Fixing His Broken Ballerina: Volume 1

by Sheila Holmes

  Once inside her bedroom, they told her not to open her eyes yet. Backing off to the doorway, leaving her in the center of the room, they counted down together.

  “Three… two… one… open your eyes!”

  Giselle’s eyes immediately flew wide-open. She didn’t know where to look first. It looked like a model home room… country vintage! With her eyes still wide, her mouth flew into a perfectly round “O”. Then she circled around three times, each time oooing and ahhhing over each aspect of the decorations, always holding the knee that had virtually robbed her of any future dream of dancing before kings and queens.

  “I can’t believe you guys did this for me! It’s just beautiful! It looks so expensive! Oh, I hope you didn’t spend a lot of money on all this! You did, didn’t you? You must have. It’s just gorgeous! I’ve never had a room like this!”

  When she had stopped spinning, Doris summoned her over to the closet.

  “Wanna know what’s inside?” Doris drew out the question in something of a sing-song voice.

  “Well, I’m assuming the stuff I sent here with you guys earlier, like some of my toiletries, my old clothes, and my… ballet stuff.” She had added the last phrase with a catch in her throat and a saddened look. Immediately, however, her face took on a new excitement when Doris threw open the door, and her beautiful new clothes and accessories were revealed.

  Fingering through the hanging clothes, she kept looking back at Awsty and Doris in disbelief.

  “These are new, aren’t they?”

  “Yeah. Do you like them?” asked Awsty. Since she had made the selections without Giselle’s input, she had a moment of great doubt. She just kept her questioning eyes on Giselle, while she waited for a response.

  “You’re kidding, right?! They’re perfect! They’re better than perfect!” Each item she singled out and lifted off the clothing bar. When she’d circled it in her hands, she would squeal. Each and every outfit got rave reviews and appreciative comments.

  “And, your folded clothes are in the dresser over there,” Doris said, pointing to the chest of drawers.

  However, before Giselle obediently headed off toward the chest of drawers, she looked back at the closet. She noticed what appeared to be several pairs of shoes on the floor of the closet.

  “Oh, you even got me a few pairs of shoes to go with the outfits.” She swiped away a couple of tears. Awsty and Doris smiled at each other. They assumed the tears were for all the beautiful clothing. In reality, Giselle was reacting to the beat-up bag also there on the floor of the closet, which Giselle knew held her ballet accoutrements. She hadn’t been able to look at any of it since her accident.

  “Oh! Turn around and look what I’ve done as part of the decorations.” Giselle followed Doris’ and Awsty’s glances.

  There, hung from a decorative bronzed hook were strung her pointe ballet slippers. When Doris had hung them, her hope was that it would help Giselle feel more at home, having some of her personal things around. Awsty had been so supportive of the slipper-hanging, and even brought two frames, inserting pictures of Giselle, obviously taken right after dance recital performances when she had been just a little girl. Those two pictures hung directly over the ballet slippers.

  Giselle walked almost trancelike to the ballet wall accessories. She slowly perused both pictures, then removed the ballet slippers from the wall. Clutching them to her chest, she sunk to the floor, where she began weaving back and forth, crying long, deep sobs.

  Awsty and Doris both ran to join her on the floor. But, once there, they had no idea what to say to her. So, instead, they wrapped their arms around her and began crying with her. The trio of mournful young women said nothing to each other for more than ten minutes. There was nothing that could be spoken that would have changed circumstances. Giselle would never be able to professionally dance again. Twice the crying died to just a moan, but each time Giselle looked at the ballet slippers residing in her lap, a new wave of woeful mourning began again.

  Once the tears had stopped on all their parts, Giselle simply bowed herself even lower on the floor, to where her head actually touched the floor. The residual gasps of air and hiccups from all the crying finally halted and she simply sat there bowed in silence.

  Doris realized Giselle was simply worn out by her grief, and needed time alone to rest. Sleeping was probably the best gift the two women could give her now.

  Once Awsty pulled the linens back on the bed, they helped Giselle to her feet, and walked her to the bed. Giselle laid down on her side with her back to Awsty and Doris, closed her eyes, and immediately fell asleep. While Doris walked to the window and pulled down the shade she’d hung just before Giselle’s arrival, Awsty leaned down and placed a kiss on Giselle’s cheek. Once Doris had followed suit, the two of them walked quietly out of the bedroom, reaching around the door frame to switch off the light, and ever-so quietly closed the door. In the bed, Giselle, even in sleep, still clutched her pointe ballet slippers.

  Chapter 16

  Her new car having been delivered to her on her second day in residence at Doris’ apartment, her belongings unpacked and put away, and laundry caught up, Giselle knew she could put off job-hunting no longer. This was going to be no easy task, she reasoned. Her knee nagged at her most of the time, and after therapy twice weekly, her knee hurt so badly that she had to take a couple acetaminophen, and lie down on her bed for hours afterward, with the heating pad applied to the area.

  When Giselle even thought about working, being up on her feet all day, and trying to figure out how she was going to go to therapy twice weekly during workday hours, the task of finding suitable employment seemed overwhelming. How was she ever going to make this work?! Well, first off, she was going to have to find some employment that allowed her to be seated. Although, in truth, sitting for long periods of time weren’t all that successful, either. Either way, she was in pain a good portion of the time.

  Giselle was in a dilemma with regard to work... and in a spiritual slump, as well. But, at times it manifested itself to her more pronouncedly than others.

  When she slid into the driver’s seat of her car that morning, having no earthly idea where to begin her search for work, she yet again, for the thousandth time, breathed in the new car smell. She just loved that smell. She wondered how long it would take before either she didn’t notice it any longer, or it actually went away.

  She loved that car, no doubt about it. And it was always, always at that moment Giselle thought of Conyer. The image of his face would appear in her mind. But, usually she’d diffuse it by remembering that this car was no gift from him to her. He owed it to her (and more) for what he’d done. Granted though, and she’d be the first to admit it, he was most appealing. Not tall, but tall enough. She’d have to look up to him if they were standing and talking. Not that she had any intention of that happening. He didn’t have the black hair she liked on men, but certainly dark brown, and definitely appealing, all wavy. He had this way of turning his head slightly to the left, tipping his chin down, and looking at her with those eyes of his.

  Conyer’s eyes were just… Just what? Gorgeous? No. Sexy? No, that wasn’t it either. His eyes… “spoke.” Spoke. Was spoke the word? Yeah, she thought it probably was. They spoke! And what they said actually perturbed her, even in her thoughts of him.

  It would have been a lot easier to maintain her anger toward him if she couldn’t see his eyes. Oh, she was still angry, but it seemed to be waning. Even though no charges were brought against him, she somehow still saw him as guilty. Of what? Well, she wasn’t sure, but maybe something like… vehicular negligence. Especially since she now knew that someone else had died in his car. And yet… His eyes spoke. Even in her most horrendous moments of hatred for what he’d done to her, his eyes spoke to her.

  At first when she realized their message, it provoked her into even greater anger than she originally had. But recently, she was realizing that she couldn’t seem to maintain the level of disgust she
’d harbored previously. Because his eyes spoke. And, their message was pure and unadulterated… kindness.

  At least Giselle could dismiss Conyer’s image quickly from her brain, because of Connie. His beautiful greeting cards continued to arrive on a regular basis. They so encouraged her. At least he cared about her, and continued to pray for her. He told her so, right in the cards. But, she had to admit, she was more than a little confused by his behavior. While his beautiful cards of encouragement continued to arrive, now always signed Connie W, he had never made any attempt to contact her once she left the hospital. First, the magnificent ballet slippers sculpture, then all those cards, now nothing but the cards. And, the last card was unbelievable, mainly because in addition to its sweet message of encouragement and hope, it contained a gift.

  When Giselle had opened Connie’s card yesterday, there was something she never expected. In fact, it stumped her! A set of nail wraps. Without a doubt, the most adorable set of nail wraps she’d ever seen.

  The background was a soft pink, almost the same color as Giselle’s skin. And, right there in the middle was the most adorable caricature of a ballerina. She had brown hair pulled back into a tight bun. It stuck up slightly askew, with one lone rogue curl straggling down one cheek. The little ballerina was cartoonish-ly thin, almost no body shape at all to her torso, which was adorned in a pink leotard, a pink tutu, and soft pink pointe slippers. From the grin on her big circle-shaped face, a grin that extended from almost ear-to-ear, she was in ecstasy as she posed in fourth position. If Giselle oooed and aaaahed once, she did it ten times in the next minute.

  It must have been five or more minutes later, as she continued to look lovingly at her gift, that Giselle was unsettled by a question that came unbidden to her. How did Connie know about her affinity for nail wraps, and more specifically, how did he even guess that there were wraps that featured her beloved ballet?! She tried to remember if she’d ever worn those original ones in front of him. No! She was sure she hadn’t! The only person other than Doris and Awsty who even knew she had worn them, was Conyer. With a grimace of regret, she remembered how on the day he dropped by her room right after Awsty had put them on her, he admired them, and she immediately had torn them off, dropping them on her hospital bed, all the while glaring at him. She flinched with the remembrance. No matter what he’d done to her, she had no business acting like that.

  Confusion was settling more deeply on her with each moment. This gift from Connie, and yet she couldn’t figure out why he hadn’t come to see her now that she was living at Doris’ apartment. Not once. She was trying hard to understand, but even though she kept telling herself that having his own sculpture business must be time-consuming, whether designing or pouring over his business account spread sheets, she was still baffled. She thought for sure when she left the hospital, he’d seek her out and continue a friendship, or even more. She would even just respond to his cards if that’s all he wanted, but he never put a return address on them. Why didn’t he put a return address on them?! Did he not want her to write him back? Or, was he afraid she’d just show up at his doorstep?! Why, she didn’t even know where he lived! Obviously he didn’t know her well at all. Her mother had always taught her that she should never, under any circumstances pursue a boy. He should always pursue her. Her mom always drummed into her what a treasure she was, and the right man would one day realize that and respond with a deep love for her.

  As she drove off to town that morning, Giselle was a mixture of emotions: frustration, hope, and even despair, all jumbled together. She knew that if she could talk to her mom, her mother would encourage her and ease her mind, but it had only been recently that she’d told them of her accident and her change of a life plan, although she wasn’t really sure what that plan was. Her mother kept emailing her that she should perhaps come back to town and help Giselle get adjusted to her new life, but Giselle kept telling her that she was established at Doris’ place, attending Open Door, and had even made some friends already, who were helping her along. She bragged up the new car she’d been awarded from the accident, and told her mom about her adorably decorated bedroom.

  She was trying very hard to make sure her parents did not come. So that they would think everything with her was going quite well, the accident not withstanding, she emailed them pictures of herself, her apartment bedroom, and Doris, Awsty and herself. The only thing she requested was that they pray for her to find work. Something satisfying, and something that would bring her adequate funds for a livelihood.

  Even after she made this prayer request of them, Giselle held little hope of God’s Help. After all, look at how He’d given her a gift of all the dance training, then snatched it away before it barely began. Truth be told, she mainly made this prayer request of them, because she knew they’d expect her to be looking for God’s Guidance for her life.

  The one assist from her folks that Giselle could truly have used were financial, but as missionaries they lived mainly “hand to mouth.” And, since her own funds were pretty scanty now, she needed to find work, and find it fast. She couldn’t depend on her folks for sustenance. She was an adult and needed to do that herself. And so it was, with this burden squarely on her own shoulders, Giselle drove into town, seeking something, anything that would provide her the much needed monies required for living.

  *****

  Connor was tired, really tired. He’d stayed at the shop packing until after midnight that night, as well as the two nights prior. By the time he knew he should be heading home for a little something to eat and some sleep, he reminded himself that he couldn’t go back to the apartment. He had relinquished his keys to the landlord that morning, after loading his skimpy belongings into his car. Giving up the apartment had been hard. But, Connor’s business had not prospered like he thought it would. Fortunately, his folks had told him he could come home for a while until he “got back on his feet.” Heaven only knew when that would be. His business had failed and frankly, his degree in history, even with a cum laude attainment, was useless. He should have listened to his parents and pursued a major in something that he could actually use in real life. The only people he’d ever known that somehow used their history degrees was as a pre-cursor to going to seminary. Seminary?! Wasn’t a prayer of that happening! He had always loved anything to do with math, and for a while had considered pursuing accounting, but at that last moment during his sophomore year, he’d decided that history sounded more interesting, so that’s what he’d declared as his major.

  As he continued packing the shop’s contents that belonged to him, which were mainly sculpting tools, rags, cleaning solutions, and a vast quantity of sculptures which had not sold, he found himself thinking about his time here in this town.

  Connor had really liked Doris, from the church he’d attended. He actually had thought at one time that he had found his life mate. But, after that night he’d blown up in the yogurt shop parking lot, when they had been on a date, he’d been too embarrassed to ever contact her again. He still couldn’t believe that he’d sworn so pointedly at the guy who opened his car door into Connor’s passenger side door, and then shoved Doris when she was only trying to help diffuse the whole situation. Well, it was that guy’s fault! If it hadn’t been for his careless and haughty attitude, he wouldn’t have had to yell at him or Doris like that.

  He’d never forget the look on Doris’ face when he’d pushed her. It was a look that just screamed at him, “Who in the world are you, and what have you done with my sweet, godly Connor Whittier?!” And that, as they say, “was all she wrote.” He hadn’t seen her since that night. He’d even stopped going to Open Door of Faith. After not attending church services at all for weeks, he drug himself up out of bed one Sunday morning and started attending a tiny little church, where he could hide from Doris, and anyone else who had heard about that night. But, he still thought it was that guy’s fault. He just couldn’t figure out why he felt so guilty all the time since that night.

  Connor
had to admit that the pretty ballerina girl, Giselle, seemed promising for a short time. But, since they didn’t really have time to develop any kind of relationship… Oh, well. I wonder if she still thinks I’m the one that not only carved, but gave her that ballerina sculpture? No, surely by now that guy, Conyer, had told her it was from him.

  Well, as much as he hated it, he made the decision that it was probably time for him to leave that town, and see if he could fare better elsewhere. As for his sculptures, Connor began wondering if he could post them on eBay and make some money on them even yet. And, it was on this thought that Connor Whittier took the last of his packages out to the storage rental trailer attached to his car, hung the “Out of Business” sign in the store window, turned out the lights, locked the door of the shop, and began the four hour drive to his family home.

  Chapter 17

  “Have you ever done any restaurant hosting before, or waitressing?”

  “Well… no I haven’t. But I’m a quick learner. I’ve been at school until just recently.”

  “I’m sure you are a quick learner. But, what about your leg. I’ve noticed you’ve been rubbing it almost ever since we sat down. And, frankly, Gazelle…”

  “Giselle,” she corrected him.

  “I’m sorry… yes, Giselle. Um… I noticed you have difficulty walking. I’m wondering how you would be able to stand on your feet all day, walking back to the dining rooms to seat our patrons. Eight hours on your feet can seem like twice that, I expect, if you’re in pain.”

  Giselle didn’t know it, but the manager had already decided not to hire her. He was not only looking for someone physically appealing as the first face when customers came in the restaurant. She was a beauty, no doubt about it. But, he was also looking for someone with stamina, and a work background. Since she’d never worked, he had no one to call as a reference. And, the bottom line was she probably couldn’t handle the long hours on her feet.