somewhat.

Most of the wisdom he had received as a member of the family of women had worn off, so to speak. While he was Maired, all the wisdom his predecessor owned was given to him, rather her while she still remained a part of the whole. When he transformed back, some of what she had been given naturally left, being only meant for the time of being Maired.

But the compassion and understanding would never leave him; being special and life-long gifts he received during the first transformation. Irrevocable in a sense. These gifts were really part of him all along, awakened as he felt first guilty and foolish and cruel when the memories of his brother’s pain flashed before his eyes in an instant.

When he became Michael once more, those memories were still intact, along with a determination driven by his desire to change; things would be different. Like a distaff version of A Christmas Carol but where he was almost one of the ghosts as well.

Paddy was sitting at the dining room table studying for a geometry test when Michael walked in. Aunt Reena was outside hanging clothes on the line and Neddie, their Irish Setter sat quietly at the back door waiting for her return. Paddy looked up to see Michael and winced out of habit, expecting a slew of invectives followed by “Hey Patty, or Patsy-girl.” Michael pulled up a chair and sat down next to Paddy, evoking another wince as he turned his attention back to his study.

“Pat, we’ve got to talk.” Calmly, simply, and so out of character with Mike. Paddy expected it was leading up to some teasing but he saw that Michael had tears in his eyes….not fake crying, but real honest to goodness tears.

Michael was going to lie. Out of all the things he remembered as a member of the group was that he had been dishonest and certainly disloyal to his brother, preferring the company of the very same crowd that teased Paddy every day. He had prayed before entering the house, and almost felt a dispensation to fabricate a story. It really wasn’t lying, since he had every intention of revealing the truth to Paddy but was sworn not to. So he exaggerated.

The tears were real, even if the story wasn’t. Michael felt the sting of guilt and shame even as he had entered the room…Not false guilt or misplaced shame. But the guilt and true shame that we feel when we actually realize how much we have hurt someone. And while the tears were real, they were also helpful, since they were the catalyst for Paddy’s trust.

“I’ve been thinking…about how I’ve treated you….” Michael looked into Paddy’s eyes, which still displayed doubt. That is until Michael continued.

“I’ve been keeping a secret from you and Aunt Breena,” which was actually true; just not the secret he was about to confess. Michael realized that to gain his brother’s trust he would have to demonstrate understanding and acceptance in a way that could not be mistaken as being insincere or false.

“The reason I’ve been picking on you is because…” Here he actually cried, remembering the nights that he heard Paddy cry himself to sleep over the pain of rejection by not only his classmates, but his own brother. “I’m so sorry…I...should have…” Michael could no more have told Paddy his “secret”any sooner since it was a secret only born yesterday, literally.

“If this is one of your jokes…” Paddy said, his own eyes misting up, wanting to believe his brother, but afraid of another lie or cruel insult.

“I want…this is so hard,” which it was, since he didn’t want it at all save for his new-found desire to love his brother and understand and support him. “I think I…..Oh fuck…this is so fucking hard…” He lapsed into his usual profanity, but it lent an authenticity to his obvious frustration.

“Michelle…her name is Michelle.” Michael buried his head in his arms on the table and wept harder than he ever had. He had no intention of becoming a girl at that point; he wasn’t even sure that he knew what that meant. But at that moment, in the dispensation of his tale, Michael finally almost magically understood his baby sister for the first time.

“Patty” he said softly, uttering the name with such affection and love that things changed in a moment between siblings.

“Patty…my name is Michelle.”

---

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A few days later at their school...

The three stood in the hallway by the man's office. His door was open, but they remained outside. The hall was empty save for a young girl talking with her track coach about missing practice, and a woman posting some photos in a display case.

"Is this the one?" Fiona asked Calleigh.

"Yes, he has spent much time trying to help the girl, but with little success. His colleagues don't appreciate what the girl is going through; although they sympathize somewhat with the bullying the boy has endured."

"They don't understand but they sympathize...now I don't understand." Fiona displayed her childlike innocence even if it spanned three centuries. Always exuberant and hopeful, she was the most resourceful of the quartet...trio. Their fourth member had departed only recently and her replacement, so to speak, had been "sent back" with her own task.

"Almost all of her teachers find her to be intelligent and kind and friendly, but they do not understand who she is inside. They see her clothes and her hair and are sorry that a boy should be harassed; that a young man would receive such cruel treatment."

"They see her as him," Orla interjected, not to presume to correct or instruct Fiona, but to express the lament that they all felt for the girl.

"If they don't see her for who she is, what can I do to help?" Fiona wasn't upset at all by Orla's observation. She always deferred to Calleigh's wisdom, which usually identified what needed to be done. Calleigh was not only wise, but she encouraged her sister's giftings. Fiona merely needed Calleigh to identify the task, and she would find a way; she always did.

"The man inside the office has a secret he needs to share. If left unsaid, it will paralyze him and prevent him from helping the girl. But if he has someone to tell, someone who will understand him, he will have the courage to help the girl himself."

"So I am the one he tells?' Fiona asked, anxious to start.

"No, my sweet sister. You must pray for him to gain the courage to share this secret with his wife." Calleigh smiled, not because Fiona knew the secret, although she did. She smiled because she had every confidence that Fiona would somehow prepare the way for the man to confess his own fears and shame. Only when he had the courage to trust the love of his sweetheart would he be able to help the girl with her own fears and doubt.

Fiona looked at Calleigh and beamed, a wide grin spreading across her face. In a cute, if altogether centuries old manner, Fiona said in an almost singsong voice,

"Then I guess I better get started!"

---

Dan Lambert was sitting at his desk reviewing some paperwork when a knock came at his open door.

"Excuse me, but is this the guidance office?" The woman at the doorway asked, with a soft but deep brogue.

"Yes it is," Dan said as he stood to greet the woman's proffered hand.

"Then I'm at the right place,” while shaking his hand. "I understand this is where I talk to someone about an outside presentation for an assembly?"

"Yes it is, but I'm afraid you have wasted your time coming down here," Dan said as he noticed the woman's hands were about the size of his.

"The spring schedule has already been set, and there are no other dates left until next fall," he said apologetically. He looked up and noticed a bump at the woman's throat and her jaw seemed strong. He realized that he was looking at a man; or rather a woman who used to be a man.

"Oh, dear me, where are my manners," the woman said again, her deep voice belying her feminine appearance. "My name is Fiona...Fiona Ryan. I lead a transgender support group in town here, and I was told we had a date for our presentation. I had talked to a Linda Calabrese? She said the last Thursday in November was open”

"Oh, yes," Dan said nervously, struggling not to stare at the woman's face, which was "sufficiently" feminine while retaining some of her former masculine characteristics.

Fiona enjoyed this part the best since it was like playing dress up, charmingly childlike perhaps if she weren't over three hundred years old. She had indeed assumed the form of a transgender woman, and her effort to be authentic succeeded.

"I...I'll have to check the calendar," Dan said nervously, but Fiona cut him off.

"Your year planner on the wall says TG Assembly, N 29, 2012. Is that about right?"

Dan knew it was right; he and Linda had been talking on the phone the day before. Linda had been in a very bad car accident, and wasn't due back until the week after the assembly, leaving the administration representation to him as temporary coordinator of Student Activities. Which meant he had to attend the assembly, which evoked the nervousness Fiona was looking for.

"It's right..." Dan's voice trailed off.

"Mr. Lambert, is there something wrong?" Fiona asked, once again the voice seemed disconcerting coming from someone wearing a floral print knee length skirt.

"It's just that I wasn't prepared..." Dan's voice trailed off once again.

"I certainly understand your nervousness, bein' as I'm lookin' and soundin' a wee bit like a boy but wearin' girls clothing, yes?" Fiona always played up the Irish accent, knowing it could be helpful in putting her assigned mortals off their guard." One time, about 1972 or so, she lapsed into her Irish persona and was engrossed in conversation with a gentleman for nearly ten minutes before she realized she was speaking in Gaelic.

"I had it just as difficult the first time I laid eyes on someone like me. But, as you can see,” she used her hand in a broad gesture to point to herself, "I got over it....and you will, too." She grinned slightly, feeling just a little bit impish. Fiona was resourceful, and could always come up with some sort of persona that helped her mortals feel connected.

"Our assembly isn't very involved, but you might not like it once you hear what we've planned."

By now Dan was very nervous indeed and becoming more uncomfortable and even anxious moment by moment.

"We'll do a brief presentation, have a few of our members get up and talk about their own experiences, and then do a question and answer thing at the end." She actually said 'ting, once again playing up her accent. It won't take more than an hour or so." The "or so" made Dan even more nervous, wondering how long this presentation would actually last.

"We've really only got one request, but I'm afraid it makes your job that much harder."

Dan winced expecting the worst, but actually agreed when Fiona continued.

"Since this is such a controversial subject, and since the Ttansgender Student group asked us to come specifically for support, we would request that you "disinvite" anyone who isn't interested in understanding or even attending. And yes, I know that would include most of your students, but it's really to keep the presentation safe for those who really want to attend.” Fiona paused and seemed to gaze through the closed door to the hallway beyond.

“I know you can't guarantee that there won't be some fools who think it's a fine thing to taunt, but that's okay. Maybe they'll stay long enough for some common sense and civility to sink in. Either way, I'm sure you'll be able to handle whatever comes along."

Dan smiled nervously, attempting to hide his frustration. Since the time for the assembly had been blocked out, it really meant an early dismissal for over 400 students, with the nightmare of transportation and other considerations.

"I think that about explains it, Mr. Lambert other than that we need to get together to coordinate your part of the assembly."

Dan looked at Fiona in a bit of confusion...his part...what did she mean? Fiona noticed his shocked look on his face and smiled what would have been a comforting smile but for the fear and utter dread in Dan's face.

"You are transgender, aren't you?”

---

Meanwhile…

Orla took a deep breath and walked into the classroom. She was wearing black jeans and a black tee-shirt with the words "Too Sad" written on the front. She had lost her accent for the day, assuming an amalgam of New York-New Jersey and a slight lisp.

Her hair was jet black save for a white streak back to front and just a little off center. Her ears featured three studs each plus a loop, and her nose was decorated with a faux diamond stud as well. Not a bad approximation of a teenage girl, considering her birth pre-dated the American Revolution.

"Hey," she said quietly as she sat down. The desks were all pushed aside and about fourteen or fifteen chairs were arrayed in a circle. There were only about seven or eight teens, all girls sitting around talking. She noted that at least five of the girls were in fact, boys, if biologically.

The Teen TG group (it would hardly do to call a support group a club) met every Wednesday during lunch period, more owing to transportation and consideration for privacy. Never the less, the usual parade of traffic promised at least one or two taunts and a bang on the door during their meeting. Orla sat down next to another girl clad similarly as her, sans the dyed hair.

"My name is Fay," I just transferred from Trenton..." She paused and blinked out some tears. They were real; they always were. Orla was passionate at what she did, not because of the task at hand, but because of the needs of the mortals she was assigned to. She continued.

"I just broke up with my boyfriend." She started to cry, imagining every girl like her and the one next to her and the sadness and helplessness they felt.

"I'm Chelsea....I'm sorry, but are you sure you're in the right place? This is the TG Support group."

"Oh...yeah, I'm sure. My boyfriend is transitioning and he...well she's not..." She started to sob, provoking Chelsea to lean over and hug her while patting her back in support.

"I know it's what's best. My mom always said (Orla's own mother was over seven hundred years old, but would have likely said the same thing) if you love somebody… really love them…then you have to be able to let them go."

Chelsea continued to rub Fay's back even as she thought of what her own mother said that morning…

---

"Chelsea, sweetie, can you make sure the last load gets into the dryer when you come home. I've got a quick meeting to run out to, and I'll try to have it done before I leave, but be a dear and take care of that if they're not done?" Her mother walked over and kissed her as she got up to grab her books off the counter.

"Honey, I know this is hard, but Paddy has to do what....she's got to do."

"Mom...I...he...she's been my best friend since kindergarten...we..." Chelsea started to cry, her disappointment overwhelming her. She had dreamed of marrying and having lots of children. It was like The Jungle book; she was like Kitty and Paddy was like Mowgli; she'd loved him since they were little, and now all her dreams were slipping away as Paddy was finding his...her true self.

And it hurt, too much almost to bear, like someone you love had just died. And in a sense, there were two deaths, both with promise and hope, if only Chelsea could see them. Paddy was gone, almost a ghost of Chelsea's past, replaced by a girl who still remained her best friend. And her dreams and hopes for the life they would lead had died as well, but the resurrection had yet to take place.

"Honey, I know this hurts so bad, like it will never end. I still cry when I think of all the wonderful times your Daddy and I had before he died and I miss him so. Paddy still is your friend, and you know that will never change, no matter what happens. But Paddy needs to know you support her. This is such a difficult time for her and she needs to know her best friend is still her best friend." Her mother pulled her into a hug, kissing her cheeks and eyes.

"If you truly love someone, really love them...then you must love them enough to let go when the time comes. I'm sorry, baby, but that's the way it works. If you won't let go...if you must have them at all costs...it's more like you loving that they love you than you really loving them. I know this feels like it will never end, but it will.”

A horn honked, telling Chelsea her ride was outside. She kissed her mom once before grabbing her books again. She paused before walking out the door.

"Mom," she said, wiping her tears with her sleeve, "when does the crying stop...when will I stop hurting...when will I stop loving ...her?"

"You will stop crying…as hard and eventually the tears will be more out of sweetness than sadness, but the love will never end, if it's the kind I know you have inside of you. Let's forget about my meeting; I'll ask Trish to fill in for me; let's have dinner out, and we can talk some more when you get home, okay?"

Chelsea ran out the door. Her mother stood there for a moment, blinked out her own tears and said a silent prayer before tackling the morning dishes...

---

"Jimmy and I had been together (Orla had gotten down tri-state-speak, and it sounded more like tageddah) for three years. So he comes to me and sez I gotta secret I need to tell you.' She was half-smiling through the tears...the story was real, she had helped another girl just like "Fay" a few years ago.

"Anyway, he tells me he thinks he's a girl...can you believe that? Well, I couldn't at foist, but I sorta knew somethin' was up...but imagine how fucking surprised I was. I just didn't want to believe it.

I had plans an' everything... A big wedding at St. Margaret's...the big reception...I had a dress picked out and everything, and we was only eighteen!" She started to tear up again, mimicking the same response she had from the other girl years before.

"And me thinkin' we was gonna get married, but now it's Fay and Tiffany...well, that ain't workin' for me no how. But you know, after it all, I still love…her...oh not like that, not that there's anything wrong with that. She's still my best friend and we do stuff tageddah...did stuff until my dad got a job here and she and her mom moved to Chicago to take care of her grandma."

Orla's tears began to slowly subside, replaced with a faint smile. Much as the girl she helped years ago had been able to let go, Orla wanted to help Chelsea do the same.

"How about you, you don't look anything like a guy or a girl who wants to be a guy?" She wasn't trying to be crude, just be realistic enough to evoke a real answer from Chelsea.

"My boyfriend...my friend is transitioning, and I wanted to support her..." She paused and blinked out a few tears of her own and blurted out,

"Was it hard? Did it hurt so bad you wanted to puke sometimes? I haven't stopped crying since he said he wanted to be a girl."

"Honey...I still love her to death like a sister, but I haven't stopped crying myself. But now, sometimes, maybe a lot of the time, I cry for happy, like my grandma used to say, cause the one person I love more than any other besides my mom and dad is happy...I guess that makes me happy too."

---

Meanwhile...

Dan sat at his desk, feeling more uncomfortable than he ever had in his entire life. He wondered, even as he looked across his desk at Fiona, who was smiling with that kind of smile that says, "You're not fooling me, so don't bother to try." How could he...she have known? He hadn't dressed in years, and the only one who knew about his femme self was his counselor, and she surely would never have said anything.

"So I suppose you want to know how I knew that?" Again, her brogue deepened, both in timber and intensity, and it sounded more like "Oy knew dat?"

"I don't know what you're talking about...." He tried...he really tried, but he felt defeated even as the words left his mouth.

"You are transgender, darlin’, and there's no point in denying it. How much good has it caused you for you to keep this secret. Do you feel any better about it? Do you feel any more secure or safe holding it in?" Fiona smiled a half-smile and her eyes indicated she wanted him to know, more than for him to answer her.

"I...I..." Here in his office, sitting in front of a stranger, Dan felt his anxiety diminish somewhat, eased by the accepting smile and the presence of tears in Fiona's eyes. He had become so settled and safe that he completely lost sight of the fact that Fiona never told him how she knew.

He almost felt as understood as if he were sitting in his counselor's office. He tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. He began to cry, prompting Fiona to get up and close the office door, thankful that no one was in earshot of their conversation. She meant to encourage him, not embarrass or shame him.

"Listen, lad, just for a moment." Fiona reached over and held his hand, an odd scene for anyone else to behold, but a touching and tender moment rarely shared between two men (Of course, Fiona had gone all the way, so to speak in her disguise, not just for appearance sake, but to understand his pain and insecurity)

"I've been married for sixteen years to the same woman...the one I would trust with my very life. We've been through everything you could imagine” Like her sister Orla had with Chelsea earlier, Fiona had drawn on emotions and memories of a mortal she had helped in 1986, who had at that point held in the very same secret as Dan. And Fiona had been successful in helping that young man realize the same thing she was about to tell Dan.

"I know that counselors are helpful and all, but they can only go so far. It's wonderful that someone with flesh and blood understands you the way she does. But don't you owe it to yourself and your wife to trust that love between you?

You've been married, I'd guess, maybe fourteen or fifteen years, judging by how old you look." Fiona already knew that Dan was exactly thirty-eight and had been married fourteen years, making him and Trudy twenty-four when they got married.

"I bet if you really looked past your own fear for a moment, you could close your eyes and see her smile through her tears...the same expression she had when you first married, yes?"

Dan hadn't meant to do it, but he reflexively closed his eyes, envisioning the same expression Fiona had just described. Trudy didn't worship the ground he walked on, thankfully, but at the end of the day, when it was time for bed, they both put aside the few problems they might have had, or remembered the good times of the day, and then fell asleep in each other's arms...every day, without fail for fourteen years, save for the occasional day or two for his business trip or her woman's retreat. His heart was filled with sadness mixed with joy as he remembered what Trudy had said on their wedding night…

---

"I love you, no matter what. I know you love me the same way...I was damaged goods when we met, and you waited until I got over my pain. You let me walk through my healing after the divorce without asking, without questioning my past, but I knew if I told you the things I had done you would have loved me just the same.

No matter what, you can tell me anything...anything, and none of it will matter because I love you. If you can't tell me or there's nothing to tell, fine. But if you ever need me to listen, I'm your girl. I thank God for second chances, and you are my second chance. So no secrets, okay? I love you."

---

The precious meaning of that memory overwhelmed Dan with guilt and shame, not the secret itself so much as because he had failed to understand and accept and cherish the depth of Trudy's love for him. He had wasted so much energy and time over something he now understood was insignificant when set side by side with his wife's love for him. Fiona was glad that she had thought to shut the door, since even with the hallways empty for the moment; no one would have missed the sounds of the sobs coming from the office.

Those years of guilt and shame over his deception...yes, his deception, were replaced with a momentary feeling of regret and shame that would be erased with one act...confession.

What Fiona wanted Dan to know, and where the almost condemning deception had hurt the most was in the lost time he had experienced with his wife. Dressing or not dressing weren't the issues. What was supremely sad was his mistrust of the greatest gift he had ever received; his wife's love.

There would be no guarantees that she would accept his cross dressing or what he had finally come to understand what that exactly had meant all along. What Fiona knew...her faith was strong in relation to the character and integrity of 'her' mortals; was that Trudy would always accept and love Dan, no matter what.

There was no reason to focus on being transgender or dressing or the future. The only thing important was what Dan had realized...Trudy loved him. Unconditionally. She had proven that time after time throughout the years, and he needed to trust that love one more time, for both their sakes, no matter what happened.

In a gesture that might have seemed odd at another time, Fiona walked around the desk and stood behind Dan as he continued to weep. She leaned over and kissed his cheek softly, not like the centuries old woman she actually was, but the gentle man she pretended to be. And in a deep but soft brogue, she said.

"She loves you, Daniel Lambert...Go tell her what she needs to hear and let her love do the rest, okay?”

---

At the McCarthy home that afternoon…

The doorbell rang and Neddie ran to greet whoever stood on the other side of the door. Breena heard the barking from the back step, where she had just hung out some laundry. She put down the bag of clothes pins and walked slowly to the door, wondering who would be visiting on a Thursday afternoon. She opened the door and got the shock of her life. Standing in front of her, “plain as day,”was her sister Sinead, although she had gone by Janey since their teens.

“Well don’t just stand there, come in.” Breena said abruptly. She had lost almost all of her love for her sister, mostly due to the lack of care Janey had demonstrated for her sons. She gave Janey a quick hug, more like what you might do in church with a stranger than her own sister. The love that was lost had been replaced by intense anger and even a feeling of superiority. While she never told the boys, her description of her care for Janey’s sons always included, “you don’t know what I’ve had to deal with,” or “If you only knew, me bein’ single and all and tryin’ to raise two boys on my own.”

Standing behind Janey was an attractive middle-aged African-American woman, who was using her hand to guide Janey to a seat on the couch.

“I’m Esther Clarke, ma’am. I've been takin’ care of your sistah, and she asked me to come along wit her to help out,” she said in a decidedly Caribbean accent. Esther offered her hand, which Breena accepted with just a little anxiety and mistrust.

“I’ve come home, Breena…home to you and the boys.” Janey said almost apologetically.

“She still can’t bring herself to say ‘her’ boys.” Breena thought to herself. Janey didn’t say her boys because in the last two years of dealing with her illness, she had come to the wrong conclusion; that she didn’t deserve the blessing her children were.

“Now just remember what we talked about, Miss Janey…You know how much you love your boys.”

This almost infuriated Breena; it was painful enough seeing her sister here at her home after no visit for years and no contact for months. But to have a stranger validate her sister’s neglect was too much. Breena had no idea that the woman standing by her sister’s side was Calleigh the Wise, helping provide Janey with what she needed to say, and that Breena was about to find out how much her sister actually loved her sons.

“I can fix up the guest room for you,” she said to Janey, “but I don’t have any room for you, Miss Clarke.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think you understand, Ma'am. Your sister is very sick, and I’m her nurse…for as long as it takes. I can sleep on the couch, if that's okay?” Esther said, evoking another abrupt response from Breena.

“Well, no one called, how was I to know...It’s not like you communicate…” Breena had almost begun a tirade when Janey interrupted her.

“Breena…I’m dying.” She didn’t say it sadly, or in a matter-of- fact tone. She spoke of her own end with a smile on her face.

“Pretty soon you won’t have to put up with me. Three maybe four weeks tops.” Her eyes were filled with tears, but not over her coming demise. She began to weep for all the lost years between her and Breena. Esther stepped closer and kissed Janey on her forehead and said,

“Dere, dere, Miss Janey, it’s going to be all right…you’ll see.” Esther in one moment had shown more hospitality to Janey than her own sister, which caused Breena’s cheeks to grow dark. But not out of a shame, but anger.

“She’s my sister, Miss!” she said, with the word Miss almost dismissively. Calleigh prayed for wisdom and spoke, not harshly, but still as an advocate for Janey

“Then I suppose you should be actin’ like one instead of a stranger. Come over here and hug your sweet sister…come on…she’s not going to be around much longer and you’ll curse yourself for it later, I guarantee.” She grabbed Breena’s arm and literally pulled her over to where Janey sat.

“I’m sorry for everything, Bree…the missed birthdays… the report cards. God knows you’ve done as fine a job raising Mikey and Paddy as any mother ever could, but it wasn’t right for me to leave them here. Look what we’ve all lost. Please forgive me.” Janey began to weep, and buried her face in Esther’s dress.

“I…I don’t know what to say.” Like anyone else in her situation, Breena’s first inclination was to defend her attitude toward Janey, but the look in Esther’s eyes changed all that in an instant.

Gone was the self-satisfied “put-out’ woman who acted the martyr most of the time, sadly on occasion in front of the boys. In her place stood a woman feeling so small as to be dwarfed by the two in front of her, both of whom were sitting down. She realized, perhaps supernaturally, or maybe it was a spiritual awakening, and she felt a debt of gratitude for having the privilege and trust of raising Mike and Paddy.

“I think that the best thing you could do is say, “I love you, you think?” Calleigh was abrupt herself, but her soft accent felt more like an invitation than a command.

“Oh…yes….oh…I’m so sorry Janey….I’m so sorrrry,” Breena sobbed as she fell at her sister’s feet and placed her head in Janey’s lap, just like when they were younger. “I love you…oh….my God I am so sorry.” Decades of bitterness washed away as the sisters wept and hugged.”

Esther/Calleigh cried as well, but filled with joy at the site of a reconciliation no one could have hoped for save for two boys who had prayed each night since they were little for this day to arrive.

---

Meanwhile…

As Breena and Janey were reconciling, above the garage in Paddy's bedroom, another change was about to take place.

"I'm not so sure about this after all." Mike said to his sister, looking in the mirror. His already too-long hair (according to his aunt) was thickened with mousse and styled in a somewhat androgynous manner. That would have been difficult enough to take, if it weren't for the fact that the hair framed a pretty face, adorned with just a hint of mascara, some eye shadow, and lip gloss that matched his dark maroon fingernails. His ears sported two hoops, each, which took the place of his normal studs.

He wore a dark maroon tee under a long coat-sweater borrowed from his aunt's closet, hip length and dark grey. A blue denim knee length skirt covered light gray leggings and nearly reached the dark brown knee-length boots. He was at least glad that they had manageable one-inch heels.

Paddy was clad in a Navy blue tee-shirt, covered by a dark green brocade waist-length jacket. She wore a calf-length charcoal corduroy skirt along with boots that matched her new "sister" Michelle. Her hair was done similar to Michelle's and she wore very little make up as well, owing more to her own taste than to any concern about how she would be received. Paddy remembered the talk she and Michelle had the night before…

---

"It really doesn't make any difference anymore," Mike said as he looked at his brother standing in the bedroom doorway wearing the same mint green nightgown she had come to treasure above everything else she owned.

"Easy for you to say, Mike...you've never had to deal with this...ever. Everybody likes you. What would you know about ridicule...how many times have you been embarrassed. I know what you're saying, but since you're one of the people who made me feel so bad, what's so different now?"

Paddy's words pierced him like darts as Mike remembered with great shame his own participation in the persecution of his brother. They stung mostly because they were true, but also because he felt Paddy's pain as he spoke them. It was time to show him...her how much he cared, and what he was prepared to do to demonstrate his love for his bro...His sister.

"You've got every right to be angry; I don't blame you if you don't trust me. After what I did, why would you?" Mike looked in Paddy's eyes, and noticed she was crying softly, but at that moment, his own eyes began to tear up, and he said, quietly, but with as much conviction as he could muster,

"I'm sorry, Paddy...I can't make up for the past...I was wrong, and I am so sorry for that." He reached over and pulled a reluctant Paddy into an uncomfortable hug. With gentle hands he stroked his sister's hair. And he kissed her cheeks, a gesture he had never done for anyone, ever. Paddy began to weep as the gulf between them narrowed.

"I want to be here for you, and there's only one way I can figure that will work...that old saying about walking a mile in someone's shoes. I already know that part of me is more than just your brother. I'm learning more about who I am, and that includes a big sister you never knew you had. Hell, I didn't even know her...my name until yesterday.” He sighed.

“This is all new to me, and I'm so fucking confused right now, but you're my baby sister...yes I said it finally. I am so fucking sorry I treated you this way, and this is the only way I know to make it up...if you'll let me." He could hardly hear Paddy sobbing as he found himself buried in his sister's shoulder, crying almost as hard.

A voice came from downstairs.

"Michael Kevin McCarthy, if you're teasin' that sweet child again, there'll be hell to pay!" Breena shouted from the kitchen, hearing the crying from upstairs.

Mike was about to speak when Paddy shouted,

"It's okay, Aunt Breena...we're doin' okay. It's a show on TV," Paddy said as she smiled with an impish grin and held her finger to her lips.

Both siblings held while trying not to cry too hard, since nobody but them would believe the change that had come over Michael.

"So tomorrow, after school," Mike said softly, "You and me, right here, and you get to meet your sister Michelle for real, nothing held back. Full rein, okay?"

For the first time in their lives, even though Mike was taller than Paddy by more than a few inches, they saw eye to eye. Mike did one more thing that surprised even himself, but later would remember it as the best moment in his life. He pulled Paddy close to him once again and kissed her on the cheek and said softly, trying hard without success not to start crying again,

"I love you so much, Paddy, more than I can say. I'm so glad I blessed with a sister like you,” Mike didn't know much Gaelic, only what he picked up from Breena, but he had looked it up and said it with conviction. ádhraá­m thẠdeirfiur, mo bhuachaill a mo chroi....I adore you sister, my darling and my heart."

---

Finished with their preparations, they got ready to meet the world together. The boys…girls came down the stairs, only to be greeted by a sight they had been hoping for but sadly grew weary of expecting. Their mother was sitting on the couch, her sister Breena at the feet as Janey stroked her hair. A nice looking woman stood next to their mother; hand on Janey’s shoulder rubbing it softly.

“Mom,” Mike yelled, completely forgetting how he and Paddy were dressed. He and Paddy rushed to their mother’s sides. Breena stood up and looked at the two of them, dressed as they were and was about to say something when Esther waved “no”to her. Breena looked at the boys and back at her sister sitting on the couch. She smiled and nodded.

Janey beheld her children for the first time in nearly a year. She didn’t seem surprised by their attire, and smiled and opened her arms, welcoming them.

“Mommy” Paddy said as she burst into tears and wept into her mother’s breast. Mike kissed his mother’s cheek, tasting the salt of her tears and blessing God for answering his and Paddy’s prayers.

“I knew I’d been missin’ a lot around here, but it seems I’ve been missin’ quite a lot.” She kissed Paddy on the top of the head and drew Mike in for a kiss as well.

“Mom….I….” Mike was at a loss for words. Moments before, in the bedroom getting ready, he felt entirely confident that becoming Michelle was the right thing to do…if only for Paddy’s sake. But now, in front of his mother and aunt and a stranger, he felt sorely out of place and ashamed.

His mother took her hand and put it to his cheek and said softly,

“And here’s my other daughter…as lovely as the mornin’ dew, with her sweet sister at her side. What more could a mother ask for as a greetin’?” She pulled Mike closer and wept into his sweater.

“I’m so sorry for all of this…Breena’s been so good, but it wasn’t her job…it wasn’t her duty….” She hated both words since Breena’s care for her children wasn’t a job or a duty; it had been a privilege and an honor, something even Breena had only just begun to understand.

It was Breena who gave the trio the leave they needed to put things aside. All three wanted so desperately for everything to be okay. It would be, albeit with tragic yet wonderful results very soon.

“I think we all know that we’ve each done something we could stand forgivin’ for, yes? And I think it’s safe to assume that we all love each other? Janey, you and I have got a lot of talkin’ to do, and the boys are part of that. As you can see, like you said, a lot of changes since you’ve been here last.”

Mike and Paddy grew uncomfortable at Breena’s observation until she added, pointing to the setter sitting at their feet, tail wagging,

“Just look at Neddie there, a pup when you were here last and now twice as big and eatin’ like a horse.”

Esther stepped back, feeling a sense of relief. This part of their task was coming together. She wondered how the children would take the news of their mother’s illness and soon expected death, but that would be something to deal with tomorrow.

Today, Esther, or rather Calleigh as she would have appeared to any other mortal at that moment, was glad that the child had her mother home and her brother’s support. She wondered how Orla and Fiona were doing with their tasks, but was confident that they were doing well.

---

Dan stood on the front step, too scared to move. He was interrupted when Trudy opened the door.

"I heard you drive up...I missed you so much." She smiled with a smile that almost always brought Dan peace and gratitude. Her smile did nothing to mitigate the fear he harbored, wondering if this conversation would be the one thing that drove them apart. He kept remembering what Fiona said about trusting Trudy's love, but nothing seemed to matter at that moment.

She had wheeled away from the door, giving him room to step inside. It had started to drizzle, and his face was already covered with raindrops, which was good from his perspective, since they masked the tears streaming down his face. He might as well have stood there in sunshine, since his expression betrayed his mood anyway.

"Honey, what's wrong...what happened? Did I do something? What's wrong?' She smiled softly but furrowed her brow with a concerned look, prompting him to turn his face toward the door. She approached him and reached up and grabbed his hand; yes, reached up. He turned back and she had tears in her eyes.

They had been together long enough for her recognize his pain and sadness, despite his efforts to hide his feelings. He squatted down to face her, steadying himself by grabbing the armrests of her wheelchair. How much more could she, should she endure. He blinked out tears as he remembered their wedding day…

---

Dan couldn’t believe he was in a room alone with a girl…the girl…the girl he married. He sat on the bed, his tux jacket thrown casually on the chair across the room. Trudy was in the bathroom getting ready for their first night together. He could hear her singing over the sound of water running.

“I’m getting a bath ready for you, honey.” She was so thoughtful. He wanted to be strong, but tears came to his eyes. She was getting ready for a night which to her would be difficult and painful in so many ways. He blinked out his tears as he heard her turn the faucet off.

“Come on in,” She said, her voice almost melodic. “Everything is all set.”

He stood up and took a deep breath, not knowing what to expect. She had been in the passenger seat of the car her ex had driven into a light post on the interstate after a drunken rage. He had forced her into the car, and when it was all over, she was left partially paralyzed from the waist down, and her ex was in jail. She would never walk again, and so many other things had changed. Relations with her would be challenging, but it didn’t matter…he loved her so much, more perhaps than anyone he ever had known.

He opened the door, and was greeted with a surprise. She had managed to lower herself into the tub, and was waiting for him, in her “birthday suit” she had teased. And she was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

“Come on in,” she laughed. “The water’s fine.” She patted the edge of the tub and smiled again.

He looked at her and thought to himself, “What did I do to deserve her? Dear God, she’s beautiful.”

A while later, they lay together in bed, partially covered by the blankets, warm with each other’s bodies. Dan laid back and looked up at the ceiling. He wanted to be honest with her…he owed her that much. Nothing could have prepared him for what she said next.

"I love you, no matter what. I know you love me the same way...I was damaged goods when we met, and you waited until I got over my pain. You let me walk through my healing after the divorce without asking, without questioning my past, but I knew if I told you the things I had done you would have loved me just the same.”

The marriage hadn’t been all sweetness and light from her side…she and her ex had gotten married right out of high school, and neither was mature enough to handle it.

Mistakes and hurts were made from both sides, but she had changed when she was hurt. Almost like when other senses become keener when someone loses their sight or hearing. She had become sensitive and caring and selfless after her paralysis. Her heart is what had drawn her and Dan together. And she loved him more than life itself.

“No matter what, you can tell me anything...anything, and none of it will matter because I love you. If you can't tell me or there's nothing to tell, fine. But if you ever need me to listen, I'm your girl. I thank God for second chances, and you are my second chance. So no secrets, okay? I love you."

---

“Dan…honey…what’s wrong?” Her sweet voice brought him back to the present, but he remembered those words…”No secrets.”

He walked over and sat down on the couch, put his head in his hands and began to cry. She wheeled over to him and began stroking his hair.

“Honey…it’s okay…whatever it is…I know we’ll be just fine."

“It’ll never be fine.” He was filled with so much guilt and even self-hatred at that point, almost nothing would change his feelings about himself.

He spoke almost haltingly, barely getting the words out as he choked back sobs.

“You….you were so…you said…you felt that you couldn’t….but you did….you have been so…. wonderful….best thing ever for me….let you down…”

“Dan…honey….you’ve never let me down….never…..I love you….God blessed me with you….you are my love…..honey….what’s wrong.”

Trudy knew by his expression that he felt he couldn’t tell her, whatever it was. She placed both hands on his face and lifted it to meet her gaze as her own tears matched his.

“I said before and I will say it ‘til I die. I love you no matter what.” She stroked his cheeks and then took his hands in hers and kissed them, gently, softly, like she was blessing him.

“Dan…tell me honey…it’ll be okay.”

And it was…he told her everything…from the first time he dressed in his mother’s clothes. He wanted to be just like her. The times he would dress to feel good and safe and sweet, wanting so much to be innocent but feeling so guilty and ashamed

He told her through sobs of the times he dressed to thrill and satisfy, wanting so much to feel wanted and fulfilled but feeling dirty and cheap instead. He cried as he told her of the hold the secret had, and he wept in her arms as he asked forgiveness for lying to her for so long.

Trudy wept with him. She didn’t understand, but she almost did, in a way. There had been tentativeness in their intimacy that wasn’t just because of her own limitations. He had shared with her after seeing his counselor one time that he never felt secure in his male identity, and this revelation finally helped make sense of that.

She never felt that he wasn’t “manly” enough; she had no complaints and loved who he was. She always felt there was “more” to him, and this helped her understand if only somewhat. And she spoke these few freeing words.

“I forgive you…I’m hurt that you didn’t trust me to begin with…your heart.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek and once quickly on the lips before continuing.

“Are you going to be alright?” Even In the midst of her own hurt; her first thought was for him, and her love for him. He nodded and she asked the next question softly, not as a curious query, but an earnest desire to know him more.”

“Sweetheart….what’s her name?”

He looked up at her with a half-sad, half-relieved expression; not believing what he had just heard. She smiled sweetly and asked once again, as if he hadn’t heard, but knowing he had.

“What’s her name?” She said again softly as she stroked his hair.

He took a deep breath and said, softly, almost as if she were speaking for the first time, which she was, actually,

“My name is Diane…Diane Marie Lambert.” The voice said it softly, pronouncing her last name “Lahm-bear.”

---

Dan’s office, the day before the assembly…

“Hey, Dan, Paddy McCarthy is here.” Connie van Zyle, the department secretary said over his intercom.

“Send him….send her in,” Dan corrected himself.

“You wanted to see me, Mr. Lambert?” Paddy said as she walked into Dan’s office.

“Yes…have a seat,”” he said pointing to the chair on the opposite side of the desk where he sat.

“You planning on attending the assembly?” He asked.

“I’m not so sure…I can’t handle all the teasing…” Her voice trailed off. She was glad she finally had an ally in Michael/Michelle, but the unmerciful harassment was almost too much for her.

“I want you to know something…something only one other person knows. I’m going to be at the assembly, partly because Mrs. Calabrese is laid up and won’t be able to make it. But I’m going there for another reason.” He smiled nervously and took a deep breath.

“I had a long talk with my wife last night…hardest conversation I ever had. Ever have one of those?” Paddy thought about the talk she and Mike had only a few days before.

“Been married nearly fifteen years; she’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” He held up the wedding photo that sat next to his phone, always a reminder of God’s grace in the form of his loving wife. He was half-kneeling next to her wheelchair kissing her lightly on the cheek.

“It’s no use ever keeping secrets, Paddy. It doesn’t really work all that well, and it usually makes things worse.” Paddy had not secrets that he was aware of, so Mr. Lambert must be talking about someone else.

“I’ll be at the assembly, and my wife Trudy will be there with me for support.” His eyes misted up, some for what he had to say to Paddy, but mostly out of gratitude for the love of his wife.

“I’m …I’m transgender… but maybe even more than that…and she still loves me, Paddy, can you believe that?” He looked away, trying not to be too embarrassed; wanting so much to encourage the girl in front of him.

“I’m going to need all the support I can get, Paddy, and I think you of all people will know what I’m talking about. Please consider attending? Don't worry if you can't...I'll be alright.” Dan didn’t want to manipulate or use Paddy in any way, so he left it up to her to decide.

---

The next afternoon in the school auditorium…

The assembly started about ten minutes late; owing more to logistics. The school, for the most part, received an early dismissal, other than some extra-curricular activities. There were no home games, save a girl's field hockey game that had already started. The remainder of the schedule was away, which was actually helpful because many of the guys that typically harassed the tg students were off fighting other battles.

After all the early buses left, apart from the odd club, the school was empty save for about thirty teens. All of the transgender attendees were boys; if there were girls who were transgender, they had yet to attend the support group.

Out of the thirty students, about fifteen were girls who were supporting their tg friends, who numbered about seven, including Paddy and Michelle. The remaining eight teens consisted of four curious boys and four hecklers. Mrs. Grabowski ushered the hecklers out of the auditorium, but one asked permission to remain after apologizing.

Michelle sat anxiously between Paddy and Chelsea, who was looking nervously across at Paddy. She was determined to support Paddy in this, even though it was breaking her heart. She did a fairly good job holding back the tears even as Paddy sat in rapt attention listening to the few speakers from the TG Support Group. Orla, as Fay, sat by her side and rubber her arm, saying

"You know it's for the best, since it's what she wants, sweetie..." Fay leaned closer and said softly,

"You're her best friend, honey....that'll never change unless you want it to." Chelsea looked at Fay, wondering why she would say that, since it had become important to her, probably the biggest sacrifice she'd ever make, to let Paddy go. She had told Fay that much.

There were only three speakers besides Fiona. A married cross dresser spoke first, explaining that the transgender "spectrum" was not just transitioning, or pre-operative, but included cross dressers and girls who had chosen to live as women but without the surgery. Rather than go into data or information, the speakers all spoke about feelings and learning to deal with rejection, what to do to reach out for support; more relationship issues than anything else.

After Fiona spoke briefly about her experience (duplicated entirely from the experience of a then nineteen-year old male-to-female transsexual from Cleveland) she handed it off to two brothers in their mid twenties who were now post-operative women. They discussed their transition in light of the acceptance they had received from their family. It was a process, not arrived at quickly, with only some of their family reaching out and understanding and loving them.

A final unscheduled speaker walked slowly onto the platform, her pace slow and nervous, but she was determined to speak, if only for her own benefit, but ultimately for the benefit of a teen who had felt unsupported and misunderstood.

She was pretty, in her thirties it appeared, and she was dressed modestly owing to the importance of the presentation. She walked up to the mike, her blue shirt set off by the maroon curtains behind the lectern.

“I would like to thank the school for giving me this opportunity to speak. Some of you already know me, having sat across from me in my office,” she said softly. She was accompanied on stage by a pretty woman who looked up at her with pride from her vantage point from her wheelchair.

"I would also like to thank a student I've know for a while, whose courage and understanding also helped me make the decision to speak today." She paused and choked back a sob.

“Some know me as Mr. Lambert, or Dan…but today, with my wife beside me, you may call me Diane.” She half-smiled and turned to face Trudy, who had tears in her eyes. To be sure, she was anxious for her husband, but what couldn’t they face, such was the confidence in their love. Truth be told, she couldn't recall a time where he stood so tall but seem so... slight. She smiled through tearful, loving eyes as her husband...her wife spoke for the very first time.

A hush filled the auditorium. Diane had cleared it with the administration; she had not wanted to detract from the presentation, but felt if the teens knew someone they trusted was like them, it might help them with their own struggles.

Paddy looked up at her…him…it was entirely confusing and marvelous at the same time, and felt better at that moment than at any other time in her life apart from her talk with Michelle and her mother’s return.

In total, the "testimony" phase of the assembly lasted about forty minutes. It was followed by a question and answer period that lasted only ten minutes, owing more to the embarrassment of the teens. However, after the presentation ended, the teens hung around for over an hour just talking with the support members.

Michelle was anxious for several reasons. She was finding out that her own fears and anxiety over her feelings about herself had fueled her panic and succeeding harassment of her own sister. She was sure she wasn't all-girl as some might say, but she had discovered in the process she wasn't all-boy either.

As uncomfortable as she felt being dressed as a girl from the embarrassment, she also found that when she wasn't thinking about what others were thinking, she actually started to relax. That ease disappeared quickly as she felt a tap on her left shoulder as she stood listening to Paddy talking with Diane Lambert.

"Mike...." A voice came from behind and interrupted her peace with just the mention of her name, being that it was said by her best friend Jimmy Dolan. Recognizing the voice, Michelle reverted to her male self and became unnerved by his best friend's presence; that is until Jimmy said...

"Mikey...hey...don't sweat it..." He smiled at Mike and continued. "I don't fucking understand this...what the fuck...but you're my best friend...since like when we was in pre-school...." He smiled an awkward smile before saying,

"I'll talk to Tony and Jack...I think it's about time we decided to be human for a change...I got your back, bro"

He turned to walk away before asking,

"You...n' me...we cool? I mean...I don't...I..."

"Yeah...we're cool...and just so you know..." Mike softened his voice, but smiled in a silly grin, wanting to ease his friend's questions and doubts, understandable, but still needing an answer. Michelle looked over at the girls who had come in support, and said softly,

"I still like girls...yes?"

"Cool...I'll talk to Tony and Jack...it’ll be okay. And Mike...Tell your brother I'm sorry."

---

---

Chelsea stood next to Paddy, waiting for her to finish talking with the presenters. After Diane hugged her, Paddy smiled and said thank you. She turned to face Chelsea, nervous and sad. She was going to be going on a journey that likely didn't include her best friend. As great a day as it was for her, Paddy couldn't help herself and burst into tears. Chelsea hugged her and patted her back, wanting so much to never let go. And Paddy hated it, but she feared the same thing.

Fay walked up to the two of them and whispered in Chelsea's ear,

"She'll never know if you don't tell her." In a rare moment, Orla stepped out of character for a few seconds. She kissed Chelsea on the cheek in a decidedly un-Fay-like manner and said softly, her voice returning to its natural brogue,

"Go ahead, sweetheart, tell the girl...it'll be alright...I promise." Orla never promised anything she wasn't absolutely sure of...until now. But she strongly felt something, so she said it anyway.

"Tell her and see what she says...you'll never lose her as a friend either way."

---

“Paddy…it’s okay…it’s going to be alright.” Chelsea was crying almost as hard as Paddy, but she continued.

“You’re my best friend…nothing will ever change that.” She said, rubbing Paddy’s back.

“You….you…since we were little. Wanted to be together.”

Paddy wept, but it wasn’t just for Chelsea. “Ever since we were little…’we’re going to get married in a big church with all of our friends.” Paddy remembered how Chelsea lined up all her dolls and stuffed animals as guests. She had a huge stuffed giraffe who “presided” over the wedding.

“It’s what I’ve always wanted…” Paddy’s voice trailed off, and Chelsea was going to say something until it struck her exactly what Paddy had just said.

“What you’ve always wanted? You mean what I've wanted, right? You don’t mean…” Chelsea paused, not believing what she had just heard.

“Does it have to end, Chels? I wasn’t sure what I needed or wanted when we were little; I’m still not entirely sure who I am…but I’ve always wanted that wedding. I just didn’t know I wanted wear the wedding dress too.”

She was sobbing so hard Chelsea had to lead her to a seat. She looked at Paddy with the same loving eyes that beheld him for the first time when they were little. She certainly had not stopped loving Paddy now that he was a she.

“Oh Paddy…honey…no…no…” She stroked her hair and kissed her cheeks. Their lips met only briefly before the realization of where they still were sunk in.

Standing behind them, almost as a witness to a solemn ceremony, they heard the following.

“Like I said…” Orla once again reverted to her Fay-like Tri-state accent, “My mom always says, ‘Love will find a way.”

---

Friday at the McCarthy home…

The girls sat together on the couch, flanked by Breena and Janey. The four were joined in their sorrow by Calleigh, who had once again assumed the form of Esther, Janey’s Jamaican nurse. Every day seemed to cast a pall on the wonderful reunion of the family, and it was getting harder each day to remember the good that had occurred between them with the grief that lie inevitably ahead.

“Miss Janey, the agency said they’ll send over the bed this afternoon so you don’t have to use the stairs. Missy Breena has got the living room cleared out, so there will be plenty of room for you and anyone who comes along.”

There would be some comfort from the arrangement, but not enough to mitigate the pain that was increasing every day. The doctor gave her a week, maybe ten days at the outside, but even that was only an estimate. There would be a few visitors; Jimmy and his buddies had already dropped by earlier that morning, mostly to apologize for their behavior toward Paddy. Tony and Jack had been reluctant at first, but Jimmy reminded them of how close they actually were with Mike…he still had a hard but understandable time saying Michelle. Hell, Michelle had a hard time saying it.

For the first time in over a week, all three of the women were together since there was one more task to accomplish, but perhaps the most bittersweet, since it was going to commemorate a life soon to end; a tender and heartrending moment that was only a day away. The doctor, as good and kind as he was, was no magician. To be sure, even the women had no power to delay the inevitable, so their task was to prepare their charge for her final transition.

Orla had once again assumed the guise of Fay, Chelsea’s new friend from Trenton. She and Chelsea had come over to spend time with Paddy, who was overwhelmed with the sadness and feelings of how unfair it was to reunite with his mother only to find out she was dying. Chelsea was there to support her friend….more than a friend now…and Fay was there to support them both.

Fiona had dropped by to give Paddy some information about some competent sensitive doctors in the area. She gave her the business card of a Dr. Katie Kelly, a psychologist who specialized in dealing with transgender issues, and would be a great support during Paddy’s transition.

Fiona also took time to help Michelle understand that her act, while a selfless one, in supporting her sister at the assembly, indicated much more than just a brother’s kind gesture. .

---

The next day, a soft knock came at the door. Janey tried to lift her head, but was unable. Chelsea and her mother were over, ostensibly to visit, but the hospice nurse had told the family that there wasn’t much time.

Before the girls had a chance to respond, Chelsea had gone to the door. Opening it up, she saw three figures, two of who she knew. Esther, Janey’s nurse stood in front, flanked by a teenage girl bedecked all in black, including her nails and lipstick. A taller woman stood behind, whom Chelsea recognized as Fiona, a transgender woman who had spoken at the assembly last week.

“I’m sorry….” She choked back a sob. “She hasn’t much time.” The three women smiled and entered the house. As they passed through the doorway, a magical thing happened. First Esther entered, but once inside, it was no longer Esther the nurse from Jamaica who stood there, but Calleigh the Wise. Michelle recognized her and embraced her, having been a member of the Women not so long ago.

Calleigh was followed immediately by Fay from Trenton, who transformed back into Orla the Passionate. Chelsea and her mother held each other, more out of wonder than out of fear.

The tall almost mannish looking woman entered last…Fiona the Resourceful. As she passed through the door, her features softened and her manner became softer as well. She paused to walk to Janey’s bed, which sat in the middle of the room. She leaned over and kissed her forehead and said quietly,

“Almost time, dear one.”

And it was almost time. The Women had no control; no foreknowledge. The disease had run its course. Janey would be gone before the end of the day, and it was time to gather to say goodbye.

The hospice nurse smiled warmly at the family. Un-phased by the transformation she had just witnessed, she walked over to Janey’s bed. A small Vietnamese woman, she was tiny but energetic, and her presence in the house had been a blessing in the days she had been there to help. Her energy was directed at care; no one expected any less, despite the fact that the disease had won….this time. Perhaps another day…another patient. She kissed Janey on the forehead and stepped back.

Janey looked up from her bed and motioned for Chelsea, who was standing with her mom. The both stood by the bed as Janey spoke.

“The first day I met you, I dropped Paddy off at your house for lunch; you were both five. It was a right proper tea and ‘caica mine bui’ as I remember and it was a good day, in spite of his trip home. Jimmy Dolan’s older brother was somewhat of a bully back then. (Timmy Dolan was now a Marine serving in Iraq) and he and two of his friends pushed Paddy into a big mud puddle and teased him. “Patsy’s got a girl friend…Patsy’s a girl…” Janey’s eyes teared up, remembering that she had not been there for all the other teasing and harassment, but she continued.

“He walked in the front door, dirtier than I’d ever seen. He choked back a few sniffles and smiled.

“Mommy…I made a new friend today…Her name is Chelsea!”

“It’s been that way ever since. I know I can depend on you…you’ve been keeping an eye on him….her ever since, even after I wasn’t.”

She grabbed Chelsea’s hand and pulled her closer while grabbing Chelsea’s mother’s wrist.

“Take care of my baby, honey, won’t you?” She pulled her closer and kissed her, almost a request, but mostly a blessing. Chelsea turned away and fell into her mother’s arms, sobbing.

Calleigh walked over to Breena, who was trying so hard not to cry, but having no success. She grabbed her hand softly and walked over to the bed. Janey looked up and smiled weakly while reaching out to grab Breena’s hand.

“We will require another to restore balance.” Breena was aware of the old arts, and looked at Calleigh with relieved anticipation until Calleigh shook her head and said.

“You are needed here much more than for any need of other mortals. Your place is with the children.” Calleigh pointed to Michelle and Paddy, who were hold each other and crying softly.

“Bree…honey,” Janey said weakly, “They need to know…Paddy needs to know.”

A look of panic and horror swept across Breena’s face until Fiona walked up to her and hugged her, saying,

“She needs to know someone will advocate for her, someone who knows what she’s been through…someone who knows what she will continue to deal with… someone who has walked this path before her.”

Michelle and Paddy looked at their aunt, wondering if what they just understood Fiona to say was true. Janey spoke up, a little louder, but still just above a whisper.

“Your Grandma Maureen had two children…both somewhat rebellious in their own ways, but both beautiful. Sinead, that’s me and her other child…my brother Sean.”

“Janey…no…don’t…please.” By now Breena could barely stand from crying, and was held in a comforting embrace by Orla, who stroked her hair.

“Shhh….shhh….it’s going to be alright…you’ll see. It’s for the best, and the best is better than you can imagine.” Orla kissed her cheek softly.

“Sean was a lovely child…but Ma didn’t appreciate how different he was. The boys all used to tease him. He had only a few friends growing up. I suppose I was his best friend, but even I didn’t understand. In high school, he was beaten up by some bullies, and Ma finally understood. He went away for a while, but he never came back. In his place, as special and precious a sister anyone could ever have, came your Aunt Breena.”

By now Paddy had moved over to Breena and had joined Orla in hugging her.

“I was no use as a mother….oh, don’t worry, I’m alright now. We had our talk, we had our angry words, but Bree forgave me, and I her. I was never able or willing to take care of you precious children, but she was. If anything, and don’t get upset, it’s really true in a way; I’ve been more like an aunt and Bree’s been more like your mother. And no finer more caring or loving mother could God have provided than my sister.”

Janey motioned, and Breena walked over to the bed. She leaned over and wept for her sister, too sad in coming so late in their lives, but glorious in coming at just the right time.

She kissed Janey once more and motioned for Michelle and Paddy to come over to the bed. Michelle hung back feeling awkward, not being used to her new appearance and demeanor. Somehow she felt ashamed and guilty that she wasn’t who her mother expected. Paddy, however, practically ran to her mother’s side. She fell to the floor and put her head on the edge of the bed next to her mother’s hand. Janey stroked her hair but returned her attention to Michelle.

“Mikey, come here, sweetheart. Come bless me one more time, will you?” It wasn’t a demand, but a sweet request that melted Michelle’s heart. She walked around to the other side of the bed and leaned forward to kiss her mother.”

Janey put her hand on Michelle’s neck and pulled her closer.

“Michael Kevin McCarthy…I am so proud of you. No mother was blessed with a finer, more courageous son than I…you are my treasure, dear one. I know that much of what I see today is for your sister’s benefit. But I also know that part of what I see is part of who you are, and I’m glad I have another daughter, too. I love you so much.” She kissed Michelle on the lips like when she was little and being tucked into her bed.

“And you, my sweet baby girl…I cannot begin to tell you of how proud I am of you. Brave and kind and sweet and innocent and loving. You are heart of my heart, my darling daughter.
Is breá liom tú le mo chroí go léir (I love you with all my heart.)”

She pulled her daughter closer as Paddy rose to kiss her. Both daughters rested on their mother’s bosom as she wept and caressed their hair. Slowly, her hands began to lighten, as if she was lifting them. They ceased moving and she was gone.

---

As the family gathered close at Janey’s bedside, the Women left quietly and gathered together outside the house. Calleigh stood and held Fiona in her arms as her sister wept for the family and their loss. It was a special, wonderful but sad time that could not help but affect the trio. Orla stepped closer and rubbed Fiona’s back while wiping her own tears away.

A figure walked toward the trio, vaguely familiar yet utterly new as well, if you follow me. The Women noticed her and ran to greet her, excited at her presence. She looked younger than Fiona, yet looked also old beyond her years, almost like a stately oak or a supple beech tree.

“Welcome, dear sister…We are glad for your joining, though we weep at the toll it has taken for the dear mortals inside. Welcome, Sinead the Merciful. It says somewhere that those who have received mercy shall be merciful. Welcome dear sister.”

“Thank you, all of you for restoring me.” Sinead looked at herself, seeing health and strength, not only in her restoration, but far beyond anything she had ever known.

Calleigh embraced her and said softly, “We only witnessed what the One who created you has done. It is to Her you owe your thanks.”

Calleigh embraced Sinead and was joined quickly by Orla and Fiona. Another figure stood off to the side, almost reverently staying apart from the group, feeling so out of place and unworthy.

“Come, dear heart…you belong here too, if only for a little while.” Calleigh held her arms open to embrace the fifth woman…restored for just a short time, and soon to return to her former form stood Maired the Innocent. But really, as odd and wonderful as it was, she really was just Michael Kevin McCarthy...a member of the group for one last time, it would seem.

“There’s not much time; we’ve some dear precious hurting souls elsewhere,”Fiona said with much regret. By now the women’s tears were sorrowful and joyous, filled with excitement and sadness. Fiona gently pulled Maired to her in an embrace and said,

“Heart of my heart, I bless you…dear one, always do what is right, love mercy and justice.” She kissed Michael on the cheek and stepped back.

“Come, be blessed, my sweet sister,” Orla said. “Whatever you do, do it wholly and with passion, dear sister; love and be loved.” She also kissed Michael and turned to face Calleigh.

“Temper wisdom with love; thank you for being with us, even if it was only for a while.” Calleigh kissed Michael and they both turned to face the last woman.

Brand new in the old ways, Sinead was left to say what she needed to say, not as a member of the group, but as the dear one bidding farewell for the last time.

“Michael….I know you’ll do well; you have a good heart and you learn quickly. You are my sweet son, and I am so proud of you. I’ll look in from time to time, if that’s okay.” Michael embraced his mother for the last time, and hugged Sinead for the first, if that makes sense.

“I love you, momma…be well and filled with joy.” Tears fell like gentle rain as they said goodbye for the last time.

As before, the women started to change. Their clothing began to shimmer and glow, almost iridescent, taking on the appearance of something almost spiritual. Michael stood and watched as they all began to fade away, almost like vapor taken by the wind. The sound of music filled the air and he heard one last voice, that of Calleigh, as they finally disappeared.

“Be ready, Maired the Innocent….always be ready.”

Michael looked around and found himself alone. Still dressed as Michelle, he, rather she turned and walked back into the house to join the celebration.

To be Concluded in Down to Earth - Book Two

---

All songs written and performed by
Miss Loreena McKennitt

All Souls Night

Never-Ending Road (Amhrán Duit)

Seeds of Love

Full Circle

La Serenissima

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m54SmVsQqgc