Finding Justice (Dancing Moon Ranch Book 12)

by Patricia Watters

  "We'll warmup by bouncing in place and shadow boxing, which gets your blood flowing and speeds up your heart rate, so when I start the music, fall in with me." Mario punched the CD player then walked over to where Julia stood, and started jumping in place with the beat.

  Julia also started jumping to the music, which triggered memories of skipping rope, not because of the music, which had a pulsating, upbeat rhythm, but because she was reminded of the rhythmic, nonsensical rhymes they recited when jumping.

  "You're doing fine," Mario said. "Now, raise your hands and throw a couple of jabs with your left arm, then some straight punches with your right, like this." He shot his left arm out a few times, then his right, while continuing to jump in place. "Then you can do a few uppercuts, keeping your arms moving all the time."

  Julia threw her left arm out a couple of times in what she construed as jabs, then sent a straight punch out with her right hand, and another couple of left jabs, thinking to herself that it was actually kind of fun, acting like a prize fighter shadowboxing before a fight, while bouncing up and down to the rhythm of the music.

  "Jumping in place with punches warms up your shoulders, hip area, knees, ankles, joints, and all the muscles in your body," Mario said, while continuing to bounce up and down beside her, which Julia was finding increasingly amusing, just wondering what anyone would think if they glanced in the window to see her with her hot pink boxing gloves, and looking like Dolly Parton with her sports bra and its inserts, while bouncing up and down with the macho, male, U.S. Marshal, who just happened also to be a ballet dancer.

  With that she started laughing, although she was holding the laugh back so Mario wouldn't hear, but as they continued to bounce up and down, in unison now because they were both jumping in rhythm with the music, the image that came to mind was of being in a dance studio while doing the kind of foot wiggles ballet dancers did when jumping in place, and when she imagined Mario in tights doing the same thing, she burst out laughing and had to stop.

  Mario cut the music, and said, "What's this all about."

  Julia pursed her lips to stop the laughs, but she couldn't stop the muffled chuckles. "It just got funny," she said. "While we were jumping up and down to the music, I got this image of a couple of ballet dancers."

  Mario folded his arms, and when she finally stopped chuckling, he said in a tone indicating irritation, "Okay, I get it."

  Julia knew at once she'd made a mistake by bringing up something that was obviously a sensitive subject with Mario. "I'm sorry, I'm not meaning to make fun, but I'm trying to adjust to the image of you dancing ballet."

  "Roberta?" Mario asked.

  "Actually it was Billy who told us."

  "Us?" Mario's face became stony.

  "Well, some of the wives here. We were having a little hen party and Billy was telling everyone about all the amazing things you can do, and she just happened to mention you once took ballet because your boxing coach made you do it."

  "And he did that because dancers have the best balance and footwork of any athletes in the world, training for hours a day, doing nothing but balance and footwork, and they train for absolute perfection, so when they're leaping through the air, or spinning around on one foot, they make it look easy," Mario said in an edgy voice, which Julia realized wasn't because he was embarrassed to have once taken ballet, but because the mainstream of society didn't understand the athleticism involved.

  "I know it must be grueling training, and I think it's amazing," Julia said. "I truly am impressed. Every male ballet dancer I've ever watched was always very muscular. Were you able to do all that, the leaps and jumps, and lifting women over your head?"

  Mario shrugged, and his annoyance of moments before seemed to have dissipated some. "I did it like an amateur, and that was after hours of stretching, and doing brutal exercises, and intense footwork drills, while also trying to build up speed and power."

  "In tights?" Julia asked, impulsively.

  As Mario held her gaze, a slow smile spread. "Yeah, in tights."

  In an instant Julia had the whole picture, Mario, head-to-toe male dancer, complete with the bun-hugging, masculine bulge defining, thigh delineating, second skin. "I'm actually very impressed you were able to do all that," she said. "I'm just finding it hard to adjust to you in… well, tights."

  "Yeah, so was I when my boxing coach said that's what I'd be wearing," Mario said. "But even though I didn't like the idea of wearing tights, and saw no point in spinning around ten times in a row, I did want to know how dancers trained, what techniques they used for balance, and what special footwork drills they did, and I found out classical dance requires the most demanding physical training in the world. Strength training exercises focus on bench and shoulder presses, and over-the-head lifts of female dancers involves using a shoulder-wide grip on a bar and pressing upward, starting from stomach height to above the head."

  Eyeing him with curiosity, Julia said, "Could you lift me above your head?"

  Mario nodded. "Are you brave enough to try?"

  Julia looked at the bag, and thinking about the empowerment Mario talked about, she said, "I suppose, if you're sure you won't drop me."

  "I won't." Mario removed his gloves and tossed them aside, and said, "We'll do what's called the cambré press lift, where I lift you straight up, you arch your back at the peak of the lift, then I turn you around and bring you down by catching you in my arms."

  "Have you ever dropped anyone?" Julia asked.

  Mario laughed. "Ballerinas are like lifting butterflies. But this isn't about whether I can lift you or not, it's about trust and empowerment, you trusting me to keep you safe, and you refusing to let that thing in your head rule your life."

  Julia knew Mario was again pushing her beyond her comfort zone. She also knew he was right. She did need to push herself. "What do I do?" she asked.

  Mario took her by the shoulders and turned her around so her back was to him, and said, "We start the lift with your legs together and you up on your toes, like you're in toe shoes, with your arms above your head, like you're reaching for the sky."

  Julia did as instructed, and before she could have second thoughts, Mario took her by the waist and lifted her straight up, and in an instant, she was above his head and staring at the ceiling. "Arch your back, and relax your arms," he said.

  Julia tried to relax, but the sensation of having her head thrown back, while looking at the room upside down, was disconcerting, but before she could react, she felt herself being turned, and a split second later, she was caught in Mario's arms. The moment he set her down, she said, in a voice, breathless with disbelief, "I didn't panic."

  Mario smiled. "I know. I'm proud of you," he said. "You've come a long way since I arrived. So now you'll use all that female empowerment to punch the hell out of the bag. You ready?"

  Julia raised her gloved hands, threw a couple of jabs, and replied, "I'm ready."

  "Okay then, the idea is to hit the bag with a variety of punch combinations—jabs, hooks, crosses and uppercuts—and keep it up for two-minute rounds, which simulates an actual round of boxing in a women's match," Mario said.

  Feeling energized, whether due to the short warmup, or because she was simply happy because she had Mario to herself for another evening, Julia shadowboxed to where the bag stood, then seeing Mario grinning, said to him, "This is actually kind of fun."

  "It has a way of growing on you," Mario replied. He stepped behind her, and moving his hands down her arms, cupped her elbows with his palms, and said, "Be sure to keep your elbows close to your body, and we'll start with a jab, which is the most important punch in boxing because it stuns your opponent long enough for you to land the big punches."

  "Big punches?" Julia said, aware that Mario's ungloved hands were still on her elbows.

  "A right cross or a hook, something you should throw your full force into," Mario said, while gliding his hands back up her arms to rest on her shoulders. But while Mario went on to describe
the correct arm position for an uppercut, Julia's mind was not on punches, or boxing, or anything but the notion that Mario wanted to kiss her, but wouldn't. And she understood why. She was his project, and he was determined to free her from her phobias so he could leave with a clear conscience, knowing she'd be okay.

  At that point she expected him to step away, but he didn't. Instead, he moved closer, until his chest was against her back, and she felt his breath wafting on the side of her face. It seemed time stood still because he did nothing, and said nothing, reminding her again that he wanted to kiss her but wouldn't, which was also a reminder that she was an emotional cripple, someone the man she wanted wouldn't touch until she could function in the world she'd left behind twenty years before. She started to turn and face him, because she wanted to look in his eyes and see what was happening, but abruptly he stepped aside, and said, "Throw a couple of jabs, and a right cross, and maybe a left hook. Create your own combinations and work with the bag like it's an opponent, landing some punches low, others high, like aiming for the head."

  Although Julia followed his instructions, she found herself becoming increasingly frustrated by Mario's hot and cold behavior toward her—she shot her left arm out in a couple of jabs. And she was upset that there was no place in his life for her—she shot her arm out in a right cross. And she was disturbed that he'd be leaving and she might not ever see him again—she threw a left hook. And she hated the thing in her head that twisted her mind into taking her back to a place she was desperate to be free of—blindly she shoved her fist into the bag while trying to envision the face of something that had no form, only a will that manipulated her mind. Over and over she punched, aiming for the middle of the bag with all her strength, jab, followed by jab, followed by right cross, followed by jab after jab until all she saw was a blur of tears that came with the rush of adrenaline behind her punches—"

  "Whoa!" Mario grabbed her around the middle and pulled her away from the bag, while saying, "You need to go at it easy when starting a workout."

  Julia didn't respond because Mario's arms were around her again, and she still felt like punching something because his nearness started a chain of reactions that were almost as troubling as those signaling the onset of a panic attack, and she had no control over either.

  Mario turned her around, and seeing tears in her eyes said to her, "What's this all about?"

  "I don't know. I was frustrated, and angry," Julia replied.

  Mario took her in his arms and held her firmly against the solid wall of his chest, and said, "I think you just got rid of a whole lot more than anger and frustration. I think you were beating the hell out of that thing in your head."

  Julia put her arms around Mario and rested her head against his chest and tried to remind herself that he was only a temporary figure in her life, but for the first time in twenty years, she was allowing a man to hold her in a way that was restricting her, and still she had no desire to break free, but when she lifted her head from his chest and looked up at him, Mario kissed her, a slow, deep kiss that filled her with a longing she'd never known.

  But when the kiss finally ended, Mario sucked in a long breath, and said, "That wasn't supposed to happen. And we'll skip the sparring for tonight."

  "Why?" Julia asked.

  "Because we need to talk."

  Fifteen minutes later, after sponging off and changing into her sweatpants and a T-shirt, Julia was still trying to reason what Mario wanted to talk about. Obviously it had something to do with a kiss he regretted. Deciding she wanted to keep things open between them, even if Mario might tell her something she didn't want to hear, she said, as she returned to the living area and sat on the couch beside him, "I agree we need to talk, but I'm not sure we're on the same wavelength as to what we need to talk about."

  Mario, who'd changed into sweats and a T-shirt he'd had in his sport's bag, took her hand in his, and replied, "We need to talk about us. There's some kind of chemistry going on between us, and whenever I'm around you, I end up needing a cooling off period because that's what you do to me, and right now you're vulnerable because you still have problems up here—" he tapped her head "—and you're looking for a white knight, and I'm not it."

  "I'm not looking for a white knight," Julia said, "but you're forcing me to do things I don't want to do, and I know what you're doing is exactly what I need. But you're also what I need. I've always felt this kind of connection with you, like my soul bonded with yours down in the darkness and rubble. There were times when I'd meet you in dreams, and times when I'd feel like part of your essence had gotten mixed with mine when we were trapped, because I'd feel like I was tapping into memories that weren't my own, and there were times I'd get a sense that you were in danger. It's impossible to explain these things, and you probably think I was hallucinating, but that wasn't the case. I do know the difference."

  Mario released her hand and put his arm around her, and drew her against him, and said, "I believe you. I had some of those feelings too. I even found myself looking for you in crowds, or at least looking for Barbie, but I knew it was pointless to go beyond that because you were engaged. I would have looked you up if you hadn't been."

  "I wish you had," Julia said. "Maybe things would have been different. Maybe you would have forced me to face what was going on in my head instead of my trying to live with it all these years, but on my own it's been easier to stay where I was, and my parents never pushed me to try to be on my own, but since you've been here, I feel more bold."

  "Bold enough to come with Sergei and me tomorrow, and take the horses into the mountains?" Mario asked. "I talked to Sergei about you and he understands."

  "I wish you hadn't done that," Julia said. "Now, he'll think I'm crazy."

  "No, he won't," Mario replied. "Sergei's smart. He overheard Grace and Jack talking about us being trapped, and because of it, you have claustrophobia, so when he asked me what that was, I told him. I also told him about your panic attacks, and he understands, even said that might be what's wrong with Irina, so we talked about that too. He's very aware that the mind can do strange things when someone's been traumatized. But you won't have a panic attack. You're a horsewoman, and we'll be following the trail to the cabin for a ways. The trail riders have been over the trail several times since the snow stopped, so it's well marked."

  As Julia settled against Mario, knowing he wanted more but was holding back because of her issues, she also knew if she ever expected him to consider her more than a project, she'd have to show her willingness to push herself to the razor's edge of panic, even suffer humiliation and embarrassment to get where she needed to be, which was to fully join the outside world, a place where she could be a wife, and even a mother, if the opportunity came along where she and Mario could adopt older children who needed parents. Children like Irina and Sergei. She could see a big vacuum in her life being quickly filled.

  "Okay, I'll go, if you're sure Sergei understands," she said. "But we'll have to get back early because it will be Christmas Eve and I'm sure the Hansens have things planned for the kids."

  "Sergei understands, and we'll be back by midafternoon." Mario pulled her to him, and as she settled into the curve of his arm, the years had not dimmed her memory of how secure it felt to be close to him, and she decided she was willing to go through whatever it took to be able to be a part of his life. She glanced at the punching bag. Although she'd been angry with Mario, which was what triggered her attack on the bag, she did feel more empowered. She'd also have another session with the bag after Mario left, and again the next day, before they'd go riding, and maybe she could even conjure up a face to put on the bag. A grotesque, twisted, snarling face of the ogre, and she'd punch that face until it ceased to exist.

  CHAPTER 11

  Mario scanned the faces of the people in the room—Roberta and Bill, and Howard and Maureen Barker—wondering exactly what this was all about. Roberta told him earlier that Maureen and Howard wanted them to come for a 10:00 Christm
as Eve brunch, and left it to her to pass on the invitation to him, since he'd made himself scarce, as Roberta put it. But he had a gut feeling this wasn't about having a pre-Christmas meal with Julia's grandfather and his wife, which Howard Barker confirmed, after they'd finished eating, and they were sitting around the table drinking coffee.

  Looking at Mario, who was opposite Howard at the round table in the dining area, Howard said, "I appreciate everything you're doing for Julia, and what you did for her at the Oklahoma City bombing, but I'm concerned about her and want to make sure you understand my concerns."

  "I'm concerned about her too," Mario said, "which is why I'm trying to push her out of isolation, or else she could stay where she is indefinitely, and it's no place for a healthy, intelligent woman, capable of living a productive and satisfying life. Right now she's living a productive life writing video games, but she's far from satisfied."

  "She's also a fragile, vulnerable woman," Howard said.

  "Vulnerable, I agree, but she isn't fragile. I know a side of her others don't," Mario said, with complete confidence, remembering the power behind Julia's punches when she attacked the bag and he had to pull her away. "If you saw her boxing, you'd know what I'm talking about."

  "She was punching the bag you got her when I stopped in to see her yesterday," Howard replied, "so I did see her boxing. But punching a bag doesn't mean she's not vulnerable."

  "I already agreed with you that she's vulnerable," Mario said, then realized he was challenging Howard, who was operating in protective mode for his granddaughter. "I would never take advantage of her vulnerability. My sole goal is to get her out of that box she's been living in for twenty years. Has she talked about what else we've been doing, besides punching the bag?" he asked.

  "Yes, and she's enthusiastic about the progress she's made since you started pushing her into doing things she never would have done," Howard replied. "But you must also be aware that she's in love with you."