Promises Under the Peach Tree
Page 27
“That’s how I feel!” He had the spare on now and was staring at her, eyes wide. Jenna realized she was probably the first person he’d ever met who understood that. She wished there were something she could do for him. If he lived in San Francisco, she’d give him her card and encourage him to come to the ballroom for lessons. But out here? Somewhere beyond the tiny town of Benson? There wasn’t much she could do.
She moved her bags to the backseat and the boy loaded the flat tire into her trunk.
“I can’t thank you enough,” she told him. The flat tire had been just one more bad event in a terrible day, but right now she was almost glad it had happened. She liked this kid.
He blushed and looked away. “It’s no big deal,” he said.
“I never got your name.”
“Paul.”
“Paul, I’m Jenna. I wish there was more I could do to help you get started dancing, but I’m only here for the weekend. But when you’re looking at videos, make sure they show real technique, not just where to put your feet. The instructor should show you exactly how to place your arms and legs, your torso, your head. They should talk about the shape of your hands—even what part of your foot hits the floor first. Go slow and pay attention to all that.”
Paul nodded, his face serious. He was obviously taking in every word. “I’ll do that. Thanks, Jenna.”
He stuck out his hand and she shook it awkwardly. “Do you know where you’re going from here?” he asked. “Want me to set you in the right direction?”
“That would be great. It’s Jack Baron’s place? It’s off of...” Jenna tried to picture the name of the street, scrawled on a piece of paper in her car.
“I know it,” Paul said. “He’s a friend of my brother’s. Head back to the highway and go south about a mile and a half before making a right turn. The road will take you back behind the town, then out toward the mountains. There’s a driveway off to the right that heads uphill. Take the left fork on that driveway and you’re there.”
“I’m lucky you came along.” More than lucky—profoundly relieved. “Good luck, Paul. And thank you again for the rescue.”
“Glad to help.” He tipped his hat in her direction and went to get his horse. Jenna watched him go. Kids were her soft spot. Especially teenagers. Maybe when she finally got her own dance studio, she’d create some kind of program for kids like Paul, living out in the country with no support for their dreams. They could train with her for the summer and stay with host families. Kind of like foreign exchange students but an exchange from rural to urban.
She looked around at the landscape that in some places looked more like a moonscape. The sun was getting high and a dry heat was building, baking the sagebrush and filling the air with its spicy scent. If this was Paul’s home, then a chilly summer in San Francisco really would be like a stay in a foreign country. And as for her, a city girl, this rocky pasture felt even stranger than that. An alien world, Jenna decided as she got into the driver’s seat and started the engine. And she was ready to get back to nice familiar planet Earth.
She turned the car around and started back on the rutted dirt road she’d somehow thought would lead her to Samantha’s ranch. Knowing now what it could do to her tires, she crept along, heart pounding. Watching Paul had given her some idea of what to do if she had another blowout, but she was already riding on her spare.
Gratefully, Jenna saw the highway getting closer. Motion in her rearview mirror had her glancing back. Paul was riding behind her, a little ways off the track to avoid the dust her wheels kicked up. She smiled. What a good guy—making sure she got back to the main road safely. This was why she loved working with young people. No matter how murky or dismal the future might seem, they always gave her hope.
Meeting an aspiring dancer out here was such an odd coincidence. Jenna remembered the way Paul’s face had lit up when he talked about dance. Maybe she’d ended up in the middle of nowhere for a reason—to encourage him in his dream. If that was the case, then she’d been wrong about the meaning of that exploding smoothie. Maybe today was somehow meant to be.
Copyright © 2014 by Claire McEwen
ISBN-13: 9781460339183
PROMISES UNDER THE PEACH TREE
Copyright © 2014 by Joanne Rock
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