The Saint of Petersburg (Dancing Dream #3)

by Leslie DuBois

  When Will touched my hand, it happened. It was as if his presence willed the baby to come. Like the baby wanted to meet its father. “Oh my God, my water broke.”

  “Water? What water?”

  “The baby!”

  “Sasha’s baby?”

  It took me a second to figure out what he was talking about. But the last he knew, Sasha was pregnant. In fact, she would’ve had the baby by now. He must have thought that was the baby I was talking about.

  “No, my baby. Our baby.” I stood up finally giving him a full view of my stomach.

  “You’re ... You’re ... You’re pregnant?”

  I stared in his eyes and nodded. “It’s yours, Will. I’m having your son.”

  Will turned pale. I thought he was going to collapse. He had to lean on the desk for support.

  “Mine? It’s mine? You’re having a baby and it’s mine? Are you sure it’s mine? Could it be --?”

  I put my fingers on his lips to keep him from saying Damian’s name. Then I grabbed his hands and kissed them.

  A few months ago, I would have been offended at that question. Was he suggesting that I slept around? But living on my own had matured me. I put myself in Will’s place. He had every right to doubt me after what I put him through. Hopefully, we’d be able to start our marriage again on a foundation of trust.

  “I’m sure. I was never with Damian. I couldn’t do it. There’s only you, Will. It’s always been you.”

  Tears poured out of him as he said, “I’m gonna be a father? I’m gonna be a father. I’m gonna be a father!” He went through six different emotions in about three seconds. He caressed my belly then knelt in front of me. “Can you hear me baby? I’m your daddy.” He put his ear on my stomach as if waiting for the baby to respond. Suddenly he gasped. “It kicked! Did you feel that? It kicked.”

  I wanted to tell him that of course, I felt it since it was in my stomach, but I didn’t want to spoil his excitement.

  Will stood up and then swept me up into a passion filled kiss. “I love you so much, Sony,” he said, pulling away from me and gazing into my eyes. “I always have and I always will. I’m so sorry for everything I did.”

  “It wasn’t all your fault, Will. I was just as responsible for our issues.”

  “Please say we can be a family?”

  “Yes, yes, yes.” I wondered if he noticed how I said yes three times.

  “There’s so much we have to do. We have to buy a crib. Do you have one already? It doesn’t matter, I’ll buy one anyway. And clothes and socks. And milk unless you breast feed. Are you going to breast feed?”

  “Will, I --”

  “And where is he or she going to go to school? You know, some private schools have five year waiting lists. Which means the baby should already be on a waiting list if we want him or her to have a good education. What about names? Have you thought about names? And diapers. Have you bought enough diapers?”

  “Will, there will be time for all that later. Right now, we have to get to the hospital.”

  Chapter 35

  And Then There Were Three

  Will named the baby after his father, Matthew. I didn’t mind. It wasn’t like I had any plans to name him after my father or anything. I hadn’t seen Mario in almost ten years. I guess I could have kept calling the baby Bary or Baryshnikov but that could still be my little nickname for him. Or maybe I’d lobby to make that his middle name.

  Will couldn’t stop staring at his son. He repeatedly counted his toes and kissed his fingers as if he was afraid they’d suddenly disappear.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were pregnant,” he said as he had rocked little Matthew to sleep. Thankfully, he was too much in awe of his baby to be too angry with me. I still felt a little guilty though.

  “I’m so sorry, but you were sick. You needed to get well. And I didn’t want you to come back to me just because we were having a baby. I wanted it to be because you loved me.”

  Still holding the baby, Will sat down next to me and kissed me. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. I will always love you. And I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life showing you just how much.” He kissed me again and again. “I can’t even be angry with you. Not when you’ve given me a son.” He paused and swallowed hard. “I have a son. I’m a father.” He started tearing up again.

  “Don’t cry,” I said brushing my hand against his cheek.

  He smiled weakly. “I can’t help it. I’ve been doing the crying thing a lot lately. The doctors say it’s a good thing. Something about a healthy release of my emotions.”

  Even if I could go back in time, I think I still wouldn’t tell him I was pregnant. It was for the best. It made me feel so much more secure in our relationship knowing that he came back to me on his own, not out of some sense of obligation to our child.

  Of course, there was no way of knowing whether he had completed his journey to mental health, but at least he was willing to go the rest of the way with me by his side. And baby Matthew as well, of course.

  After taking a few deep calming breaths he said, “When I was in therapy, the doctors figured out the root of my obsession with the number three.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “For most of my life, there was always just the three of us, my mother, my father and I. Julia had moved out before I turned eight. I never had a lot of memories of her. There were always just us three.”

  Wow. So simple, yet so powerful.

  “Three just always made me feel comfortable and complete.” Will kissed Matthew, then kissed me again. “Thank you for making me whole again.”

  Ironically, Matthew was the only one not crying after that little speech.

  “I never signed the divorce papers,” I said once I regained some composure.

  “Yeah, I know.” Will stood up and set baby Matthew down in his bassinet and then pulled up a chair close to my bed.

  “So, what now? What’s next for us?”

  “Well, that’s actually why I came to talk to you tonight,” he said grabbing my hand. “I got an offer from the Knicks.”

  “An offer? What kind of an offer?”

  Smiling he said, “To play ball. I’m going to the NBA.”

  How had he managed to get a contract after spending three months in therapy? Will must have noticed the confusion in my eyes.

  “It was Dashon. He just bought part of the Knicks. After seeing me play in Rome and getting me into the Summer Leagues, he decided he wanted me to be a part of his team. They actually offered the contract before my suicide attempt.”

  A lump developed in my throat thinking about how close I had come to losing him. I rubbed the scars on his wrists and then kissed them before taking his hands in mine again.

  “I ... I wasn’t sure I wanted it without you,” he added, staring at our fingers intertwined.

  “Let’s do it. Let’s move to New York,” I said before we both started crying again.

  “You’d do that? You’d drop everything and move to New York with me?”

  I nodded. “Of course.”

  “What about your career? What about the Russian ballet?”

  “I already told you, I don’t need that anymore,” I said without hesitation.

  “What about Tiki and all the girls like her in Venton Heights?”

  I couldn’t answer that question so quickly. I had to admit, I had gotten pretty attached to the idea of opening my own dancing school for underprivileged kids. I had no idea how I was going to pay for it or bring the entire concept to a reality, but it was something I wanted to try. I guessed I could try to start it in New York.

  Will kissed my fingers. “I have an idea,” he said with a grin. But he didn’t elaborate

  “Well, what is it?” I asked after a few seconds.

  “I could tell you. But it would be much better if I showed you.”

  Chapter 36

  Epilogue

  Will’s surprise was located at 1255 Victory Lane in Dover
, New Jersey. It was a house. No, it was more like a mansion. Will planned on converting the first floor into a state of the art dance facility. The six bedrooms on the second floor could be used as boarding rooms if I wanted. And then the third floor could be used as our private quarters. He actually used those words. “Private Quarters.” I felt like some sort of millionaire. Well, I was a millionaire’s wife I guess. All of the money to buy the house came from Will’s trust fund. He didn’t even need to touch the money he got from the Knicks. He didn’t even need it really. The amount from his contract paled in comparison to what he already had in the bank.

  He had bought me my dance school. That one conversation he had with me on the phone was enough to convince him that this was what I wanted. He was right. It was exactly what I wanted and needed. I could practically see all of my future students dancing across stages across the world. I would make a difference in so many lives.

  Will chose Dover because it was somewhat in between Venton Heights and Madison Square Garden. Though he would have to be traveling a lot, he wanted someplace close to call home. He also figured that being only forty-five minutes from Venton Heights, some students would be able to commute if needed.

  I loved that the house was located on Victory Lane. I felt that my life was a victory. I came from nothing and was able to reach some amazing goals. And now I would be helping countless other girls ... and maybe boys ... do the same thing.

  Of course, I would have to think of this endeavor as a business. I had to figure out some way for it to make money as I didn’t want to have to leech off of Will’s inheritance for the rest of his life.

  Will, Matthew and I moved into the new house right after the hospital. My mother came with us to help out for a little while. Even Julia stayed with us for a few days. There was something about having a brand new nephew that was named after her father that totally softened her attitude toward me. That’s not to say we would ever be best friends or anything, but at least I didn’t have to fear for my safety in her presence any more.

  There was one piece to my family puzzle that was obtrusively absent. Sasha. I made no effort to contact her and as far as I knew she had no desire to see me either. Oddly enough, I was at peace with that. After her being my best friend/ idol for most of my life, I was completely fine with never seeing her again. That was how much I had grown.

  Three months after Matthew was born, I was in new mother bliss. It was that state of mind halfway between utter happiness and sleep deprived insanity. When the doorbell rang about thirty seconds after I laid down Matthew for his nap, I literally thought I was going to kill whoever had pressed that evil little button. I rushed down the stairs and tried to get to the door before whoever it was pressed it again.

  It had to be sleep deprivation to cause me to see what I saw. Hallucinations were the only explanation for me to be staring in the face of Damian Karl on a random Saturday afternoon in a New Jersey suburb.

  But he wasn’t a hallucination. Even hallucinations said something or did something. They had a purpose. This person standing in front of me on my porch didn’t do anything. He just stared at me as if he was watching the past play out in front of him and if he blinked it might all disappear.

  He looked ... he looked amazing. His hair hadn’t grown back to a full afro but it had this short, stylish curly thing going on that looked hip and polished at the same time.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked finally. If Will was home I probably would have run back in the house to get him to punch Damian in the face. But Will was at the hardware store picking out a new toilet for the downstairs bathroom which meant I would have to deal with Damian on my own.

  “I brought your things,” he said. “Just some things you left in Europe. Souvenirs, clothes, things I thought you’d want to have to remember your time … in Europe.”

  For a moment, I thought he was going to say he brought the things so that I could remember my time with him. I’m glad he decided against it.

  “Thank you. Where is it?”

  “In the rental car,” he said nodding to the Infinity in the drive way. Then he put his hands in his pockets as an awkward silence fell between us. “I know you are probably not pleased to see me given the way I left you,” he said finally. “I was in the country and I couldn’t resist the opportunity to see how you and the baby were doing.”

  “It’s a big country Damian. I highly doubt you were anywhere near this state.” He usually spent his time in L.A. He had no reason to be on the other side of this country just to bring me some boxes that he could have easily mailed. I was just about to bring up that fact when something he said suddenly rang out in my mind. My thoughts kind of just flittered away from my brain as I focused on his words. “Wait a minute. How did you know about my baby?” When I left St. Petersburg no one knew I was pregnant. Not even me.

  He smiled devilishly. In the past, that smile would have made me melt, but today I just found it annoying.

  “I knew you were pregnant the whole time you were in Saint Petersburg.”

  “What? How?”

  “That doctor you saw the first night you were there. He tried to tell you but you didn’t understand him.”

  I thought back to that night. Natalia Karleskaya had suggested I go to the company doctor because I was so exhausted. Damian was right. I didn’t understand a word he’d said. I just smiled and nodded and got out of there as fast as I could. I had to perform that night.

  “My mother knew as well. He told her. That is why she was always so happy around you. She thought the baby was mine and that she was getting a grandchild.”

  I was speechless. That explained everything. That was why Natalia was calling me a part of her family. That was why she visited me constantly. The poor woman thought she was getting a grandchild out of me and then I just up and left the country.

  “She was sure we would be getting married and moving to Saint Petersburg. She was convinced you had single-handedly brought her son back to Russia and back to dance.”

  I brought my hand to my mouth. “Oh my God. She must have been devastated when I left.”

  Damian nodded. “Yes, she was. But I explained things to her.”

  “What did you explain to her? Because you certainly didn’t explain a thing to me. You just ran.”

  “I thought it would be easier that way.”

  “Easier for you or me.”

  “For the baby.”

  I certainly wasn’t expecting that answer. “What do you mean?”

  He sighed. “My parents divorced shortly after I was born. They both traveled constantly. I spent most of my life on an airplane being shipped back and forth between them.” Damian paused and took a seat on the front steps. He patted the spot next to him indicating that I should sit as well. “The night I left, you told me that you still loved your husband. You owed it to that baby to try to make it work with Will.”

  Wow, Damian had thought this through carefully. All this time I thought he had just tossed me aside because he was tired of me or something. This showed me an entire new side of him. I didn’t suddenly feel for him again, but it did make me not hate him anymore. For so long, I had considered him some sort of devil who was obsessed with me and dead set on having me. Now he seemed more like some sort of saint who only wanted what was best for me.

  ###

  Sneak Peek

  Plié with Fire

  a short story in

  Behind Barres

  Fall 2012

  Four years later ...

  “Tequila Velasquez, you are charged with possession of an illegal substance with intent to sell. How do you plead?” The judge didn’t even look at me as he spoke. I hated when people didn’t look me in the eye. It was like I wasn’t important enough for even a modicum of respect. What I hated even more was his dorky little bow tie which made him look like Orville Redenbacher. Who in the world wore a bow tie in this day and age?

  My nervous public defender who probably graduated college about
three hours ago nudged me in the side when I didn’t respond.

  “I ain’t sayin’ nothin’ till he looks at me,” I said, crossing my arms.

  Clark or Carl or Carter or whatever white boy name he had looked like he was going to wet himself.

  “Is there a problem?” Judge Bow-Tie asked looking up finally. ‘bout time.

  “Nope. No, prob. I’m innocent, ah-ight?”

  “Not guilty, your honor,” Clark/Carl/Carter said quickly.

  Judge Bow-Tie raised his gavel. “Fine. Bail is set at $10,000 cash or bond.”

  “Oh, well, that’s fair,” I sort of mumbled loud enough for everyone to hear.

  “Excuse me, young lady?” the judge said with gavel suspended in mid air.

  “Nothing. She didn’t say anything at all,” Clark/Carl/Carter said.

  “Oh, yes I did say something. I sarcastically stated that the bail you set was fair thereby indicating the gross inequality prevalent in the judicial system of this country.”

  “And what inequalities might those be?” The judge set down his gavel and waited for me to elaborate.

  “Well, let’s look at the fact that I was allegedly, and notice the emphasis on the word allegedly, caught with about 5 grams of crack that didn’t belong to me. With just that inconsequential amount, I can potentially be sent away for 5 years. Five years! Yet if I had been carrying cocaine, I would need to be caught with 500 grams in order to get the same sentence. Now let’s see what group of people is more commonly associated with crack and what group of people is more commonly associated with cocaine? I think the answer is obvious. Don’t you?”

  I looked around the courtroom for a moment. I didn’t let the looks of shock and horror deter me. “Furthermore, a bail of $10,000 for a sixteen-year-old kid who was found sleeping in a car? Don’t you think that’s a little bit excessive? I’m hardly a flight risk. The car doesn’t even run.”