Duet Rubato

by Claerie Kavanaugh

  “So, what?” I ask, taking a long breath. “I’m supposed to hang there on your arm like Eliza Doolittle? I’m not some poor flower girl you can mold to fit your needs!” I pull away, but he grabs my wrist.

  “I know, Catherine,” he whispers. “I never said you were.”

  He hangs his head and his eyes go wide. I didn’t know boys over the age of ten could do puppy dog eyes, but low and behold, here he is. And somehow, even coming from him, I can’t resist.

  “Okay, fine.” I give in. “But what do you want me to do? We both know we can’t keep this going forever.”

  “Just gimme ’til Halloween,” he bargains.

  I nod, but raise a brow. “And then?”

  “If nothing changes by then, I’ll convince Lyssa to come back home. Deal?”

  He sticks out his hand and I take it in a reluctant, but firm shake. “Deal.”

  Relief floods his features. “Thanks.” He checks the time on his phone and whistles. “Shit. We gotta get you to rehearsal.”

  I frown. “But what about your parents?”

  “I’m pretty sure they’d rather you leave early and stay alive than stay till the end and risk death by Helmsworth.”

  I giggle. “Point taken.”

  He nudges me back toward the banquet hall. “Grab your stuff. I’ll explain everything to Henry.”

  I nod. “Okay. And Grayson?”

  “Yeah?” He stops.

  “Thanks.”

  A small, brotherly smile graces his lips. “Anytime.”

  Rehearsal resumes and everything is reset to the top of “Dancing Through Life”. Maddy stands on the lip of the stage, coaching Catie through the choreography she’d missed. When it comes to the duet section between her and Sebastian, Maddy slows it down, and pleasure swells in my chest as Catie picks up each step faster than the other. Once a dancer, always a dancer, no matter how long she’s been out of the game.

  The music crescendos to the interlude before the sets are rotated and Maddy stops the transition before Sebastian climbs on the statue podium to swing around the sculpture like Gene Kelly.

  “As iconic as that pose is,” she says, positioning herself center stage and glancing between Catie and Sebastian. “I want to try something different.”

  Smiling, I fold my arms and lean against one of the prop cabinets. It’s enthralling watching the different ways each of us push to make such a well-known show our own. Maddy has made the biggest impression. Each of the numbers sparkles with her unique flare.

  “Sebastian, how are you with lifts?”

  Catie gasps. Uh-oh. This isn’t going to end well.

  “Pretty good,” Sebastian says with a modest shrug. “I mean, I’ve done a few before and I’m pretty strong so.” He glances at Catie. “As long as she’s okay with it.”

  My heart goes out to her as Catie musters a tight smile and weak laugh. “Yeah, I’ll, um, try anything once.”

  Maddy gives her a wary look, but steps back and begins instructing them on the lift. From what I can tell, Sebastian is meant to kneel on one knee parallel to the audience and hold Catie up with her arms out, right leg bent underneath her and left one splayed upward.

  Fuck. Yep, this is not going to end well.

  Stepping in for Catie, Maddy demonstrates, showing Sebastian where to put his hands so she won’t fall. I have to admit, as a final image, it is quite beautiful. But poor Catie’s face is white as a clown’s stage makeup, and she’s clutching her stomach like she’s going to be sick. I guess she hasn’t told many people about her aversion to heights. I don’t blame her.

  Still, if you were ever going to tell them, now would be the time. Part of me wants to say something, if only for fear of her safety, but I stop myself. It’s her secret, she should decide who knows.

  “Catherine?” Maddy asks, waving a hand in Catie’s face. “Are you all right?”

  “Miss Carmichael?” Hellsworth calls from her seat in the front row next to Frank. “Is there a problem?”

  Maddy’s gaze darts between our director and the dancers.

  “Well?”

  “What?” Catie blinks, and some of the color rushes back to her cheeks. “Oh!” She looks into the audience and shakes her head. “No, ma’am, I’m fine.” She brushes off the concern and ducks into the left wing, coming out with her water bottle in hand. She takes a long, slow swig before pasting on another brave smile. “A little dehydrated.”

  “Are you sure?” Sebastian hedges, sharing a look with Maddy. “Because we don’t have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable.”

  Catie shakes her head a little too quickly. “No, no. I’m fine, I promise.” She sets the water bottle down and marches to Sebastian. “Let’s do this.”

  Maddy shrugs. “All right. Sebastian, Catie, whenever you’re ready.”

  They take their places. Sebastian kneels down and Catie takes the running leap into his arms, her eyes shut so tight they might as well be duct-taped. Even from here I can tell she’s holding her breath, something I know you’re never supposed to do when you jump like this. Sabastian doesn’t get farther than lifting her above his chest before she lets out a high-pitched, undignified scream. He flushes and scrambles to set her on her feet.

  “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” He glances at Maddy, then Hellsworth. “Was I holding the wrong spot?”

  “No, no,” Maddy assures him. “You did fine.” She frowns and walks up to Catie. I clench my fists and dig my heels into the floor. I want so much to be out there, but I know barging in is not the answer.

  “Catie?” Maddy presses. “Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?”

  Catie swallows, but nods. “I’m sure. I wasn’t ready.”

  Hellsworth sneers. “Well, if you kept your eyes open, Miss Klarken, you wouldn’t have screeched like a lost baby bird.”

  Catie bows her head and bites her lip. Her chin trembles, but she clenches her jaw. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Hellsworth cuts her hand through the air, sitting back. “Places. And this time, Miss Klarken, let’s try to finish the number, shall we? We don’t have all day.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  It takes every ounce of control I have not to jump over the lip of the stage and slap that superior smirk off her face. Catie lets out a long breath and catches my eye on her way back to the beginning of the number, giving me a soft, if wavering, smile. It helps keep my anger in check, barely.

  They go again. I watch with bated breath as Catie takes the running leap into the final pose, but this time, she doesn’t make it all the way into Sebastian’s arms before stumbling to a stop, eyes wide and breath labored. Oh God. It wasn’t this bad when she played Wendy in our eighth-grade production of Peter Pan. She made it through most of the rehearsals and backed out about two weeks before opening. Of course, who the hell knows what the fall from those silks was like, especially if it ended with her daughter’s life at stake. She was never bad with ground lifts when we were younger, but clearly, things have changed.

  “Miss Klarken, have you entered a horse race?” Hellsworth barks.

  Catie winces, but shakes her head. “No, ma’am.”

  “Then stop galloping around my stage like a wild mare and make the damned jump!”

  Tears glisten in Catie’s eyes, and I’m inches away from putting a stop to this, consequences be damned.

  Four failed attempts and one epic tirade later, Hellsworth storms out to deal with another call from the bank. The cast and crew scatter, stampeding toward the stairs leading to the dressing rooms so they can scarf down a late lunch.

  Catie stays huddled in the far corner of the theater, head bent over her script, shoulders hunched, posture shuddering.

  “I don’t know what happened,” Sebastian says, wiping the sweat from his brow and sitting down on the stage stairs next to Maddy. “Is she afraid of me? Does she not trust me to hold her?”

  I sigh and walk out to meet them, stationing myself at the top of the steps.

  “It’s not
you,” I assure him.

  Both Sebastian and Maddy face me, Maddy with a hand to her heart. “Jesus, Addie. Give me a heart attack, why don’t you?”

  I let out a breathy laugh. “Sorry. Thought you knew I was back there.”

  “Now we do,” Sebastian retorts. “And how do you know it’s not me? I’m not the most experienced lifter.”

  I shake my head shoulder. “Trust me. It’s not you. Catie’s dealing with something.”

  A gasp echoes through the theater. Catie’s wide, cerulean eyes meet mine, rimmed with red and pleading for me not to reveal any more. Shit. I nod and maneuver around the two of them down the stairs. “Look, it’s not my story to tell, all right?”

  “Well you better do something,” Maddy implores. “Because Hellsworth is one more crappy run-through away from becoming the Terminator.” Sebastian snorts and I roll my eyes.

  “I’ll talk to Catie, okay? Anything else she says is up to her.”

  Maddy nods. “Thanks. You better move fast though. No telling when she’ll be back.”

  I nod. “I know. Go get some lunch and give us some privacy.”

  Once they’re gone, I slide into the plush seat cushion next to Catie.

  “You don’t have to let her treat you like that, you know.”

  “Yes, I do,” she says, not looking up from her script. “You said it yourself, I have a kid to think about.”

  “Which doesn’t mean you have to give others license to treat you like crap.”

  She lets out a long, shuddering breath and meets my gaze. “Lyn,” her voice breaks and a small sob escapes. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and squeeze. She places the binder on the seat next to her and turns up her palms in her lap, still not meeting my eyes. “What am I going to do? If I can’t manage a simple floor lift. . .” She trails off and looks up, eyes hollower and more terrified than I’ve seen them in a long time. “How am I ever going to survive that stupid bubble?”

  I kiss her temple before brushing my wrists over the light mascara tracks staining her cheeks. “Well, for starters, you could tell Maddy the truth.”

  Her gaze cuts to the binder. I cringe. I hate hitting nerves, but there’s no other way through this except forward. I pull one of her hands onto my leg, running the pads of my thumb over the back of it.

  “I can’t,” Catie whispers, fingering the cover of her binder. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not? She’d probably take out the lift if she knew.” Catie laughs, and I frown. “What’s funny?”

  “Taking out the lift won’t solve the bigger issue here.” She shoves to her feet. “If I can’t get in that damned bubble, I’m through!”

  “Catie . . .” But really, I have no idea what to say. She’s right.

  Sinking back down, she buries her face in her hands before choking out, “My career is already over. What’s the point of humiliating myself for nothing?”

  “Hey,” I say, resting a hand on her arm. “Being afraid isn’t something to be embarrassed about. Everyone’s scared of something.”

  Catie scoffs. “Yeah, but it doesn’t keep them from living their lives.”

  “Mine did,” I counter. “My fear of failure kept me from ever stepping on stage again. I never would’ve made that audition tape if you hadn’t insisted.”

  Catie gives me a watery smile and bumps my shoulder. “You’re too good a performer to let something like that keep you down.”

  I grin back and lace our fingers together. “So are you,” I whisper, pressing my forehead against hers. “And if your fear of heights is going to keep you from giving your all to this role, well, we’ll have to conquer it.”

  Catie frowns, worry lines creasing her face. “How?”

  “The same way we do everything,” I say, closing the gap between us until my lips press against hers in a soft but passionate kiss. “Together.”

  Manure assaults my senses as Addie’s truck cruises along an unfamiliar dirt road before the sun has risen in the sky. I moan and my head lulls, nose twitching as I nuzzle further into the leather of the passenger seat.

  “Come on, Cate,” Addie coaxes. “You’re not even watching this sunrise. It’s so much more colorful than what we get in the city.”

  “Lyn, it’s six thirty on a Saturday morning. The only color I want to see is the black inside of my eyelids,” I mutter. “Why did you have to pick me up so darn early anyway?”

  Addie laughs. There’s a groggy edge to her voice and my lips twitch. She’s not as much of a morning person as she’d like to think. “It won’t be much of a surprise if I tell you, will it?”

  “Lyn!” I huff and cross my arms, cracking my eyes so I can glare at her.

  “Catie.” She mimics my whine and sticks out her tongue.

  I scowl at the mischievous glint in her eyes. “Tease.”

  “Spoilsport.”

  “Hey!” I whack her arm. “I resent that.”

  She chuckles and turns down another barely-there road. “Relax, okay? I’ll explain everything once we get there.”

  The odor of dung intensifies and my eyes spring open and begin to water. “You better.” I adjust my seat as we pass what’s supposed to be a neighborhood, with miles of land between the houses. “I hope it doesn’t involve that horrendous smell.” I plug my nose as it gets stronger still.

  “You’ll see,” Addie says in a singsong voice. My stomach flips. I know that smirk. It’s meant nothing but trouble since we met.

  We crest over the next hill. A sizable barn with chipping yellow paint, disheveled shingles, and a fence missing half of its pieces sits next to a towering silo in the distance. The nearby pasture is crowded with mares of every size and color. I swallow and grip the armrests as one of them whinnies and bucks when Addie’s truck breezes past the field and swerves into the gravel parking lot, kicking up dust on the way. A large stable stands across from us and the nearest horse, a massive beast covered in big brown and white patches, slams against the door of his stall. The rusted lock jiggles and I suck in my breath. My hands shake as Addie puts the car in park.

  I turn to her, heart thrumming. “Adaline Davidson, what have you gotten us into?”

  Her grin widens. “An adventure.”

  As if the stench wasn’t enough, by the time Addie and I reach the check-in table in the lobby of the barn, mud cakes my tennis shoes and bits of gravel stick between the rubber.

  “Ugh! Why didn’t you tell me to wear more sensible footwear?” I stamp my heel against the concrete floor of the barn and knocking a few of the pebbles free.

  Addie smiles. “Tennis shoes are sensible. Besides, if I had told you to go out and get riding boots, it would’ve ruined the surprise.”

  “If you had told me, I wouldn’t have come at all.” I shake some hay from the cuffs of my jeans. Eww!

  Addie strides toward the table to sign us in. “Exactly.”

  With a groan, I spin on my heel and head for the worn down wooden bench near the entrance to the barn. To the left of the reception desk spans a long hallway lined with stalls. Four are empty. Those must belong to the horses in the corral. A large, dirt filled ring is visible through the double doors at the back of the lobby. Occupying the rest of the pens are horses of every shape and size, munching on food or staring into space. I scan the stalls until a sharp whinny pierces the air. I yelp as my neck jerks to find the source of the sound. At the far end of the stables near the barn door leading to the pasture is the wild horse from the parking lot. We lock eyes and I shiver.

  Horses can’t give stink eyes. And yet, when I look again, his expression hasn’t changed.

  “Hey.”

  My heart kicks into a gallop and I whirl around only to be met by Addie’s glittering brown eyes and sneaky grin. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  I muster a raspy giggle. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. It was nothing.” I comb a stray lock of hair behind my ear as my eyes dart back to the horse. I don’t think it’s blinked once.

  Addi
e frowns. “What?”

  I flush and twist my hands in my lap. “It’s silly. Besides.” I stand and start toward the corral. “Don’t we have to be somewhere?”

  “Whoa, slow down.” Addie catches my arm and pulls me onto the bench. “Our trainer’s running a bit behind, so we’ve got a few minutes. What’s up?”

  I catch my lip between my teeth and sigh. “Okay. Um, you see that horse over there? The one with the brown and white patches?”

  “Ferdinand?” she asks. “What about him?”

  Figures he’d be named after a bull. “I, uh, don’t think he likes me. He’s been giving me the evil eye since I sat down.”

  Addie’s cheeks sink and her lips pucker, but she manages to swallow the laugh. “Catherine, he’s a horse. Horses don’t do evil eyes.”

  “This one does!” I refute. “Watch, I bet he’ll give you one too.” But as I turn back toward the stall, one of the stable hands unlatches the door and leads him out into the field. I scowl at his behind while Addie snickers.

  “Next time.”

  I fix my glower on her and stick out my tongue. “Believe what you want, but it happened.”

  “Sure it did.” Addie rolls her eyes and bends down, reaching under the bench. “Here, I got you something.” She holds up worn leather riding boots decorated with blue, red, and purple roses, along with a helmet. She’s already wearing hers. “They had an extra pair in the tack room. Figured you’d rather use these than ruin your ‘precious shoes’. If, of course, you don’t mind wearing hand-me-downs.”

  My eyes narrow at the teasing edge in her voice, but I snatch the boots from her grip. “Gimme those.” Secondhand shoes might be gross, but it’s better than tracking mud all over her car when we leave.

  Addie smirks, relinquishing them. “Thought so.”

  As we both switch into more appropriate attire, I take in Addie’s choice of dark washed denim jeans, hugging her hips and shaping her butt in the best way, and the loose red and white button-up plaid shirt billowing around her waist. Her long brown hair covers the turned-up collar and her dark skin shimmers against the faded pattern in the warm light of the morning sun. It takes me a minute, but I realize this is the most relaxed I’ve seen her. Usually her hair is pulled back in a ponytail or updo and her gorgeous figure is hidden under stuffy pantsuits, skirts, or dresses. For the first time, she looks free.