The Midnight Dancers: A Fairy Tale Retold (28 page)

Debbie’s face crumpled and she put a pillow up to her face and sobbed. “It’s not fair!”

“He didn’t do anything except try to be our friend, and you—you slandered him!” Linette accused Rachel, her large brown eyes filling with tears. She threw herself on the carpet and cried.

Rachel covered her face with her hands and waited for them to shut up.

But the younger girls kept crying. Miriam leaned over to Rachel and spoke in her ear. “Listen Rachel, normally you’re pretty sharp. But this time you made a big mistake.”

Abruptly Rachel got up and went over to the secret door. She pushed it open and slipped inside. As the door snapped shut behind her, she heard Becca say, “Man, she is getting bizarre.”

If she had a boat of her own, she would have gotten into it, revved up the engine, and driven over to the island. She stood on the beach, gripping her arms, wishing with all her might that Michael would hear her soundless call, drive up on his boat, and sweep her away. She would tell him about Paul’s spying. He would agree with her, she knew. He understood about the need to preserve secrets at any cost, about preserving independence. And privacy.

I did it for freedom,
she told herself fiercely.
I need that freedom.

At last, not wanting to arouse suspicions, she stalked back to the house and started doing her chores before supper. She had a headache.

She took over preparing dinner single-handedly. When each of her sisters trickled in to do her assigned chore, she said, “Leave me alone. I’ll do it,” in a cold voice. And each sister readily gave her the space she desired. Only Melanie hovered on the edge of the counter for some time, but when Rachel looked up at her, she saw at once that her younger sister had heard about the lie, and was crushed. Unable to deal with this, Rachel turned her back and went on working.

She browned the ground beef, chopped onion, sliced carrots and celery and garlic. She made the broth, seasoned it with fresh spices from the herb garden. She boiled the macaroni, shredded cheese, and tore up lettuce for a salad. She stirred up a new pitcher of iced tea.

While she worked, Brittany and Melanie set the table. She heard her dad come home, but he didn’t come into the kitchen. She heard Sallie come in from shopping with the baby boys, and heard Robbie and Jabez start chasing each other around the house. She heard Sallie showing her daughters some new sandals she had bought for them.

“I don’t understand how you girls keep wearing out your Sunday sandals so fast,” she remarked.

All of this went on around her, but her mind was engaged elsewhere. Meanwhile, she slid dirty dishes and cutting boards into the kitchen sink, wiped up the counters, scrubbed the stains from the stove while the stew cooked. She drained the macaroni. She dressed the salad and slid it onto the end of the counter, for the table setters to carry out.

Then her dad was standing in the kitchen doorway. “Rachel,” he said. “I’d like to speak with you in my office.”

It was as though she had a commanding officer instead of a father. “I’m cooking,” she said.

“Get one of your sisters to finish it for you. I want to see you, now.”

Blinking back tears, she pursed her lips and shouted, “Miriam!”

Cheryl came in. “I’ll finish dinner, Rachel.”

“Thanks,” Rachel said distantly, and handed her the wooden paddle she had been stirring the stew with. She shouldered off her apron and hurled it onto the counter.

Down the hallway to the office, she walked, shut the door behind her, and threw herself down in a leather chair, looking out the window at the trees outside. “What?”

Her father looked at her silently. She finally looked over at him, and saw he was holding a thin stack of papers.

“I just received these from your sisters,” he said.

He put on his glasses, and picked up the first one and began reading it.

“Dear Dad, Rachel is lying about Paul. I can’t tell you why, but she told me that she lied about him. I don’t think this is fair. Please don’t believe her. Sincerely, Lydia.”

He put it down, and looked at Rachel meaningfully. She couldn’t move.

He picked up the next one.

“Dear Dad, I don’t trust what Rachel said she told you about Paul. Paul is a decent, good man, and he wouldn’t do such a thing. Love, Miriam.”

He read the next letter. “Dear Dad, Paul Fester is a Christian even though he is a Catholic, and I don’t think he would ever do such a thing as Rachel said. In Christ, Cheryl.”

Going on, he read the others, one by one, “Dear Dad. Please don’t take seriously what Rachel said about Paul. I think she was ticked off at him for some other reason, and didn’t realize how bad what she said must have come off.  I don’t think there is a need to look into this matter more closely, but I would advise you to not trust what she has said. I for one do not believe it. Sincerely, Taren.”

“Dear Dad, Rachel can be really strange sometimes. I don’t know why she said what she said about Paul, but I know it is not true. Love, Rebecca.”

“I think Paul is honest and Rachel is lying. Don’t believe her. Brittany.”

“Dear Dad, Rachel has been very stressed out lately. Please try to understand her. But I don’t believe what she said about Paul, and I don’t think you should either. In Christ, Melanie.”

“In my opinion, you shouldn’t listen to what Rachel said about Paul. It’s just crazy. Sincerely, Tammy.”

“Dear Dad, Paul Fester is good and kind and has been a great teacher. He is also a good friend. We have never seen him do anything like what Rachel said. Please don’t make him leave. We love him. Love, Debbie and Linette.”

He set these aside and picked up the last one. “Dear Father, Rachel is really, really wacked out. I think what is going on here is that she has a crush on Paul. But I think he already has a girlfriend, so she made up a crazy story about him for spite or something. I wouldn’t believe it if I were you.  Prisca.”

Finished, he looked at her quizzically. The silence stretched between them. At last, he said in a stern voice, “Rachel, it appears to me that you have some explaining to do.”

She bit her lip, which was salty with tears, and wished she could push herself into the crack of the chair and disappear.

“You do realize, don’t you, that Paul could be charged with sexual assault for what you said about him.”

Startled, she looked at her dad. “You’re not going to charge him with that, are you?”

“Would you want me to?” he asked.

She sat silently staring at the floor.

“Rachel, despite all of these,” her father gestured at the letters, “I am still willing to believe your story if you are telling me the truth. But are you?”

This was the moment. Was she going to stand by her lie, or not?

Trembling, she shook her head, no.

“Then what happened between you and Paul was not as serious as you led me to believe?”

She shook her head, no, again.

“Rachel, why would you set out to destroy a young man’s character like that? Do you realize the seriousness of what you said? You could ruin his military record, you could ruin his chances at medical school, you could ruin his life. Our society takes actions like those seriously. I can’t believe that you would knowingly damage an innocent man’s good name out of spite.”

She whispered, “I wouldn’t.”

She tried to stifle a sob.  Her father rose, picked up a box of tissues, went over to her, and handed them to her. She took one, and surprisingly, he put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Rachel, why would you do such a thing?”

Would she try to patch things together with another lie? She sobbed, thinking, trying to decide. At last she managed to say, “I was angry at him.”

Surely her father would ask her why. And the interrogation would begin.

But instead, all he said was, “I see.”

She waited, and her father continued, “I think you owe that young man an apology.”

Bemused, she merely nodded her head, yes.

Paul was packing. 

He was still struggling over whether or not to try to get out of his commitment to juggle at the festival. But there were only a few days left before it ended, and he thought perhaps the coordinator might let him go. He would be losing out more than they would—the last week of the festival was usually the biggest. He would have made quite a bit of money.

But at any rate, he thought he should move to a campsite further away from the Durham’s property.

He was still in free-fall, and he was fairly sure that his chances of recovery had smashed to the ground by now.

It hurt. With a deep sigh, he rubbed the miraculous medal on the chain around his neck, and whispered a prayer. He was weary of trusting, but he had to keep trying.

As he took down his tent, he looked over his shoulder, and saw a group of girls winding their way through the woods towards him. The Durham girls. Rachel wasn’t with them.

“Hi,” Miriam spoke up. 

“Hi,” he said, folding up the drop cloth from his tent, his face warm with shame. He saw Debbie’s lip was trembling. The rest of the girls looked a bit uncomfortable, or shy. They ranged themselves along the edge of the campsite and watched him.

“Are—are you leaving?” Linette asked.

He looked over at her, a bit embarrassed himself. “I’m not sure,” he said. “I have to find out if the festival coordinator will let me leave early. I’m supposed to work until the festival ends next week.”

“So why are you packing up?”

“I just thought I would move to a different campsite, that’s all,” Paul said, with an effort to be casual. He glanced at them again.

Miriam was eyeing Cheryl, who nodded at her. Miriam cleared her throat. “Well, we just wanted to come to—express our support.”

He looked at them, a bit dubious. “Support for what?”

Tammy, who had never deigned to speak to him before, tossed her golden hair and said, “Rachel told us what she accused you of. We don’t agree with what she did. We told our dad so.”

Taken aback, he repeated, “You told your dad?”

“We wrote him letters,” Debbie said. “It was Mel’s idea.” Melanie, her eyes red, gave him a tiny smile.

“All of us,” Prisca said. She winked at him. “I think Rachel’s a bit daft, if you ask me.”

Paul blinked, completely astonished by this turn of events. He turned the folded drop cloth over and over in his hands, not sure of what to do.

“So we don’t want you to leave,” Debbie said. She walked over to him and tugged his hand, as though she were still a small child. “Can you stay?”

“All right,” he said, feeling a different kind of warmth spread over his face. In his heart, he felt his grip closing on an unexpected trapeze bar, barely in time. He had been saved.  Unconsciously he felt for his miraculous medal to say thank you.

“Can we help you put your tent back up?” Linette asked.

“Uh—sure.”

“We used to have a tent like that,” Cheryl said. “My dad used to use one to go on his fishing trips.”

“Really?” he said. The girls crowded around him, offering advice, picking things up, taking things out, and attempting to help. All in all, it took Paul much longer to set up his tent now than it had been to set it up the first time.

Taren and Liddy ran back to the Durhams’ to ask if Paul could come over for supper, and when the reply came back in the positive, he found himself escorted back to the Durham house with a contingent of dark-haired and blond-haired girls. Despite the chatter and friendly banter, he felt a slight discomfort. Rachel was nowhere to be seen.

Colonel Durham met them at the door. He took Paul’s hand and shook it, with a creased smile.  After the girls went in, he said, “I’m sorry about the trouble you had with Rachel. She has something to say to you, but since dinner’s ready, let’s eat first.” He held up a sheaf of papers. “I thought you might want to know I received these eleven votes of confidence in you. And you have my vote of confidence as well.”

Paul hesitated. “Thank you, sir.  Then—should I—?”

Colonel Durham nodded. “Carry on, soldier. Carry on.”

As they sat down for dinner, Paul saw Rachel come out from the kitchen, her face red and her eyes were puffy. She slipped into a chair on the end of the table and said nothing during the meal.

Afterwards, Colonel Durham said, “Rachel prepared this delicious meal for us, so I suggest the rest of you girls return the favor and clean the kitchen together.” He looked at Rachel and nodded at her meaningfully.

Paul saw Rachel blow out her breath and stand up. She abruptly got up from the table and walked out to the front hallway. Colonel Durham looked at Paul and made a slight movement of his head toward Rachel. Paul folded his napkin, and followed Rachel out of the dining room, knowing all eyes were fixed on them both.

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