So the Heart Can Dance (A Hidden Beauty Novel Book 2)

by Mary Crawford

  It turns out the art teacher and two teachers that teased us about our love story are absolute pros when it comes to decorating large spaces, and they’re essentially done by the time we arrive to help. Tara sets up finishing touches on a few roundtables around the outskirts of the dance floor with small LED lights intended look like candles and large shiny doodads that look like miniature party hats and glitter. When everyone is satisfied that it looks festive enough, I sit down at the piano and perform a mini concert for Tara. She warns me, “Aidan O’Brien, don’t you dare make me cry. My face paint is not completely waterproof. Keep your tearjerker songs to yourself for now.”

  “Don’t look at me!” I protest. “I can’t help it if you find every single thing I sing so sentimental.”

  As a joke, I launch into the Sesame Street classic, C is for Cookie. Much to my amazement, Tara starts to mist up. I watch her with alarm as I sign, “Gracie, I meant it as a joke. Honestly, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  Tara frantically signs back, “No! Don’t stop! It just reminds me of my dad. We used to watch that and the Electric Company together, because they were great for grammar skills. Those were some of the happiest times in my life. I just remembered how much I miss him. But please, go on.”

  I nod my understanding, but I’m still concerned. “Is it going to hurt you more if I sing my favorite Sesame Street song?” I inquire.

  “It may sting a little, but the joy of those memories will make up for it,” she answers with a watery smile.

  I finish out C is for Cookie and transition into one of my all-time favorites, Rainbow Connection. I don’t know if Tara remembers this, but one of my childhood dreams was to become a Jim Henson puppeteer. I was so sad when I grew up enough to understand that the legend had passed away, and I wouldn’t be able to learn from him. But I still tried extremely hard to learn every voice of all the characters in the Muppet universe.

  The matronly teacher who I’ve since learned is named a very sensible Mildred Brown pulls a Kleenex from her pocket and surreptitiously hands it to Tara as I get to the chorus. I watch with concern as Tara dabs delicately at her eyes. I mentally kick myself, because I knew I should’ve moved on to a different genre. But Tara gives me a tumultuous smile and signs, “Thank you. I love you so much.”

  I breathe a huge sigh of relief. When I finish the song, I sign, “I love you too,” which in sign language translates roughly to ‘I love you the same’. There is no truer statement. For as long as I can remember, Tara has been the other half of my heart and soul.

  I begin playing Walking on Sunshine. At the moment, I can’t remember who the original artist is. I just know I end up playing this song a lot at class reunions.

  Tara grins as she signs, “Nice! I feel like I need to put on some neon-colored leg warmers and scrunchies.”

  “Feel free to belt out some breakdancing moves over there. No one is stopping you,” I say, as I play the piano solo.

  “Thanks, but for once I’m going to pass up a challenge. I’ve got bigger things to do tonight,” she remarks.

  “That’s too bad,” I tease, “because I’ll bet you do a mean wave.”

  I notice a large cluster of students coming in the door, so I quickly wrap up my impromptu concert and start greeting them. I quickly lose sight of Tara as she puts on her social hat as well and is swallowed up by a crowd of students.

  For the first half hour, the dance is typical of every bat mitzvah and mixed gender birthday party I’ve ever played. The boys are lined up on one side of the cabin and girls on the other. A few brave faculty members are awkwardly trying to dance to music they’re unfamiliar with to get the ball rolling, but no one is willing to make that first critical move to crack the ice. Suddenly, I hear the sound system abruptly squawk as Tara strolls onto the stage, turns on the presentation system, and jacks up the speakers. She has a bowl of earplugs she passes out to the audience as she simultaneously speaks and signs instructions. “If you can hear normally and would like to stay that way, I recommend using these. If you have a cochlear implant or hearing aids, I recommend turning those down or off. It’s about to get obscenely loud in here. We’re about to get this party officially started, so get ready for the ‘No Beats and Slow Feet Dancers.’ When you see them dance, you’ll see they have a very wicked sense of humor, because nothing could be further from the truth.”

  Tara signs instructions to me, “When you see me give you a signal through the curtain, please play track one on the playlist that says Camp.” I have no problem doing this for her. It’s a familiar routine. Her mom rarely pulled herself together enough to attend her performances, and often it was a performer’s responsibility to get a friend or family member to cue their music for a competition. In turn, she was often my page-turner for music recitals, because my parents were out of town auditioning with Rory.

  I give her a thumbs up and sign, “No problem, I’ve got you covered.” I walk over to the presentation controls and watch the curtain for her signal. When I see her hand, I press play and jump off the stage to sit in the audience. I’m grateful she gave us that warning to turn down our cochlear implants. I can feel the opening beats of Thriller come up through the soles of my feet. It’s an organic experience. The crowd cheers when they see their classmates all decked out in costume and full-face paint. They line up with military precision. I have no way of knowing which faces she painted and which were done by the student, Sadie. They all look Hollywood worthy. It’s an eclectic group of costumes, from bubblegum cute to almost graphically gross. One guy looks like he has an earthworm crawling out of his eye. It’s very realistic. The students work their way through some very complex choreography. I don’t personally do a whole lot of dancing, but I’ve hung out enough with Tara and my brother to know the difference between simple choreography and the tough stuff. I can tell Tara didn’t take it easy on these guys, even though they had very little time to learn it.

  One student is clearly having trouble staying up with the rest of the group. Tara suddenly works her way back through the rows of students to stand beside him and help get him back on track. Her encouragement is very subtle, and most folks probably don’t even notice. But it’s obvious to me, since I’m familiar with Tara’s ability to have discreet side conversations in sign language.

  Suddenly she stops and moves her way to the center of the group. The music changes to an instrumental version of Thriller, with a very heavy emphasis on piano and drums. The students peel away from Tara to form a semi-circle around her. In effect, it places her in her own spotlight. Tara does a unique cross between jazz and contemporary dance. It pays homage to Michael Jackson’s dancing without being an exact copy. You can see nods to the moonwalk and the sharp almost B-Boy krumping moves, as well as the complex footwork Michael Jackson was famous for. Despite all that complexity, Tara never loses her grace and style. At heart, I think, she will always be a ballet dancer.

  Tara fades back into the group of dancers and another group emerges. These must be the dancers who intend to pursue dancing as a career. They are more advanced than the rest of the group and are performing more complex moves. Tara and the dance teacher are clearly spotting them as they’re performing a series of difficult lifts. One student performs some seriously impressive slow motion animation. For the finale, the total group comes together and performs intricate, synchronized moves.

  When they finish, the entire audience is on their feet wildly waving their hands in the air, in the deaf culture’s version of clapping. Row by row, all the dancers take a deep theater style bow. At the end of the bow, students push Tara to the front and present her with a bouquet of yellow roses. Once again, everyone in the room stomps their feet and waves their hands in appreciation. Tara turns and acknowledges all the other dancers. When she faces the audience again, she signs, “Thank you so much, but I couldn’t have pulled it off without the help of these very talented dancers.” She turns and motions the dancers off the stage. As she does so, she signs to me, “Play t
rack two.” I wait for the last person to clear the stage before pressing play on track two.

  To my delight, it’s Everybody Wants to Rule the World by Tears for Fears. Tara, the administration, faculty, and all the students who performed go over to the students standing on the sidelines and pull them into the middle of the dance floor to dance. I figure she would want me to follow suit, so I walk over to a couple of girls and invite them to dance with me. After copious amounts of giggling, they both consent and we proceed to the dance floor. It’s hard to see under the disco light, but I’m pretty sure they’re making fun of my ancient dancing style. I will be the first to admit I’m not up to date on modern dancing techniques. I should’ve had Tara give me a brush-up session. As I look around the room, though, almost everyone seems to be having a great time. I spot Tara with her head tossed back in full-on laughter. It makes me smile. Just before the song ends, Tara goes over to her cell phone and adjusts the settings so that her playlist will play automatically. The next few choices are much more modern and include artists like Lorde, Rihanna, Beyoncé, Miley Cyrus, Ed Sheeran and Usher.

  Finally I have to leave the dance floor to get ready for my own set. It’s been so long since I’ve danced that I’ve forgotten how exhausting it really is.

  Jumping onstage, I sit on the stool and grab my guitar. The rest of the band sees me and hops on stage. It’s a little strange to have someone else back me on piano, but Doug is really good. Gregg is playing drums, Darius is playing the violin, and Zach has me covered on electric guitar. Stan is playing steel guitar, Vincent can play either the flute or the clarinet and Andy is backing me up on acoustic guitar. Vincent and Zach are above-average vocalists, so they’ll provide backup vocals for me. I let the guys in the band choose songs, for the most part. They’ve chosen a pretty eclectic mix. We start with Wanted by Hunter Hayes, move on to Lego House by Ed Sheeran, and finish with Home by Philip Phillips.

  The crowd again goes wild. The boys are eating up their newly attained status as rock stars in the making. As planned, the boys and I leave the stage and evenly space ourselves across the dance floor after I make a quick stop at the presentation station to replace Tara’s phone with mine. I punch up the one song on my playlist and press start, then run back to take my place in line. Much to my amusement, the guys have come up with fedoras of their own. I decided to surprise Tara with a little choreography of my own so we somewhat haphazardly invented our own line dance to Jesse McCarthey’s Beautiful Soul by watching YouTube videos. It’s not terrible, if I say so myself. I hope Tara is paying attention to the lyrics, because that’s why I chose this particular song.

  The guys don’t know this, but the dance is not the biggest surprise I have in store for her. I just hope it doesn’t make her cry or throw her into a panic attack. But she seems more relaxed here than I’ve seen her in any other environment. I’m wearing a wireless mic that feeds into the speakers, so when the lyrics start, I step out of the line and start to sing directly to Tara. As I watch her expression, I can tell she’s paying attention to the lyrics. They are so true. I’m not with her just because she’s a pretty face. I love her beautiful soul, and I would chase her forever if it takes that long to win her love. By the time I finish the song, she is standing in the front row, which is perfect for what I plan to do next.

  I motion her closer to me. When she’s standing directly in front of me, I link her left index finger with mine and stick my right hand in my vest pocket. I kneel down on one knee as nearly everyone in the room gasps, including Tara. Tears gather in her eyes and her hand starts to shake.

  I’m so glad I turned my cochlear implant back up so I can hear her whisper, “Aidan Jarith O’Brien, you are so lucky I love you so much, because otherwise I might kill you. As it is, I’m ready to faint.”

  I smile crookedly as I sign and vocalize, even if my voice is rough with emotion, “Tara Grace Windsong Isamu, you have been my best friend for as long as I have memories. I cannot imagine my life without you. Will you please walk by my side and be my beautiful soul for as long as we live?”

  I wait the longest seconds of my life. I thought the wait for my cochlear implant to be turned on seemed infinite, but it was nothing compared to this. I can hear every resounding beat of my heart. The whole room is an echo chamber. I swear I can hear the whole audience hold their collective breath.

  Finally, Tara looks up at me with tears streaming down her face. She signs yes with her left hand as she voices the word in a husky, barely there tone. She flattens her hand out to allow me to put a small teardrop shaped diamond ring on her finger. She draws in a deep breath when she sees it. “Aidan, it’s beautiful. It’s perfect for me. When did you pick it out?”

  I flush a little as I admit, “That morning after breakfast, when I ran into you on the beach after Jeff and Kiera’s wedding.”

  Tara places her hand over her heart in shock. “Geez, AJ, I thought this was quick. The tryouts and taping of the TV show took months. Kiera and Jeff have been married almost a year now. How could you have possibly known the day after you found me again?” she asks with a confused expression on her face.

  “Tara, you were my best friend for so many years,” I explain. “That never changed in the time we were apart. When I found you again, it was like finding my other half. I knew we would have things to work out, but I never doubted that we would be together, forever.”

  Tara sways a little and blurts, “Wow! That’s a lot to process. I want to marry you, but I’m not sure I’m ready. At least, not right away. I only have a little bit of school to finish. I bounced around so much in my life, I’d like to finish something just once.”

  I gather her into a close embrace and murmur in her ear, “Timing is just a detail. I’ll wait for you.”

  She collapses against me for a second before collecting herself and straightening her spine. “How do I look?” she asks, a bit frantic.

  “Perfect as always, Gracie,” I assure her, as I gently pat her face with a tissue.

  “Aidan O’Brien!” she chastises, “can’t you be serious for a single second?”

  “I am perfectly serious,” I insist. “Aside from a little glow at your temples from non-stop dancing, you’ve come through this whole ordeal unscathed. We established a really long time ago that I don’t give a rat’s patootie about a little bit of sweat. So it’s all good.”

  “Not funny, AJ!” she huffs as she grabs the Kleenex from my hand and dabs at her hairline.

  “I wasn’t trying to be funny,” I explain. “Gracie, there isn’t a time I don’t find you stunning. No joke. I have to go finish my set with the boys. Go have a cold strawberry lemonade and some chocolate chip cookies. If you wouldn’t mind, would you please bring your fiancé a lemonade on the stage?”

  “Sure,” she stammers as she studies her ring. “This is so surreal. I still can’t believe it! Oh my gosh! I’m engaged!”

  As if on cue, it seems like the whole audience starts to sign “Kiss, kiss, kiss!” They stomp their feet and wave their hands for emphasis. Tara and I look a bit shell-shocked. That moment was so intensely personal, I think we both lost track of the fact they were even there.

  I shrug and look at Tara as I say, “Well, it was drilled into us for years that you always have to do your best to please an audience. What do you say?”

  She elegantly lifts a shoulder and an eyebrow as only she can do. She bites her bottom lip in indecision for a second, then announces, “I would hate to let them down. It would be a pity, since everyone has worked so hard.”

  I figure that’s as close to a hand-engraved invitation as I’m going to get, so I place one hand behind her back and the other at her waist, then draw her close for a kiss. In deference to the age of our audience, I don’t give her the type of kiss I’d really like to, but for dramatic flair I drape her over my arm in a Hollywood type kiss. When I do that, several of the students start to whistle and stomp their feet. Many of them are high-fiving each other.

  When I pull Tara
upright and we pull apart, she signs to me and voices for the audience, “Wow, Aidan! You sure know how to make a woman weak in the knees. It’s a good thing I’ve taken you off the market.”

  Titters of laughter travel through the audience and grow louder as I respond, “The feeling is mutual, gorgeous Gracie, believe me.”

  One of the students pipes up from the audience and says, “They should have a couples’ dance like at the prom.”

  Another girl agrees and adds, “I have just the song on my playlist,” she runs to the front of the cabin and attaches her phone to the presentation system.

  I turn my cochlear implants back off as John Legend’s All of Me blasts through the speakers. I pull Tara closer to me in a rather PG-rated rendition of a Rumba. She is like a wish, a dream, and an answer to my prayers, all wrapped up in a fantasy. This is actually not the first time we’ve done this dance. I don’t know if she even remembers, but Rory went through a really flaky stage where he was always late to practice, and I often stepped in as her practice dummy. She always thought it was really funny, because I took great care to disguise my true feelings under the guise of class clown. Secretly I always rooted for Rory to be as late as possible to class. I never overtly sabotaged him, but I didn’t exactly encourage him to get there early.

  It’s odd to be performing such a personal dance in front of nearly a hundred very curious sets of eyes, but we make the best of that sweet, sentimental moment. I’m having the same kind of epiphany Tara had a few moments ago. My best friend just agreed to be my wife, and the weight of the world is lifted off my shoulders.