The girl glared at him and stalked away to her new bedroom, slamming the door for good measure.
"Whew," Kerry said. "I guess adolescence has hit like a bolt of lightning. I've never seen Melanie like this."
"Me, neither." He sagged against the counter.
"Of course, she is tired." Kerry's back and shoulders hurt, too; she'd spent last night moving things out of the spare bedroom.
"That's no excuse."
His attitude surprised her. "Maybe she's more upset than she lets on about moving out of her own home," Kerry suggested.
"That doesn't mean she has to act like a spoiled brat." Jamie picked up a sponge and wiped some soda he'd spilled from the tile surface. "I don't much like her dad—I guess because he doesn't like me—but he's being cool about this. And I don't like to see her dumping on you. After all, it is your house."
She tried not to show her amazement. Why shouldn't Jamie be a responsible young man, after all? Kerry respected his mother and sister. Still, his words hardly went with his punk clothing and normally sullen air.
Kerry pulled out a pot to boil water for spaghetti. "I care a lot about Melanie. She's a sweet girl and potentially a distinguished ballerina. I suppose as a teacher that really excites me."
"She sure knows how to dance," Jamie agreed.
"Still, she has a lot to learn." Kerry opened a jar of sauce and dumped it into a pan. "Ballet is a difficult and demanding profession. You're always trying to perfect your craft and never quite succeeding. It takes an incredible amount of dedication."
"Whatever it takes, Mel has it."
Hesitantly, Kerry broached a subject that had been bothering her. "I agree, except that lately she hasn't been as focused on dance as she used to be. Not that having other interests isn't healthy. But—"
He didn't wait for her to finish. "Ms. Guthrie, maybe you think I want to turn Melanie into my fulltime girlfriend. Sure, we have a good time, but her dancing is as important as my photography. Maybe more, because she's got talent."
"So do you." Kerry didn't have to feign sincerity.
He shrugged. "Anyway, no guy can replace ballet for her. And I don’t want to."
There was a click from the back bedroom and Melanie emerged. "I'm sorry," she said. "Just because I'm cranky doesn’t mean I should take it out on you guys."
"We’ll forget it ever happened," Kerry said.
A short time later the carpet was pristine again and they were sitting down to a hasty dinner of spaghetti and salad. "This is great," Melanie said. "Honestly, Kerry, I can't tell you how grateful I am."
"Speaking of ground rules," Jamie said, "what are yours? Regarding me, I mean."
Kerry thought for a minute. "I'm responsible for Melanie, so I need to know when she goes out, roughly where she'll be and when she expects to be home."
To her relief, her new roommate made no protest. "I guess that's fair."
"Jamie, you're welcome to visit here, but I'd appreciate it if you two wouldn't go in the bedroom and close the door. It would put me in an awkward position," Kerry said.
"Okay." He nodded.
"And—just generally, I know you're both good kids, and I hope you'll remember that anything you do reflects on me."
Melanie reached across the table to touch Kerry's wrist. "I'm sorry I blew up a few minutes ago. You're putting yourself out for me, and I appreciate it."
Kerry smiled. "I’ll bet we're going to have fun."
"Yeah." Melanie beamed back at her, and even Jamie grinned.
It was almost like having a family. All these years Kerry hadn't minded living alone, but she hadn't realized how much she missed having friends around, either.
She was glad she'd agreed to Chris's idea, not just for his and Melanie's sakes but for her own.
"She backed down?" Chris dropped a basket of potato chips on the coffee table and sat down beside Kerry. "Good. I was right, having her stay with you. She'd never back down with me."
"That's because I don't have to put up with her temper, and you do." Kerry felt a little guilty, almost as if she were talking behind Melanie's back, yet there was no reason why she shouldn't have accepted Chris's invitation to drop by tonight.
It was Friday, and Melanie and Jamie had gone out, as usual. To Kerry's relief, the first week had gone smoothly. Melanie hadn't even objected one evening when Kerry suggested she stay home and complete her math assignment instead of running around with Jamie.
"I wish I understood her." Chris closed his eyes for a moment. He'd had a hard week, Kerry knew; on top of his usual burden of crime reports, someone had thrown red paint at the Ahmeds' house, although most of it splattered onto the driveway and lawn. "Maybe if she had a mother..."
"That's hardly your fault," Kerry said. "Besides, girls and their moms are notorious for feuding during adolescence."
"Did you?"
Kerry curled up, her knee brushing Chris's leg. "I was hardly a typical teenager. And my mom—I never would have argued. I was too eager to please her. I kept waiting for the praise as my dancing got better and better."
"She never complimented you?" He ran his hand over her foot, massaging the arch.
"Well..." Kerry tried to remember. "I know she was pleased at my success. She did say things like, 'Your teachers say you're doing quite well,' and 'Mr. Carrera tells me you're one of the youngest dancers ever asked to join the company.' But it was all external. All based on what other people said."
"She never took you in her arms and told you she was proud of you?" He rubbed her calf, easing away the knots of tension.
Kerry shook her head. "Anyway, we never fought."
"But you weren't close, either."
"Melanie doesn't know what she's throwing away." Kerry blinked at sudden, unexpected tears. "A dad who loves her as much as you do."
"We each love in our own way," he said sadly. "And we each perceive love in our own way, too. To Melanie, what I offer is like a leash around her neck. Thank you, Kerry, for helping us."
She rested her cheek against his shoulder. He felt warm and solid.
With Chris she felt the kind of security and acceptance she'd always yearned for. Why couldn't she simply forget her nagging, perhaps impossible, ambitions and let herself love him?
Silence hummed between them, full of unspoken thoughts. She picked up his pain, as intense as her own, his longing for peace with his daughter and for something more. For Kerry?
She lifted one hand to touch his cheek. "Why can't things ever be easy?"
"Because we're so awfully hard on ourselves." He smiled. "We want so much." Their lips met gently. His hand cupped the back of her head, ruffling her hair. After a moment, he whispered, "Speaking of wanting..."
"You, too?" she murmured.
The rest of the evening was remarkably uncomplicated.
Kerry had to dodge the workmen installing carpet in Alfonso's lobby as she made her way into the theater.
Alfonso stopped her just inside. "How'd it go?"
"Great." Kerry had spent the past two hours meeting with a designer. "He knows where we can borrow a lot of the costumes. They'll just need some refurbishing."
"Good going." Alfonso wiped his face. Although it was only the end of February, Southern California was suffering one of its periodic heat waves and the theater's air conditioning hadn't been installed yet. "I hate pinching pennies, but that's reality."
"We need to set up a rehearsal schedule." Kerry walked down the aisle with him. Dancers were assembling onstage for class, many of them warming up at a makeshift barre. "You know, we could arrange for you to use one of our studios occasionally."
"Thanks." Alfonso brushed a lock of silvering black hair off his forehead. "Fortunately, our own rooms upstairs should be finished in a week. Now, rehearsals. Can we discuss that later?" He indicated the waiting dancers. "While you're here, want to work out with us?"
"Sure. Just give me a minute." Backstage, Kerry stripped down to the leotard she still wore from teaching her mor
ning classes and added a pair of ballet slippers from her bag.
Joining the other dancers onstage, she felt a moment's shyness. Although she'd kept in shape, it was a long time since she'd worked out with a real ballet company.
"Positions, please," Alfonso said.
Soon they were working their way through a series of warm-up moves, then leaping in turn across the stage while Alfonso critiqued them.
Next to Kerry, Larisa—after a friendly hello—was all business, concentrating fiercely on every move. It struck Kerry that she herself could relax and enjoy the class, but the younger woman had no time for pleasure. When the company debuted in June, she would be center stage for the critics to attack if her performance was less than flawless.
After some initial stiffness, Kerry found that much of her technique came back. She couldn't leap as high or turn as fast as in the old days, but she possessed the poise and confidence that as a young girl she'd often had to feign.
The most surprising thing, she discovered as she joined the class in executing a series of steps demonstrated by Alfonso, was that the pain in her legs and hips didn't bother her very much.
Had it really lessened? Or was she simply less tense and therefore putting less stress on her body?
"Kerry." Alfonso beckoned her. Instinctively, from the turn of his body, she knew he wanted to try a lift they'd executed in their performance that splendid, horrible night of her accident. Was he testing her, wanting to see if she still had her nerve, or simply reliving a special moment they'd shared?
Without thinking, Kerry let her body take over. It remembered the steps, the precise angle at which to catapult into his grasp. As he swung her up, exhilaration flooded her veins.
Even while she instinctively completed her line with pointed toes and graceful arm gestures, her heart soared. This was what it felt like, flying, being in control of every muscle and at the same time stretching beyond herself into pure joy.
The class applauded. As Alfonso set her lightly on her feet, Kerry caught Larisa's expression. There was no resentment there, only deep study, as if she were trying to impress into her own muscles every move Kerry had made.
"You were wonderful," the ballerina said when class was over. "Are you sure you don't want to join the company?"
Now that the adrenaline had begun to ebb, ripples of pain ran up Kerry's thighs. "It still hurts too much, I'm afraid."
"But it's getting better?" Larisa asked. "Don't wait too long."
"I know." Kerry headed for the dressing room, her heart pounding. She'd loved that moment of triumph, even though it left her limping.
The pain was getting better. And Larisa had been right; at twenty-eight, Kerry didn't have much time to play around with.
Examining her freshly washed face in the mirror, she noticed the brightness of her eyes, glowing as if she'd just made love. Made love. With a guilty rush, Kerry thought of Chris. What would it mean if she went back onstage?
She could stay here with Alfonso's troupe, after all. But she wouldn't. Deep down, she knew that she would never be satisfied with a comeback if it didn't involve New York. That one night she'd been on top in the ballet center of the world, and nothing less would do. Especially not when she had to pay for it with moments of sheer physical agony, which she knew would be the price.
She wasn't ready to decide. Maybe after the company's opening. If Melanie still wanted to go east to audition, perhaps Kerry would go with her.
And never come back?
Brushing her hair so hard her scalp stung, she pictured Chris, his face gentling as he gazed at her, his breath tickling across her skin. Their bodies locked together, finding a special world that only the two of them inhabited.
Neither had made any commitment. Both were too much in transition to plan a future. She didn't exactly owe him anything, she supposed, but what was happening between them was far from casual.
Something knotted hard in her chest. She wasn't ready to give Chris up. Would she be, when the time came?
"Kerry?" It was one of the other ballerinas. "Alfonso says he's ready to discuss that schedule now."
"Thanks." Hastily, she pulled on her clothes. "I'll be right there."
There were too many other things to think about at the moment. She could only hope that, one way or another, her decision would take care of itself.
Kerry riffled distractedly through the arts section of the Sunday Los Angeles Times. None of the articles interested her today, perhaps because none concerned dance. Or maybe she was too aware of the sunlight streaming in through the window and the unaccustomed silence.
These past few weeks, Melanie and Jamie had taken to spending a lot of time here at Kerry's, cooking together and engaging her in conversation. She felt privileged to be included and was impressed with the genuine affection she saw between the two teenagers.
Still, they were only kids. Sometimes they snapped at each other, mainly because Melanie was growing possessive and Jamie insisted on spending time with his friends. But generally they managed to work things out with a maturity Kerry admired.
Today, with money Jamie had earned from photographing a bar mitzvah, the two had taken Suzie to Disneyland. Kerry had turned down an invitation to join them; standing in lines wasn't her favorite thing to do on her day off.
But she felt too restless to sit there reading a newspaper. She wanted something. No, someone.
Kerry picked up the phone and pressed Chris's number. He answered on the fourth ring, sounding vaguely annoyed.
"Yes?"
"Am I interrupting something?"
"Kerry." His tone mellowed. "I was afraid it was work."
"I just—" What exactly did she want? "I thought I’d make a picnic lunch."
"Are you sure Melanie won't mind?" He visited his daughter frequently but only for a few minutes at a time, since she still seemed to resent his presence. Neither he nor Kerry—not even Jamie, as far as she could tell—understood why.
"They went to Disneyland."
"I just got out of the shower. I'll be there in, say, half an hour?"
"Perfect." Kerry couldn't help imagining how delicious he must look, still damp from the shower. And what would he be wearing, if anything? Maybe she should suggest he just throw on a bathrobe... "I'll make sandwiches."
"See you then."
Retrieving her picnic basket from the front closet, Kerry was glad she’d called him. They'd had precious little time together since that night a week after Melanie moved in.
Kerry had spent many hours meeting with Alfonso and working out with his dancers, meanwhile observing them and stowing away mental notes that would help with her casting and choreography. For his part, Chris put in more than his share of overtime between the still-elusive robbers and the Ahmeds.
Last week, one of the little girls had left her favorite doll on the front porch. It vanished, only to reappear on the lawn a few days later, hog-tied and badly burned.
Who would do such a sick thing? According to Chris, the child had cried for hours. Worse than that was the psychological stress on the whole family.
Not to mention the fact that a civil rights group had picketed the police station, claiming the officers were dragging their feet on the investigation. What did they expect Chris to do, produce suspects out of thin air?
She was transferring pickles to a plastic bag when the bell rang. Had half an hour gone by already? Rinsing the juice off her hands, Kerry went to answer.
Chris stood squarely in the doorway, his eyes seeking out hers, his hand reaching for her shoulders to draw her close. The physicality of him struck her like a strong wind.
Without a word, they locked in an embrace that rocked Kerry down to her sneakers. She'd missed him more than she'd realized, a thousand times more.
Now she wanted to make up for lost time, to taste and feel every part of him. Chris barely had the presence of mind to step inside and kick the door shut before he carried her into the bedroom.
They made love
with pent-up passion, twisting the bed sheets into lumps and knocking pillows onto the floor. This, too, was a kind of flying. Kerry let herself go, becoming one with Chris until their desire peaked.
Afterward, they showered together. "It's a good thing I'm not water soluble," Chris teased as he lathered her back. "This is my second dunk of the morning."
"Something about a dripping mustache really gets me." Kerry kissed his upper lip, enjoying the tickle against her mouth.
"Mmm." He slid his arms around her slick body. "Maybe we could eat that picnic in bed."
"I hate crumbs," she murmured. "On the other hand..."
By the time they'd dried off, hunger won out over passion. They unpacked the basket and wolfed down its contents in the dining room.
"How's my daughter?" he asked, although he'd seen Melanie two days before. "She never talks to me."
"She seems happy," Kerry said, "but unsettled. I think she misses you, although she'd never admit it."
"The month is nearly up." He downed a potato chip. "Do you suppose she's ready to come home?"
"We'll see," Kerry said. "She's welcome to stay here as long as you like."
His gaze locked onto hers. "You're good for her. And for me.”
She ducked her head, suddenly shy. "I haven't done much."
"Oh, Kerry." His finger touched her chin and lifted her face toward his. "Just being who you are is enough. Sometimes when we're making love I feel as if I can possess you, and then I realize you're like a shooting star. If I ever captured you, tried to hold you against your will, you'd fade and die."
The tenderness blazing toward her brought tears to Kerry's eyes. "You're not that kind of man," she said. "You'd never force me into anything."
"No, but you might force yourself." He stared down at his second sandwich, half-eaten. "Don't ever stay with me out of guilt, Kerry. Or pity. I don't want that."
"Neither do I." But what about love? she wondered. Would she stay with him out of love? And if she did, what would that do to her inner self, to the Kerry who would always be a dancer?
The shrill beep-beep of his phone broke into their mood. With a muttered apology, Chris took the call.
By Leaps and Bounds Page 17
