Fixing His Broken Ballerina: Volume 1

by Sheila Holmes

  Graceful. She was the epitome of grace. No longer did the dancing on the stage hold any beckoning to Giselle. She was mesmerized, as were a small number of congregants sitting behind and beside her, by the young girl who continued upper body movements of ballet until the end of the music. What was almost as noticeable as the dancing itself, was the sheer ecstasy that the young “seated ballerina” wore on her face.

  When the music had ended and the dance worship team had exited through the stage side doors, Giselle leaned over to Doris and quietly asked her if she’d seen the girl who had been dancing from her seat. When Doris said no, and asked Giselle where the girl was seated, Giselle turned back to the little girl, with the intention of pointing her out to Doris. And, it was at this moment that the child’s face was turned almost full-on to Giselle.

  A small gasp exited Giselle’s mouth, as she realized that that adorable young girl was none other than Tawny Burnette, from the hospital. She pointed to the girl and whispered to Doris that she was the little girl that she had visited in her hospital room before leaving to go home to Doris’ apartment.

  Giselle found herself distracted during the Bible teaching. It was at Pastor Johnston’s portion of the Bible lesson, where the lame-from-birth man had laid at the gates begging alms. He had been miraculously healed that day. It was no wonder that Giselle found herself staring down the row at Tawny, wishing that this little girl’s legs would be made whole, as well.

  The very second the service ended, Giselle exited her seat, and made her way to where Tawny was sitting. Fortunately, Tawny and her family had decided to stay seated until the crowds had emptied before exiting the worship center themselves.

  “Tawny, hello!” Giselle spoke from behind the little girl. Apparently Tawny recognized Giselle’s voice right away, and swung around, almost lunging at her to give her the biggest hug Giselle remembered ever receiving.

  “Mom, Daddy, this is the girl I was telling you about! Her name is Giselle. She dances too. I mean… she really dances, like for people who pay to watch her.”

  As Tawny’s parents warmly shook her hand, she clarified Tawny’s comments.

  “I’m Giselle Danvers. And, yes, I did dance professionally, but not any more. Apparently, the Lord has other plans for me, although I’m still trying to find out what they are.”

  The Burnettes smiled sympathetically. They obviously already knew of her accident and resultant and permanent injuries from Tawny’s re-telling of Giselle’s visit to her hospital room.

  “Giselle,” said Tawny, speaking quickly as though she thought Giselle might leave before she finished speaking, “did you just love the dancing this morning?! Wasn’t it just beautiful?! I danced with them… Well, I tried to. I wish I could take ballet. I know I can’t, but I sure wish I could. Mom took me to the dance studio over on… um… well, I can’t remember the street. We talked with the lady who owns the studio. We asked her if they had classes for people like me… You know, who would need a whole lot more help. But, they said no, and they didn’t know of any dance studios that did.”

  Mrs. Burnette, who was standing slightly behind Tawny, with the saddest face, mouthed to Giselle, She cried all day afterward.

  *****

  Five days later, as Giselle was preparing for bed that night, kneeling at her bedside, she found herself lifting up little Tawny yet again in prayer.

  “Lord, my heart about broke when Tawny said she’d actually gone to a dance studio and they had turned her down, and virtually told her she wasn’t worthy of learning dance. I think I know how she felt. Probably about the same as I did when my dancing ended, and there was no place to turn for a different decision.

  “I don’t even know what I’m asking for. I just ask You to take care of her. Don’t let her little heart stay broken. Please do something to give her joy.

  “I know I’ve been talking to You this whole week about this same thing, but there’s no where else to go. No one else who can help me and help her.

  “Jesus, the only thing I know to do is to keep thanking You for Your Answer to this prayer request, even though logic tells me there isn’t much to be done. Help me to trust, Jesus.”

  As Giselle raised herself up from her kneeling position on the floor, with no small amount of difficulty stemming from stiffness in her metal-plated knee, she was thinking outside of her prayer. She again realized that just as every single other time she prayed for Tawny, the mental image of Conyer Whitefield had encroached on her prayer. It didn’t seem to happen during any other conversations with the Lord, just prayer that involved Tawny. Made absolutely no sense, or at least she didn’t think it did.

  Lying down quietly on her bed, Giselle gave over to those mental images of Conyer. He was handsome, yes. She especially liked his eyes. There was something guileless about them. Almost as if sin really didn’t touch him? No, not really. More like his life was selfless in practice, caring more for others than he did himself.

  Giselle gave over to more than images of Conyer. She found, interestingly, that she didn’t bear him any ill will. In fact, she wanted God to give Conyer peace, even after what he’d done. She wanted him to be able to release the guilt and move on successfully with his life.

  As she was drifting off toward what would be for her a deep and restful sleep, Giselle was finding it harder and harder to stay focused. The last words from Giselle’s lips reflected the godly woman that she was becoming, choice by choice.

  “Jesus, please take care of Tawny and Conyer. And, give them both the desires of their…” Sleep interrupted and overtook her. But, the Lord knew her heart, and the desires of it.

  Chapter 22

  Although work at Giordino’s was ok, and Giselle was certainly thankful for that provided income, her heart still longed for the days at school, where she practically danced from sunup until sundown.

  Driving both to work and from work each day, she calculated she passed the new dance studio ten times weekly, times four weeks in a month, times… The number just kept growing and growing. And, each time she passed, she longingly gazed at it, checking to see if it was any closer to opening. Twice in the same amount of weeks, as she was driving home after work to Doris’ apartment, Giselle had almost rear-ended the vehicle in front of her not paying attention to the road, but rather analyzing the way in which the owner was stylizing the outside of the studio. Her almost-accidents had scared her terribly. And, each time it happened, she thought immediately of Conyer, who may have been distracted by any number of things himself, only in his case, he couldn’t stop quickly enough to prevent causing great damage to three lives, his own included. She knew there was no excuse good enough for either Conyer’s or her lack of attention to driving at their respective times, but it did serve, as soon as her panicked breathing returned to normal, to remind her that no one was exempt from human error. Even she recognized that her heart was becoming more forgiving toward Conyer. She also wondered, however, if the time would ever come when Conyer would actually approach her, apologizing for what he’d done to her that day, and further, asking her if she would forgive him. She would forgive him… She already had. But, she also knew Conyer would never truly be free from the guilt that no doubt imprisoned him, until he’d approached her with his apology.

  Analyzing the exterior of the studio in the bright evening starlight, the whole building had been painted deep midnight blue on the outside, around the entire building, which was a magnificent background for what was being designed and painted over it, obviously by an actual artist. Stark white ballerinas all around the structure, in varied poses. Some looked to be little girls with their straight and angular little bodies, as well as adult female ballerinas, with softer and more curved bodies, all enrapt by their dancing. The artist was not trying to capture the essence of movement, simply the beauty of the poses. Some of them were done, others still in various stages of completion. The one that really captured her imagination was the young woman ballerina on the front, who was posed cleverly in fourth po
sition, her body interlaced with the wording.

  The wording! They’d given the dance studio a name! She hadn’t noticed that before, or it hadn’t been there before now! Grace Abounding Dance Studio! She loved that name! She absolutely loved that name!

  Having read the name of the dance studio, she wanted to look again. And, that time with total concentration. She wanted to breathe in its essence, and twirl it around in her mind. Driving up to the corner, along with the stop light’s guidance, Giselle made a U-turn and drove back to the studio. Hanging a left turn almost directly in front of it, she pulled into the parking lot across the street, drove her car into a parking slot facing the dance studio, and turned off her motor. And, there she sat for almost twenty minutes, just staring at what she thought was the most magnificent dance studio she’d ever seen.

  It hit Giselle for the umpteenth time that while she very rarely thought of Connie Whittier anymore, which was good, since he was nowhere to be found these days, she thought often about Conyer. And, each time it seemed to be with a more benevolent spirit, and with the hope that his life would be fulfilling. She wished she could share her impressions of the studio with him. She wasn’t sure why. She found she wished he was seated in the passenger seat, just absorbing the sight along with her. Again, she wasn’t sure why. This would probably be the last thing he’d want to do. She tried to substitute Awsty or Doris in her thinking, but they always got “booted out”, as her mind kept replacing them with Conyer seated next to her.

  Giselle allowed her mind to roam, as she stared across the street. She wondered herself why she would keep dragging him into her thoughts, when he would no doubt rather be anywhere in the world rather than in her company. She knew he was a Christian. That was good. Or, at least he said he was. That made it baffling that he didn’t seek her out to ask her forgiveness for what he’d done.

  But, she did know that she was enjoying using his Bible. Wonder if he expected her to return it at some time? Since she never saw him, that might be difficult. She guessed she’d just continue to use it until he got in touch with her and asked for it back. But even knowing that Conyer presented more problems to her desired peace of mind than resolution, she wished he were the one here with her… this moment, this place, taking in the same sight that she was transfixed by!

  Completely unsettled by her thoughts of Conyer, a lone tear made its path down one cheek, followed by its twin down the opposite cheek. Good grief! Why was she crying?! This was ridiculous! How could one man cause this kind of emotional upheaval in her?!

  Although the tears stopped as Giselle left the parking lot and concentrated on driving home to Doris’ and her shared apartment, she was at an emotional low, one that lasted the entire evening, even chasing her to bed, where she rolled into bed, turned over and dreamed not of her lost days of dancing, but the little girl, Tawny, who so wanted to dance, but couldn’t because of her physical challenges.

  Chapter 23

  She was so excited several days later when she discovered in that early evening from her car that there were lights in the ballet studio across the street. There were sheets of brown paper that covered the windows, but there was definitely light behind them.

  Wondering who was there, and if it was just some construction workers still inside, Giselle sat in her car in the studio parking lot, trying to decide if she should knock on the door. It was, after all, dark outside, and no one knew she was here. But, she just couldn’t help herself… or didn’t want to. She briefly thought of calling Doris and telling her that she was on her way home, but was stopping at the dance studio first, but as quickly discarded the idea, as she thought Doris might wonder why, since she’d never notified her of stops after work before.

  Disembarking from the warmth of her car into the chill of the evening, Giselle rapped on the double front doors. She wasn’t, quite honestly, sure what she was going to say to the person who answered… if they answered.

  “Hello, may I help you?” asked a middle-aged woman, thick-waisted, short-legged, and somewhat overweight. Giselle was quite certain she wasn’t speaking to a person who would be teaching in this studio when it opened.

  “Yes, please. I was wondering…” She wasn’t sure how to continue. It would be obvious to the woman, if she asked her to come in and saw her limping gait, that she was neither a ballet- teacher nor a dance student.

  “Come in. It’s getting cold outside these last few nights.”

  Giselle took her up on the offer of warmth inside, and timidly entered.

  “You’re lucky. I brought in a second folding chair from home this morning, so that two people could actually sit at this card table.” She lightly giggled.

  “Thank you.”

  Once they were both seated, the woman said, “My name is Annette Barrister. I’m the temporary acting manager of the dance studio. And, just in case you’re wondering, I don’t know the first thing about dancing. I’m here representing the company that owns this studio.

  “Who does own it?” asked Giselle. It was a reasonable question.

  “It’s owned by…” responded Annette, whose response was interrupted by a ringing iPhone. “Oh, excuse me,” she said, as she clicked and began a conversation with someone on the other end.

  Standing up and walking ten or so feet away, Annette turned her back to Giselle, but didn’t quiet down her speaking voice. Giselle could hear everything the woman was saying, and from her responses, she pretty much knew what the person on the other end was saying, as well.

  “Yes, there is… Yes, right now. She just came in. Give me a chance to help her, then I’ll close up. I’ll give you a call just as soon as I get home.”

  A few further comments between them, and the call was disconnected. Annette returned to the table.

  “Were you interested in having a sister or daughter start ballet classes, or were you just wanting some general information?”

  “Actually, I’m a dancer…” She wasn’t sure if she should continue this strain of thought, but what would it lose her if she told her.

  “I’m a dancer. I just completed my training and was preparing to leave on tour of Europe with my troupe, when I was in a car accident. Because of the injuries, I’m unable to continue dancing. But, I thought… that is… I was hoping… there might be a teaching position available. I’m willing to take beginners, intermediate, advanced. I can give you multiple references from my school, and any other verification you would like…”

  Giselle knew that she was talking way too fast, but she was terrified the woman would cut her off before she told her how badly she wanted to teach.

  “Well…” Annette answered. “Tell you what. I’m not in the position of hiring right now. And, I have no idea what positions will even be open. So, why don’t I give you this application,” she continued, “and you can bring it back tomorrow.

  “Does that sound ok?”

  “Yes, thank you. I work at Giordino’s right now, but I can drop it by either before work or after, if that’s ok.”

  “Whichever you prefer. I’ll be here at seven-thirty tomorrow morning. Although I won’t be at this location the entire day, I’ll be returning about four p.m., and staying until about seven-thirty p.m.”

  Giselle was almost giddy. The woman had actually given her an application. She knew that didn’t really mean anything, other than she could fill it out and bring it back, but it was further than she’d gotten at the other dance studio.

  “Thank you so much!” Giselle spoke with an overly effusive amount of energy. But, she couldn’t help it. She was so excited.

  Leaving the studio, Giselle almost bounced to her car. Maybe a little too much bouncing. She came down on her metal-plated knee a bit too hard on one leap and wrench it a bit. Trying not to let the woman at the door see the pain she was now in, she allowed herself to literally drop to her car seat. Waving goodbye to Annette Barrister, she waited with gritted teeth until the woman had closed the door, before groaning, “Owww…”

 
Chapter 24

  Lying on top of her bed that night, Giselle found herself stalled on what appeared to be an essay question. What work application had she ever heard of that had essay questions?! There might be questions asking what one’s strengths are, or what would be one’s ideal work situation. But, this was different.

  She read it again.

  Using this page as well as the back (if needed), describe what your vision of dance would be for your own dance studio. Include all information that you deem important. This is your opportunity to create your own dance environment and teaching curriculum. Dream big!

  She’d never seen anything like this on a work application anywhere, but somehow it sparked her imagination, and before she knew what was happening, Giselle was writing almost as fast as a keyboard can produce words.

  Two hours, three additional sheets of paper, two cups of hot cocoa, and a “terminal case of writer’s cramp” later, Giselle laid down her pen on her bedside table, folded her application and extra pages in half, and shoved them under the pen.

  After having worked so hard writing out her application, Giselle noticed that at the bottom of the last page of the application could be found the information of a work application form which could be completed and filed directly online through the website graceaboundingdancestudio.com. She couldn’t believe they already had a website.

  Pulling her afghan up over her, she laid on top of the bed covers. But, after only ten minutes, Giselle got up and went into the living room, where Doris’ laptop was. Doris was already in bed for the night, so Giselle was careful to keep noise to a minimum. There she went to the website, and along with the now unfolded hand-written application as her guide, she filled in the entire online application, complete with her essay expanding even further what she’d hand-written.