Nine Years: A novel (Beneath the Clouds Book 1)

by Jessica Leed

  Seven

  She was home.

  Even after all of these years, Aringdale still had a way of feeling like home to her.

  As she stepped into the foyer bright and early that bitter cold Saturday morning, she was filled with a blend of the familiar smells from her competition days—sequins, eyelash glue, hairspray and coffee. She hugged her jacket close to her slender body as the piercing draught followed her in. She closed the door behind her, scanned the foyer and weaved herself through a swarm of parents to the administrative table. Being a small community, the committee generally consisted of volunteering parents across a range of dance schools that united for the event. As soon as she reached the front table, she realised just how apparent it was that after all of these years, very little had changed. In front of her were the same two ladies handing out coloured wrist bands for entry to the morning session.

  And there she was, smack-bang centre on the cover of the program booklet.

  She tilted her head to take a closer look as it was passed to the customer in front of her. There she was, dressed in a lilac tutu, holding an arabesque position on pointe, her twiggy leg extended long behind her. The photo must have been a decade old by now. A winning performance that had clearly still left its mark, even after all this time.

  ‘It couldn’t be!’

  Her eyes were drawn to the voice of the mother of her former dance teacher.

  ‘Valarie!’ She flashed the woman her warmest smile. ‘It has been a long time!’ She reached over the small fold out table that separated them and closed her arms around the woman who had been one of her biggest supporters since she was a little girl. Even after all this time she hadn’t aged a day; her black hair perfectly intact, held in a tight knot at the back of head. Her skin was still flawless like porcelain.

  The woman squeezed her tightly, rubbing her ice-cold hands up and down her back. ‘My dear, it has been too long! What are you doing with yourself? Are you dancing?’ Her eyes were beaming like a kid at Christmas. ‘Please tell me you still are?’ She stepped back and ran her eyes over her. ‘You certainly still look like a ballerina.’

  ‘I’m afraid I’m not!’ Sienna managed a stiff laugh, handing over the money and secured the blue band around her wrist. ‘I had a good run though! It will always be part of me.’

  It wasn’t entirely a lie. She was drawn here for a reason, right? That had to count for something.

  Valarie nodded slowly then gave her head a deliberate shake. ‘Such a shame. You were such a wonderful talent.’ She handed the program to her. ‘You should come back here and teach for us sometime. You’re still an inspiration to many young dancers here.’

  There was a sadness behind her cheery tone and Sienna knew why. Although the woman hadn’t personally coached her, but without fail, had always believed in her. A current of sorrow passed through her as the memories hit her like a tidal wave. It was a chunk of her life she forced to neglect.

  Until now.

  Being back in the theatre where her love for dance was planted had a way of making it impossible to run any further. Whether or not she liked it, her emotions sent her back to the year 2010 in one big sweeping movement.

  She weaved her way through the crowd into the auditorium, feeling countless sets of eyes on her and the whispers that followed. She wasn’t one to enjoy such attention, especially when all the attention she seemed to attract these days was negative.

  But this was different.

  After years away from the small community of Aringdale, she almost felt special that people still recognised her face. She couldn’t help but smile as teenagers tapped their mothers’ shoulders, pointing at her with starry eyes. Yet, part of her felt like a fraud. Did they even realise she never achieved a career in dance despite everyone’s predictions that she would? That she didn’t actually achieve anything beyond her full-time training? She was hardly a success.

  In fact, she had let everyone down.

  She was one of the few dancers that had been closely looked at from the beginning of time. She had thrived in all her ballet exams, competitions and performances, having made the local paper on numerous occasions. She was talked about as the next rising ballerina but had fallen short.

  She had failed.

  She took a seat at the back of the theatre, safely hidden from prying eyes. She wrapped her jacket tighter again as the cold air sent another penetrating chill down her spine.

  Not much had changed, the lack of heating in the theatre being one of them.

  She opened the program and turned to the morning session and ran her eyes over the list of competitors. Just as expected, she didn’t recognise any names. Probably because they were starting off with the under ten-year-old song and tap solos.

  Her body spasmed with more shivers as she settled further in her seat and took her mobile from her hand bag. No messages from Patrick. She wasn’t surprised. He was more than likely passed out after a big night of drinking. She could only presume so anyway, not that she heard from him the night before either. Gone were the days where he would message her to see if she had arrived anywhere safely or sent her a text goodnight on the days they were apart. It had bothered her in the beginning, but not anymore. She had made the conclusion that every relationship reached a stage where these types of messages died out. She missed the early days where she would feel a constant stir of excitement every time there would be a spontaneous text from him. The days where he would always let her know that he was thinking of her. She put it down to the honeymoon stage where it was a matter of time before it would all come to an end. It was probably that way for all couples.

  It was normal.

  Her thumbs drew back, not knowing if it was a good idea to send him a text, not wanting to wake him. She was frustrated for even wrestling with the thought of how he would react if she did, hated that she had become so reactive with him.

  Her message was short, letting him know that she had arrived safely and would be spending the day in the theatre so reception might be patchy. She wished him a good day and let him know she loved him. She switched her phone on silent and sent it back into her bag by her feet. The lights began to dim and the old burgundy curtain slowly draped down. She shifted her weight sideways on her seat, trying to find a window of space between the woman and the tall man who had annoyingly blocked her view in front of her. She glanced down her row. All seats were taken. She would just have to stay put until the section was over.

  He was really tall. The longer she sat there, the more agitated she became as the back of the man’s head became the feature of the show. The first couple of solos had come and gone and she had pretty much missed all of them. It didn’t help that the guy was constantly whispering to the old woman beside him throughout every performance. How did he not know that it was distracting? Maybe if she wasn’t so short it wouldn’t bother her so much. But still, she just wanted to be able to sit and enjoy a morning in the theatre in peace. Was that too much to ask?

  Clearly it was.

  She glanced at the program. Competitor number three was to be performed by Ruby Kahler.

  Kahler.

  It was although someone had pulled a plug and all of the blood drained from her body. It couldn’t possibly be his niece, could it? She quickly did the math in her head.

  Yes, it was possible.

  The last time she had seen Ruby the girl had been a toddler, running around in a diaper. It must have been at least six years ago. Seven maybe, or even eight. Which meant her family was somewhere in the auditorium cheering her on.

  ‘The poor girl is petrified.’

  Again, her attention was drawn to the tall man in the row in front of her. For the first time this morning, she recognised the voice. It belonged to the man who, after all of these years, still left a mark on her heart.

  Ethan Kahler.

  Her body stiffened as she found herse
lf staring attentively at the back of his head. She was unable to move, let alone breathe properly. Even in the darkness she could confirm the silhouette belonged to him. His broad shoulders and long neck gave away that much. He still had the same mop of thick brown hair, the only difference being that his once distinctive curls had managed to unravel over the years.

  She barely paid any attention to the solos that graced the stage, she was far more intrigued by the man before her. She wanted to get his attention somehow, but every time she decided against it. She wouldn’t have a clue what to say to him if she did. It has been years. She knew better than anyone, how time could change a person. He was probably completely different. He could be married, or even have a family by now. Anyway, he wouldn’t be interested in small talk with her. His silence after all this time told her that much. But it wasn’t just him. She hadn’t kept in contact with anyone in Aringdale in almost a decade. Of course, she had ways of checking in; Facebook, Instagram, WhatsApp. It was the twenty first century after all, where technology was constantly evolving. She had searched for his name several times over the years, unable to find him which she didn’t understand. Everyone was on social media. She did have his mobile number though. She should have been able to memorize it after it had been basically engraved in her contact list for half her life. Maybe it had even been the first number to make it into her pink Nokia mobile phone back in seventh grade. But any chance of remembering it had disintegrated with her decision to delete his number when …

  The lights of the auditorium were back on and the audience stood to their feet. The section was over. Who had won? Had Ruby placed? She couldn’t believe she had completely missed the award presentation. Her focus had been that far gone.

  Everyone began moving around her, yet she found herself cemented to her chair. Ethan was already on his feet shuffling towards the end of his row. If she wanted to say anything to him, now would be the time before another nine years passed. Part of her wanted to run out after him and see how he had been doing after all this time. But instead, she took out her phone just in time as she saw it ringing. It was Patrick. The conversation was quick. He told her about his plans to play golf with the guys before heading out for dinner. No questions were asked about how she was doing, her time with her parents, or how long she had decided to stay in her home town. She assumed he was fine with the idea that he would see her when he saw her.

  It was fine.

  ‘I could’ve picked that voice from a mile away.’

  Her blood ran cold at the very sound of his voice. She lifted her head and instantly their eyes locked. She felt her heart quicken as the side of his mouth curled into the same crooked smile as the one etched in her memory. His dark eyes were gentle, echoing a warmth that had the rare ability of tickling her soul. Other than looking a little rugged, a little manlier and all grown up, he was exactly as she remembered.

  ‘Hi stranger.’ Her words came out like a yelp more than anything. She cleared her throat hoping to smooth it. ‘How are you?’ She couldn’t help but feel a string of nerves tangle themselves into a neat little web inside her as she stood there. She was basically floating his presence.

  He was looking at her with the dancing eyes he always had whenever he was around her. It was although he could sense her uneasiness, yet just by being Ethan, he found a way to comfort her restless soul.

  ‘I’m great!’ The crooked smile was larger than life itself. ‘Can I give you a big hug?’

  It was such an Ethan thing to say. It was hardly a question as he bent down and wrapped his arms around her and closing them over the small of her back. He warmed her instantly. With his neck inches from hers, she could smell the familiar scent of his cologne as it sent a trickle of calmness through her.

  ‘How are you beautiful?’ His voice soft as he held her in an embrace reserved for a long-lost friend. It was although no time has passed, and it was the year 2010 again.

  She felt a tightness take hold in her throat. What was that about? and where had it come from?

  ‘It’s so good to see you.’ She couldn’t answer the question. She wasn’t sure why.

  He released his arms and took a moment to study her face. It was good to see him.

  It was really good.

  The inquisitiveness in his eyes withdrew any feeling of uneasiness inside. Instead of repeating the question, he took the seat next to her and searched her eyes. He had always been incredibly observant like that.

  In fact, his intuition scared the hell out of her.

  ‘What are you doing here? Tell me, what’s news with you?’ He scratched the nape of his neck. ‘It’s been a long time.’

  She was seriously struggling for air. She couldn’t help but catch herself staring at him. He was even better looking than she remembered. There were no pimples or scars, his complexion radiating an even, olive glow. Even through his woolen jumper, tight around his solid arms she could see he was still fit. His broad, strong shoulders was evidence of that. Did he still play football? Or had he finally freed himself from the sport that had once completely consumed him? Had he decided to settle down and …

  ‘About five years, right?’

  ‘Huh?’ Oh no, she was all distracted again.

  He brought his lips together and shook his head, smiling. ‘I’m trying to work out the last time I saw you,’ he laughed.

  She uncrossed her legs, forcing herself to relax but all she was left with were shallow breaths leaving her gasping for air. ‘Nine.’

  He tilted his head at that and nodded slowly. ‘Someone’s counting,’ he joked.

  ‘Someone has to,’ she giggled. ‘I must say, you don’t look any different.’ She could feel her smile swallowing her face. She probably looked like a complete idiot right about now.

  ‘I have to admit, you do.’ He gave her a deliberate once over with his eyes.

  She opened her mouth in a shocked, playful expression. ‘Aged?’

  ‘More beautiful than ever,’ his response came quick.

  Just like that they broke eye contact and she lowered her head, smoothing her hair behind her ears the way she always did when she felt uneasy. ‘I’m sorry.’

  She looked up and waved off his apology. ‘It’s fine,’ she smiled, filling with a breath of sadness. ‘Ruby did amazing!’ She wasn’t quite sure why the comment escaped her mouth when she had clearly missed her performance.

  Ethan sat up straighter, his eyes lighting up at mention of her name. ‘I’m so proud of her. She kind of had two left feet just like her uncle so we were skeptical when she started taking lessons,’ he laughed.

  Her smile only grew as she watched his eyes glisten with the obvious love he had for his niece.

  ‘But she took us all by surprise! Dance has taken a hold of her. I have a feeling it will be that way for some time.’ His eyes searched hers again. ‘But I’m sure you know all about that.’

  She nodded, careful in her expression. ‘Dance does have a way of staying with you.’ She breathed in and scanned her eyes around the theatre before landing them back on him.

  His eyes were down at the program, supported by her left hand. She followed his glance, noticing her engagement ring glistening bright as ever under the dim theatre lights. She found his eyes, noticing his smile hadn’t wavered.

  ‘And it looks like these ballet people sure remember the talent you brought to the community here.’

  He was referring to her face on the front of the dance program of course. Had he noticed her ring? It wasn’t the right time to bring it up, not that she needed to rely the details anyway. He knew. His parents would definitely have told him. Either way, it still hurt that he had never bothered to congratulate her all those years ago.

  His smile told her that he hadn’t noticed, or maybe he had, and didn’t care.

  ‘I didn’t really make it much further than that.’

  The exp
ression in his eyes changed. He tilted his head in a way he knew her heart had more to say than she let on.

  ‘I mean, I tried. You know that.’

  ‘You were well on your way when I saw you last,’ he responded gently. He looked at her, and waited.

  A flood of emotion swept through her. This was silly. Why was she feeling like this? She wasn’t about to unload her sorrows and life failures onto him. Those days were gone.

  So far gone.

  She wasn’t the same person as she was nine years ago. She was young and naive then, with the world at her feet, driven by the dreams and desires inside her undamaged heart.

  ‘I got injured,’ she said, shrugging. ‘And that was the end of that.’ She knew her response was abrupt and the curiosity behind Ethan’s eyes confirmed it. He wasn’t stupid. He knew better than anyone it was her life. But even then, she could tell that he knew she didn’t want to talk about it and wasn’t going to push it.

  ‘So now we move onto plan B and I build you that dance school, right?’ he asked, grinning.

  Ah yes, the dance school idea.

  It was something that they had talked about as kids. He always promised her he would build her a dance studio one day. It was going to be split into two studios, separated by a portable wall with the option to open up to serve as a function room. The memories of their conversations and banter over this single dream carried on for more than a decade. He had even drafted her up a plan once to prove that he was dead serious.

  Somehow in this moment, it was more than her heart could take. A witty comment would usually slide off her tongue, thrown back and forth for as long as they allowed it to. But there was something inside of her stopping her from engaging that playfulness today. She needed to end the conversation, grab another crappy coffee and focus on what she had come here to do—to watch the dancing.

  But she wasn’t quite ready to leave yet.

  ‘Life does seem to have a lot of plan B’s,’ she laughed, deceivingly.

  His eyes searched hers again, as though he could sense a story behind the words she chose. She wished he wasn’t so intuitive. She hated that he could read her like an open book. Especially when she was trying to keep it firmly shut.