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

by Mary Crawford

  I didn’t think it was possible to be completely mortified while, at the same time, being as happy as you’ve ever been in your whole life. Yet that’s how I’m feeling, along with a million other things. Happy as I am, I do have doubts, and I’m not sure I have any of the right people to talk to about it. My parents are dead, so are my grandparents, and I have no siblings or anyone else. I didn’t expect such happy news to hurt quite as much. Suddenly, I’m feeling very alone in the world.

  Maybe I’m just being irrational and stupid, I don’t really know. But after watching what just a few years of marriage did to my mom, honestly I am more than a little bit scared to become so dependent on someone else. But then my logical side kicks in and realizes that one of the reasons I’ve never been able to fall in love with anyone else is that I never fell out of love with Aidan. Even when he was gone, I measured every guy I met against Aidan and they all fell short. They never even stood a chance.

  My fears must be written pretty clearly on my face because Mrs. Brown comes to me after the dance and offers me one of the administrators cabins with the sage advice to “Ignore the fear in your head and listen to the hope in your heart.” When I look surprised and confused, she confesses that at an earlier time in her life she was once at a crossroads and she didn’t take the time to work it out and she’s regretted the decision every day of her life so, she wants to trade places in the cabins so Aidan and I would have a private place to connect and talk and do whatever we needed to do to work through our problems. With that parting line, she winks at me and told me to “Give love a chance.”

  I am so embarrassed; I didn’t even know how to formulate a socially acceptable reply other than “Thank you so much, I really appreciate it.”

  She pats me on the shoulder and says, “For what it’s worth, I think you two have more than a fighting chance. You guys really seem to love each other. Fight for the real thing; it really is worth it.”

  Aidan walks up behind me and he must have heard nearly all of the conversation because he replies, “Thank you ma’am, I really appreciate the sacrifice you’re making, it means the world to us. I am willing to fight for Tara. Now that I’ve found her again, I’m not going to let her go easily. There is no need to worry about that.”

  “Yes, thank you very much. We appreciate your generosity,” I declare as I gave her a quick hug.

  Aidan steers me toward her cabin. I stop him dead in his tracks as I ask, “What about all of our stuff?”

  “I’ve taken care of that,” he explains. “The PE teacher packed up all of your belongings while the girls were at the campfire tonight. She left a note explaining that you would be back tomorrow for your classes.”

  I sag gratefully as I confess, “Thank you for saving me from an awkward discussion. That was very considerate of you, I appreciate it.”

  “I’m not sure that I would give me credit for too many altruistic motives. If you went back to your dorm room, you would be bombarded with countless questions. This way, I have you all to myself,” Aidan reveals with a lecherous grin.

  “If I didn’t know better, I might think that you had plans to get lucky tonight,” I tease.

  Aidan grins at me as he admits, “I can’t say that thought hasn’t crossed my mind, but I think we have some stuff to talk about first.”

  I frown a little as our cheerful banter grows serious. “Yes, I suppose we do. That was quite a surprise you pulled tonight. Talk about coming out of left field. Don’t get me wrong, the ring is beautiful. But don’t you think it’s a little soon?” I ask, admiring my ring once again. I’ve been staring at it every two minutes since he gave it to me. I wonder how he could possibly know exactly what to get me. I’ve never even mentioned what kind of jewelry I like to wear. In fact, I hardly ever wear any jewelry around Aidan because it’s dangerous to wear it when I’m dancing. “Come to think of it, how did you know what kind of ring to get me?”

  Aidan pats the rustic log bed as he puts pillows up against the headboard. He cuddles me against his side as he signs, “Do you mind if I sign? My voice is kind of shot. I got a little carried away showing off for the kids at rehearsal.”

  “No, of course not,” I sign in return. “Do whatever makes you feel comfortable. That’s the nice thing about being bilingual,” I quip.

  “Don’t think for a moment that I take it for granted,” he responds, rubbing his temples in exhaustion. “First and foremost, I chose that ring because I knew it would look fantastic on your long graceful fingers. I know that you are not a fan of things that are over the top and ostentatious. Sequins, for instance. Hate is too mild a word.”

  I smile against Aidan’s shoulder as I interpret his signs. Ostentatious is a hard word to finger spell. But he’s right; I always complained mightily if I had to wear anything with sequins, which was not that unusual when dancing. “I can’t believe you remember how much I hate sequins.”

  Aidan smiles fondly at the memory as he says, “Yeah you did, but not as much as you hated fluorescent colored feathers.”

  I smirk as I add, “Remember that stupid costume with the headpiece so heavy, I could barely hold my head up?”

  Aidan grins, but I watch as his expression grows serious again. “Tara, I want you to know there’s another reason I chose that ring. I know how proud you are of your heritage. I remember you telling me about the strong women in your ancestry who stood up to the Trail of Tears. I thought the teardrop shape of the diamond in that ring might be a nice way to honor them.”

  The depth of Aidan’s understanding of my many layers, long hidden from the world, is beyond my comprehension. The story that he’s referring to is one I shared with him when we were working on a family heritage project somewhere around the fourth or fifth grade. He was working hard to find a nugget of happiness relating to my family, because I was grieving the loss of my father. So he distracted me by talking about generations far removed from my recent pain. First, he shared legends about his Irish ancestors nursing others through the Great Potato Famine. Of course, I fell right into Aidan’s trap. He knew that I was so competitive, there was no way that I could leave a story like that without a counterpart from my own heritage so I uncharacteristically opened up about my Native American ancestors who traveled the Trail of Tears. It felt good to share something from my mom’s side of the family I was proud of because, during that time, there was so little to be proud of about my mom. She stayed in bed all the time and cried all day. She rarely talked to me and if she did, it was to tell me to stay away from men, because all they ever did was leave. This was confusing to me as a 10 or 11-year-old because I knew it wasn’t my dad’s fault that he was killed by the Chinese government for doing his job.

  Even so, one of the lasting lessons of my childhood was to trust no one, because everyone leaves. My mature, clear thinking brain knows it cannot possibly be true, or at least, it’s not that simple, but the scared orphan in me wonders if mom might have been right all along. I suspect that my fears around this topic are going to be front and center of my discussions with Aidan tonight, even if they’re partly a distraction from that other problem, the big one. PTSD. Tonight is the night I must decide if I’m going to rule my fears, or they’re going to rule me. It’s time to put up or shut up. If this weekend has shown me anything, it’s shown me that Aidan can roll with the punches and come out of the other side smiling. He can easily adapt to any situation with his humor and joy intact. I threw him into a completely unfamiliar situation and he was, quite literally, a rock star. Everyone, young and old, completely adores him. He makes friends easily and respects everyone equally.

  Sure, he sprang a surprise wedding proposal on me in public, but Aidan has never made any secret of the fact that he planned a forever after for us. Even when we were little, he always put my needs above his own and followed me around like a lost puppy. After he found me again, he has always made it clear that he wasn’t leaving unless I ordered him to. I have only myself to blame if I was taken by surprise tonight.
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  Aidan taps me on the knee and signs, “Did I lose you, Gracie? Did you fall asleep?”

  “No, I didn’t fall asleep! I was just thinking, you always seem to know me better than I know myself. You know things about me I’ve never even shared with the Girlfriend Posse. I haven’t known them enough years to tell them everything you know about me! It’s a little bit daunting. I doubt I know you that well, even if I should.”

  “Sure you do,” Aidan assures me. “What kind of pet did I want growing up?”

  “That’s an easy one,” I answer without thought. “You wanted a black and white Great Dane you planned to name Cruella.”

  “Okay, here’s a harder one. Who did I write a fan letter to after he was dead?” he challenges.

  “I don’t know this for sure, but if I were to guess I would say Jim Henson, because you cried for about two weeks after you found out he was dead,” I answer carefully after giving it some thought.

  “See, you know more than you think you do, because I’ve never told another soul about that. But, you know me well enough to put it all together. I cried, because that was the death of my first dream. I felt like I had to reinvent myself after that and determine a whole new direction for my life. But even then you were part of my new dreams. There was never a time when I saw life without you. Many times I wondered whether I was going to be good enough for you, especially right after surgery and before my cochlear implants. I figured you would never accept the new damaged me.”

  “Isn’t it weird that we were both convinced that we loved each other, yet unsure of our own ability to be loved,” I observe. “What happened between my parents, her losing him, me losing them both, you disappearing, all that already made me skittish about love, and then the rape was a final blow to any dream love could actually happen for me, or if it did, that it could last. Yet here I am staring down at one of the most beautiful engagement rings I’ve ever, ever seen in my life. It fits me perfectly, physically and spiritually, and it was given me by my best friend. My head spins when I think about all of the things that happened to bring us here,” I say, voice heavy with emotion.

  Aidan brushes my hair out of my face so he can see my expression. “So, where do we go from here?” he signs.

  “I think it’s time to let you clip those silken strands of fear in the cocoon that’s surrounded me all these years, so my heart can dance,” I sign with a shaky smile. My pulse is beating as fast as hummingbird wings as I wait for a response from him.

  It doesn’t take him long to process what I’ve said. He smiles tenderly and signs, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “Yes, I want to marry you, more than anything in the world,” I joyfully confirm. “My only request is that I’d like to finish school first so I’m not distracted by all the wedding preparation. I know how insane it got with Kiera’s wedding preparations. It’s not something you can do with just part-time focus. So, rather than split my focus, I’d rather just wait until I graduate before I plunge into the world of weddings.”

  “That sounds reasonable to me,” Aidan states. “I have some goals I’d like to pursue before taking on the role of husband, too. I’d like to be able to work full time as a musician, rather than bouncing back and forth between temp jobs. After my experience with 5-Star, I should look into some business management or business law courses to help with the business side of being a musician.”

  “That sounds really perfect, Aidan. This weekend has been an eye-opener for me too. I’m trying to think of ways to combine my two passions. I had so much fun this weekend teaching that I’m thinking of opening a creative arts center for people with disabilities or disadvantaged backgrounds, where I could teach both dance and art and still use my interpreting skills. It would be really cool to have a dance troupe built from a mix of able-bodied and differently abled students,” I explain.

  “That sounds like a great idea!” Aidan replies with enthusiasm, his signs becoming faster and more animated. “The guy I’m housesitting for recently closed down his boxing gym because the tenants stopped paying rent. He’d probably let you hold classes there in exchange for making it look lived in, to deter squatters and criminals.”

  “That would be amazing. Is it in Corvallis?” I ask, excitement lighting my eyes.

  “It’s on the outskirts toward Monmouth. It’s my understanding this guy inherited the place from his family, so it’s no skin off his nose if he doesn’t make a ton of money in rent. He just wants to have honest businesspeople in there,” Aidan answers.

  “Well, it would be great if that’s true. But you know how I feel about things which seem too good to be true.”

  Aidan chuckles. “I totally understand. I felt the same way when he offered me that great place to house sit and offered to pay me to do it. He’s just a genuinely nice guy.”

  “Whatever you say,” I respond skeptically. “I’ll believe it when I see it. Life has taught me differently.”

  Aidan sighs. “I guess if anybody has the right to be a glass empty kind of gal, it’s you. I wish I had the power to go back and make life treat you better. The only thing I can do is take your breath away every day from here on out. Anyway, you can afford to pay him rent.”

  In one smooth motion, Aidan turns his body, slides his arms under my legs and around my back, and pulls me up on his lap. He takes his time thoroughly kissing me. I’ve been craving this kind of kiss all week. It tugs at all my previously inhibited desires. Instinctively, I dig my fingers into the strong muscles on Aidan’s shoulders trying to get even closer. I press my chest against his. My thin leotard hides nothing. When we come up for air to keep from certain death, Aidan breathes harshly and signs, “Every time I touch you, you redefine beautiful for me.”

  I smile at him and sign, “Thank you, but right now I think we both are rather strange examples of beauty.” I reach up and drag my thumb over his bottom lip. He sucks in a sharp breath at the unexpected contact. I grin as I show him the layer of silver lipstick and glitter on my thumb. “Is this the look you were going for?” I tease.

  Aidan looks sheepish as he admits, “It’s not my most manly look, so I’m going to say no. I bet you’re getting itchy by now, too. Hang tight, and I’ll be right back.”

  Aidan carefully sets me back against the pillows. He grabs two large ice buckets and heads toward the restroom. I’m curious what he’s doing, but with Aidan, it’s hard to tell. He could be planning anything from giving me a manicure to setting off bottle rockets. There is just no telling. Whatever his plan might have been, it was not my plan to fall asleep. Yet, the next thing I know, Aidan is gently washing off my face paint with a warm, soapy washrag and rinsing with warm water. I haven’t had someone else wash my face in years; it feels amazing. I think if I won the lottery, I would hire someone to give me facials on a regular basis because I find them so relaxing. Aidan is exceedingly careful not to get makeup in my eyes as he wipes every trace of face paint away. The slightly rough texture of the washcloth is sensual on my over-sensitized skin. My breath comes in short pants.

  Aidan seems composed enough, but his hands are trembling slightly as he takes my hand and diligently cleans each finger, pausing to kiss my engagement ring before briefly taking it off to clean under it. This time, as he slides it back on, he gives me a deep searing kiss that makes me want to curl my toes. After he finishes with both sides of my hands and wrists, he places a feather light kiss on the inside of each elbow that makes my body shudder with anticipation.

  Aidan rolls me onto my side and lifts my hair off the nape of my neck. He gently removes the paint, being careful not to pull the small hairs on the tender part of my scalp. After rinsing my hair, he kisses the vertebrae from the nape of my neck to the top of my leotard. This has me gasping and moaning involuntarily.

  “Easy Tara, we’ll get there. Relax and enjoy the journey,” Aidan murmurs.

  I take a deep breath and try to do just that, but my body has other ideas. My hips buck when Aidan hits a particularl
y sensitive spot on my shoulder. Aidan continues methodically removing all the paint as he rolls me over on my back to wash my neck and my chest. When he reaches the top of my leotard, he lifts an eyebrow in question.

  “Please don’t stop,” I plead. “Some of the paint may have dripped down there,” I add as a lame excuse. Truthfully, I just don’t want him to stop touching me.

  He peels the leotard down so slowly, I want to scream in frustration. My outfit makes no secret of my desire. But then again, neither do his tight jeans. I reach for his belt buckle to help speed this along. But he instantly catches on to my strategy and shakes his head no while signing “No. Not tonight. This is my gift to you.”

  “Why?” I practically whine in frustration.

  “If I’m undressed and you’re touching me, I’ll be too distracted to focus proper attention on you. So, for now, it’s all about you,” he explains.

  I kiss his palm and reply, “When you put it that way, it doesn’t feel like such a raw deal. Forget I said anything.”

  Aidan winks as he whispers, “I plan to. Now, where was I?”

  “Oh about here,” I answer as I shimmy out of my leotard seemingly faster than Aidan can blink. Who knew all those years of backstage costume changes could come in so handy?”

  Aidan just shakes his head as he muses, “Why do I always forget how competitive you are? You look so sweet and fragile, but you’re a warrior when it comes to games.” He looks at my breasts with their tight dark buds and his eyes glitter with anticipation. “Although, I think we may both be winners here,” he signs.

  “Aidan?” I interrupt. “I don’t mean to be pushy, but please be quiet and put your mouth and hands to better use, before I spontaneously combust.”

  Aidan laughs out loud and teases, “So it’s like that, is it?”

  I fervently kiss him and confide, “You have no idea.”

  “I’ll bet I do,” Aidan counters. “Every time I’ve so much as thought of you in more a dozen years, I’ve needed a fire extinguisher.”