by Mindy Klasky
When was the last time she’d even thought of the company? When had she spoken with Haley? It had been at least a week. No, almost two. Somehow, ballet gossip had become less compelling while she worked on finalizing things here at the studio. The hundred and one backstage dramas that she and Haley usually shared had lost a little—no, a lot—of their appeal. Life had come to seem so much richer, here in Eden Falls.
Besides, Kat could never get in shape in time for the Coppelia auditions. Of course she had always wanted to dance Swanilda. She was perfect for the role. But she could not deny that she had lost some muscle mass, with her foot confined to a cast. And she’d put on a couple of pounds, indulging in real meals, like a real woman, spending time with a real family.
Before, that weight would have sent her to the workout room, driven her to exercise as if she were harried by a thousand demons. But not anymore. Not now that Kat had made up her mind.
Not now that she was going to be Niffer’s forever grown-up.
Amanda and Susan would just have to get used to driving her around town. They wouldn’t mind, really. Shared drives would be a chance for all of them to spend time together.
Once Kat made up her mind, she felt as light as air, as certain as she’d been of anything since she’d been fourteen years old, since she’d headed up to New York to seek her fortune. She turned to face her mother. “Mama, I have something to tell you. I think I’ve known it for a while. Since I realized that we needed someone to teach the Advanced Showcase for the spring term.”
“Darling, I can—”
“No, Mama. You can’t. But I can. And I want to. I want to stay in Eden Falls.” She saw that Susan didn’t believe her, didn’t truly understand, but she laughed all the same. “This feels right to me, Mama.”
“But New York… Everything you’ve worked for. Everything you’ve spent your entire life—”
“Not my entire life, Mama. I spent more years here, with you and Daddy, than I’ve spent in New York. And it’s time for me to come home now.” Kat surprised herself, realizing how wonderful those words sounded. “It’s time. Come on, Mama. Let me show you the calendar I set up on your computer.”
She couldn’t say whether she laughed because of Susan’s expression of pleased surprise, or because her body felt so light and balanced as she crossed the studio floor without the hated walking cast.
By Sunday, Kat’s foot felt as strong as it had before her fracture. She had tried hard to limit her time at the barre, conscientiously keeping from stretching her practices into hours-long torture sessions. Nevertheless, she was overjoyed to find that her strength had rebounded so quickly.
The absence of the boot made it easier to carry food to the sprawling picnic tables in the park. It was Sunday—May Day and Eden Falls’s traditional Family Day celebration. In honor of the spring festivities, Kat had worn a green blouse. She’d actually bought it for the occasion, dragooning Amanda into driving her to one of the tiny shops on Main Street. Her cousin had been only too happy to help her pick out something more appropriate than New York black. Eventually, she’d have to choose a whole new wardrobe.
For now, though, Kat wasn’t worried about clothes. Instead, she was worried about balancing the pair of desserts she had made with Susan. The lemon chess pie was a family favorite, and Niffer had begged for blackberry cobbler. Kat suspected that the child really just wanted to eat spoonfuls of the traditional whipped-cream topping.
“Go ahead, Niffer,” Kat said, as they arrived at the park. “Go play with the other kids.”
“I don’t know anyone.”
“Of course you do. I can see three different kids on your T-ball team.”
“Will you come with me?”
Kat started to sigh in exasperation, but she thought better of herself. If Niffer wanted an adult’s company, that was a small enough gift that Kat could provide. “You go over there, and I’ll come see you in a moment. I just need to set these things down.”
Kat added the desserts to a picnic table that looked like it might break under the combined weight of all the baked goods. The city of Eden Falls certainly knew how to throw a party. Kat could already smell hot dogs and hamburgers cooking on five or six grills. Another table was laden with salads, and there had to be a half-dozen coolers scattered under the trees, full of soft drinks and sweet tea.
After snagging a diet soda for herself and making sure that Susan and Mike were similarly cared for, Kat went to uphold her promise to her niece. Niffer came running up as Kat approached the gravel-covered playground.
“We’re bored!” the child announced.
“How can you be bored?” Kat shaded her eyes, gesturing at all of the playground equipment. “You have a castle, and swings and a slide!”
“We always play on those. We need a new game.”
A new game. Niffer had no idea just how foolish she was, coming to Kat for a new game. Ballet was the only game Kat had known for years. Somehow, she didn’t think the kids would be excited about completing a hundred pliés. Then again, they might really get into the grand battements—those were basically an invitation to kick anyone who got within striking distance.
Somewhere between thinking about leg warm-ups and arm stretches, though, Kat remembered something Susan had said, weeks before. She smiled mischievously at Niffer and said, “How about Magic Zoo?”
“What’s that?” Niffer sounded suspicious. Nevertheless, a half-dozen kids drew closer. Kat was going to have to make this good.
“First of all, everyone has to choose an animal, something you can find at the zoo. Think of it, but don’t tell anyone yet!” She waited while the children selected their guises for the game. Several closed their eyes, as if they were imagining an entire menagerie. What had Susan said? That Kat had played the game by selecting crayons out of a bucket? The colors were supposed to mean something…. Well, there weren’t any crayons around, so Kat was just going to have to improvise.
“Okay. Everyone choose a number between one and five. Got it?” Every child nodded, as serious as if they were completing a military exercise. “Now, listen carefully. Each number is a different magical ability. I’m going to tell you the magical abilities, and then you’ll have to figure out how your animal uses its special skill. Everyone is going to close their eyes while you do that, and I’m going to hide this…” Kat hadn’t thought that far ahead. What was she going to hide? What could the kids hunt for in their imaginary game?
“This bandanna.” Rye made the announcement from directly behind her. She spun around to face him, astonished that she hadn’t heard him approach. He’d been up in Richmond for the past week, tied up in business meetings, cementing the details on half a dozen new projects that had grown out of his attending that Chamber of Commerce dinner.
She had phoned him a week ago, after talking to her mother.
She had told him about her decision, about her choice to stay in Eden Falls.
He’d been shocked into silence at first, and then he’d started to apologize, started to explain that he had to stay in Richmond, that his business was there. She had laughed and told him that she knew. She understood. It was horrible, rotten luck that she hadn’t returned home before he had left, but there were only a couple of hours of freeway between them. Somehow, some way, they would make it work.
She’d even said: “Rye, I know how it’s been before. I know there were women who tied you to Eden Falls. Who made you feel like you had to stay here. I’m not those women. It’s never going to be that way between us.”
His voice had thickened then, as if he were overwhelmed with some emotion. He’d cleared his throat, said her name, almost as if he were bracing himself to make some grand confession. But that was silly. There wasn’t anything for him to confess.
She’d missed him fiercely for the past week—more than she coul
d have imagined, just a month before. But now he was back in Eden Falls, for Family Day. He was standing beside her, lowering his voice as if he were telling the children ghost stories at a campfire. He brandished his crimson bandanna before the children’s fascinated faces. “This bandanna can work magic spells,” he said. “It belongs to a princess who is being held captive in a tower, locked in by an evil magician. The princess can only be rescued by someone smart enough and brave enough to find the bandanna and wear it.”
Kat watched the children’s eyes grow wide at the fairy tale that Rye spun. “Okay,” she said. “Remember your numbers now. One means you can fly. Two lets you be invisible. Three lets you walk through walls. Four gives you the ability to change into another animal. And five…” She trailed off. What was a fifth magical ability? What else could she factor into the kids’ game?
Rye picked up the instructions, as if he’d known them all along. “And five lets you read minds.”
Perfect. Kat flashed him a smile before she said, “Okay. Everyone cover your eyes, while the evil magician hides the bandanna!” The kids took the responsibility seriously—they buried their faces in the crooks of their arms. Kat waited until Rye had crossed the playground, planted the bandanna in the shadows at the base of the slide and sidled back to her. “All right, animals!” she shouted. “I’m going to count to five. And when I finish, you’ll all be in the Magic Zoo!”
She drew out the count dramatically, stretching out the numbers until she shouted, “Five!” The kids flew off, lumbering like invisible elephants, roaring like flying lions.
Rye laughed as they tumbled across the playground. “That should keep them busy for a while.”
“That was the idea,” Kat said smugly.
Rye was suddenly nervous, standing alone with Kat. Every night for the past week, he’d tried to reach Rachel, calling her cell phone, sending text messages. While waiting for a response, he’d worked on how to tell Kat the truth about Niffer. He’d started to phone Kat a dozen times, mapping out the words in his mind, figuring out every single thing he had to say, so that it would be proper, so that she would understand.
And every time, he found he just couldn’t tell her over the phone. And now, in the park, surrounded by the Eden Falls Family Day celebration, he had to wait yet again.
The breeze carried a whiff of her honey-apricot scent toward him, and he couldn’t help but take a step closer. “So,” he said, after swallowing hard. “You’re wearing green to celebrate your jailbreak?”
“Jailbreak?” She looked confused.
He nodded toward her foot. “The boot?”
“Finally!” She spun in a circle, laughing. “I can move again. I didn’t realize how confining that thing was until I had it off. But I’m wearing green for my new life, here in Eden Falls. For spring.”
“It looks great on you,” he said. “It sets off the color of your eyes.” He couldn’t resist trailing his hand along the garment’s sleeve, touching the fold on the inside of her elbow. The fabric was nearly as soft as the tender flesh it covered. He felt the shiver that rocketed through Kat’s body, and he almost laughed out loud.
Before he could lower his voice, though, before he could think of something that would make her move one step closer, a tumble of kids frothed around them, like puppies overturning a basket.
“That was too easy!”
“We found the bandanna!”
“Hide it again!”
Rye laughed and nodded toward Niffer, who brandished the bandanna as if it were a carnival prize. “You go ahead and hide it now. Find a better place. You can use the whole park.”
The kids shrieked with excitement, barely managing to cover their eyes. Niffer flew off toward the castle, intent on securing her treasure. Soon enough, the entire herd had thundered away again.
“So,” Rye said, stepping closer to Kat. “Where were we?”
“I think I was about to tell you my foot is as good as new.” She flexed one of her long legs, extending her toes in a graceful arch that defied the strappy sandals she wore.
Laughing, he closed his hands around her waist. “Wasn’t this where we started, ten years ago? With you stretching that leg?” He pulled her close and slanted his lips over hers. He might need to keep this kiss clean enough for a public park, but there was no reason it had to be the fraternal gesture he had tried—and failed—to deliver years before.
“I guess it was,” Kat whispered against his throat. “Even though I didn’t realize we were starting anything that day.” She settled her arms around his neck, relishing the feeling that he was claiming her, announcing that she was his, at least for today, for as long as they were both in Eden Falls. She caught her breath against a sudden pang at the thought of being separated from Rye, of losing him forever.
No. She had already told him this. It was best that he continue with his business in Richmond. He had planned so long, worked so hard. He would hate her forever, if she asked him to give up his dreams. That was why she’d been patient for the past week. Why she’d managed not to phone him every single night. She had to be content with everything she had—and do her best to lure him to Eden Falls, early and often. “I have an idea,” she whispered against the corner of his mouth. “For how we might end this. At least for today.”
He chuckled and pulled her closer.
Even as she started to remind him—remind them both—that they were standing in a public park, in broad daylight, there was the sound of one person clapping. The noise was sharp, irregular, and Kat whirled around, barely noticing that Rye’s hand on her waist helped her keep her balance on the soft grass.
“What would Mom think, Kat? Should I go get her, so she can see what you’re really like?”
Kat recognized the voice, even before her mind processed the old words. “Rachel,” Kat said, the two syllables clattering between them like hail.
“Kat,” her sister replied evenly. “Rye.”
Kat stared into eyes that matched her own silver-gray. But those other eyes were rimmed with heavy eyeliner and multiple coats of mascara. And framed by hair that had been dyed a brilliant, unnatural magenta. Rachel had put on weight since the last time Kat had seen her; the line of her jaw was soft, and there were bags beneath her eyes. But there was no mistaking her twin. And no mistaking the oath that Rye muttered, barely under his breath.
“What are you doing here?” Kat asked, scarcely aware that her fingers were curling into fists.
“You were in the room when I called Mom and Dad. I said I’d visit my baby.”
“You were supposed to be here a week ago. Niffer expected you at her T-ball game.”
“Niffer?” Rachel’s laugh was as harsh as fingernails on a chalkboard. “Who came up with that idiotic name?”
“I did.” Rye stepped forward.
Rachel’s eyes narrowed. “There was nothing wrong with Jenny.”
Rye answered evenly, as if he were measuring out each word with the level in his tool kit. “Except for the fact that she hated it.”
Rachel’s old look of cunning crept across her face. A block of ice settled in Kat’s belly, and she realized that there was another conversation going on in front of her, a whole set of words that she could not understand, dared not predict. “Rye?” she asked, her fingers clutching at his forearm. “What’s going on here?”
“Yes,” Rachel said. “Why don’t you tell her what’s going on, Rye?”
There it was again, that complicated flash of meaning between Kat’s boyfriend and her twin. Rye’s face was ironed into lean planes; she heard him swallow hard. When he spoke, the words were taut, pulled thin as wire. “I don’t want to do this here, Rachel. Let’s get out of the park, at least. We can talk at your parents’ house.”
“But Rye! It’s Family Day!” Rachel’s response w
as cold, mocking.
Of course Rachel was doing this. Rachel had caught Kat kissing Rye. She was jealous of something she could never, ever have. Rachel had always been that way, whenever she saw Kat succeeding. Kat started to make excuses to Rye, started to explain away her sister’s bad behavior. The jagged look in Rye’s eyes, though, froze her to the spot. There was more to Rachel’s riposte than the sibling rivalry Kat had lived with all her life.
Before Kat could tease out the meaning of what was going on in front of her, a brightly colored bullet shot across the clearing. “Mommy!” Niffer screamed. “Mommy, you’re here!”
“Of course, baby. How could your mother be anywhere else?” Rachel put a curious emphasis on the word mother, as if she were staking claim to the title for the very first time. Nevertheless, Kat watched Rachel pull away from her daughter’s clutching fingers, saw Rachel glare at Rye as if he were responsible for Niffer’s clinginess.
Rachel’s gaze was momentarily obscured by a cloud of Niffer’s jet-black hair. Jet-black hair, like Kat’s own. Like Rachel’s, when it wasn’t dyed.
But Niffer had eyes to match that hair. Eyes far darker than Kat’s, than Rachel’s. Eyes as dark as Rye’s.
And as Kat looked more closely, she saw other resemblances, as well. The line of Niffer’s jaw. The tilt of her nose. The way that she clutched a red bandanna, tight in her left hand.
Left.
Like Rye.
Suddenly, everything was bright around the four of them, as if they were illuminated from within. There was a buzz in Kat’s ears, a humming sound. The roof of her mouth had gone numb, and she realized that her fingertips were tingling. She felt isolated from the world. Cut off. Alone.
“You’re her father,” Kat said.
Those three words jolted through Rye like a bolt cutter.
His first response was relief. At last, his secret was out. He was through with the lies, done with the stupid disclosure he’d been struggling to make since Josh had told him the truth.
