Dr. Noah and the Sugar Plum Fairy

by Carla Rossi

  “I’ve shared things.”

  “No, you talk a lot, but you don’t say much.”

  He was walking faster now, and she struggled to keep up. Plus, she wanted to beat him with a stick, except that she did tend to talk a lot.

  “That was rude,” she managed to say.

  He stopped again. This time she almost skidded past him.

  “Didn’t mean to be rude.”

  They were back at her street again, just steps from her drive. Her hair whipped in the wind and blew into her face as she looked up to meet his gaze. She shook it away. “I know I ramble when I get nervous. But I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

  “I’m trying to reconcile all the ‘Janes’ I’ve met. The happy, sad, and mad one, the empathetic one, the one who takes care of her sister, the one who makes dog biscuits, the one who dances behind her family’s back. You’re a complex creature, and you take care of everyone. What do you do to take care of you?”

  She didn’t know, couldn’t answer, and hadn’t much thought about it. She just blinked.

  “The answer is: not nearly enough. Now I’m going to kiss you, Jane, and I’m going to use that ridiculous red scarf to do it.”

  “What’s wrong with this scar—”

  But he’d already grabbed the ends, twisted them around his hands once, and pulled her to him.

  Wowza.

  It was over way too fast.

  “And stop calling me Dr. Noah,” he said as he let her go. “I know you do that because you think it’s clever, but I’m over it. All right?”

  She nodded because even words of agreement were not going to come out of her mouth right now.

  He checked his watch. “I’m late. I have to go. Tell your parents thanks again, and I’ll talk to you soon.”

  Slightly stupefied, Jane stepped back into the house.

  Her grandpa met her there. “Where’s Noah?”

  “He had to go. Here’s your dog. I’m going upstairs to check on Melody.”

  Shock turned to excitement. She stumbled at the top of the stairs and half crawled into Melody’s room. “Are you awake? If not, wake up. I need to talk to you.”

  Melody answered with a moan.

  “You are not going to believe this.”

  She lifted her head off the pillow and nodded toward the bathroom. “Hang on a minute,” she whispered slowly. “We have company.”

  Her mother stepped into the room, still holding the thermometer and a large glass of water.

  Melody tried to sit up. “I don’t think mom is going to let me dance.”

  “No, I am not,” her mother agreed. “One-hundred-and three degrees. Too high. I’ll go call Madame Raveneaux. Do you want to call your understudy?”

  “Yes,” Melody choked. “I’ve been dying to tell her.” She paused to laugh. “Ha-ha. No pun intended because I really feel like I’m dying and that’s why I have to tell her.”

  Jane sat on the edge of the bed. “I think you’re delirious. Drink some water.”

  “OK. Hand me my phone.”

  Melody held the phone in front of her. It took her a second to focus and press something.

  Jane’s phone vibrated in her pocket. “I’ll be right back.”

  She answered her phone in the hall. “Hello?”

  “Jane?”

  “Melody? You hit the wrong name.”

  “No, I didn’t. Start stretching. Tonight you dance the part of the Sugar Plum Fairy.”

  ****

  Jane stood backstage and clawed at her chest as she tried to get a deep breath. “This is insane. This costume’s too tight.”

  Her father grabbed her hand and patted it. “It’s going to be fine.”

  “No, it’s not. And something is poking me.”

  Her mother handed her a bottle of water and directed them further into the wings. “Where? It’s probably a sequin or something.”

  Her mother tried to slip her cold hand down the back of the bodice.

  “Yikes, Mom. Stop! Your hand is freezing, and I’m pretty sure there’s not room in this costume for the both of us. Can we go home now?”

  “Stop it, Jane. You’ve danced this a thousand times.”

  “I can’t believe Madame Raveneaux agreed to this. Does she know how much fudge I ate today?”

  Her father kept patting her hand. “Breathe, Jane. You’re turning white. I believe the next color is blue.”

  “It’s this bun. I haven’t had one this tight since the last one mom helped me with. My eyelids are stuck in place and my head’s hurting. What’d you stick that up there with, Mom? Super glue? Spray-on shellac?”

  “Well, it won’t come loose when you leap. How are those shoes? The ties look fabulous. You’ve always done the best job of that.”

  “They’re good. I’ve been rotating this pair out with another. These are about as perfectly broken in as they can be. The box is not too soft. There’s still a lot of support and...”

  “And?”

  “That’s all.”

  Her mom glanced at her dad. “She thinks we don’t know.”

  Jane tried to look all innocent and oblivious. “Know what?”

  “We know how much you dance. Ballet is a small world, and you’re a young, beautiful college student away from home. We have spies everywhere. We’re parents. It’s what we do.”

  “Not to mention all the noise you make upstairs when you’re home,” her dad added. “If you’re not dancing, I don’t want to know what you are doing up there.”

  Her mother stood back with a satisfied smile. “You’re gorgeous. Your makeup is flawless. Your sister would love to see this. I’m going to try and record it on my phone.”

  “You do that, Mom. Maybe we can make some money when it goes viral on YouTube. Sugar Plum Fairy crushes Nutcracker Prince in near fatal Grand Pas de Deaux. I can’t believe Christian is even going to do this with me. We only had an hour and a half to try to find a rhythm this afternoon.”

  “Christian is a professional. You’re in safe hands. And Madame Raveneaux says you have great stage chemistry.”

  “Big whoop if we both die.”

  “OK, the bickering ends now,” her dad announced. “Intermission is about over. Jane, you’re a gifted dancer. God has blessed you with many talents, and you’ll do your best tonight and remember that.”

  “I know, Daddy. I’ll do my part and God will do His part.”

  “Here.” He held out his hands. “Let’s pray.”

  “Don’t forget to mention Melody. She needs to be back here tomorrow night.”

  Her mother looped her arm in hers. “That’s the plan, baby, but her fever is still high. I don’t know if she’ll have the strength.”

  “But tomorrow is the final performance and the wrap party. She has to be here for her big finale. She may never come back here after she leaves for college in the fall.”

  “Must you worry about everything, Jane? Even the things that are far beyond your control? Doesn’t it wear you out?”

  “Trying to pray here... Dear Lord, thank you for our beautiful daughters and their multitude of talents and abilities. Let Jane’s dance be to Your glory and give her the peace and grace she needs to complete the job that is asked of her tonight. Bring healing to Melody’s body, and have Your will in both their lives. In Your Son’s name we pray, Amen.”

  His kiss was soft on her cheek. “Break a leg, sweetie.”

  He grabbed her mom and took off. She waved like a maniac over her shoulder as they disappeared down the backstage stairs.

  Jane closed her eyes as the house lights flickered.

  Breathe, smile, focus, dance.

  Why did she worry about everything?

  Breathe, smile, focus, dance.

  Why couldn’t she relax? Were Noah and her mother right?

  Breathe, smile, focus, dance.

  Tchaikovsky’s music filled the auditorium, even as Christ’s peace filled her heart.

  She danced.

  ****
>
  ‘Twas the fifteenth day of Christmas break

  Melody was still in bed,

  Jane soaked her tired muscles,

  And massaged her aching head.

  She took her mind off Noah

  By sipping peppermint tea,

  And making homemade dog treats

  With a brand new recipe.

  Now off to hair and makeup

  To cover for her sis,

  She’d focus on her dances

  All the while thinking about that kiss...

  Noah slipped into his office and collapsed on the couch. Everything was under control for a moment, and he needed to close his eyes—except that he couldn’t stay still for long. He was like a wired teenager on too many energy drinks. He needed to sleep, but his mind wouldn’t shut down, and he ended up lying there chewing on his bottom lip and thinking about Jane—and his other situation.

  Yesterday everything felt better. He’d planned to call Jane, but one minute he was buying frozen pizza and the next her mother had swept him into lunch. Jane was there with her Aggie T-shirt and big blue eyes and the only logical thing to do was kiss her. It was so simple, so easy, so much fun. Later she’d texted him to ask if cinnamon, ginger, and cloves were safe for dogs. Why? Because of her determination to make homemade dog biscuits. He responded that her time would be better spent making him a pie. She sent back a smiley face. Since when did that nonsense make him laugh?

  And then last night, as if there were a secret window into his life and someone could see he was having a great day and wanted to mess with him, it all became complicated and uncomfortable. Skye was trying to contact him.

  Skye. The very woman who gave him back his ring last Christmas and wouldn’t let him attend her mother’s funeral. The woman who wouldn’t look him in the eye as she asked that he leave her hospital room. The woman who hadn’t said a word to him in a year was now blowing up his phone every two hours with missed calls and vague texts.

  Please call me. I need to talk to you.

  Noah grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and checked the time on his phone. Seven-thirty. It felt like midnight. He dropped the phone to the floor in front of him and rested his hand on Bridget where she was sprawled close by.

  He decided to ask for help.

  “OK, Lord, here’s the thing.” He felt like a child, snuggled under the covers at his grandparents’ house. They’d taught him to pray but he hadn’t much practiced. He missed their gentle Biblical guidance and strong family bond. What he wouldn’t give to have that again... He closed his eyes tighter. “This doesn’t come as easy to me as it does to someone like Jane. You know my parents. They don’t turn to God when things are difficult. I don’t know what they do. Anyway, what’s going on here? More importantly, what do I do about it?”

  His rest was short-lived.

  “Knock-knock.”

  Noah jumped at the sound of Dr. Salmons’s voice.

  “Don’t get up, son. I thought I’d come by and see if we had any business.”

  Dr. Salmons made himself comfortable in the nearby chair.

  “Business is booming.” Noah got up anyway and shook his mentor’s hand. “I didn’t expect to see you. Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve. I’m sure you have other things to do.”

  “Not really. Family’s not in until Christmas day, and let’s just say I needed an escape this evening. I’m not ashamed to admit I may have used this visit as an excuse to stay out of the final performance of The Nutcracker. I’ve been dodging that bullet for a week now. My wife and her sister have gone on without me.”

  Noah twisted open a bottle of juice. “Can I get you something?”

  “Maybe some water. Ate too much homemade peanut brittle today and don’t need any more sugar.”

  Noah chuckled as he passed a bottle and sat at his desk. “Feel free to hide out here as long as you like. My parents took me to The Nutcracker when I was little. I can’t remember what all the fuss is about, but I’ve been hearing a lot about it this week.”

  “How so?”

  “Your clients and mine—the Trumbulls.”

  “Great people. We attend the same church. Their daughter has a big part.”

  “That’s what I hear. I haven’t met Melody, but I know she’s been sick. Glad she’s well enough to dance.”

  “No, my wife saw on Facebook that she still has the flu. Her sister Jane is taking her place.”

  Noah’s pulse did a flip and then settled back down. “That’s great.” He tried to look uninterested while in his heart he cheered her on.

  Dr. Salmons looked him over and took another drink. His bushy eyebrows met and formed one long line. “Why don’t you head over there and check it out?”

  “Me? No. Ballet is not one of my bigger interests. And I’m working. You know I can’t leave the interns.”

  “I’m here.” The older man stood and headed for the treatment room. “I’ll cover. You’ll get back here, and I’ll be home before my wife is. The auditorium’s not far.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “Git now, ya hear? Your being there makes my being here more believable.”

  “You’re saying I have to go to the ballet to corroborate your story?”

  “Sure son, that works. See you in a bit.”

  Noah ducked into the bathroom to wash up and brush his teeth. Bridget followed and stood by the door to monitor the situation. He yanked a clean shirt off a hanger on the back of the door.

  “What?” He asked the dog. “I don’t have time to go home and put on a suit. I don’t even know where my suit is.”

  He snatched his keys off the desk. He felt a little foolish. And somewhat excited.

  By the time he got to the theater, Act Two had started and there was no one left at the door to sell him a ticket. He’d stopped at the grocery store for flowers because he remembered that was appropriate. Amidst the bunches of red and white carnations with pine cone branches and other Christmassy decorations, he found a bundle of tiny pale pink roses. They looked like Jane.

  He slipped in the heavy back doors and found a place to lean against the wall. When enough light filtered from the stage, he studied the discarded program he’d found in the lobby.

  It didn’t make much sense to him.

  But what suddenly did make perfect sense was Jane’s magnetic appearance as she twirled and jumped and swayed and drifted across a stage decorated with tall, glittery peppermint stick pillars and oversized pink, yellow, and purple set pieces made to look like candy. She danced with incredible poise and not once did he spot the same woman who dozed off and tumbled from a rolling stool in his treatment room.

  Later she was back on stage—with a partner this time. With expert timing and precision, the couple made their way through a five-minute dance with fixed but genuine smiles. At the end, Jane answered the audience’s enthusiastic response with a deep, sweeping curtsey. She turned to her partner with a huge smile of relief and admiration, and acknowledged him with an additional bow. Her chest rose and fell as she slowly regained normal breathing after what Noah guessed was an exhaustive workout. As if handling delicate and very important glass, her partner graciously took her hand accompanied her offstage.

  Now he understood the magic of the dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy and her Nutcracker Prince. Even if he won her heart, she would never look at him quite like that.

  Noah crept along the side wall toward the front of the auditorium during the going-on-three-minute standing ovation. Eventually an usher at a side door stopped his progress.

  “I need to see a dancer,” he told the teenager. “How do I get backstage?”

  “You can’t,” he said over the applause. “But if you’ll wait in the lobby, all the dancers come out in full costume to greet the audience and take pictures with the kids. Give them about five minutes to get out there.”

  Now moving with the crush of an exhilarated crowd, he cushioned his bouquet of flowers and stood next to a giant trash can and waited with eve
ryone else.

  Jane came out last to more applause and a deluge of adoring fans. He was impressed when the theater’s security came along to help disperse the crowd. One officer took up sentry near her and seemed to be concerned for her safety among the masses.

  Noah checked the time. Now or never.

  Her pleasant smile blossomed into full blown sunshine when she spotted him. He’d take it.

  “Noah! What are you doing here? I thought you had to work.”

  “These are for you. And I do have to work. Dr. Salmons sent me. Long story.” He paused to take it all in. Glitter everywhere, plum-colored lips. Even her teeth were shiny. “You were great, Jane. I was blown away.”

  “Thank you for the flowers. I love them.” Her eyelashes sparkled when she batted them. “And I’m glad you enjoyed the ballet.”

  “You’ll have to break down the plot for me later. I’m not sure I get it.”

  “It’s actually a pretty bizarre story when you think about it.”

  “I’d also like to know how you spin that much without getting dizzy or losing your balance.”

  “Well, the trick to that is called ‘spotting.’ I can explain later and you can give it a shot.”

  “That will not happen. There is no dancing in my blood. I once pulled a hammy while attempting the Cotton-Eyed Joe at a wedding reception.”

  She laughed out loud. “Wow. But speaking of receptions, can you stay a while? We’re having a cast party.”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t. I have to get back.”

  “I expected as much. We’ll talk later.” She reached for his hand. “Thanks again for coming and for the flowers. I’d give you a hug, but this costume doesn’t really allow it, and I’m sure you don’t need glitter all over you.”

  He leaned in. “I’m thinking of taking the risk.”

  The officer nearby cleared his throat as an obvious signal to stand back.

  Jane laughed. “What a rush. Nothing like that’s ever happened to me.”

  Noah stepped back. “I’m going to go before I get my you-know-what kicked. Talk to you soon. And Jane?”

  “Yes?”

  “You’re beautiful and amazing. You should do this every year.”