by L. G. McCary
“For my pretty purple princess!” Nana says as she hands her a small bouquet of purple carnations.
Rylie bounces and pirouettes with the flowers. My mom hands her a tiny purple gift bag with sparkly paper inside while my dad hugs her and tickles her cheek with his mustache.
“Rylie-Girl, you were awesome!” Tori says, pushing through the crowd in the lobby with Greg following close behind.
Rylie’s eyes light up and she jumps in the air.
“Aunt Tori! Did you see me dance?”
“I did, and you were amazing!” she says, hugging her tight. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“I turned my monster into a guinea pig!” Rylie says.
Tori gives me a confused look, but she knows by now to roll with it.
“Then you are a wizard!” Greg says, giving her a high five. “Good job.”
It’s a blur of laughter, pictures, flowers, and hugs before we bundle up against the winter cold to go to the car.
“Thank you for inviting us so we could see Miss Rylie bring the house down!” Tori says.
“She’s very talented,” Greg says, giving Rylie a goofy grin. “Although it’s pretty silly they made you wear a boy peacock costume.”
“See, I’m not the only one!” David says triumphantly.
Tori punches him in the shoulder.
“Thank you, Aunt Tori!” Rylie yells from her car seat as David buckles her in. I’m so glad Tori and Greg could come. It means the world to Rylie.
David leans over to me as I’m settling into my seat.
“Greg is going back to school!”
I lean back, sure I couldn’t have heard him right. “I’m sorry, what?”
“He’s starting a master’s,” David says, eyebrows raised. “In education administration.”
“Education?” Greg never struck me as a teacher type. “What would he teach?”
“He wants to be an administrator for a STEM program,” David says.
I chew on my lower lip for a moment. “That makes no sense.”
“No kidding. I thought he wanted less work, not more.”
“Tori is never going to see him.”
“Maybe she won’t mind,” David says, his voice low so Rylie doesn’t hear.
I snort. For a moment we’re back on the same side, but it feels wrong. I’m also a little annoyed. Why didn’t Tori tell me herself?
Instead of answering, I ask Rylie about her favorite part of the recital. My little chatterbox never stops talking for a moment of the drive home, saving me from having to discuss Greg’s grad school further. She keeps it up into the house and through her ice cream treat with her grandparents until I finally say, “Time for bed.”
“Mama, I want a guinea pig,” she says as I tuck her into bed.
“Of course you do,” I laugh. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
“Ok.”
“You get some good sleep so we can have fun with Grandma and G-Pa tomorrow, okay?”
“Mama?” she says, her face suddenly serious.
“What is it, sweetie?”
“Can I keep dancing?”
“Of course, you can. Why wouldn’t you?”
“Does Daddy want me to?”
My stomach lurches. “Of course he does. Daddy loves your dancing.”
“Pinkie square?”
I crook my pinkie and kiss her on the forehead.
“Pinkie square.”
“Ok,” she says, pulling the covers up to her neck. “I’m going to name my guinea pig Walter.”
I laugh and tuck her in. The ballerina lamp glows a soft pink on her smiling face as I shut the door.
Nineteen
“She wants a guinea pig,” I say as I walk into the living room. “Named Walter.” David is turning up the gas fireplace while my parents lounge on the couch.
My dad laughs. “Why Walter?”
“Who knows?”
“Where’d she see a guinea pig?” David asks.
“Renee got one for Liana and Gabby.”
“That explains it all,” David complains. “Renee needs to stop buying pets!”
“I am so proud of her, Charlotte,” Dad says.
“She finally did it!” Mom says, fists in the air. “Finally! I knew she could.”
“Her teacher told me she could have a career in dance if she keeps going,” I whisper. Rylie doesn’t need to hear that yet. “She asked us to join the competition team. They’d do a contest tour in the spring. She even offered Rylie a solo!”
“When did she say that?” David asks.
“Tonight in the green room.”
“That’s tremendous!” Dad says. “Prima ballerina in the making.”
“Sounds expensive,” David says.
“I don’t know,” I say. The competition team is such an honor, I almost don’t care about the cost. Why does David have to bring it up? “It would be worth it for the experience.”
“You know, I had a thought the other day,” David says. “If Rylie had a loft bed in her room, she’d have space for a ballet barre against the back wall.”
“Oh, that’s a wonderful idea!” my mother says, patting the arm of the couch.
“We could put her desk underneath the bed and put a barre along the wall where her desk is now. You know, opposite the window?”
“That sounds like a lot of work,” I say, my voice a warning that I hope my parents don’t notice.
“I think it could take a couple long weekends. Less if Casey wants to help me. We might as well do things to make the house fit us since we aren’t moving.”
I grit my teeth.
“Absolutely,” my dad says. “It’s your house. Do what you want!”
“It will be a mess in the meantime,” I say. “Where will she sleep?”
“Guest room. But I should be able to get her bed back to normal in a day.”
It’s a fun thought, but all I can see is dollar signs.
“I don’t know.”
“Oh, come on, Charlotte,” Mom says, “She could practice at home! I fully support this, David.”
“I’m just concerned,” I say, raising one eyebrow.
“I won’t let it balloon,” David says, and my parents laugh. They know he can’t help it when he gets projects going.
“Would you make it a Christmas gift?” I ask.
David better not complain about the cost of competitions if he’s going to the trouble of building her a dance floor.
“Or birthday!” David says. “We could do it over spring break!”
“That’s perfect! That’s when we were going to invite you to the beach! We could go for the week, and she’ll come home to a brand new room!” Mom says, clapping her hands. “Oh, you have to do it, Charlotte.”
I suppose we do since Mom and Dad are backing David.
My dad wants to talk about the plans for the room, but my mom has been yawning for an hour. I head to our room, so she has an excuse to go to bed. David follows me, and the more he talks, the more I want to put in earplugs.
“She really is talented, isn’t she?” he says as he changes into pajamas.
“I’ve told you that for four years.”
“That was a pretty hard dance, wasn’t it? It looked hard.”
“Yes, and she nailed it like she’s done in practice every week for a month,” I say, pulling my hair back into a ponytail.
“I’m proud of her.”
“Finally.”
“Finally? Charlotte, what is your problem?”
“You acting it like it’s this huge revelation that she’s talented when it’s been obvious from day one if you were paying attention.”
David tosses his keys on his bedside table. “Are you serious?” he says. “Every other recital, she has barely made it through or runs off the stage.”
“Because she had stage fright.”
“Or maybe she was disobeying and ignoring the teachers like always.”
“So that means she’s not t
alented?” I say.
“That’s not the same thing.”
“Sounds like it to me.”
“I just said I’m going to build her a dance floor, so clearly I think she’s talented!” David says, jerking his shirt off.
I look at him, eyebrows raised, and turn away to find my painting shirt.
“Charlotte, I’m being supportive! You want supportive. I’m supportive!”
I finally find my shirt where it was hiding at the back of the closet and yank it out.
“I’m going to work on my painting.”
“Now? Your parents are here!” he says.
“They’re in bed. I’m not being rude.” I pull the shirt on over my pajamas and walk toward the door.
“You’re running away.”
“I’ll be in the garage. Don’t bother waiting up.”
I retreat to the smells of grease, metal, and paint in my corner, flipping on the bright lights I’ve rigged up. The car engine clicks as it cools. My current painting is Rylie at dance class. She’s standing at the barre in a graceful arabesque, fine blonde hair falling out of its ballet bun and curling around her face in a halo. I miss those fine blonde curls. Her hair is almost as dark as mine now. I prefer her in her simple black leotard and pink skirt to the overly made-up face and glittery performance costumes. Her natural beauty shines, and she smiles bigger than she ever does in recitals.
At least until tonight. Tonight she knew she’d stolen the whole show. She knew she was the star on that stage, and now that she has succeeded once, I don’t think she’ll ever settle for anything else. As I work on the hands, I wonder if I should be worried that it will go to her head. I want her to be confident, but I also don’t want to set her up for disappointment. Competitions are hard. It’s not like reality TV, where the cast seems to win every time. She has the talent, but I don’t know if she has the discipline.
There’s a flash of that blue in my peripheral vision. My chest constricts, and I count to ten, swirling the paint on my palette slowly and deliberately.
“Charlotte.” David is standing in the doorway. He opened it so quietly that I didn’t hear him.
“What?”
“I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
I say nothing and keep swirling the brush.
“I’m very proud of Rylie,” he says, running one hand through his hair. “This is the first time I’ve ever seen her finish a dance. And the competition team sounds like a great opportunity if—”
“It is,” I cut him off before he can qualify the statement.
He sighs and shrugs. The door shuts behind him. I stare at the canvas, unable to touch it. The blue shadow is still lingering by the car. I don’t want to, but I finally force myself to shift my eyes from the paint to the ghost in front of me.
Her shape is muddy and smudged, but I think she’s wearing a blue blouse. Her hair is dark like mine. Her face is hard to make out in the darkness, but I can see her eyes. I swallow and try to breathe.
An idea oozes into my mind. It’s horrible, but I have to do something. I need another canvas. There’s an extra one in the corner. I slowly reach for it and a sketch pencil. I’ll start with her eyes. If she won’t leave, then I won’t look away.
Twenty
“I remember this little girl’s birth,” Pastor Ryan says. “Almost seven years ago. She was born a few weeks early and scared all of us pretty good. In fact, her birthday is coming up in a few days.”
The congregation murmurs out in the sanctuary. Rylie peers out into the pews from the baptistry. She leans against the glass edge and waves, probably at her grandparents. Laughter ripples through the room.
“But she came out fighting, and she hasn’t stopped. And seeing how God has touched her heart has been a blessing to all of us. Rylie, who do you belong to?”
“Jesus!” She throws a hand in the air, and I hear laughter out in the sanctuary.
“Amen!” Pastor Ryan says, laughing and squeezing her shoulder with a smile. “On your testimony of your faith in Christ, I baptize you, my new little sister, in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.”
Rylie goes under the water, pinching her nose and blowing her cheeks large like a chipmunk.
“Buried with Him in likeness of His death.”
Pastor Ryan pulls her back up with a huge smile, and I snap a photo as her head breaks the water.
“Raised to walk with Him in newness of life. All God’s people said?”
“Amen.”
The ancient blessing echoes back into the baptistry along with loud applause, and tears sneak down my cheeks. Rylie smiles up at me, pushing her wet hair back from her face.
“Amen!” she says. I hear more laughter, and Pastor John chuckles as he guides her toward the stairs out of the water. The white robe sends rivulets of water all over the floor as she bounds out of the baptistry and hugs me tight. Her dripping baptismal gown soaks my dress pants and blouse. I don’t care. I hug my sweet baby girl right back.
A few weeks ago, when she told me she wanted to pray, I thought she meant for something she wanted, like a toy or a movie. Her words echo in my head as she jumps up and down in the changing room.
“I’m bad a lot, Mommy. And I don’t want to be. I want Jesus to fix it. I want Him to fix it all the time, not just when I try really hard. He takes all the bad away forever, right?”
Such a depth of understanding under simple words. I knew she meant every word of her prayer. David and I cried as she sat on the couch between us. The next day she asked for a new Bible. She’ll get one today with her baptism letter.
What on earth? Barely visible from the baptistry is a woman kneeling near the altar. Her head is touching the floor, and her shoulders are shaking. What on earth is she doing?
“I love you, Mommy!” Rylie says. I tear my gaze from the woman and look down at my daughter. “You’re my sister now, too!”
“Yes, I am, sweetie. Your sister in Christ.”
Pastor Ryan prays, and we stand together, listening to the words. Rylie’s eyes are shut tight. The woman looks up at me.
It’s Her. The baptistry curtains close. Rylie skips back into her dressing room to change out of her wet clothes, but I’m glued to the spot. I can’t move. I can barely breathe.
“Not at church,” I whisper to the walls. “Please, not at church.”
“Mama?” Rylie pulls on my arm.
I apologize and braid her wet hair into two French braids. This won’t ruin my day. I won’t let it. I’ll block it out, no matter what.
We hurry out into the church to find David and the rest of the family as the congregation sings a hymn. David looks at me with a strange face.
“Are you okay?” he whispers.
I shrug him off and try to join in singing. The words catch in my throat, and I have to mouth them. Every nerve is on edge as the song ends, and I sit down. Church was my one safe place. Now nowhere is safe.
“Look at her,” Mom whispers in my ear, making me jump. She points to Rylie.
Rylie has a pen and paper and is writing down the Bible verses from the sermon. I have to smile in spite of my pounding heart. If Mom only knew how she has changed, even in dance. The other day she ran into the living room and showed me a dance she’d made up for a worship song. She spun and jumped and bowed through the verses, ending on her knees in a prayer pose. I’d never seen worship look so beautiful. I couldn’t wait for her to show her grandparents.
The service closes, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to run to the car. Tori catches up with us as we reach the back of the sanctuary.
“I have a present for you, Rylie,” she says. Rylie tears open the wrapping and squeals. It’s a Bible study for girls, and there is a ballerina on the cover. I smile and thank her too, but I have to get out of this church. Now.
Rylie dances to the parking lot, yelling to all her friends on their way to Sunday school, “We’re going to swim in the ocean! And we’re going to eat watermelon!”
I tr
y to calm down in my seat in the car by reviewing the plan. After a little party and swimming at Nana’s house, I’ll follow my parents to their new beach condo. We’ll stay until Friday. The car is packed and ready. The weather is warm enough for swimming. Everything is going to be fine.
“Can we have watermelon every day?” Rylie asks.
My mother laughs as she gets into the seat next to her.
“You can have all the watermelon you can eat.”
“Let’s go to the beach right now!”
“We have to go swimming at Nana’s first!”
“Does Nana have watermelon?”
“I’m pretty sure she does. She knows no party is complete without it,” David laughs.
Rylie is a fish from the moment she sees the pool, and it’s only watermelon that draws her out of the water. My mother-in-law knows her granddaughter. David borrows his mom’s truck after lunch. He told me Casey is meeting him at the house after Sunday school. At least we weren’t arguing today.
I have tried so hard to keep the peace no matter what. At least David is staying behind to work on Rylie’s surprise. I don’t think I could tolerate two four-hour drives trapped in the car with him.
Twenty-One
The waves are larger than usual, and Rylie screams with delight. She runs headlong into the water and splashes against the waves.
“Mommy, come on!”
I don’t want to get in the water, but I promised myself I would. The water slaps my feet with prickly cold. I hate being in a bathing suit, and I really hate the thought of fish swimming next to me in the water.
“Mommy, you said you would swim with me!”
“I’m coming, sweetie.”
I force myself to wade in until the water is over my knees.
“Mommy, here it comes! Jump!” And we jump over the wave together, laughing. The water hits at my knees and hips and nearly knocks me over. Rylie grabs my hand.
“Here we go!” With a leap, we’re over another wall of water, hand in hand.
Rylie screams with laughter. She is a beacon of pure joy. I didn’t know she could smile this big. It’s so infectious that I can’t stop smiling myself. Wave after wave, we jump until my legs are aching. A larger one knocks her off her feet and she slips away for a second.
