Dance with my Father
Brief Summary: Alice reminisces on the times she spent with her father. One-shot songfic
Detailed Summary: On her father's birthday, Alice reminisces on various memories she has with her father and the time leading up to his death. A slightly long songfic.
Main Characters: Alice, Charles, Helen, Margaret
Rating: K+
Genre: Family, Tragedy, Hurt/Comfort
Song: "Dance with my Father" by Luther Vandross – Lyrics will be in italics
AU: All memories take place solely in London
A/N: This is my first AiW fanfic (that I've published, at least)! Yay! I finally bought the DVD this weekend (don't worry, I've had the movie on my DVR forever!) and it inspired me to post. The formatting was weird, so ignore the random periods through out. I'm not usually drawn to song fictions, but I was looking up lyrics to something else and this came up. It's such a great song by Luther Vandross that you can catch on any R&B oldies radio station, and it's perfect for the Kingsleigh daughters. Story will jump around from scene to scene, but I've heard that's just how the AiW books are, so I say I'm channeling Carroll! Enjoy! =)
Disclaimer: You know who owns AiW, and it's certainly not me! Oh, and I don't own the song, either!
.
Every year on her father's birthday, Alice baked a small cake and lit a single candle on top of it, just as her, her mother, and her sister did when she was younger.
Alice closed her eyes and made a wish…
.
Back when I was a child
Before life removed all the innocence
My father would lift me high
And dance with my mother and me and then
Spin me around till I fell asleep
Then up the stairs he would carry me
And I knew for sure I was loved
.
"Margaret, dear, would you play for us tonight?"
The Kingsleigh family had just finished dinner in their London townhouse, and retired to drawing room before bed. Helen sat on the couch with her needlework while Charles had settled into the chair by the fire, finishing the newspaper.
"You always ask Margaret to play, Mother," Alice complained, feet dangling off the piano bench. "I want to play for you and Father, too!"
"I promise, just as soon as you are old enough, you will take piano lessons as well," Helen comforted. "Now come join me on the couch so we may hear Margaret practice."
Margaret stifled a laugh as she smugly took Alice's place on the bench. But soon Alice's face held the smirk as Margaret continuously played the wrong keys.
"Mother, I no longer wish to play." Margaret's face was twisted in frustration after only a few bars. "I cannot get this right! I—"
"On the contrary," Charles cut in smiling, "it sounds perfect to me. Please continue." Margaret huffed, but no Kingsleigh lady could say no to his smiling face and she did as she was instructed.
Before Alice could make her own remark about the sour notes, Charles stood in front of her and her mother with his arm outstretched. "Mrs. Kingsleigh, would you give me the honor of having this dance?"
Helen's face brightened and she put aside her needlework. "Why, yes, Mr. Kingsleigh," she replied with a polite nod.
Their parents rose, bowed and curtsied to each other, and Charles began to lead his wife in a waltz.
"But, Father," Alice started, "this isn't even waltz music!"
"This isn't proper," Margaret added.
"Why of course it is!" Charles exclaimed. "This sounds exactly like the Kingsleigh Waltz!"
"The 'Kingsleigh Waltz?'" Margaret and Alice doubted in unison.
"Oh, I do enjoy a good Kingsleigh Waltz," Helen added, caught up in her husband's ingenuity. The couple continued spinning around, purposely ignoring their daughters' shocked faces.
"I want to Kingsleigh Waltz, too!" Alice cried after a moment, feeling left out of the festivities.
Charles reached out his right arm to her, "Alice Kingsleigh, will you give me the honor of this dance?"
Alice nodded and giggled as her father swept her up with his right arm while still leading her mother with his left. The three of them turned on their makeshift dance floor to Margaret's off-key music.
"Father, can you teach me the Kingsleigh Waltz, as well?" Margaret asked over her shoulder, causing her to play even more off-key. Helen took the hint and curtsied to Charles and Alice, and then stepped over to the piano, taking Margaret's place as the musician.
Margaret rushed over to her father and sister. Charles bent down in a bow and Alice followed, almost falling out of his arms. Margaret curtsied in return, and joined in the dance. Helen played at a slower pace so that her daughter could keep up.
"Not too perfect, my darling," Charles called out to Helen, "this is a Kingsleigh Waltz, remember."
The girls giggled as their mother purposely played the wrong notes. Charles continued to dance with his daughters until Alice fell asleep in his arm and Margaret on her feet against his chest.
"It was quite the honor, ladies," Charles whispered as he helped Helen carry their children upstairs.
.
If I could get another chance
Another walk, another dance with him,
I'd play a song that would never, ever end
How I'd love, love, love, to dance with my father again
.
"The nightmare again?"
Alice nodded as she stood outside her father's study in her pajamas. It had been a week since she first started having the nightmares. Margaret was still upset at her for running off while they were playing that day, and their mother had long retired for the evening. Her father was her only hope for solstice tonight.
"I won't be long," Charles called to the gentlemen without a backwards glace. Alice gladly accepted his outstretched hand and watched him in awe as he confidently strode toward her bedroom.
Charles was the best at settling Alice into bed perfectly, and he always listened intently to her as she spoke. Of course, he would remind her that dreams aren't real and that nothing could hurt her there. And only he could make her feel all right with being just a bit mad.
"Father," Alice asked smiling back up at Charles as he stroked her hair, "does that make you one of the best people, too?"
"It's not polite to eavesdrop, Alice," Charles mock scolded, realizing she must have heard Lord Ascot's outburst before she walked into the doorway. "But not everyone believes in the impossible like I do."
"What impossible things do you believe in?"
Charles eyes sparkled as he looked toward the ceiling, "Sometimes, Alice, I believe in six impossible things before breakfast."
Alice gasped in wonder.
"This morning," he continued, "one of those things was to travel to Borneo, and another to convince these gentlemen to see my vision. But even if those impossible things don't happen today, I have a lifetime of breakfasts to believe in them."
"I believe in them, Father," she replied seriously.
"Thank you, Alice," Charles smiled while kissing her forehead.
Alice couldn't help but smile confidently back, "Good night, Father."
.
When I and my mother would disagree
To get my way I would run from her to him
He'd make me laugh just to comfort me (yeah, yeah)
Then finally make me do just what my momma said
Later that night, when I was asleep
He left a dollar under my sheet
Never dreamed that he would be gone from me
.
"I won't do it!"
"Won't do what, Alice?" Charles put the map back down on the desk and turned to face his youngest daughter who had just stormed into the study.
"Do you know the horrible thing Mother is trying to get me to wear?" Alice cried, trying her best not to shout.
Charles could not help but turn red, knowing that he was about to discuss undergarments with his daughter. Alice had spent the entire afternoon yesterday complaining about being suffocated in her corset after wearing one for the first time. He could only hope she wouldn't go into details.
"No, Alice," he lied, "I don't."
"A corset!" He knew it.
"A corset? Why, Alice, all the ladies wear corsets, even your mother and sister. And it is quite proper for a lady your age to wear one."
"Who is to say what is proper?" Alice raised her voice an octave. Charles sighed, realizing that he inadvertently set her off.
"What if what was proper was to wear a codfish on your head?" Alice continued. "Would you wear it?"
Charles couldn't help but laugh, "A codfish?"
"Do I amuse you, Father?" Alice replied, clearly irritated.
"I am sorry," Charles apologized, holding back another laugh. "Why did you choose a codfish?"
Alice opened her mouth, and then stopped. She hadn't thought about that. Didn't someone once tell her that she shouldn't speak if she didn't think? She couldn't remember. But now that her father was repeating her words back to her, it did sound silly.
"Because," Alice stated matter-of-factly, unsuccessfully trying to remain upset, "it would be quite impossible to wear a codfish on your head."
"Ah," Charles stood up with a smirk, "but the only way to achieve the impossible is to believe it is possible."
"I'd hardly like to believe that possible, Father, thank you." Alice crossed her arms and looked away to hide her smile.
"No, no, we can make it so," Charles began pacing the room pretending to be in deep thought. "I can go down to the market and buy a codfish. I'm sure the milliner in town can work it into some sort of design…"
Charles stopped directly in front of his daughter and whispered, "Would you like a codfish sewn on your bonnet?"
Alice finally let out the laugh she had been holding in. "Ewwwwww! No!"
"Or perhaps we could wrap it in flowers and pin it in your hair?" Charles patted his chin, "Yes, yes, that could work."
"Father! That's even worse!" she giggled.
"Well then, Alice, please just give it a chance. It can't be as bad as a codfish on your head. It's only been a day; you just might like it."
"All right, Father," Alice said uncrossing her arms, "I will go and put it on." Alice turned and walked out of the study after kissing him on the cheek.
Charles sat back down with a sigh. He prayed that he would never have to talk about corsets or any other ladies' garments with his daughters ever again.
"Oh, and Father?" Alice called down the hall loud enough for the entire block to hear.
"Yes, Alice?" Charles reluctantly replied.
"I will never like wearing a corset!"
.
If I could steal
One final glance
One final step
One final dance with him
I'd play a song that would never, ever end
'Cause I'd love, love, love to dance with my father again
.
Alice stood on the balcony overlooking their small backyard garden. She had grown quite tired of all the fuss around Margaret being introduced into society. Every few days Margaret would have another story about grand marches and quadrilles, followed by days in the sitting room with their mother playing chaperone to Margaret and her callers.
Alice just needed a moment before starting the cycle again at tea this afternoon. But something—no, someone, caught her eye.
"Father, is that you?" Alice had walked downstairs and out the door to find Charles sitting on the garden bench.
"Hello, Alice," Charles said patting the space next to him, "won't you join me?"
His smile was weak, and it frightened her. Alice cautiously lowered herself on the bench. "What are you doing home in the middle of the day? Shouldn't you be at your office?"
"I thought I could use a little fresh air. It is a lovely day, isn't it?"
"Very." The two sat in silence for a few minutes, Charles with his eyes closed and Alice staring at him.
"I think I would like to have lunch with my daughters today," Charles announced at length. "Would you like that, Alice?"
"Of course I would. I imagine Margaret would as well."
Charles smiled at the mention of his eldest. "Yes, Margaret is doing quite well after her first ball. I am glad I was able to see it."
Alice didn't like the way he was speaking, but she didn't understand why it made her uneasy. "Lunch should be ready at any moment. We can head inside if you'd like."
"Yes, of course." Charles unsteadily rose a few inches off the bench, and then sat back down. Alice stood and watched him in confusion.
"Actually, Alice, would you mind fetching your sister? It is too beautiful of a day to spend it indoors. I'd like to have lunch out here."
"In the grass? I am certain Mother and Margaret will protest." Alice wanted to protest as well, but she would never admit to anyone, not even to her father, that some things just weren't proper.
Charles read her mind anyway and continued, "Yes, in the garden, just like old times." He shot her his winning smile, "We can't stay young forever, Alice, we should cherish it. Besides, it was one of my impossible things this morning."
Alice couldn't help but smile at their inside joke. Alice would do anything for her father, and it would be quite funny to see Margaret rolling around in the grass once again.
"All right, Father, I'll go fetch Margaret and have lunch set up out here."
"Thank you, Alice," Charles said, laying a hand on hers. "It will be just like old times."
Alice gently pulled her hand away as she turned toward the townhouse. She had never known her father's hands to be cold and clammy, not even when he was nervous. Alice took a glance back at Charles, noticing that his skin was pale and his eyes were closed once again.
"Yes," Alice whispered, "just like old times."
.
Sometimes I'd listen outside her door
I'd hear how my mother cried for him
I'd pray for her even more than me
I'd pray for her even more than me
.
Fever.
She wasn't supposed to hear what the doctor said. Helen had sent Alice up to her room. But she was determined to hear what the doctor had to say, especially since she was shooed away. Alice had crept to the end of the hallway and quietly listened to the voices floating down the hall.
But fever is curable isn't it? They had all caught slight fevers in the past. But even without hearing the complete conversation, Alice knew something was different.
"Father's sick isn't he?" Alice jumped at the sound of her sister's voice. It seems Margaret didn't want to be sent to her room, either.
"Yes," Alice simply replied.
Margaret sat next to Alice on the top step and they silently held each other. Their mother remained downstairs for quite some time. Margaret finally stood Alice up and helped her get ready for bed.
"It will all be better in the morning," Margaret said unsteadily before closing Alice's door and heading to her own room.
That night Alice woke up from her nightmare again. Now that she was older, she usually talked herself back to sleep, but there was too much on her mind. Alice crept down the hall and stood outside her parents' bedchamber, leaning against the door. All she could hear was labored breathing and sobs.
"Should I wake the children?" she heard her mother choke out between sobs.
"Let them sleep a few minutes longer, my darling," Charles said through haggard breaths." I've got a little time yet."
Alice slid down to the floor and began to weep silently.
The next morning, she could only think of one impossible thing before breakfast.
.
I know I'm praying for much too much
But could you send back the only man she loved
I know you don't do it usually
But dear Lord she's dying to dance with my father again
.
Helen hadn't come down for tea in weeks. Margaret and Alice only saw their mother at breakfast and at dinner, and conversation was slim. There was a stack of calling cards building in the entryway, but Helen hadn't even glanced at them.
Alice missed her father terribly; they were kindred spirits. But she couldn't stand to see her mother like this. Helen was a strong woman, handling the house with a firm hand, and her daughters' social calendars with poise and ease. She was able to wrangle in her family's daydreams and keep everyone in line. Alice inherited Helen's stubbornness, but now the only thing Helen was firm about was staying in her room.
"What are you doing?" Margaret asked Alice over the rim of her teacup. Alice had been sitting with her eyes closed for twenty minutes, tea service untouched.
"The same thing I've been doing every tea time for the past several weeks: I'm praying for Father to return."
Margaret gave her baby sister a sad smile, "Now, Alice…"
"Don't!" Alice's reaction caused Margaret to jump. "The only way to make Mother happy again is to make Father come back! Father believed in six impossible things before breakfast, Margaret, and so can I! So can I!"
Margaret got up from her seat and kneeled next to Alice's crying form. Alice leaned forward so that their foreheads touched.
"I can't deal with everyone leaving me, Margaret. First, Father, and now you'll soon be gone with Lowell, and Mother is so sad…"
"Shhh…" Margaret stroked her sister's back.
The two sisters sat hunched together for some time. They didn't even notice that Helen had walked in the room and was staring at them curiously.
"What's this all about?" The sisters were startled at their mother's voice.
"Margaret, get up off the floor, you're ruining your dress. You have dinner at the Manchester Estate. Alice, can you please be properly dressed tonight? And both of you, wash your faces!"
Alice and Margaret stumbled up and began smoothing out their dresses. The three of them stared at each other with red eyes.
"Well?" Helen prompted with her hands on her hips.
"Yes, Mother," the sisters mumbled, heading up to their rooms.
Helen took a deep breath before following them. This wouldn't be easy, but she had daughters to secure lives for.
"Help me, Charles, wherever you are," Helen spoke aloud. "I do not know how I can do this without you."
Helen would cry again tonight and every night in the future, but this time, she would make sure her daughters never noticed. Life needed to go on.
And it would.
.
Every night I fall asleep
And this is all I ever dream
.
"Please," Alice wished with her eyes closed, bending over the cake, "bring Father back to Mother."
Alice leaned forward and blew out the candle.