by Ann Warner
“Never.” He accepted the second package. It was heavy and whatever was in it shifted slightly when he shook it. “A length of pipe? A long narrow brick?”
“Not even close.”
He removed the paper, opened the box, and examined the contents.
“It’s a kaleidoscope. You always notice colors, so I thought you’d like it. Well, I hoped you would.”
Smiling, he lifted the tube to his eye and rotated the barrel. Colors cascaded, the effect intensified by the flickering of the candles.
“It’s amazing. Here, take a look.” He handed her the tube, resisting, in the interest of hygiene, the impulse to lean over and kiss her. When she finally set the kaleidoscope down, he gave her his second gift, a small square box.
Clare accepted it, looking hesitant. She glanced at him before beginning to pick at the wrapping tape. In his debilitated condition, it took him longer than it should have to realize she was worried it might be a ring. He gently removed the partially unwrapped box from her hands. “Let me help you with that.”
He glanced at her to find her eyes riveted on the box as he finished removing the paper. He snapped open the lid, gauging her reaction as he did so. He’d be willing to bet a great deal her expression was one of relief, not disappointment, as he placed the gift back in her hands. He filed the thought away for later.
“It’s lovely, Rob.”
She looked at him with a question in her eyes.
“It was my grandmother’s.”
“Oh. Are you sure?”
“That I want you to have it? Absolutely sure.”
She pinned the brooch, a bisque porcelain rose, to the neckline of the dress she was wearing then jumped up to check how it looked in the mirror. She came back smiling, and leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll treasure it. Thank you, Rob.”
On New Year’s Eve, a mostly recovered Rob escorted Clare and Denise to a party attended by most of the Danse Classique company. When they arrived, Clare took their coats upstairs to the loft-style bedroom leaving Rob and Denise below in the apartment’s large living area. All the furniture was pushed to the edges of the room and forties band music accompanied the loud hum of voices. In one corner couples were dancing.
“That’s our host, over there,” Denise told Rob, nodding toward a man Rob recognized as Clare’s dance partner.
Rob leaned over to speak in her ear. “Should we say hello?”
Denise tucked her hand in his arm and stood on tiptoe. “That’s an outstanding idea.”
They made their way to Stephan, and Denise performed the introductions, referring to Rob as a good friend.
“Glad you’re here,” Stephan said. “Any friend of Denise’s and all that. Beer’s on the deck, wine’s in the kitchen.”
As Denise started to say something else, Stephan’s attention was pulled away by a petite blonde who came up to him and slipped her arm through his.
“Ah. Lisa, good to see you.”
Rob shrugged at Denise. “We’re obviously dismissed. What will it be? Wine or beer?”
“I don’t care. Wine, I guess.”
“Hey, why so glum?”
“Her.” Denise tipped her chin, indicating the blonde who appeared to be hanging on to Stephan for dear life.
“I think he wants to ditch her,” Rob said, whispering back.
“Really?”
Just then, Stephan pulled free of Lisa and pushed past Denise and Rob. “Clare. My party is now complete. Come, dance with me.”
Clare shrugged, meeting Rob’s eyes, but she went with Stephan to the area set aside for dancing. Without letting go of Clare’s hand, Stephan leaned over and spoke to the man running the record player. The man nodded, lifted the arm from the current record, and flipped another into place.
The music that floated out was soft and seductive. As Stephan pulled Clare into his arms, Rob became aware of Denise’s fingers digging into his arm. He shifted, and she removed her hand with a quick apology.
He looked from Denise to Clare and Stephan, a distinct picture beginning to form. “Shall we dance?” he said.
Denise’s head jerked in what he took to be an affirmative. He led her toward the other dancers, silently thanking his mother for insisting he take lessons.
When the first slow tune segued into a second, Rob steered Denise over next to Clare and Stephan, and tapped Stephan on the shoulder. “Mind if I cut in?”
With an annoyed look, Stephan switched partners. Rob pulled Clare close so he could whisper in her ear. “Is that what I think it is?” He nodded toward Stephan and Denise.
“Depends on what you think it is.”
“My guess is she’s in love with him, but he’s got his eye on you.”
“You’re right about the first part. I hope you’re wrong about the second.”
“Kiss me.”
“What?”
“Do it.”
Clare rolled her eyes but then lifted her face to his. He brushed her lips with his.
“What was that about?” Clare asked, leaning back.
“Making sure he isn’t confused about who’s here with whom.”
“You are so bad.”
“Well, if you want him to see someone other than you, the simplest way is to send a definite message. You can kiss me again, if you like.”
Clare laughed and laid her cheek against his. “You know, you’re actually pretty good at this.”
“What? Dancing or kissing.”
“Both, as a matter of fact.”
“You could sound a little less surprised.”
“I like that you’re full of surprises.”
He shuddered, pulling her closer. “You’re making me nervous, love.”
“Just keeping you on your toes.”
“Oh well. Better my toes than yours.”
Chapter Seven
Plié
An exercise involving bending of the knees in order to develop balance and make joints and muscles pliable and tendons flexible
As winter began to give way to a tentative spring, rehearsals for Swan Lake finally started. It was what Clare had been waiting for all year with barely contained impatience.
Despite that impatience, she hadn’t questioned Justin’s judgment at leaving this ballet until the end of the season. The best for last, wasn’t that what he’d told Lynne? But now, she could see the company was tired and more dancers were nursing minor injuries than would be true at the season’s beginning. Even Lisa seemed to have succumbed to the general fatigue, sniping only rarely at Clare and then with little heat.
Clare was tired as well. So tired she’d recently begged off a couple of dates with Rob to give herself more quiet time to recharge between rehearsals. Luckily, he was busy with a grant renewal and hadn’t pushed very hard for her to change her mind.
She didn’t expect to feel this way. Not with her lifelong dream within reach. The dream that had crept up on her with the subtlety of a stalking cat, but had then shaped her devotion to the ballet. So why, when she was finally preparing for the role she’d waited for her whole career, did she feel so...blah? Well, at least part of the blame for her malaise could be shifted to Stephan, who was dancing these days with a rote-like precision.
She winced as he squeezed too hard on a lift. It was something she’d rarely known him to do. Usually, his hands felt firm, the pressure controlled, comfortable.
Justin clapped, the sharp sound snapping Clare out of her reverie.
“What is it with you two? You’re dancing like two old people having an anniversary waltz together. Take a break and when you return, I expect your full attention. Both of you.”
As Justin spoke, Stephan’s hand came to rest on Clare’s shoulder. She walked out from under that touch and kept going until she reached one of the benches set at intervals along the length of the hallway. Stephan stalked off in the opposite direction.
She had no idea how to fix what was going on between them, although perhaps Stephan’s moods had not
hing to do with her. Hard to tell since he’d became abruptly uncommunicative with everyone after the holidays.
Denise, coming out of the adjacent studio, spotted Clare and came over. “Hey, how’re you doing?”
“Not so good. Justin told us we’re dancing like a couple of old people.”
“Are you?”
“Pretty much.”
“What’s going on?”
“Darned if I know. If he were a woman I’d say it was PMS.”
“You do realize he’s in love with you?”
“No. He can’t be. Besides, he knows I’m dating Rob.”
“Well, sure. But the heart still wants what it wants.” Lisa dipped her head but not before Clare saw the expression on her friend’s face.
“Oh, sweetie. You’re probably wrong, you know. There are all sorts of things it could be.”
“I can always hope, I guess. Like I keep hoping Justin will promote me.”
“Have you tried...I don’t know, talking to Stephan?”
“And what do I say? Look at me? Notice me?”
“Maybe.” Clare put her arms around Denise, gave her a brief hug, then released her. “I’ll see if I can get him to talk.”
Two hours later, the rehearsal finally staggered to a halt. Clare skipped a shower and dressed quickly, then took up her post near the exit to the men’s locker room. When Stephan came out, she heaved her dance bag on her shoulder.
“Buy me coffee?” she said.
He glanced at her. “That’s it? Coffee?”
“Not exactly.”
“Oh hell. Okay. Where do you want to go?”
“There’s that place in Harvard Square?”
“Fine.”
They walked to the trolley and then rode in silence, a silence that continued until they were sitting at a table in the back of the café with coffees in front of them.
Clare took a sip, glancing at Stephan. “We stunk up the place today.”
“Not a completely original observation.”
“Lisa and Ramon may end up first cast.”
“Is that all you care about?”
“If it was, I’d be asking to switch partners.”
“Why don’t you?”
“Because you have élan. Or at least you used to.”
He looked down at his cup as though seeking answers floating on its surface. “This guy you’re dating. Is he the one, do you think?”
“I can’t answer that.”
“Can’t or won’t?” He looked up to give her a searching look. “How long have you been seeing him?”
“Almost a year.”
“Don’t you think you should know by now?”
“I don’t know if that’s how it happens, that one day you wake up knowing.”
“If he broke up with you, how would you feel?”
“Sad. I’d miss him.”
“But you’d turn the page? Keep on dancing?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t have much choice, after all.”
“If that happened, would you go out with me?”
“Do you have a best friend, Stephan?”
He frowned. “Sure.”
“Say your best friend loved a girl. Would you go out with that girl, if you knew it would hurt your friend?”
“Probably not. What’s that got to do with us?”
“I just wondered, that’s all.” She reached out a tentative hand and laid it on his arm. “It’s a dream come true for me, you know. Dancing this role. But I can’t do it alone. I need you to...just dance with me. The way we danced together last year.”
He scrubbed his hands through his hair until it stood up in spikes. It made him look young and vulnerable. A reminder also of the five-year gap in their ages, their careers.
“Just friends, that’s how you see me.” He sounded glum.
She wished for a spell whose casting would ease his obvious longing. “Friend isn’t such a shabby label.” She took another sip of coffee to stop herself from saying anything more. He’d get over his crush. A relationship required tending, and although they spent a large portion of each day with each other, they weren’t working to build anything together. A fact Stephan would grasp eventually.
“You’re the best partner I’ve ever had,” she said, the words her atonement for snagging his heart without allowing hers to be engaged.
“Except lately.”
“After you’ve forgotten all about me, you’ll still remember the dancing.”
“Yeah, right. Don’t lose my phone number, though. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“You talked to him, right?” Denise asked the next day as she and Clare walked to the trolley.
“I did.”
“And?”
“He said he’s been in a funk. Probably it’s the end-of-the-season letdown, I’ll grant you a bit premature. I gave him the old rah-rah about not wanting to let Lisa and Ramon edge us out for first cast. He promised he’d try harder. And today was good, actually.”
“That’s it? A funk. An unspecified funk.”
“Pretty much.” Clare hated lying, although she’d done it out of kindness. But what if the kindest thing was to tell Denise she needed to give up on Stephan?
No. Wouldn’t work. Denise was a terrier, after all. Besides, Stephan might eventually notice Denise. Who was Clare to dictate their fates.
With the détente with Stephan holding, and the extra rest made possible by Rob’s distraction, what followed were the most satisfying days of dancing Clare could remember. Everything felt effortless. Stephan’s hands were once again steady and strong, and they were both quickly mastering even the most complex bits.
As the opening drew ever nearer, excitement fizzed through Clare and the fatigue that had weighed her down lifted.
Stephan had regained most of his old form, until today when he was obviously once again distracted. Justin, who had little patience with dancers complaining on either their own account or about a partner, was pushing harder than he usually did. Clare kept biting her lip to hold in her irritation.
Finally, during a break, she confronted Stephan. “Hey, I thought we had a deal. Check the personal stuff at the door?”
He stomped away without answering, but after the break, he apologized. He still wasn’t completely focused, though. No longer was he giving her the clear, subtle signals in his breath and touch that allowed her to move confidently in sync with him. As a result she moved more tentatively, something Justin noticed immediately.
He clapped to stop the music. “You’re dancing as if you’ve just met.” He narrowed his eyes and tented his hands under his chin. “Try it again, this time as if you’ve done it before.”
Clare closed her eyes, briefly, then moved into the opening position. Stephan took his position and Justin motioned for the music to begin.
This time, it felt good. The two of them breathing together, moving together. Right up to the moment when Stephan’s grip shifted, causing Clare’s leg to twist as she landed.
She knew immediately it was bad. They all danced with pain at one time or another, but not with pain like this. Pain that overrode everything with a blinding flash of white that blanked her vision.
“God, Clare, I’m sorry.”
Tentatively, holding her breath and steadied by Stephan, Clare tried to put weight on the leg. A fresh bolt of agony spiked from ankle to knee.
It couldn’t be. It had been only a slight twist. The tiniest break in form. Rest, ice, she’d be fine. Had to be fine. She pulled in a careful breath, struggling to overcome a wave of nausea and dizziness. Without a word, Stephan picked her up and carried her to the locker room. Clare clenched her fists to keep from beating them against his chest.
Ice and ibuprofen were brought. Other dancers hovered before leaving to continue rehearsals while arrangements were made for her to see an orthopedic surgeon. Stephan and Denise were excused to accompany her.
Through the next hours, Clare kept her mind blank as technicians took x-rays,
did tests. Finally, the surgeon arrived and checked the x-rays before sitting on a stool and bending over her leg. He probed the knee and moved the leg, as two residents and a nurse looked on. Then he did the same with the ankle.
