A Woman Named Adeline

Chapter 1: The First Heartbeats

Summer, 1936

My excitement grew as the carriage's arrival echoed across the estate. Quickly getting up from the couch, I readied myself before my mother's impending inspection. Swiftly adjusting my outfit and appearance in the mirror, I aimed to embody the image of a sophisticated lady. While looks usually mattered little to me, my main worry was my mother's judgement. Amidst the approaching visitors and the sound of hooves, I descended the stairs to join my family. Positioned between my older brother Jordan and my father, the weight of being the only daughter in the esteemed Bouchard family was tangible. Despite the expectations tied to my family's name, my deepest desire was to have the freedom to be myself, Adeline, free from the constraints of tradition and social status.

The story begins with a wise elderly man, marked by time's whispers, stepping out of the carriage. Accompanied by a figure of elegance, with sunlit hair and amber eyes, they strolled hand in hand. "Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, a warm welcome!" Father exclaimed, radiating a smile full of kindness. After exchanging pleasantries and introductions among relatives and guests, I graciously extended courtesies in their honour. The lady's delicate touch lifted my spirits, as she praised, "Lovely my dear," before linking arms with the elder and vanishing into the manor's embrace.

As the shadows of departure enveloped the scene, a young boy with tousled hair stepped forward, his small feet firmly on the ground. Brushing off the dust, he looked directly at me. "Hey, redhead, can you get me a cloth?" he asked sharply, his manner brash. At that instant, I couldn't help but feel a sense of contempt for his lack of manners. Little did I know, destiny was at play when our eyes connected - the beginning of an unspoken connection, the start of my first love - the moment I met Norman Anderson.

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Fall, 1938

While strolling home from school on my usual route, I often stopped by the nearby lake, where the geese had become familiar companions. Finding a spot on a large rock, I took care to keep my skirt clean to avoid my mother's disapproval. With seeds for my feathered friends and Mr. Plith's homework in hand, I settled down. Studying was a personal joy that resonated with my father's scholarly nature, though my mother and brother had different interests. While absorbed in recording Queen Victoria's grand coronation, a sudden push from Norman sent me plunging into the chilly water, a reminder of his mischievous antics that continued even after two years.

"Norman Anderson! I will personally doom you with my own two hands!" I screamed back at him, my white shirt drenched in dirty mud. "A lady shouldn't yell, your mama says it's ill-mannerd." He teased with his golden brown eyes sneering into mine. I stood up and made my way out of the lake wiping the removable part of the dirt off of my books. I expected to hear him laugh as I exited the water, but I didn't hear anything. I looked up to see Norman's face bright red and avoiding eye contact. It took me only a few seconds to realize my uniform was stuck to my wet corset. My hands went immediately into covering up. Before he could finish I found myself picking up my things and dashing home. I would never forgive him for what he has done.

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Upon returning home later, I received a stern reprimand from my mother. Seeking solace, I retreated to my room and immersed myself in a book to regain composure. Mindful of preventing another episode of what the doctor labelled as "panic attacks," I focused on regulating my breathing. The memory of a recent sewing mishap, coupled with the fear of my mother's disapproval, triggered a distressing episode, leaving me gasping for air and feeling the weight of the world on my chest. Fortunately, my father intervened promptly, rushing me to Dr. Owen's clinic, where a diagnosis of "panic disorder" was made.

Treatment involved simple advice to "reduce worrying" and provided me with breathing techniques to manage potential future episodes. Despite the medical explanation, my mother was less than supportive, viewing it as an excuse to deviate from societal expectations of ladylike composure. Nevertheless, the breathing exercises proved beneficial during moments of distress. Finding comfort in a book while letting my hair air dry in my nightgown after a calming bath, I was startled by a sudden knock on my wooden window, disrupting my tranquil moment.

I quickly scanned my room and glanced down the hall to ensure no one, especially my mother, saw me. After a second knock, I cautiously approached the window and opened its wooden shutters. There he stood, with the sunset as his backdrop, leaning against my window frame on the rooftop. "Norman Anderson, have you completely lost your mind?! What on earth are you doing here?!" I exclaimed, trying to keep my voice down. "A delicate lady like you doesn't need all this space to yourself," he remarked before making himself at home. I closed the window and hurriedly gathered my things, careful not to make the floorboards creak. "Norman, why are you here?" I inquired, growing impatient and tense. "I came to check on you," he said, his gaze piercing through me. My eyebrows furrowed as I struggled to believe him. "You? Concerned? About me?" I scoffed.

"You have no idea, Adeline, exactly how much I worry for you." He said- his eyes sincere. "If you ever worried for me you wouldn't have pushed me into that lake this morning nor done all those things!" I shouted at him- getting emotional. "You know I fear my mother, that's you do these things- to cause me pain!" He swiftly made his way across my room to me. "That's not it at all, it pains me to see you in pain. Whenever I see tears in your eyes I feel as if there is a bulge in my throat." I whispered to me, for the first time I saw no evil in his eyes. "Then why do all those things that you do??" I grunted at him.

"Because that is the only way I can be around you! The only way I can feel, touch, and evoke any emotion from you. I could never approach a respectable lady like yourself and have any relationship. Society would never accept a friendship between a man and a woman." He pleaded, rubbing his neck and tousling his shirt. His confession startled me, casting him in a new light. "How can I regain your trust?" he implored. "Just leave me be, never speak or think of me again," I murmured, pushing my hair back. I thought I caught a glimpse of hurt in his eyes for a moment, but it quickly vanished. A gasp escaped me as his hands gripped my arms, drawing me closer to him until our faces were mere inches apart.

"Trust me I've tried. But whenever the thought of not being around you, or leaving you- my body feels like it can destroy everything and everyone that's making me. Believe me, I can't." He whispered into me with a low voice. My eyes were lost in his and a feeling I had never felt emerged in me. I felt my cheeks turn hot and my heart felt as if it was going to explode. I wondered how my face may be looking, confused or god-forbid something else. And why was he suddenly- and it seemed he had always been so handsome. His hair strands covered those sleepy eyes of his and even through his not-ironed and improper clothes, he had a figure any woman would have to hold herself back in order not to crave. Our moment was interrupted by the locked door's doorknob shaking. "Sweetpea, why is the door locked?" Called father from outside. I hurriedly pushed Norman back out of the window- and with one last glance at his gorgeous eyes, I shut the window.

"Father, I'm coming! I was just changing for dinner!" I shouted as I hurried to open the door for my father and tidy myself up. "Sweetpea, is everything okay? You mentioned changing, but you're still in your morning attire," he inquired with a concerned expression. "I was just about to change," I replied with a smile, trying to catch my breath. "Are you sure everything's fine? You seem out of breath. Should we go see Dr. Owen?" he persisted. "No, Father, I'm perfectly fine. I was just exercising," I lied, feeling guilty for deceiving him. "Alright, dear, if you say so. Join us for dinner when you're ready," he said, smiling before heading downstairs. "Understood, I will!" I exhaled and closed the door behind me. Leaning against the door frame, I reflected on the events of the past half hour, especially his expression and words.

The mere thought of Norman caused my cheeks to flush and my heart to race as if it might leap out of my chest. Little did I realize, this was only the beginning of my journey with Norman Anderson...