Down to Earth Red is the Rose by Andrea Lena DiMaggio   Red is the rose that in yonder garden grows Fair is the lily of the valley Clear is the water that flows from the Boyne But my love is fairer than any.

This story is a continuation of A Question of Balance. Thus far: Three women, centuries old and practitioners of Draihoidel, the old arts, had come along side a girl in desperate need of understanding and encouragement. Each had taken the form of mortals to influence three souls close to the girl. The fourth member of the group, the girl’s brother had been a practitioner of the old arts for only a few days. The women have returned to help the family once again, along with others that need the healing that only love can provide...

Previously...at the home of Diane and Trudy Lambert...

“I’m...who am I trying to kid? This is so...selfish. Look what it’s done. I’ll probably lose my job. I’m of no good to them if I can’t be there. I should have just stayed the way I was. It would have been.”

“You’re going to become who you have been all along. You are going to show them how much courage and heart you have, and that you have so much to give.... there’s nothing wrong with you...nothing, my dear sweet...” The two wept in each other’s arms. It had been a long day for both of them, but the evening would be filled with hope and joy and love.

Come over the hills, my bonnie Irish lass
Come over the hills to your darling
You choose the rose, love, and I'll make the vow
And I'll be your true love forever.

The next morning...

The women gathered unseen near the couple as they slept; it was 4:30 am, and both had finally fallen into slumber after a very challenging day.

“What can we do for these precious dears, Calleigh?” Orla turned her head in deference to their privacy.

“Oh, it’s not for these, although they will go through a wee bit of trouble before the end of it all. It’s the poor woman who stands in the way of their happiness.

“Why then would we want to help her? I don’t understand.” Fiona stared agape as the older woman smiled calmly.

“Because, dear one, she’s sadder than you can know, and we have to see her through this...we’re all she has.”

“She’s been hurt, hasn’t she?” Orla asked, her head tilted a bit in question.

“Aye, that she has, and very much so. In fact, she’s almost at a point of hopelessness, although you wouldn’t know it by her actions.” Calleigh said calmly.

“Who will be workin’ with her?” Fiona asked.

“I’ve already started. You see I’ve a bit of understanding about her, and I hope that will guide me.” Calleigh sighed. It wasn’t often that she showed worry or concern; the tasks at hand always seemed to be in reach when she spoke, but she seemed earnestly worried about Phyllis.

“I’m afraid we may be a wee bit late, but I’m prayin’ that we’re not. There’s a lot of good deep down in that woman, and I mean to coax it out; or have it come out kickin’ and screamin’.”

“What would you have us do?” Orla asked with a smile.

“You’ll be workin’ on the other side, so to speak of the same coins Siobhan and I are ‘minting’ if you don’t mind, ladies?” Calleigh asked the question even though she knew there wasn’t a disagreeable bone in either of their bodies.

“Orla...there’s a man in the school where Phyllis works...you’ve been there before. I’ll leave it to you to affect some nice but strong influence on his thinkin’, aye? He needs to understand that all of us have a right to live, and that means as we choose, not him, understand?” Orla nodded and winked with a sweet grin.

“And you, my dear old friend,” she said to Fiona, will be helpin’ Siobhan with her charge. There’s an awfully sweet man who is very, very lonely and needs to discover his answers lie in real people and not tasks and helping and in the past, however well intended he may be. You’ll find that Siobhan is approaching a very kind and helpful lady in the same manner.”

“The boy’s aunt?”

Fiona asked as she looked away; almost as if she could see their house.

“Aye... and before you go sayin’ something foolish, dear one; I do know that she doesn't seem kind, but she is helpful in her kindness, and Siobhan knows better than anyone how big a heart the woman has, even if she doesn’t yet know it herself. So we’ll have our work cut out for us, but I am going to choose to believe it will all work out somehow.” The other women nodded before she added;

“And Fiona...no matter what you hear or see, trust that this is the right thing. The man is a very sad man, even if you never see it on his face, and his healing is going to through her’s.”

Three hours or so later, a few miles away...

“Would you mind having Dave cover my first and second period health classes? Oh, yes ...I’ll be in a little late; no, everything is okay...yes...thanks, Jan...bye.” Paul Giambrone clicked off his cell. Okay? Not really. He walked over and picked up his keys off his dresser and headed out.

At school...first period health class...

Dave sat down behind the desk. He didn’t mind filling in for Paul, but today was going to be a particularly odd morning. He looked up to see his twenty-three charges walking in the classroom. But his eye was drawn to first one...then a second student who seemed out of place.

“Excuse me, girls...this is the boys health class, can I help you?” He asked as he walked around the desk.

“Nope, Mr. Ackerman...I’m in the right class.” A fairly familiar voice spoke from the taller of the two girls. She was dressed in a hip length pink and purple dress over purple tights with a black hip length sweater and black boots; not unfashionable for most girls, but she wasn’t ‘most’ girls.

“Mike McCarthy?” Dave put his hand to his face and almost did an aside to the class.

“Yes, Mr. Ackerman.” Dave knew about Mike’s brother, or rather, sister Patty, who was in the midst of transition, what ever that meant. He’d gotten the memo from adminstration last year.

“You...are you...” His words got stuck in his mouth as he shook his head.

“If you mean, am I like my sister? No, except in family name. I’m just showing some support for my friend here.” Mike pointed to the girl next to him.

“And you are?” Dave didn’t recognize the girl at all.

“I just transfered in last week.”

“I’m sorry, young lady, but you can’t be in this class.”

Dave tried to be kind, but this really stretched his patience, considering it wasn’t his class. He stared at her. She was what some might consider a bit geeky with a little goth thrown in for good measure. Her hair was a mousy brown, cut in a short shag. She had tortoiseshell burrettes on either side, and her hair was pulled back over one ear to reveal a single stud made of a small shell. She wore black ankle length boots and black tights under a calf length lace dress over a charcoal underdress with a black hip length cardigan. And tortoiseshell glasses with half-lenses and a beaded eyeglass cable caused her to resemble a teen goth librarian.

“But this is my class,” the girl said, handing a paper to Dave. He looked at it and saw it was a class schedule for Peter Anthony Carlucci.

“What are you trying to pull?” Dave raised his voice.

“Nothing, sir. I just like these clothes.”

“Oh...so you’re just like Mike’s sister...oh…okay?” Dave hadn’t been able to wrap his head around the whole transgender thing, but he was trying.

“No, sir.”

“No, sir, what?” Dave shook his head.

“No, sir, I’m not a girl like Mike’s sister. I’m a boy, just like everybody else here.”

“Let me get this straight? You’re a boy...but you want to wear girl’s clothes?” The class started to laugh until Dave turned and glared. One by one the boys quieted down as he returned his attention to Mike and Petey.

“No, sir.”

“Now what... No, sir, what?”

“I’m currently garbed in girl’s clothing, so it’s not so much a matter of want as to like. I like to wear girl’s clothes.” Petey smiled, while his real self inside, Calleigh, the leader of the four women, resisted the urge to laugh at Dave. She realized he truly was trying to understand.

“You like to wear girl’s clothes? Okay...but that’s not permitted. You’ll both have to change.” He said firmly, but still trying to understand.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible.” Petey said.

“Why not? You’ll just have to go home to change.”

“I can’t go home. I have no transportation, and my mother is unavailable to pick me up,” he said, trying hard not to grin. Petey’s, rather, Calleigh’s mother was at home alright, but home was in County Sligo in Ireland, and at 835 years of age, she wasn’t much inclined to travel these days.

“Well, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to report to the principal’s office then until the end of the school day.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, but okay.”

“What about you, Mike?” He asked.

“Yeah, what about you? Mikey...Michelle? You a fag like your brother” Denny Colhane yelled from the back of the class. In a moment the boys were all laughing and pointing at the two boys. Mike turned a bit red, but maintained his composure.

“I’m with him,” he said and followed Petey to the door. Petey turned and said,

“Mr. Ackerman?”

“Yes, what is it?”

“You have a nice day, okay?” He smiled and the two walked out of class and down the hall.
And a very nearly invisible woman stood as Petey and Mike walked down the hallway. She nodded at Petey who used his eyes to point in the direction of the classroom. Orla nodded as well and peeked in and smiled.

Dave Ackerman grew angry; the boys had disrupted his class and he was determined get control.

"Shut up!" He didn't yell, but they got his message and quieted down. He opened the text to the assigned chapter only to discover the following;

"The Transgendered Teen and Development."

He shook his head and closed the text.

"Okay, guys, who watched the Celtics game last night." Orla stood silently and unseen in the corner by the door and shook her head.

Graceland Park Cemetery...

Paul stood and looked down at the ground. A simple plaque with roses on each corner lay at his feet.

“Alice Katherine McGowan Giambrone - My Rose 1979-2006”

“Happy Birthday, honey, I miss you so much.”

It had started to rain, and the drops mixed with his tears and fell off his face onto the flowers he had laid next to her grave. He put his head down; the grief, while bearable, still pierced his heart like a spear even after nine years. He felt something on his shoulder as a nearly invisible woman whispered in strange but soothing words unheard by ear but heard by heart. Fiona smiled as the man put his hand to his face and wept harder, but
in some strange sense of peace and relief.

It's not for the parting that my sister pains
It's not for the grief of my mother
'Tis all for the loss of my bonny Irish lass
That my heart is breaking forever.

Next: Couples

Red is the Rose
Traditional Irish song
as Performed by Dervish
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fOmUSfuULH4&feature=related