By Leaps and Bounds

by Diamond, Jacqueline

  "Sure. Your parents are fantastic." The girl jammed her hands into her jeans pockets. "Dad, can I go now?"

  "Go where?"

  "Jamie's going to be working on his photos tonight and he invited me to come over. I'd like to learn how to use Photo Shop."

  Chris hesitated. From where she stood, Kerry sensed his conflicting feelings. "It is a holiday, you know. People usually spend those with their family."

  "Oh, Dad!" About to argue, Melanie paused and apparently thought the better of it. "Well, I am kind of stuffed, and he said it might be kind of boring. I'll call him.”

  “Thanks, kid.”

  After she returned to the kitchen to make her call in private, Chris exchanged glances with Kerry. "Enough is enough," he said.

  "You can't blame her for pushing the boundaries a little," Kerry reminded him.

  "It's time she got her priorities straight."

  "What was it you said a minute ago?" Receiving a blank look, she explained, "About parents mixing into their kids' affairs too much?"

  "I was referring to grown children." His glower softened. "Do you think I was wrong?"

  "No," Kerry said. "Just don't expect her to be perfect, Chris. This whole business of having a boyfriend is new to her. It'll take a while to put her life into perspective."

  "I hope I survive the process," he said. When his daughter came back into the room, he gave her a big hug.

  "What was that for?" Melanie asked.

  "Being the most beautiful, wonderful, talented kid a man could ask for," he said.

  "Oh, is that all?" But she was smiling.

  "You won't believe this." Tony's voice still had a boyish lilt over the telephone, the way it had in high school. "Leila and I finally decided to tie the knot."

  "You've only been engaged for, what, three years?" Chris realized his friend might mistake his irony for sarcasm. "Actually, I'm thrilled. She's a wonderful girl."

  It was just like Tony to call on Thanksgiving night; he had an impulsive side that had never dimmed. Leaning back on his new sofa, Chris wondered whether the workers at Tony's restaurants ever saw this side of him.

  "Write this down." Tony gave him a date. "And New Year's Eve."

  "You're getting married twice?"

  Tony chuckled. "The first is a cocktail party at my place, in lieu of showers and all that nonsense. No presents, please. We haven't got room for any more stuff. Then we're getting married New Year's Eve. Sound romantic?"

  "You won't have any trouble remembering your anniversary." Chris wondered if he could still fit into his good suit. Tony and Leila liked to do things up fancy; Tony's "place" was a Mediterranean villa in the city of Orange that resembled a hotel more than a house.

  "Good old Chris, always the practical one." Tony paused as a woman, presumably Leila, said something inaudible in the background. "I've got to go. My helpmate reminds me we have other people to call. Oh, and she says the formal invitation will be in the mail, but she wants to be sure you keep the dates clear. Got that?"

  "Got it," Chris said. "And tell Leila thanks again for helping with Melanie's dress."

  After they hung up, he sat staring at the telephone for a minute, glad that Melanie was busy on the computer in her room and he didn't have to answer any questions right away. It might not make sense, feeling so ambivalent about his old friend's marriage, but then, that wasn't exactly what bothered Chris.

  It was the cocktail party that disturbed him. Chris hadn't seen most of his old schoolmates since graduation. The ones Tony kept in touch with, he knew, were successful businessmen and professionals. Some of them probably made as much in a month as Chris did in a year.

  Why was that troubling him now? he wondered irritably. He didn't regret deciding to become a policeman.

  But it wasn't as if his life had been such a brilliant success in other areas, either. These people had known Lou when she and Chris were high school sweethearts. They didn't really understand what had gone wrong. He wasn't sure he understood it himself.

  Impulsively, Chris picked up the phone and dialed Kerry's number.

  "Hello?" She sounded—not sleepy, but languorous. Music played in the background.

  "Chris here."

  "Hi." He could picture her stretching like a cat. "What's up?"

  "I need a sounding board." He told her about the upcoming events. "It's ridiculous, feeling this uneasy. I don't want to miss Tony's party, but I'm afraid I'll feel out of place."

  "Hmm." The music quieted behind her. "I'm a bad one to ask. My tenth high school reunion is this summer and I haven't the least intention of going. The ones who weren't dancers, I didn't know, and the ones who were, well, I'm not too eager to see them."

  "It's irrational," he mused. "For some reason, I'd like to impress them. Think they'd come out to the practice range and watch my target shooting? I've won a couple of medals."

  Kerry laughed. "And I could go back to New York, line everybody up and teach them the five positions. In both cases, I'm sure we'd be as popular as poison ivy."

  He felt better talking to her. "I suppose I'm uncomfortable about personal questions. At events like this, people always want to catch up on your private life. What am I going to tell them? My daughter's growing up and my feet are getting flat and that's all I have to report."

  "If you think it would help, I'd be glad to go with you," Kerry suggested.

  Although the idea appealed to him instantly, his cautious side warned not to leap before he looked. Would it bother Kerry if the conversation turned to Lou? Or would she find, seeing him in the company of wealthy, high-powered people, that she preferred their world to his?

  "I appreciate the offer. Okay if I let you know?"

  "Sure," she said.

  “I'll talk to you soon."

  "Good night." Only after they’d hung up did he recall that he’d meant to tell her, again, what a great time he’d had that day. The best Thanksgiving he could recall.

  Well, surely she understood.

  After she hung up, Kerry couldn't concentrate on her book anymore. Why didn't Chris want to take her to the party? Was it because she wasn't that much a part of his life? Yet these past few months, even though they'd deliberately kept things casual, they'd been growing closer a little at a time. Or so she'd assumed.

  On the other hand, he might simply want to protect her from nosy people. Or from his own dissatisfactions with his life.

  They were both going through major changes, she reflected. Chris had to face his daughter's newfound independence and his own choices in life. Kerry in turn had to make decisions about offers to choreograph, and come to terms with the reality that miracles were in short supply and her window of opportunity, if one existed, was rapidly closing.

  Not a good time to start a relationship. Yet now more than ever, they both needed the support and understanding of someone who cared.

  Darn it. She didn't want to be shut out of Chris's life. Or to shut him out of hers, either.

  She supposed she’d just have to wait and see what he decided.

  Chapter Nine

  Fawn Frye slipped into the theater and took a seat beside Kerry, watching silently as the dancers exploded through the ballroom scene.

  "Wonderful," she murmured. "Such energy. You're going to set the house on fire."

  Kerry smiled her appreciation as the music ended. "Okay, guys," she called up. "You're doing great. Tomorrow we'll work on some new lifts. You're really coming along."

  Cheerfully, the dancers waved as they wandered offstage. Several of them had improved dramatically in the few weeks they'd been rehearsing, Kerry noted silently, and hoped they were aware of it, too.

  "Kerry?" The young woman understudy approached hesitantly. She and her male counterpart had stepped in several times when other dancers were late or had to miss a rehearsal because of conflicts. "Jim and I haven't had to substitute this week and I was wondering if you could critique us."

  "Sure." It was a reasonable request, especially con
sidering they were donating their time. "Let's run through it."

  Kerry was vaguely aware of Fawn wandering out as she started the CD again and observed the couple closely. Afterward, she gave them some notes.

  "Thanks," the girl said. "You know, I've learned more these past few weeks than in all the dance classes I took this year."

  "I find that hard to believe, but thanks," Kerry said.

  "What she means," Jim said, "isn't so much that we've learned more steps or more techniques but that we've grown as artists. We understand better why we're doing things."

  "Thanks, both of you." As tired as she was from the long rehearsal, the praise restored Kerry's spirits. "You both have lots of talent and I wish you luck."

  After they left, she pulled on her jacket and wandered out of the theater, turning off lights and locking the doors. By the time she finished, hers was the only car in the parking lot.

  The expanse of blacktop looked bleak in the dim moonlight, and a cold wind bent the tops of a row of evergreens. Winters in Southern California might be short and mild, but they brought no softening snowfalls, no romantic, cozy retreats around the fire while sleet pinged at the windows.

  Why did she feel so let down? Was it because she hadn't heard from Chris in a week? Because her parents had gone back to Boston without seeing her again? Or simply because, in the month-long interval between holidays, her students at Leaps and Bounds chattered and goofed off more than usual and it took extra energy to get them motivated?

  As she crossed the pavement, a car pulled into the lot. Kerry hesitated until she recognized the sedan.

  "Guess I'm too late to watch." Chris rolled down his window. "Want to ride on a Ferris wheel?"

  "Is this a riddle?" she asked.

  "It's Friday night, in case you hadn't noticed." He opened the passenger door. "There's a carnival at Hillcrest Park. I know because Jamie and Melanie are going."

  "You weren't planning to spy on them, were you?" Kerry folded herself into the seat.

  "Of course not." His mischievous glance belied the indignant tone. "If we happen to run into them, I'm sure they'll understand."

  "Naturally." Despite her skepticism, Kerry felt immensely warmer here in the car, and it wasn't just because of the heater. "Oh, what the heck? Let's go."

  The crowd at the carnival was already thinning when they arrived. Parents were departing with small children draped in their arms and over their shoulders, leaving the rides to teenagers and young couples. Music of the oom-pah-pah variety added gaiety to the flashing lights and the drifting smells of popcorn and cotton candy.

  "Reminds me of my childhood," Chris said. "How about you?"

  "My mom took me to a carnival once," Kerry recalled. "I bet a quarter and won a stuffed dog, to my mother's amazement. I named him Lucky."

  "There's the Ferris wheel." Chris steered her between packed bodies. "Let's go."

  When they got in line, Kerry noticed Melanie and Jamie three couples ahead of them. Realizing they'd been spotted, she called out a hello. Melanie waved back but studied her father and Kerry for a moment before turning away.

  "You know," Kerry said, "Melanie might be as interested in your social life as you are in hers."

  "I haven't dated much." Seeing her questioning glance, Chris added, "Don't get me wrong. I haven't exactly been living in a monastery, either."

  "I'd guess you've kept people at arm's length nearly as rigorously as I have."

  "I've been busy raising a daughter." As the line inched forward, he conceded, "Okay, you might be right. But I'll deny it with my dying breath."

  "Two emotional cripples," Kerry joked. "We make a great team."

  "Why not? We can lean on each other."

  They climbed into a gondola, and the wheel cranked forward a notch. Kerry knew the teenagers were a few cars above them, but couldn’t see them from this angle.

  Slowly the gondola ascended as more and more passengers took seats. At last Kerry and Chris sat at the top of the circle, surveying the nighttime glitter of Fullerton as well as Brea to the north.

  "It looks like magic from here," she said.

  "I used to imagine that something fantastical would happen when I went to a fair." Chris rested one arm around her shoulders. "A fortune-teller would transport me to a mythical kingdom, or I'd discover a genie in a bottle. Kind of naïve. In stories nowadays, the magical wishes all seem to turn out wrong."

  "All I ever wanted was to be a dancer," Kerry said. "My dreams were about performing."

  "I’m sorry they didn’t come true," he murmured.

  "Oh, but, they did. For one night." Kerry closed her eyes, remembering the exhilaration of floating above the stage in Alfonso’s grasp, and then the applause rolling toward them. "I should be grateful. How many people get even that much?"

  His arm tightened around her. "There are all kinds of dreams, Kerry. Maybe this is one of them, right now."

  She opened her eyes. The lights twinkled below and the warmth of Chris's body surrounded her. Kerry's head swam. A dream, that’s what this was. She liked the sensation of not quite being in control, as long as Chris was here beside her.

  The wheel churned into action. Slowly they circled, every now and then glimpsing Melanie and Jamie. It looked as if they were kissing. Chris frowned and averted his gaze.

  They rode for a while in silence. His expression gradually softened, to Kerry's relief.

  "By the way," he said as they reached the top again. "Did you mean what you said, that you’ll go with me to the party?"

  "Yes."

  "I'll take you up on it, then."

  Kerry hoped the Ferris wheel would never stop. It was magic, after all.

  Later that night, home again, she riffled through her closets wondering whether she had anything suitable to wear. He'd said the party would be dressy.

  Hesitantly, Kerry lifted out a designer gown she hadn't worn in seven years. Reaching to midcalf, the dress glittered even in the modest light from the overhead fixture. The silhouette was simple, a boat neck and squared-off sleeves, the bodice formfitting until it flared around the knees.

  The design delighted her now as much as when, intimidated by the price but determined to impress George, she'd bought it in a New York boutique. Shimmering geometric blues and greens had been worked into a glowing golden background, the entire design created in bugle beads. She wasn't sure why she'd kept it all these years—because it was a work of art in itself, perhaps, and also because, having paid so much for it, she couldn't carelessly toss it away.

  Gliding to a mirror, Kerry held the dress in front of her. It looked as if it would still fit; she hadn't gained weight.

  How would she wear her hair? Loose across the shoulders, the way she'd chosen seven years ago?

  It was time to make a change, Kerry decided. Not because she was getting older or moved in different circles, but simply because she was ready for a new stage of her life.

  A new hairstyle. Yes, and she'd have a beautician show her how to put on makeup, too, beyond the minimum she usually wore.

  I'm not the same girl I was seven years ago. There's no use pretending.

  Changing her hairstyle meant leaving part of herself behind, admitting she was no longer a ballerina who lived only for the stage. No more sticking her hair into a bun for classes or running out in the morning with it still wet.

  Did she really want to do this?

  Resolutely, Kerry put the dress back in the closet. Yes, she was ready. And after all, if she did choreograph a piece for Alfonso's gala, she'd have another occasion to show off her new image.

  Immediately, her thoughts turned to his proposition.

  More and more, she liked the idea. Working with the Romeo and Juliet dancers was turning out to be more stimulating than she'd expected. The only frustration was that, although they were skilled show dancers, the performers weren't up to top. ballet standards. Also, the limitations of length and musical style were beginning to chafe.

  Yet this
wasn’t a simple choice. In the kitchen, Kerry poured herself a cup of decaf and sank into a chair. On the subject of Alfonso's centerpiece, she was totally and completely blocked. A classical work? Jazz? Something offbeat?

  Defiantly, her thoughts returned to the carnival earlier tonight. After the Ferris wheel, she and Chris had ridden a roller coaster and taken turns in a shooting gallery, where he'd won three stuffed animals, all of which they'd donated to sleepy but grateful children.

  Secretly, Kerry had had to fight back the urge to keep one for herself, as a souvenir. Except nothing tangible was needed. She would never forget tonight.

  What was it about wandering hand in hand down a midway that brought back the carefree feeling of youth? Time had stood still for one evening.

  Where would it lead, this growing sense of belonging with Chris? Where could it lead? Much as she loved Brea, Kerry had never intended to spend the rest of her life here. But right now she was satisfied with moments.

  If only there was some way to capture onstage the excitement the fair sparked. Some way to put into dance the soaring ups and downs of the roller coaster, the heights of the Ferris wheel, the youthful exuberance of skipping—might as well admit it—hand in hand with someone you cared about. And the unabashedly gaudy lights, the cheerful thumping music, the surge of the crowd.

  Kerry sighed and finished her coffee. If she could accomplish that, Alfonso would have a brilliant gala indeed.

  They stopped the car in the driveway outside Tony's villa, which Chris had visited a couple of times on less public occasions. Tonight, two valets waited to assist the guests while the entire complex sparkled with all-white Christmas lights that cycled on and off in random patterns.

  "Wow," Kerry said as they walked toward the entrance.

  The interior courtyard was packed with cars. Chris noted one Rolls-Royce and a sprinkling of Mercedes, Porsches and Jaguars. His own sedan made a sorry picture as the valet steered it into place.

  "Tony's not exactly poor," he said.

  Kerry's face lighted in a smile. "If there were a prize for understatement, you just won."