Moon Dance

by Mariah Stewart

  "Three times?"

  "Right." Georgia nodded. "Okay, that's three. Now, let's see what kind of patterns you have there…"

  Georgia lowered her head and peered inside the cup. "Now, the handle represents you, as the person whose leaves are being read."

  "I remember that, too, from watching Aunt Hope read." Laura nodded. "She always said that the symbols nearest the handle were the most important or the most immediate." Laura pointed into the cup and said, "And those little dots… the tiny little pieces of tea leaves… I think they meant that whatever symbol they are closest to is the most important."

  "Maybe not the most important symbol," Georgia murmured as she turned the cup this way and that, "but they add emphasis to the meaning of that symbol."

  "Do you see anything?" Laura frowned.

  "I do. I'll tell you what symbols I see, then we'll go to Hope's book and look up what they mean."

  Georgia pondered the dark flakes on the inside of the cup, then leaned toward Laura and said, "Here, near the rim—also significant, because the closer to the rim, the stronger the message is said to be— here's a triangular shape. My first thought was a pyramid, so that's what we'll call it."

  "Is there a difference between calling something a triangle and calling it a pyramid?"

  Georgia frowned. "I don't know. I just know that the book says go with your first impression, and pyramid, not triangle, is what came into my mind. And there are lots of little dots nearby, so it must be important, whatever it means. And down there," Georgia pointed to the bottom of the cup, "there is an odd shape… I don't know, but it kind of looks like a horse's head to me."

  She held the cup up for Laura to take a look.

  Laura nodded. "Yes, I can sort of see a horse's head, too. Okay, we'll call it that. What are those other little things?"

  Georgia turned the cup around several more times, looking at the patterns from different angles, then shook her head. "I'm not getting any other impressions. Just the pyramid and the horse's head."

  "Okay. Let's look those two things up."

  Georgia flipped through Hope's handwritten pages of notes, then stopped and smiled and said, "Oh! Good news, Laura. The horse's head means that a lover is coming."

  Laura blanched, then grabbed the cup. "Let me see that thing again. You know what, on second thought, I don't think it looks at all like a horse's head. I think it looks like a blob. What does the book say a blob represents?"

  Georgia laughed. "There's nothing for blobs, and we already agreed that it was a horse's head. And since it's on the right side of the handle, it's a positive thing."

  "I sincerely doubt that." Laura, still strangely white, motioned with her hand to a puzzled Georgia to proceed. "Okay, forget about the horse's head for a minute. Go on to the pyramid. What does that mean?"

  "Hmmm… let's see…" Georgia scanned the pages, then grinned. "Here it is. Pyramid. It means a great secret will be revealed."

  Laura coughed and went a shade or two whiter.

  "It's something that has held you back in some way, but its revelation will let you move on…" Georgia looked up, startled to see just how pale Laura had become. "Whoa, Laura. Are you all right?"

  "Of course I am." Laura paused, then asked, "That secret would be finding out that Delia is my mother, right?"

  "No, I'm sure that's not it. That's no longer a secret." Georgia shook her head, then picked up the cup again and turned it toward the light. "No, I think that this is a secret that has yet to be revealed."

  Laura took the cup from Georgia's hand and took it to the sink to rinse it out.

  "I always thought this was silly. We've had our fun for the night. Ally!" Laura called into the living room where Ally was busy lining up chess pieces along the windowsill. "Put those away, honey. It's time to go."

  "But, Mommy…"

  "You have school tomorrow, Ally," Laura reminded her gently.

  "Okay." Ally frowned. "But I do get to come back on Saturday to dance."

  "Yes, you do."

  "With Samantha."

  "If Samantha's mom agrees."

  "She'll agree." Ally nodded confidently, then turned to Georgia and said, "And can we have that music you had?"

  "The Chopin. Yes," Georgia assured her, all the while watching Laura's face as Laura gathered up Ally's things in the manner of one preparing to flee a burning building. Whatever had set her off?

  "What's a good time for you, Georgia?" Laura asked without looking at her.

  "Ten, eleven. Whatever works. Why not give me a call on Saturday morning and let me know how your day is going?"

  "Fine. We'll do that." Laura grabbed Ally's jacket and tossed it to her, saying, "Here, sweetie. Put this on. It's chilly out."

  "No, it's not." Ally looked at her, puzzled.

  "Well, I feel chilled…" Laura met Georgia's eyes from across the room, then shrugged nonchalantly. "Maybe it's just me… okay, got everything? Georgia, thanks for a wonderful dinner… don't forget to write down the recipe for me to give to Jody." Laura kissed Georgia on the cheek as she blew past her in the kitchen doorway.

  "Thank you, Aunt Georgia." Ally waved, and Georgia grabbed her long enough to plant a quick smooch on the child's upturned face. "I can't wait till Saturday…" Ally's voice trailed out the back door, and Georgia followed her.

  "Laura—" Georgia called from the back steps. Laura was already at the passenger's side door and had it open for Ally to jump in.

  "I'll talk to you on Saturday," Laura called back as she walked hurriedly around the car.

  Now what, a wide-eyed Georgia wondered, was that all about? Why, Laura acted like someone being pursued by banshees.

  It had been the horse's head that had set her off, Georgia recalled.

  Closing the back door behind her and locking it, Georgia sat at the table and picked up Hope's book once again, wondering if she had perhaps made a mistake. She closed her eyes, trying to envision the symbol that she had seen in Laura's cup. That had been a horse's head, all right. She opened the book again and read the meaning of the symbol aloud. "A lover will be coming into your life."

  She turned the pages back until she located the pyramid.

  "No mistake." She shook her head. "It clearly says a great secret will be revealed, one that has held you back in some way. Once the secret has been revealed, you will be able to move forward…"

  Two potentially good things, from Georgia's point of view. A lover and a secret…

  From Laura's perspective, however, the reading had obviously meant something entirely different. And whatever its meaning, it had driven her from Pumpkin Hill like one pursued by demons.

  Or an unwanted lover.

  Or a secret…

  eleven

  It wasn't cool enough for a fire, so the logs that Matt had set upon the fire grate remained unlit. He really wasn't much of a drinking man, so the beer he'd opened when he returned home from the clinic remained on the kitchen counter, where he'd left it. The stack of mail he'd pulled out of the mailbox sat in a tidy pile on the table in front of the old, dark blue plaid sofa he'd had since his college days, and the TV remained on, the volume turned all the way down, while Matt sorted his options. He could slip his video copy of The Scarlet Claw—just maybe the best Sherlock Holmes movie ever made—into the VCR. Or he could finish reading The Final Problem.

  Or he could call Pumpkin Hill and…

  And what? he asked himself.

  Ask Georgia Enright why she's still there after he'd told her that he expected her to be gone by today?

  And there was absolutely no doubt in his mind that she was there. That calm but certain defiance that had smoldered in those green eyes until they had burned with emerald fire—that snap set of her bottom jaw— that solid hands-on-hips, try-and-make-me stance.

  Oh, she was there all right.

  Nothing about the woman had said Yes sir, I'm on my way, sir.

  All day his nerves had hummed with the frustration of knowing that it was
Wednesday, that she was still most certainly at Pumpkin Hill, and that he had no means of forcing her to leave. Even Laura had not backed him up, though he had suspected she would not. And wasn't that part of the problem, part of what was eating at him now? That Laura had taken Georgia's side, against him?

  Yeah, and who did he have to thank for putting Laura in the middle?

  "Me," he said aloud.

  Artie raised his head and looked up at Matt.

  Matt looked down at Artie. He sighed with the resignation of knowing that he had made a total ass out of himself by making a pointless demand on Georgia and imposing childish expectations on his sister. Laura would not go back on her word to Georgia, and his own sense of fair play made Matt grudgingly admit that she should not. Like it or not, Georgia Enright was living at Pumpkin Hill, and there she would stay until she decided to leave. The only way to avoid her would be to stay away, and that was one thing he could not do. Pumpkin Hill was his haven, his sanctuary, a place that had always offered peace, a place where he could relax, a place where he could dream and plan for the future.

  And besides, he had great plans for that barn. Someday it would be home to the Pumpkin Hill Veterinary Center, complete with the most up-to-date surgical facilities. He reached under his chair and pulled out the leather binder that held the plans he had drawn up for his animal hospital. The first floor would have treatment areas as well as housing for ailing farm animals—horses, sheep, goats, cows— and state-of-the-art equipment. The second floor would have offices and a sort of big, open conference area, where vets from all over could come to discuss new modes of treatment, and those who were on the cutting edge in the areas of nutrition and holistic veterinary medicine could share their knowledge. If he closed his eyes, he could see it…

  He closed his eyes, but all he could see was a delicate face framed in hair the color of candlelight.

  Muttering a mild curse to dispel the vision, he reached for the remote control and turned on the video. He'd deal with Georgia Enright on the weekend. Right now, there was The Scarlet Claw. Basil Rathbone as Holmes, Nigel Bruce as Doctor Watson. As good as it gets. He settled back to enjoy murder and mayhem as the famed detective journeyed to Canada to investigate the death of Lady Penrose…

  Saturday's noon appointment—routine shots for an Airedale—having been canceled due to illness on the part of the dog's owner. Matt closed the clinic at twelve-twenty and headed home to pick up his dog.

  "Now you listen up, Artie," he said sternly as he backed out of his narrow driveway, "no more fraternizing with the tenant, you hear? We're going to keep this all very businesslike, okay? She's the tenant, we're the landlord. We're not going to play fetch with her and we're not going to let her scratch behind our ears, you hear?"

  Artie drooled onto the scuffed leather seat, then turned his head to look out the window.

  "Yeah," Matt muttered. "That's what I thought you'd say."

  It was just a little past one when Matt drove up next to the barn and parked his pickup. He swung the door of the cab open and hopped out, then stopped in midstride and asked Artie, who had leapt past him to water the nearest tree, "Do you hear what I hear?"

  Matt took two or three steps, then stopped, frowning. "Classical music, that's what it is. And it's coming from the barn."

  He took off across the yard—a man with a mission—and went through the open door and up the steps. The music grew louder as he approached the second floor, and when he neared the top, he stopped, dumbfounded.

  The woman was dancing in his barn. Right where his conference tables would be.

  Anger bubbled up inside him and was about to boil over. But just as he opened his mouth to yell, just before his What the hell do you think you're doing in my barn? could roll out, he was spotted by his niece.

  "Uncle Matt! Uncle Matt!" Ally fairly flew across the floor, a look of sheer joy on her face. She, too, was dressed all in pink and looked like a gumdrop. "You came to watch me dance!"

  She flung herself into his arms, and habit caused him to hoist her over his head.

  "Aunt Georgia is teaching me how to dance," Ally told him breathlessly. "She is a real ballerina. And she's teaching Samantha and Mary Beth, too. She said 'the more the merrier,' so I could bring friends. Want to see what I can do?"

  "Sure, sugar." He set her down on the rough wooden floor, trying to avoid the eyes of one Ms. Enright. She had looked over her shoulder when Matt had come up the steps, and it had seemed to Matt that she had looked mildly amused when she'd seen how quickly Ally had defused him. He met her gaze from across the distance and said, "Sure. Let's see what you can do."

  Recognizing a challenge, Georgia raised one eyebrow and pointed to a folding chair where he was, he assumed, expected to sit.

  "All right, girls." She directed her attention to her three little students, who lined up next to three folding chairs. "Let's do that again. Right hands on the back of the chairs… now, First Position. Heels together, toes out, legs stretched straight. Your feet should look like what, Samantha?"

  "A straight line." Samantha responded boldly.

  "That's right. A straight line. Very good, all of you. Now, let's move our arms into position… very nice, girls. Lovely. Now, can you move into Second Position? Does anyone remember where your heels belong?"

  Georgia smiled as the little girls watched each other, trying to recall.

  "Very good, Ally. Now, open your arms just a little more, Mary Beth, yes, like Samantha has done."

  Ally and her friends were adorable and eager to learn. Georgia was enjoying herself—or had been, before Darth Vader had shown up.

  "Back into First…" Georgia told them, demonstrating, "then again into Second…"

  A black streak darted across the floor and pounced upon her from behind.

  "Artie!" She cried, laughing as the dog nearly knocked her off her feet. "I'm glad to see you, too!"

  Matt rose from his chair to grab the dog, trying not to look at her face, with its joyful smile as she patted the dog's big head, nor at her body, which he couldn't help but notice was trim where it should be and full in all the important places. He crossed the floor to retrieve the dog, commanding his eyes not to fall beneath the level of her chin. It was better this way, he rationalized. Anything below her chin was trouble.

  Then again, those eyes could do real damage to a man, and those lips, curved as they were into a smile as she grabbed the dog's collar and passed it to Matt, seemed to draw him like a magnet and cause him to tingle in places he was better off not thinking about.

  "Come on, Artie." Matt tugged at the dog's collar.

  "Uncle Matt, aren't you going to stay and watch us dance?" Ally called.

  "Ah, no, sugar. I think I need to… to take Artie out." Matt backed toward the stairwell, aware that he was dangerously close to staring at those shapely petite legs. As a matter of fact, he realized, there was no place where it was safe to look, when the woman was wearing little more than that little pink thing.

  Being a man who knew when to cut his losses, Matt figured the best place for him was someplace other than where he was.

  He forced himself to take the steps at a decent pace. Closing the door behind him, he stepped into the sunshine and exhaled.

  Ballet in his barn.

  Then again, it was for Ally, and she had seemed to be having one hell of a good time.

  "Hey!" Laura rolled down the window of her car and waved as she drove up and parked behind Georgia's Jeep.

  "Hey, yourself," he shouted back. He wasn't sure why, but he really didn't feel like talking to his sister right now. He knew he'd end up yelling about the whole Georgia thing all over again and just didn't feel up to it. He wished he could just go right on back up the steps and through the door into his apartment. Why hadn't he done that while he was up there and had the chance?

  He knew why. He'd ignored his own good advice and permitted his eyes to drop below her chin. The sight of that trim little bottom in that little pink thing as s
he'd walked away from him was almost enough to make him forget that she was merely a presence to be tolerated on a strictly temporary basis.

  Almost.

  "Did you see Ally?" Laura was asking.

  "Yes." He cleared his throat. "Yes, I did."

  "Isn't she too cute?" Laura got out of the car and crossed the grassy distance between them. She leaned up and kissed his cheek. "I'm glad to see you came around. You won't be sorry. Matt."

  He started to tell her that he hadn't exactly "come around," when the door behind him blew open and the three little dancers came bolting out, each carrying something to the house.

  "Mommy, Uncle Matt got to watch us dance." Ally stopped and pulled her feet into First Position again. "We did First and Second Position, and if we practice all week and remember next Saturday, Aunt Georgia is going to teach us Third and Fourth Positions!"

  "Well, pretty soon you'll be dancing up a storm," Laura laughed.

  "Oh, no, Mommy. There are lots of things to learn before you can dance up a storm," Ally told her earnestly. "It takes a long time to become a real ballerina like Aunt Georgia."

  "Did you have fun?" Laura smoothed back the hair from Ally's face, which was flushed more from excitement than from exertion.

  "Oh, yes." She spun around and lost her balance, tipping over onto the grass. "I love to dance. I'm going to be a dancer just like Aunt Georgia when I grow up."

  "Hey," Matt said, "I thought you were going to become a veterinarian and work with me."

  "I can do both," Ally answered without a second thought. "I will dance and I will be a veterinarian." She turned to her companions and said, "Let's go get something to drink, then we'll go down to the pond."

  "Ally!" Laura called after her as the three girls sped toward the house. "Change your clothes first!"

  Ally was already up the back steps.

  "I better go make sure they change," Laura told Matt as she took off after her daughter. "Stop on over at the house and have a cup of coffee with me."

  He was about to call after her that he'd rather not, when he heard the sound of the door behind him slamming into the outside wall of the barn. Startled by the sound, he turned in time to see Georgia step out, folding chairs under each arm. With her left foot, she was attempting to close the door. Chivalry and animosity warred within him.