by Debra Doxer
The parents who dropped off their kids arrive to pick them up. Some of them get out of their cars to chat with Cole before they go. Several of the dads are unabashed fans of his, and many of the women are too. Some women linger longer than others. What they’re doing seems a lot like flirting to me.
“Who’s that?” Deedee asks, looking in Cole’s direction as she moves us away from Tag.
“You don’t recognize him?”
She squints and tilts her head. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Blackthorn Tavern, the stockbroker . . .”
“No!” She squeezes my arm. “He’s the guy from that night? The one you—?”
I nod. “That’s Cole, and he’s not a stockbroker. He used to play professional hockey.”
“No kidding. Do you think they were all hockey players? You’d think they’d want to brag about that.”
“Maybe they didn’t want the attention. Would it surprise you to know he’s my sister’s neighbor?”
Deedee’s eyes grow round. “You’re kidding? You mean you’ve seen him before today? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Because he hates me. I swallow and shift on my feet.
She looks closer at me. “I remember you liked him. A lot.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Is he married? Kids? Oh wait, if he’s here he must have a kid, right?”
I look over at Derek talking to Langley across the room. “He’s divorced, and the tall boy by the window is his.”
Her brows rise at that divorce news, which tells me she thinks it’s good.
“Am I supposed to eat this thing?” Tag asks, interrupting when he approaches again with a cupcake in his hand. “One of those little girls gave it to me.”
Deedee looks at him from beneath lowered brows. “I could recommend you do something else with it.”
Tag frowns at her. “Funny. I’m going to get changed.” As we watch, he tosses the cupcake in the trash on his way to the dressing room.
“Just kidding,” Deedee calls after him, but he doesn’t turn around.
“Still hating him on my behalf?”
“I’m trying to hold on to the hate, but he’s been pretty nice today. Do you think he wants to get back together with you?”
I scoff. Her question seems absurd after the things Tag said to me at Boomer’s. “Is he still with Meredith?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs.
“Maybe he actually has a conscience and feels bad about the way we left things.”
“If he wants you back, do you want him?”
I sigh and look across the room. My gaze lands on Cole again. He smiles at an attractive woman, another one of the mothers, I assume. I remember that smile, remember how it made me feel that night.
“Maybe he’s the reason you’re not answering my question about Tag?”
Deedee studies Cole with obvious appreciation, and I force my gaze away from him, annoyed at the way I keep seeking him out.
“These moms sure like him,” she says. His group of female admirers has grown to four.
“He used to play for the Sharks,” I say quietly. “He’s kind of a local celebrity around here.”
With her eyes still on Cole, Deedee says, “Look at him. Now that’s a real man, if you know what I mean.”
I want to laugh and say something sarcastic, but I can’t because I know exactly what she means. Cole isn’t like Tag or her boyfriend, Ian, or any of the guys we know. He’s older, maybe in his early thirties, and so different from the men I’m used to. Compared to him, they’re all boys, immature and insipid, while in his own quiet way, Cole is as strong as steel, impenetrable, confident, and virile. Virile is a word I’ve never used before, and I only think of it now because he embodies it so completely.
Deedee continues to eye Cole as she licks her lips, and I don’t have to be a mind reader to know what she’s thinking. All the women in here are probably thinking the same thing, including me.
“So his kid is friends with your niece?” Deedee asks.
“Yes, and there’s no point in getting any ideas about Cole because he hates me. He’s friends with my sister, which is probably why he hates me, and if I know my sister, he’s sleeping with her too.”
She faces me. “You think he’s sleeping with your sister? And why does being friends with your sister mean he hates you?”
With a tired sigh, I reach down to pet the top of Siegfried’s head. It would take hours to explain it all to her.
“Nikki . . .”
I suppose I could give her an abridged version. “My sister and I have differences that go back a long way. She tends to say less-than-flattering things about me to people, and whatever she told Cole, he believes it and he’s formed a bad opinion of me because of it.”
Deedee’s mouth puckers as she leans back to look at me. “Aren’t you and your sister a little old for sibling rivalry?”
“It’s more than sibling rivalry. A lot more.”
When she eyes me curiously, I shake my head, and Deedee knows enough not to probe any further. The issues between my sister and me go so much deeper, but no matter how close I’ve become to Deedee, there are details I’ll never share with her or anyone else again.
When I come out of the dressing room later, back in my street clothes, I find Tag standing by the front desk with Deedee. They’re both waiting for me.
“You’re not riding back with us?” Tag asks.
“I can’t.”
“Deedee says—”
He abruptly cuts off when she smacks him in the arm. Then Deedee’s gaze shifts upward to a place above my head and she shoots me a meaningful look.
The air around me seems to shift, and I turn to find Cole standing there.
“Did you hear from Renee?” he asks.
I nod. “She called last night. She needed a break. You were right.”
Cole studies me as if trying to figure out how I feel about this. “When is she coming back?”
“In a week.”
His right eyebrow quirks up. “A week? She asked you to watch Langley for a week?”
“She never actually asked.”
Cole’s reaction is subtle, but there’s a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “Well, I’m sure Langley will enjoy having you here.”
He doesn’t intend to comment, it seems. His allegiance to Renee remains intact.
“I’ll enjoy my time with her too.”
Cole smiles tightly, and we look at each other for one silent beat. Then one beat turns into two, and when it’s about to stretch into an awkward three, he leans down close like he wants to say something. His expression is a palette of contrasts. His eyes are fierce, but his face is smooth and impassive.
“I enjoyed watching you dance,” he says. “You move like poetry.” Then he straightens and clears his throat as if his compliment surprised him as much as it did me. Without another word, he nods and leaves to collect Derek.
Unable to look away, I track his movements as I hear his words repeat in my head. He complimented me, and it was a beautiful compliment. Poetry. It’s what Miss Emily once told me dancing should be.
“Who’s that?” Tag asks with a slight edge.
“Someone who thinks I move like poetry. But he’s probably not knowledgeable enough on the subject to realize I’m not a great dancer.”
Two red spots appear at the top of Tag’s cheeks. “Nikki, look, I’m sorry about what I said. I was hurt and angry. You are great. You’re better than half the dancers in the company.”
“You were hurt,” I mutter as I watch Cole and Derek walk out the door.
Since I got to Cooperstown, I haven’t once thought of Tag. Distance has given me a better perspective. I realize Tag’s opinion is just that, his, and I think he alters it when it suits him. I don’t need compliments when he wants me and insults when he doesn’t. Even if he was right the first time, dancing is all I know. Whether I’m great or merely good, it’s all I’ll ever want to do.
&
nbsp; “Look,” I say to Tag. “I appreciate your coming today, but I’d better get Langley home.”
His lips turn down. “You should come back with us. Dennis won’t like you missing a week.”
“I can’t.”
Tag loosely grabs my arm. “This is serious, Nikki. There has to be something you can do. Your sister can’t expect you to drop everything to babysit her kid for a week.”
“A week?”
Tag and I both turn when we hear the high-pitched sound of Langley’s voice. She stands in the doorway to the studio, staring at us in horror.
“Is that true?” she asks. “Is Mom gone for a week?”
I glare at Tag before I walk over and bend down to her eye level. “It’s true. I was going to tell you when we got home. I didn’t talk to your mom, but she left a message saying she’d be back in a week.”
“Why? Where is she?”
Her eyes are frantic, filled with fear, and I wish I had an answer. “I don’t know. But she’ll be back next weekend. That’s what she said.”
Langley takes a step away from me. “You can’t stay here for a whole week. Can you?”
As I look at my niece, I realize that I have nothing to do for the next week that’s more important than making Langley feel safe.
“Of course I can stay.” I smile and try to convey confidence I don’t feel. “Your mom left me your schedule so I know where you have to be and when. We’re going to have a great week together.”
Langley furrows her brow and looks as if she’s going to cry.
Siegfried chooses that moment to walk over and stand beside me. I scratch behind his ears.
“Siegfried is staying too.”
Langley stares at him. “Is that your dog? Sieg-what?”
“Siegfried, and yes, he’s my dog. I got him two weeks ago.”
She touches a tentative hand to his head.
In response, Siegfried pants a little harder and raises his muzzle to meet her hand when it comes down again.
“She would have told me if she was going away for a week,” Langley says softly as she looks up at me with shining eyes.
“You can listen to the message when we get home if you want.”
She nods, but all the happy smiles I saw on her face during the show are long gone. My anger at my sister threatens to boil over.
What’s going on with you, Renee? How could you leave this beautiful little girl in the hands of a person you dislike and distrust so much, even if she is your own sister?
Langley and I listen to the message three times in a row before she’s satisfied.
“She sounds okay,” Langley says.
“She sounds fine.” The aloof tone Renee used is why I decided to let Langley hear the message, and I wonder if Renee purposely made it appropriate for her daughter to hear.
“It’s still strange, though,” she adds. “She should have told us.”
“Yeah. She should have.”
After Langley goes to sleep, I clean up from dinner, make a phone call, and then bring Siegfried into the backyard to get some fresh air and to look at the stars again. He seems to like the suburbs better than Tag did, taking his time to explore the yard, sniffing every bush and rolling around like a puppy in the grass.
Next door, Cole is back on his deck with his drink in hand. I can hear the ice cubes in his glass clinking again, but this time I’m not going over there to talk to him. I’m no glutton for punishment.
Renee has two lounge chairs on her patio with a small round table between them. I lie down on one and look up at the sky. A moment later, I hear a soft grunt as Siegfried climbs up on the other lounger and lays down. He’s good company, I think as I watch his dark eyes glitter in the moonlight, and smile to myself.
Despite the long, exhausting day, my body is tight and restless and my mind is spinning. I left a message with Dennis’s assistant before I came out here, explaining I had a family emergency and would be gone for at least a day or two. Better to string the days out, I decided, and call again midweek to tack on a few more. If I say I’ll be gone a whole week up front, Dennis may blow a gasket.
It’s ridiculous that the need for a week off precipitates such anxiety, and I wonder if other dance companies are just as uncompromising. I’ve heard they are and that some are even worse. The world of dance is a competitive place with someone always waiting in the wings to take your spot. It’s a ruthless environment, and even though I expected that when I got to the company, living it is a whole different story.
The irony is that I could really use a week off, although I’d never purposely take one. Sitting under the stars, listening to the quiet is something I would never do at home. Instead I’d rehearse late into the night and worry about my grand jeté and my knee.
But as I sit here now, there’s a part of me that would rather be with my niece and the stars and the distant presence of a man who thinks I move like poetry, even though he doesn’t like me very much.
In the morning, I realize how independent Langley is. She gets dressed, brushes her teeth, and pulls her hair back into a ponytail all on her own.
“I’m impressed,” I say as she sits down at the kitchen table in front of the bowl of cereal I poured for her.
“Why?” She shovels a spoonful into her mouth.
“It’s great the way you get yourself ready for school.”
She gives me an odd look. Maybe all eight-year-olds get themselves ready for school. I honestly have no idea.
“If you finish breakfast in time, you can walk Siegfried with me before we have to leave.”
“You mean Ziggy?”
“Ziggy?”
“I gave him a nickname. I thought he could use one.”
I stifle a laugh because her tone is so serious. Ziggy. I wonder if he’ll actually answer to that.
“Did my mom call again?” she asks.
I shake my head.
“If she does, can I talk to her?”
“Of course. If you’re with me when she calls.”
Langley says nothing after that as she continues to eat. I want to ask her questions about Renee, like how she seemed last week and the week before that. Did Langley notice anything off or different? But those questions may worry her, and I don’t want to do that. It isn’t easy to act casually around her when everything feels like such a mess, but I have to. I never want to see that look of fear she wore yesterday when she learned her mother wouldn’t be home for another week.
After breakfast and a quick walk with Siegfried, we get into Renee’s car and I let Siegfried come along for the ride. As we pull out of the driveway, we see Cole and Derek get into Cole’s SUV.
“Do you ever ride to school with Derek?” I ask because it would make sense for them to carpool.
“No.”
“Why not?”
Langley shrugs. “I don’t know. Don’t forget I have soccer after school today.”
“I won’t.” I saw it on Renee’s schedule. Langley has soccer two days a week after school, and dance class one day.
Dropping Langley off at the elementary school I attended is surreal. The kids have changed and the styles have changed, but otherwise, the sprawling brick building looks exactly the same. I can’t wait to leave the place after she gets out of the car.
When I pull back into Renee’s driveway, I notice a sleek Mercedes parked in front of Cole’s house. He’s outside talking to someone and the discussion appears heated. Both men gesture at each other, and the hard set of Cole’s jaw indicates he’s not pleased by whatever the other man is saying.
As I watch, the other man gets into the Mercedes and leaves. Once he’s gone, Cole rakes his hands through his hair and his face creases with anguish. My instinct is to walk over there and see if he’s all right, but I stop myself. With how he feels about me, my appearance in his driveway probably wouldn’t help matters.
I push open the car door and Siegfried jumps out, but he doesn’t follow me to the house. Instead he walks to the far end of
Renee’s yard and looks over at Cole, who still hasn’t moved. He stands there stiffly, his gaze downward, his hand at the back of his neck.
Siegfried glances at me and then back at Cole again. It’s like Siegfried can sense his pain and is helpless to ignore it. I can’t ignore it either.
When I nod at Siegfried, he trots in Cole’s direction. I’m halfway to Cole’s driveway when Siegfried reaches him.
At first Cole only looks down at him, but after a second he bends and says “hey, boy” as he offers his hand for Siegfried to sniff. He must have seen Siegfried at the studio yesterday, and he probably spotted him in the backyard last night.
“What’s his name?” Cole asks when he senses I’m close.
“Siegfried.”
“Unusual name,” he says the way everyone does.
“His last owner named him.” If I felt more comfortable, I’d tell Cole about Prince Siegfried from Swan Lake and how I felt he was meant to be my dog. But we’re miles from a friendly conversation like that.
Cole nods absently and keeps his gaze on Siegfried. “How long have you had him?”
“A couple of weeks.”
His brows arch up. “Really? He’s no puppy.”
“He certainly isn’t. He’s an old man, although the shelter didn’t know exactly how old. His owner died and at his age, they were afraid no one would adopt him.”
“But you did.”
I shrug, wondering if I should stick to small talk. Despite Cole’s casual tone, I can see how tense he is. I can’t pretend I don’t.
“You looked upset when we drove up. Is everything okay?”
He expels a heavy breath. “Everything’s fine.”
It’s not fine. The deep crease between his eyes and the ticking muscle in his cheek confirm that, but I suppose it’s none of my business.
“Okay. Well, nice to see you.” I cringe at my awkward politeness and turn toward Renee’s house, and Siegfried moves to follow me.
“Nichole, wait.”
“It’s Nikki,” I say, turning back. “Please call me Nikki.”
“You told me your name was Nichole that night.”
I listen for an accusation in his tone, but I don’t hear one. “You were a stranger. It seemed safer to give you that name since no one calls me by it.” I tilt my head at him. “We’re still strangers, by the way. Even though you may think you know me.”
