The Blitzed Series Boxed Set: Five Contemporary Romance Novels

by JJ Knight

  She was dancing for him.

  Chapter 5: Samuel

  Samuel dropped Cassandra off at day care the next morning as if nothing had changed. He sat at his kitchen table, the sketchbook open in front of him. He should look for a job, scour want ads, sign up for online resumé sites.

  And he would. He was practical.

  But first, he wanted something for himself, a lightness, peace. He flipped to the sunny yellow image, examining it for flaws. Not of her, of course, but in his technique. He corrected a few lines, adjusted the color of her lips. Better.

  His pulse quickened as he turned to an empty page. He had only drawn her out of context one time, sitting at the Riverwalk, lights strung behind her. He wanted to do it again, to imagine some new setting, some new way they could connect without hard benches and mothers and the pressure of the hour ending.

  His hand moved almost of its own volition, filling the page. She walked, her head slightly cocked, as if listening to him talk. The arched columns of Mission San José patterned her with light and shadow. Sun struck her forehead like a kiss from God. Her eyes were kind and concerned.

  The hours flew by and only the rumble of his belly told him that he had missed lunch. He poured a bowl of cereal, too impatient for anything else. He wanted to do more with her, so he turned another page.

  This time she walked a tight rope, just a few feet from the ground, a metal wire strung between concrete pillars downtown. Her arms were outstretched, fingers arched into perfect curves, her eyes on her slender bare feet.

  He allowed himself to appear in this image, his hands rising up from the corner, held out in case she lost her balance. To catch her, if she fell.

  At two o’clock, he forced himself to set aside the sketchbook and filled out the online forms for unemployment benefits. But his eyes wandered to the drawings each time he submitted a page. Each empty second was hers. His life had unraveled and now she was the constant.

  He picked up Cassandra at precisely five o’clock. His attention to his daughter was jovial and light. His day of drawing instead of trapping words in boxes had freed the happiness from his heart.

  She responded to his smile and his tickles. And he realized how heavy their lives had been. He gave her crayons and art paper as he boiled spaghetti, encouraging her stick figures and flat line of sky and yellow ball of the sun.

  When she was tucked into bed and the dark house hushed with night, Samuel returned to his sketchbook and dared to draw another image, reverent with hope. The dance teacher, black hair loose around her shoulders, fingers interlocked with his. They stood at arm’s length, hands clasped, eyes skyward as they turned together in a lazy circle, the light from a bandstand glowing in the distance, the other dancers mere figures blending into the shadows of the pavilion.

  He fell asleep at the table, head on his forearms, the sketch beneath his cheek.

  Chapter 6: Aurora

  By Wednesday, Aurora had pushed the sketches from her mind. The academy added two more sessions to her week, and she felt pressured with paperwork, lists, and keeping track of her schedule and payments, the day-to-day minutia that had nothing to do with dance.

  But when Samuel entered her room, she paused, feeling his searing gaze. He held the sketchbook, and her eyes dropped to it involuntarily. He noticed, and his fingers tightened. Then he recovered and helped his daughter out of her sweater.

  The girls poured into the room, bouncing with energy that would need to be channeled. Aurora spun away and turned on the music to start the lesson.

  Her belly buzzed with energy. Being near him brought out a lightness, an urge to be better, to shine.

  She searched the mirror for him constantly. His dark hair flopped over his forehead as he sketched. His skin was honeyed from the warm light bouncing off the floor. She wondered what he drew, how she looked, what he thought as each curve of her appeared on his page. The thought of posing naked for him flitted through her mind and she had to shake it away or lose her concentration entirely.

  By the time the girls formed their huddle at the end of class, her whole body thrummed with energy and need. She wanted Samuel to stay behind. She wanted to talk to him, delay him, make him stand beside her just for a minute.

  When he stood to go, she pinned him with her gaze. She willed him not to leave. He dallied, or at least it seemed so to her, as the other mothers were almost gone by the time he managed to get Cassandra’s arms through the sleeves of her sweater.

  But when he bent to take Cassandra’s hand and leave, Aurora could not bear it. “Wait!” she said.

  God, she’d done it now.

  Samuel looked up.

  Now what?

  Cassandra paused, looking back and forth from Aurora to Samuel. “Can we help Miss Aury pick up again?” she asked.

  Aurora’s heart thumped against her chest. Saved by the child.

  “I have all these mats to move,” she said.

  Samuel set his sketchbook on the bench and headed to the far end of the mat. Together they separated the sections and folded them up in one corner.

  Cassandra ran in exuberant circles around the studio, excited to have the room to herself. Aurora and Samuel laid the last mat on the stack and paused to watched the little girl zoom across the floor, arms outstretched like a bird in flight.

  “She seems happier today,” Aurora said.

  She felt Samuel stiffen beside her.

  Shit. Shit. Shit. She hadn’t meant to bring up anything negative.

  “I mean, she’s always a delightful girl,” she added with a rush.

  “I know what you’re saying,” Samuel said quietly. “She has had a hard year.”

  Before Aurora’s brain could catch up with her mouth, she blurted out the question, “What happened to her mother?”

  Samuel brushed his hair away from his forehead. His face was somber. He was beautiful in a tender, haunting way.

  “She divorced me,” he said. “We haven’t seen her in a year.”

  Aurora’s breath hitched. The words were almost visible in the air, dark and heavy.

  Cassandra ran across the room with grand, sweeping leaps. Since there was nothing else to say, Aurora commented, “We should work on her Grand Jeté.”

  “What is that?” he asked.

  Instead of answering, she showed him. With a few preparatory steps, she leaped through the air, her arms high in fifth position, one leg extended out front, the other behind.

  Hers was imperfect, she knew, but of all the ballet moves, it was one of the most freeing. Aurora always felt, as she reached the apex of the jump, just before she came down again, as though she were flying.

  “Wow!” Cassandra said. “Me too!” She held her arms high, taking more running jumps.

  “Legs high,” Aurora said. “Think up as you jump, not out.”

  Cassandra ran and leaped and ran and leaped. Aurora caught up with her, and for a few miraculous seconds, they moved in tandem.

  Cassandra stopped jumping and collapsed to the floor, breathing fast. “That’s hard!” she said.

  “It takes a lot of practice,” Aurora said. She glanced into the mirror to find Samuel.

  His eyes met hers in the reflection, and the longing there snatched the air from her lungs.

  Nobody looked at her like that. Nobody.

  She whirled around so that she could face them. The movement felt good, so she kept going, turning in circles as she moved closer, whirl after dizzying whirl, until she crossed the distance across the studio and halted next to him.

  He reached out to grab her as if she might fall.

  Aurora laughed. “I don’t get dizzy,” she said.

  But this was a lie, because his hand had encircled her arm, and now everything really was spinning. She felt uncertain about the ground beneath her feet. He wanted her. He had been pining all this time. Drawing her.

  “Can I see you later?” she asked before she could chicken out.

  His body stiffened.

  God
, too forward. He was shy. She could see that.

  What would he do now?

  Chapter 7: Samuel

  He was dreaming. There was simply no other explanation.

  Samuel let go of her arm, uncertain anymore of what was reality. Had he heard her correctly?

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s fine. I know it’s weird. I’m her teacher.”

  “No,” he barked, then realized he sounded harsh. He softened his tone. “No. I’d like that.”

  He couldn’t imagine what he could do with her, what sort of event would match the delicate wonder of just looking at her.

  “I’m in a show tomorrow night, nothing big, just community dance theater.” She blushed, her cheeks shifting to a shade he knew he would attempt to capture later that day. “I can have a ticket ready for you at the box office. Maybe afterward?”

  Samuel felt overwhelmed, as if the very ideas she put forth were too large for him to contain. Watching her dance on stage, then seeing her alone? He could only nod, his throat too tight to even speak.

  She glanced down at Cassandra, who still lay on her back on the floor, gazing up at the ceiling. “Do you have someone for her?” she asked, concern creasing her brown.

  “I do,” he forced out. “My neighbor. She watches her.”

  Aurora met his eyes, and he thought his heart might seize. “Good. It’s the Blue Theater. Downtown.”

  “I’ll look it up,” he said, amazed that his voice worked at all. “I’ll be there.”

  “Curtain is at seven-thirty,” she said. “It’s small. Camille at the box office will watch for you and get you your ticket.”

  She took a couple running steps and leaped over Cassandra, making the girl burst into giggles.

  “Again!” his daughter called out.

  Aurora complied, spiriting up and over Cassandra again, arms out, hands in perfect postures.

  Samuel could not choose which image to do next. His mind was full. The two girls, jumping together. Aurora, gracefully leaping over his daughter.

  Or her face, turned to him, telling him to come watch her dance.

  He needed more sketchbooks.

  ~*´`*~

  Samuel parked in the garage near the theater, straightening his tie as he strode out into the cool air. Fall was just beginning to nip into a chill, but it wasn’t enough for a jacket yet. The sky darkened behind the buildings, striating into red and orange. Above him, the Tower of the Americas loomed, its revolving restaurant turning slowly as the diners gazed upon the city.

  Drawing was so slow compared to the snap of a camera. For a fleeting moment he envied the speed, how any scene could be captured instantly rather than requiring hours of labored lines and crosshatch. But nothing felt the same as looking upon your work and knowing that your hands had made permanent something that previous had only existed in your heart.

  Samuel crossed the street to enter the door of the tiny theater. He had never been to it before. He did not often venture downtown with its expensive parking and nightlife skewed toward those without small children.

  He had a date.

  The box office was no more than a closet door cut in half to reveal a woman he assumed was Camille. She waved when he entered. “Aurora said you’d be early.” She passed him a half-sheet of paper that served as the playbill. “There’s no assigned seats inside. Sit where you like.”

  Samuel glanced down at the page in his hands. On the front was a stylized image of a woman dancing. From her uplifted hand the title of the performance, “The Caged Bird Free,” floated across a perfect amount of white space. Aurora’s name, as well as a choreographer and director, were listed in the bottom corner.

  “This is a very nice design,” Samuel said.

  Camille picked up another copy from her stack. “Jackie was so great. Too bad she had to go and have a baby.” She turned and retrieved a printout from behind her to show him. “Now we’re stuck with this until we hire someone new.”

  Samuel had to suppress a smile as he saw the clip art cover of a show that would begin in a few weeks. “Freelancer?” he asked.

  “Worse. Somebody’s sister.” Camille tossed the page behind her. “And all the theaters downtown are affected. The whole network used Jackie.” She leaned forward. “I’m going to list the job again tomorrow, see if I can drum up any takers.”

  Samuel stared at the image. “I’m a graphic artist. I work — I worked — for the newspaper.”

  Camille sat up a little straighter. “Well, shoot me an email tomorrow.” She passed him a business card. “We all have to approve you. But compared to that crap,” she pointed her thumb at the paper she’d tossed behind her, “I imagine you’re a dream. Plus, you know Aurora. That’s huge.”

  Another couple entered the space and approached Camille. Samuel stepped away.

  “Just through those curtains, honey,” she said, gesturing toward the wide swath of black fabric hanging along the wall. One section was held back with a gold tie. “Enjoy.”

  Samuel pocketed the card. He wouldn’t even assign any energy to that yet. He wanted to reserve it all for Aurora. Jobs were an ordinary thing. A woman like her required all his hope.

  Chapter 8: Aurora

  This stage had no curtain, so Aurora waited behind a pillar until it was time to go out. She never allowed herself to compare this stage to the ones she had performed on in Chicago, Los Angeles, and New York. There was no point. She could only move forward. She had been given the opportunity to dance on them for an amazing period of her life. That was more than most dancers ever got.

  She watched for Samuel to arrive. Her stomach fluttered with butterflies, which almost never happened anymore.

  It was him.

  Aurora knew he was not there to judge her, only appreciate. But he made her performance personal. She did not want him to see her flaws.

  Jacob came up behind her and squeezed her arm. “House is full,” he said. “Break a leg, baby doll.”

  She winced, remembering her fall. She would never hear those words the same way. Jacob knew this, but he said them anyway. He wanted her to stay in the normal world of dance as much as possible.

  “He’s out there,” she said.

  Jacob stepped away from her hiding spot to peer out into the rows of seats.

  “He looks nervous,” he said.

  “Really?” Aurora asked. This made her feel better.

  The house lights blinked, then dimmed. Jacob stepped back into the shadows. “Your spotlight is about to shine,” he said.

  Aurora closed her eyes and concentrated on finding her center. She bounced lightly, feeling each muscle of her legs contract and relax. She noted the difference between the two and honored their limitations. This was not an overly challenging routine, a dance retelling of Maya Angelou’s famous poem.

  The room went fully dark other than the glow of the rope lights tucked beneath the ends of the rows. Aurora stepped out onto stage. The performance opened with a solo of her dancing in the striped lighting of a cage. She held her opening pose, waiting on the first notes of the music to reverberate within the hall.

  Once it began, she lost all thought, all outside concerns. Her entire world was movement, music, pacing her breath, and fighting fatigue or pain or anything that would disrupt her communion with the message of the story she needed to tell with her body, her expression, and her dance.

  Chapter 9: Samuel

  If Samuel had not understood the depth of his obsession with Aurora before the show, he did now.

  When the final light went dark, and the applause exploded around him, he felt dumbstruck. He didn’t even think to clap, or to stand with the people around him, until the lights came back up and he saw her come back on stage, a cluster of flowers in her arms.

  Flowers.

  He didn’t even berate himself for not thinking of it. He sat, gazing upon her as she bowed, and understood the teen girls who screamed for boy bands, and the women who’d fainted for Elvis.

  Samu
el could barely contain his overwhelming surge of passion for her.

  And he would see her soon. Alone. This amazing woman would give her time to him.

  The lights on stage went out again and the audience began to chatter as the house lights came up. He realized he had not asked her where to go, how to meet her. His anxiety ratcheted up. He felt pinned in place, stuck to his chair.

  The room did not empty quickly. The patrons seemed to know each other and chatted amicably until the dancers emerged. The energetic girls in the chorus, the tall dark-skinned dancer whose powerful moves were a perfect foil to Aurora. Samuel remained in his seat, anxious and conspicuously alone.

  Then she came out. Admirers rushed forward to congratulate and bestow even more flowers. Samuel stood, uncertain, the flyer in his hand.

  Aurora searched beyond the throng to find him. She nodded kindly to the people surrounding her but pushed through, passing the flowers to another girl.

  Then she was there.

  “Let’s get out of here,” she said with an air of conspiracy. She tugged on his hand.

  She had changed out of the dance costume and wore a simple black dress that hugged her curves and flirted with her calves. He was breathless, just looking at her, feeling the warmth of her fingers around his.

  They half walked, half ran, past the curtain, through the door, and out onto the street.

  Aurora laughed as they rushed out onto the sidewalk. “It was so warm in there!” she said. “This feels great.” She led them across the street and to the stone-lined stairs on the corner. “Let’s go down to the river.”

  Samuel could do nothing but follow her spirited walk. They descended below the street, to the level of the water. A lone riverboat floated past, a guide informing tourists about the history of downtown and “Remember the Alamo.”

  “It’s just up here,” Aurora said.

  He didn’t know what she meant, if perhaps she had a destination in mind. But when they arrived at the spot, he knew she had seen his drawings, and that on her own, she had led them to this moment.