Don't You Dare Deny Me was my very first Fidget pastiche created in 2002, and the same story that gave birth to The Fidget Connections Cast. For as long as I've seen the movie, I had a vision about what would take place after Fidget was tossed in the River Thames. That vision was to reform him while keeping true to his character ... with the aide of someone who'd be a perfect match: Deniece la Chauve-souris (for we all know that he simply can't resist a woman). Originally, the story was nine pages long and intended to be short and simple. But when I read it with a fresh pair of eyes, I realized that it needed more, for it wasn't easy to describe Fidget's background without some basis of feasibility. After gaining new insight on the character and re-writing the story with new eyes, here is the story that started it all. Fidget belongs to Disney, the name "James" was used with permission by Mlle. Relda, Deniece and all other characters belong to me.

Chapter 7: Sunday Mass at Westminster Abbey

When he opened his eyes, Fidget found himself surrounded by fog. Fog? He rose to his foot and peg, then felt the ground sway, nearly throwing him off balance. The floor was made of strong wood, yet it felt so thin underneath. He looked around. His boundaries were limited by wooden walls that reached the level of his chin. Behind him was a wooden hut that looked empty. He looked up. Two tall poles with shredded, red fabric loomed over him like trees. Where was he? He heard the sound of splashing. Fidget rushed to the wall to climb over it … then stopped short when he saw water that extended in a limitless fashion. He suddenly realized where he was. It was a pirate's ship. The Bloody Rose.

"But … dat's not possible!" Fidget stammered. "Da Bloody Rose was destroyed. I know it! It was in pieces when I last saw it."

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps made Fidget's large ears perk up. The sound was distant, but he could hear it getting louder. An immense chill ran down his spine. Someone was here. Fidget slowly turned his head … and saw a finger pointed at his face.

"Coward …"

A confused Fidget looked up. It was a tall, scrawny mouse nude from the waist up. His body was tanned with scars, as if he'd been beaten. Fidget found himself cowering from the mouse as he backed away. Then he bumped into something behind him … and felt something grab both his wings.

"Demon …"

Fidget couldn't turn around to see his other visitor as his wings were suddenly bound behind his back. He looked up to see the face of what looked like a priest, looming over him. Fidget squirmed and struggled to free himself from the mouse's grip. "Let me go!" he demanded. Then Fidget found himself surrounded by mice, slowly approaching him.

"Liar … Thief … Murderer …"

All he could hear were voices, echoing in his ears. It made him panic. Angry mice were crowding him, uttering cruel words. "No!" he cried. "I didn't do anyt'ing … I didn't!"

"Kill him … make him suffer …"

Hands crawled over Fidget's upper torso, ripping off his shirt and scarf. He felt his arms being squeezed and twisted. Pain coursed through his crippled wing. "Ouch!" he cried. "Stop it!"

The mouse that held him turned him sideways until his back was exposed. One of the mice began tanning his body, making Fidget scream in agony. He begged and pled for the mice to stop; they continued. More cruel words echoed in his large ears.

"NOOOO!"

Fidget opened his eyes. He was back in Deniece's guestroom again. Another dream … He sighed with relief as he allowed his body to fall back on the bed. He heard the door open and saw Deniece come in. "Are you alright?"

"Uh, yeah," Fidget replied in a dumb tone. "Why do you ask?"

"I heard screaming a few minutes ago," Deniece answered. "What happened?"

"It was … a bad dream," Fidget said in an uneasy tone.

"Must've been a frightful one," said Deniece. "Your cry sounded as if you were in danger."

Fidget didn't comment, not knowing whether he should answer that statement or not. He only hoped that Deniece wouldn't question him further about the dream. He looked out the window, and realized that the sun was still out. Evening had not come yet.

"What time is it?" Fidget asked, rubbing his eyes.

"It's 11:00 in the morning," Deniece replied. "I only came in here because I heard you scream."

Fidget gulped. Did that mean he had to explain himself? He hoped not.

"Well, I'm going back to bed. Sorry if I disturbed you."

"Niecy, wait!"

Fidget couldn't understand why, but he began to feel nervous the moment Deniece turned the other way. That bad dream he had seemed too vivid to just ignore. What if it came back?

"Hmm? What is it?"

Fidget hesitated to speak at first. Would she get mad if he asked? But seeing that Deniece was getting impatient, he had to ask. "May I ... sleep with you?"

"Excuse me!?" Deniece winced.

Fidget wrung his webbed hands and looked over his shoulder as if someone else was watching. "I ... I d-don't want to b-be alone. May I s-sleep in da same b-bed as you?"

Deniece crossed her webbed arms in front of her and gave Fidget a suspicious look. Fidget noticed and it began to agitate him. "Aw, come on, Niecy! Gimme a break!"

Deniece rolled her eyes as she sighed heavily. "If I allow you to come in my room, will you keep your hands to yourself?"

Fidget arched forward; his body shook in a compulsive laughter. "You know, you're hilarious, Niecy! You talk about men makin' doin' t'ings without your consent, yet you tickled me at the picnic without my consent, and now you expect me to keep my hands to myself!?"

"Well, I don't see how that's back-breaking labor," Deniece replied. "You've been doing a good job of it so far."

Fidget was stumped by Deniece's comment. He wanted to say something back to satisfy his pride, but couldn't come up with anything. Irritated with his defeat, he rolled his eyes and raised his webbed hands in surrender.

"Alright, alright," he replied. "I won't try anyt'ing stupid. I promise."

"Very well," Deniece replied. "Come with me then."

The peg-legged bat followed Deniece into the hallway. Deniece's bedroom was only two doors toward the right. When the two bats entered, Fidget was stunned by what he had seen. Both the carpet and her bedspread were a rich teal color, a soothing color choice that could put anyone to sleep just by looking at it. Across the foot of the bed was a small vanity table, most likely where Deniece would sit to do her make up. Aside from a small wardrobe across the right side, Deniece's bedroom was clean and simple. Not that the guest room that Fidget stayed in wasn't, but something about Deniece's room mesmerized him (most likely the teal-colored blanket).

"You'll notice that strange looking bar on the top," Deniece added, pointing to the bar on the ceiling. "That's where I usually hang upside down. I would only use the bed in times of being sick, but I'm making an exception. Obviously, the bar is not long enough for the two of us to hang from."

Fidget didn't say a word, but waited until Deniece lay on top of the bed. She cuddled close to the right side of the bed, leaving room for Fidget to join her on the left side. "It's soft enough. I'm sure you'll fall back asleep in no time."

Fidget crawled onto the left side. The mattress felt light, as if it were made of clouds. Not to mention the pillow hugged his head and he was lying across the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, so Deniece was right about Fidget being able to fall asleep easily. As the peg-legged bat closed his yellow eyes, he was overcome with that strange feeling in his nether region again. And that feeling crawled up his back and behind his head and large ears. And he thought about how Deniece had kissed him. Although she was so abrupt in doing so (and obviously without his consent), Fidget found himself craving another one. But he had promised Deniece to keep his hands to himself. He had both wings crossed in front of his face as a means to keep himself under control.

"Why are you hiding yourself like that?" Deniece whispered.

"Well, you told me to keep my hands to myself. It's not as easy as it looks."

Fidget was actually trembling while he was saying this. It had been a while since he had been this close to a woman, and being the promiscuous little bat that Fidget was, controlling himself in this way felt like torture.

Deniece sighed. "Oh, is that how it is? I think I have a way to ease your suffering."

A way to ease his suffering, she said? She wasn't going to tickle his ribs again, was she? Before he could ask any questions, Fidget felt a webbed palm between the small of his back and his left hip, followed by a slow, yet thrilling caress that was getting him aroused. Oh God! he thought as his yellow eyes re-opened and and slowly rolled back. That spot just happened to be his erogenous zone. Why did Deniece have to touch him there? Now controlling himself would be a lot harder than it was before! Surprisingly, it was just the opposite; Fidget's arms and body relaxed as Deniece stroked that spot and made controlling himself a lot easier.

Deniece watched Fidget as he closed his eyes and breathed slowly to the sensation of her touch. She listened to his breath with keen interest. Rather than it's usual heaviness that Deniece remembered the night she rescued him, his breath sounded lighter ... almost like an infant. And his usually scary face looked peaceful, like an infant. Had Deniece misjudged the peg-legged bat? She had begun to notice a slight change in Fidget's character since the night he was sick. Before, he was very rude and even suspected that Fidget tried to kill her (after all, how else would she explain the poker she found lying next to the door?). But now, she was beginning to see a different side to this bat. Now as she looked at his face, it was as if he was ... needy, especially for affection.

"I'm ... glad you ... allowed me ... to sleep in ... your bed," Fidget began to tell her in a whisper.

"Oh?" Deniece replied. "Why is that?"

Fidget opened his eyes again, but only halfway this time. Then he shrugged his shoulders. "I ... didn't want ... to be alone ..."

Now this was curious. Deniece assumed that the bat was definitely a loner, given his brusque attitude. But she never expected him to be afraid of being alone. Perhaps it had something to do with that bad dream he said he was having? "What was your bad dream about?"

Fidget's turned away to avoid her gaze. "S-someone ... t-tried to hurt me."

Deniece stopped stroking his side and allowed her hand to move upward and rest on Fidget's chest. Somehow, she suspected that this bad dream wasn't just mere hallucination. It was the result of a bad memory. "Does it have anything to do with those scars on your chest?"

"Hm?!" Fidget gave Deniece a confused look.

"Your scars, Fidget," Deniece repeated. "You have scars all over your body. You didn't know that?"

As if he didn't know what she was talking about, Fidget pulled the collar of his shirt down to have a look. As Deniece pointed out, there were scars on his chest ... and they looked a lot like welt marks. At first, Fidget was puzzled as if he had never seen these scars before. And then his face turned blank, his yellow eyes filled with horror. All of a sudden, he could hear a tiny, child-like voice inside his head: "Please, stop!" he heard it scream. "Leave me alone!" Fidget suddenly grabbed the sides of his head and trembled very badly.

"Fidget, are you alright!?" Deniece gasped. The peg-legged bat did not respond but curled himself into a ball and continued to tremble. Worried she might cause a shock, Deniece gently told him that she was going to place her hand on the small of his back once again. She made good on her promise, and slowly caressed between his left hip and the small of his back. It worked. Fidget had stopped trembling and felt his body collapse from exhaustion. Deniece's touch had relaxed him once again and Fidget's face turned pink. The poor bat was embarrassed that Deniece had saw him in such a state.

"Dis is ... why I ... didn't want to ... be alone," Fidget panted. "My body ... shakes really bad ... and I don't know ... what to do about it."

"I'm sorry," Deniece uttered in an apologetic tone. "I ... guess I pried where I wasn't suppose to."

"No, you're alright," Fidget replied, his face holding that gentle, infant-like expression once again. "I just ... forgot about dhose scars. I've ... had dhem for so long, I ... guess I'm just used to it."

"How's your hand, by the way?" Deniece asked, now focusing on the hand she helped Fidget bandage from breaking the wine glass. Fidget raised his bandaged hand and held it in front of his face. Had he forgotten about this injury too? This was unlike Fidget to ignore any mishap that befell him without complaining. When that Flaversham brat that he kidnapped stomped on his foot, he was quick to notice (and quick to complain about it). But to completely forget about his bandaged hand or the scars that were on his body? Fidget couldn't help but wonder if he had been more ill than he thought.

"Oh," he replied, his smile a little sheepish. "Stings a little, but it's not too bad."

"That's good to hear," Deniece sighed in relief. "But don't ever do that again! You scared me, Fidget."

Fidget's ears drooped. "I'm sorry ... I guess I'm too good at scarin' people."

"What!?"

"Never mind. I'm tired, Niecy."

"Then go to sleep," Deniece whispered, still stroking his side. "I'll be here."

The grandfather clock rang 5pm. Fidget woke up, only to find Deniece going through her wardrobe. The peg-legged bat slept well throughout the day. No nightmares had come, and as he awoke from bed, a good feeling overcame his body. He had been noticing this good feeling whenever he was near Deniece or felt her presence. Fidget couldn't figure out why, but he found himself liking it.

"Today's Sunday," Deniece said, starting conversation with Fidget. "I'm to sing with the choir at Westminster Abbey."

"Oh, dat's nice," Fidget replied, keeping the conversation polite. "Are dhey da songs you were practicin'? Da ones I can't understand?"

"You mean the Kyrie and Gloria?" said Deniece. "Yes, those are the songs. You like them?"

Fidget chuckled shyly. "Well, I'm not fond of church songs, or songs dat aren't in English."

Deniece gave him a curious smile. "Why don't you accompany me to Westminster Abbey then? I will be singing those songs."

Fidget's shy smile began to droop. "Me, go to church?"

Deniece nodded, uncertain as to why the idea bothered him. "Is something wrong?"

Fidget pondered for the right words to say. "Well, churches and I … don't really get along," he said. "I t'ink dey're a little … scary."

Deniece was surprised by his description. "Scary? Why?"

Fidget shrugged his shoulders. "Well, it's just dat dey're so … big, and I'm so small. Da music and priests are loud and scary. I go near a church and I begin to choke."

Deniece patted Fidget on the arm. "I don't think you need to worry, cherie," she assured him. "Westminster Abbey is a safe place and Father Richards is a kind mouse. Besides, he's rather eager to meet you."

Fidget gave Deniece a perplexed look. "Huh?"

"Well, I mentioned your name to him," Deniece explained. "And he's rather curious about seeing the man who befriended me since Lacey's death."

Fidget's body perspired. The priest wants to meet him!? The sound of the idea seemed to make Fidget a little uneasy. Nevertheless, he was curious to hear Deniece sing again. Ever since that night he heard her sing at The Rat Trap, he couldn't get those words out of his head: Why do you deny the feelings that you feel? You may think it's a fantasy, but I assure you that it's real. He just had to know if her voice would have the same effect this time.

"So, will you come with me?" Deniece asked, waiting for an answer.

Fidget nodded before he realized what he was doing. "Yeah, I'll go."

Upon entering the nave, Fidget's large ears slunk back. Why did he ever agree to do this! The vast amount of tall windows and spear-shaped lanterns loomed over him like eyes. They seemed to be studying his every move and it made Fidget cower like a dog. He was reminded of his dream.

"You see?" Deniece whispered in his ear. "Westminster Abbey is a safe place."

A safe place!? Unfortunately, Fidget didn't agree. It wasn't safe! He felt as vulnerable and helpless as a little boy. There was hardly anyone here. He couldn't help but let his eyes dart around, half-expecting hellhounds to pounce on him.

"We're here very early," Deniece assured him. "I'm not even sure if Father Richards is here yet."

Not long after she spoke did Fidget hear footsteps. When he turned to the sound, he saw a mouse approaching in his direction from behind the choir screen. When he came into closer view, Fidget was able to see his features. The mouse was plump and short (although he was still taller than Fidget) and carried a Bible in his hands. He had small eyes, accompanied by half-moon shaped spectacles, a wide face, a balding head, and a long, drooping mustache. Judging by the black robe the mouse wore, Fidget knew that it was a priest.

"Father Richards," Deniece uttered with a smile on her face. She waltzed toward the priest to embrace him. "How good it is to see you again."

Father Richards smiled as he patted her back. "And how good it is to see you in high spirits this evening."

The priest's voice was low and hoarse with old age, yet soft and gentle. It seemed so strange to Fidget. He often thought that priests had harsh, piercing tones.

"I'm truly sorry for the loss of your friend, Lacey," Father Richards said to Deniece. "It's such a crime that a girl that young has her life cut short."

"No, it's alright," Deniece assured him. "I'm better now. I just hope those men who killed her are found soon."

Father Richards's hand rested on Deniece's hip as he walked with her toward Fidget's direction. "I hear that Constable Smith is on the case?"

Deniece nodded. "He has been so insistent on the idea of looking after me until the culprits are caught. I love Constable Smith very dearly, but he still thinks of me as a little girl. I'm a grown woman now."

Father Richards chuckled. "He only wants to make sure you remain safe and unharmed. After all, he is a constable."

"I know," Deniece chuckled. "That's why I kindly said to him, 'Thank you Constable, but I already have a visitor to keep me company.' He didn't question me any further, but I'm certain he's wondering who my visitor is."

Upon noticing Fidget, Father Richards stopped short in his tracks. He looked back at Deniece and gestured to the bat. "I take it this is your visitor?"

Deniece smiled, making the same gesture. "Father Richards, this is my new friend, Fidget. He's the one I found in the River Thames."

The priest extended his hand to the bat. Fidget gazed at Father Richards with both calm and unease. He shyly lifted his webbed hand to the priest, allowing Father Richards to shake it. "Welcome to Westminster Abbey, Mr. Fidget," the priest uttered in a warm tone. "Deniece told me that you offered to stay with her since the loss of her friend. I can see that she's in happier spirits because you comforted her. A very kindhearted act, I must say."

A kindhearted act? Fidget never thought that he was doing anything kind. The idea nearly left him speechless. "Aw, it was nothin'," Fidget replied in a reserved manner, "I guess …"

"Is Sister Ingrid here yet?" Deniece asked Father Richards, changing the subject entirely.

"She's waiting for us in the Sanctuary," replied Father Richards. "Let's go up there so we don't keep her waiting."

Fidget followed Deniece and Father Richards up the metal stairs. His mind pondered as he slowly approached each step. A kindhearted act, the priest said? Fidget could hardly believe his ears. Who said anything about being kindhearted? He was just … curious about Deniece, that's all. And he never said anything about being Deniece's friend. Deniece once described Father Richards as a man with worldly knowledge. This man was supposedly someone who was her mentor. But what Fidget saw looked to him like a simple old fool with a very poor judge of character. If the Professor were still alive, he would agree.

Suddenly something caught hold of his peg, causing Fidget to lose his balance. He quickly grabbed the railing to stop from falling. He found himself hanging on for dear life as his body swayed between poles. When he looked to see what he tripped on, he realized that his peg was stuck in a hole from the metal stairs. Father Richards came to his side and pulled the peg out with ease. "Looks like you gave yourself quite a scare, my son." It sounded as if the priest found Fidget's predicament amusing. The bat felt slightly insulted. Father Richards firmly placed his hands on the bat's waste and carried him through the poles. "I should've realized that peg-leg would be a problem on these stairs," said Father Richards. "I'll just carry you myself until we get to the Sanctuary. I assure you that the ground is much friendlier for your condition."

Father Richards held Fidget in his arms. Well, this was strange, Fidget thought. This was exactly the same manner in which the Professor used to carry him when he did something right (according to the Professor's view). Fidget couldn't help but utter an uncomfortable smirk under his breath.

When they reached the top, Father Richards placed Fidget on his foot and peg again. He could hardly believe his eyes. The abbey was much bigger than he originally imagined. The Sanctuary was a long room with a chessboard floor and choir stalls decorated with lights that were covered with purple shades. Within the choir stalls stood many mice with booklets in their hands and Deniece was among them. Fidget guessed that they were choristers. When the choristers caught sight of him, they gave Fidget such a fixed stare that made him cower. Then he heard a low, eerie sound coming from the organ loft. Fidget looked up and saw that a nun was playing a tune on the pipe organ. Although the nun had a skilled hand with the organ, the sound was like a knife being plunged into Fidget's sides. He cupped his hands over his ears. He hated the pipe organ! He hated churches! He hated people staring at him! He just hated it!

"Is something the matter?"

Fidget jumped in a startled manner. When he turned around and saw that it was only Father Richards, he was so relieved that he thought he would faint.

"You're rather nervous," said Father Richards. "I take it you're not use to churches."

Fidget shook his head. "I could never get used to churches! Dey give me da creeps!"

"Why is that?" asked Father Richards.

Fidget couldn't answer. He gave Father Richards an uncomfortable look, pointed at the organ loft, the windows, and the choristers. The mouse priest heaved a sigh of realization. "Oh, I see," he uttered. "The atmosphere makes you feel small?"

Fidget nodded. "Y-yes …"

"And you're afraid you'll be treated differently?"

Fidget gave Father Richards a surprised look. "Wait a minute! How did you figure dat out!?"

Father Richards gave the bat a confident smile. "I've encountered all different kinds of folk throughout my life. One eventually develops a skill to read people's minds."

Fidget sighed in an exasperated tone and crossed his arms. A mind-reader? Oh great! Just what he needed!

Father Richards placed a hand on Fidget's shoulder. "Why don't you come and sit with me at the pews?" he offered. "I would like to talk to you."

The poor bat gulped nervously. What did the priest want to talk to him about? Nevertheless, he decided to follow Father Richards anyway. He could already spot the choristers exchange whispers while they looked back at him. They approached the pews just in front of the confessional room. Father Richards gestured Fidget to sit down. The bat hesitantly obeyed and twiddled his fingers. He almost looked like a little boy sitting in a corner for doing something bad. Then Father Richards sat next to him.

"You're not afraid of me, are you?" he began.

Fidget uttered an offended chuckle at the priest for his understatement. "Afraid of you?" he replied. "Why would I be afraid of you?"

"You were hesitant to shake my hand earlier," Father Richards pointed out. "And you did say that churches frighten you."

Fidget heaved an exasperated sigh. The priest was analyzing him. "Look, if you're tryin' to play mind games with me, don't!" Fidget blurted as he backed away. "I just don't like churches, dat's all! Why can't we just leave it at dat!"

"I only asked if you were afraid of me," said Father Richards, maintaining a gentle composure.

Fidget did not reply. Instead he gazed at the floor, embarrassed by his outburst.

"There's no need to be ashamed, my son," Father Richards assured him. "If you truly are afraid of me, just say so."

Fidget heaved a surrendering sigh to keep calm. "I don't like people," he replied. "And I don't like priests either. Does dat answer your question?"

Father Richards nodded in an unsurprised manner. "I met a mouse who didn't like people either. Edward Fairchild, his name was. Many thought he was a cruel, unfeeling creature, including myself. But then I learned that his hatred of people resulted from a lifetime of neglect, from his family and loved ones."

Father Richards's comment caused Fidget to stare at him strangely. Why was he telling him all this? Nevertheless, Fidget listened with a hint of interest.

"It was a very painful subject for Edward," he continued. "He kept it bottled up for so long, until I pressed him to talk about it. He didn't favor my persistence, but he eventually told his tale. It turned out that he was a very warm, generous man who only appeared cruel because he was trying to protect himself. I was twenty years old when that experience taught me to look beyond appearances."

"And what's dat suppose to mean?" said Fidget.

Father Richards motioned his head toward the direction of the choir stalls. The choristers had begun their rehearsal for the mass. Deniece had started off the song with a solo. Her voice attracted Fidget's attention once again. It was the same voice that haunted his ears the first time he heard it. But this time, a different feeling came over the peg-legged bat. The smoothness of Deniece's timbre was luke-warm water pouring down his body. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to drown within the sweetness and calm of her voice.

"You take quite a fancy to her singing," said Father Richards, interrupting Fidget from his thoughts.

"Oh … well," Fidget stammered. "It's different."

Father Richards found Fidget's comment interesting. "So what do you think of Deniece?"

Fidget heaved a surrendering sigh. "Niecy confuses me," he said. "One minute she's so bossy and da next, she's so sad. I … just don't get it."

"She's an artist," said Father Richards. "It isn't too strange for artists to confuse people. Not to mention that Deniece has had to cope with so many losses in her life."

"Losses?" uttered a perplexed Fidget.

"The death of her parents, guardians, and her friends," Father Richards pointed out. "Loss is not an easy thing to cope with, especially for an unmarried woman."

"Is dat why she always looks sad?" Fidget asked.

"Part of the reason," Father Richards emphasized. "Did she ever tell you about the men she encountered in her life?"

"Well, she mentioned it a little," Fidget replied. "Somethin' about she has to put on an act or she'll lose her job."

Father Richards shook his head. "The problem runs deeper than that. Deniece has encountered men like those before she worked at The Rat Trap. That's how she got raped."

Fidget's ears wiggled. "What!?"

Father Richards explained to Fidget the story of Deniece's past. Her friend Lacey was walking home one night and was unfortunate to run into criminals who were about to take advantage of her. Lacey was never good at defending herself in any conflict, so naturally Deniece enticed them to chase her so that Lacey could escape. But she underestimated how fast they were and one of them grabbed hold of her ankle before she could get away.

"But dat's impossible," Fidget blurted. "A big, strong lady like dat!?"

"Even a big, strong lady is prone to danger," Father Richards pointed out. "Especially, when it's more than one man surrounding her who are just as tall as she is ... and obviously more muscular."

Fidget's jaw dropped open. His gaze darted back at Deniece, who continued to sing with the choristers.

"She would've been killed, had it not been for Constable Smith," Father Richards continued. "She recovered from her physical wounds. But that incident cost her a lot of heartache with the men she fell in love with."

Fidget's eyes grew wide as saucers. "You mean dat men left her because she was …" Although his voice trailed off, Father Richards nodded in reply. Fidget lowered his head in an embarrassed manner. "I … didn't know …"

"Now you now the secret of her singing," Father Richards. "That is why she has gained fame for it."

Fidget gazed back at Deniece. He realized that Father Richards had spoken the truth. As he watched her sing, he noticed that her eyes and face were expressive of each lyric she uttered.