“I’m Jack. You already met my dog. He’s Harvard. And my mom, her name is Camille.” He gazed at her longer. Patiently waiting.
“I’m Jennifer.”
He smiled. “I promise that I’m not here all the time. Come back another day, okay?”
“Okay.” After noticing again that his eyes seemed kind, she turned back and started walking again. Behind her, she could hear the door open and whoosh shut.
By the time she got into her car, locked the doors, and put on her seatbelt, she almost felt okay.
* * *
“God, I’m not sure what just happened there, but I’m just going to go with it.”
Of course she didn’t hear a reply as she pulled out of the parking lot. But she did feel a strange, almost-forgotten feeling of satisfaction.
She might not have accomplished her task, but at least she’d done something. And even though it felt like everything that could have gone wrong actually had, she had survived.
She was a survivor.
CHAPTER 7
“Every time I dance, I’m trying to
prove myself to myself.”
—Misty Copeland
Saturday Night
“How did it go?” Jennifer asked Dylan when he walked into their house a little after nine that evening.
Dylan thought about the last twelve hours as he unbuckled his shoulder holster. “Pretty good. All in all, I think my first full shift with Traci went okay. At least, I think so.
Jennifer lifted an eyebrow. “You think so?”
“Bridgeport might take a little bit of getting used to for Traci.” He’d been hoping for a quiet night so the two of them would have time to drive around the small town and do a little surveillance, but mainly have time to simply get to know each other. That didn’t happen. “Right off the bat, we got called to a house smack in the middle of Symphony subdivision.”
Jennifer raised her eyebrows. “Fancy.”
She didn’t lie. Symphony was a relatively new neighborhood with large million-dollar houses on one-acre lots. Usually, the most anyone on the force ever saw of the area was when one of them was asked to do private security for a party when they were off duty.
This time, though, the party they’d visited had been anything but fancy. A concerned neighbor had called about a bunch of teenagers having a party. When he and Traci had knocked on the door, they’d discovered that those kids had been doing their best to put a dent in the home’s liquor supply. They’d all been underage.
But the worst part had been that the parents were home. They’d decided to let their daughter host a party, turning a blind eye to what was going on in their basement and on their front lawn. He and Traci had ended up having to call all the kids’ parents, who’d either yelled at the parent hosts, their kids, or him and his new partner. It had been a long afternoon.
“The house was fancy enough. The parents who’d been letting a bunch of underage kids drink? I’m hoping they’ll be thinking something different now.”
“Are the kids okay?”
He finished locking up his gun then joined her at the island. Taking a seat, he accepted the IPA she handed him with a grateful smile. He didn’t like to get drunk, but every once in a while, a good beer sure hit the spot.
“I think the kids will be all right. I mean, as well as they can be after they sober up.”
“How did Traci do?”
That was where he was a little confused. “She was good, I think. She knows what she’s doing, and I have to say that she was great with the kids . . .”
“But . . .”
“But, I think she’s got a chip on her shoulder about Symphony.”
“What, it was too nice?”
“I think everyone had too much money. She wasn’t a fan.”
“Well, those houses are enormous. I know a lot of people are surprised to see families with so much money in Bridgeport.”
He shrugged. “Maybe.” After taking another sip, he looked at his sister. Then he remembered her big day. She’d been planning to go buy a cookbook at a store. That was huge. And he’d forgotten all about it until just that minute! “Jennifer, I can’t believe I didn’t call you. How did your outing go?”
“Well . . . it could have gone better.”
Again, he wished he would have remembered to at least text her. “What happened? Wait, did you choose not to get out of the house?” Choose had been a deliberate choice. Her counselor had cautioned him to do his best to not sound judgmental or overbearing.
It had definitely been a learning curve. It was in his nature to take charge. He’d absolutely had to learn how to choose his words carefully and remember to let her be the one guiding her progress.
“No, I left the house. And I did drive over to Backdoor Books. That went fine. And I even got out of the car. So that was a win, too.”
“Good girl.” He looked at her carefully. “And . . .”
She sighed. “And then, right when I was entering the store, I kind of ran into a guy.”
“What do you mean? Jen, what did he do?” He inwardly winced. Looked like his attempt to choose his words carefully had already gone out the window.
“He was holding a cup of hot coffee and a puppy . . . and the puppy squirmed and the coffee spilled.” She held out her leg.
He just then noticed that she was wearing shorts with a thick sweatshirt and socks. And that she had a three- or four-inch burn on her leg. It was bright red and had blistered.
She was hurt. Again.
Every bit of helplessness and fury that he’d felt when she’d been attacked two years ago came back tenfold. “Who the hell was this guy? Do you have a name?”
“It was no one to worry about, Dylan. He was just a guy trying to manage a puppy, a door, and a hot cup of coffee.”
She was right. He needed to calm down and not make things worse. “Okay. So, what happened when he knocked into you?”
“He felt bad and called for his mom.”
“His mom? How old was this guy?” Again, his mind went jumping from one conclusion to the next. Wait, it was a kid?”
She laughed. “No, the guy was about our age, but it turned out that his mother owned the shop. The dog plopped down on the floor and he wanted his mom to help me get cleaned up.”
“Oh. So, did you let her?”
Twin spots of pink appeared on her cheeks. “Not exactly. When I knelt down to pet the puppy, he got on his knees, too. Jack was trying to make sure the puppy didn’t jump on my calf, but being on the floor with him . . .” She looked stricken.
“You had a flashback,” he finished for her. He’d gone through quite a few of those with her during the first four or five months after her attack. Little noises or movements would set her off.
She nodded. “Yeah. He was too close. I thought he was going to touch me. Or, at least it seemed like he was. I freaked out and ran out the door.”
“Oh, Jen.”
“I know. I had all these grand plans, but all that happened was I got burned by hot coffee and made a fool of myself in public.”
“I’m really sorry.” Her big day had been a fiasco. “How about I take you on my next day off?”
“No.”
“Jennifer, I won’t crowd you or anything. If you want, we can even go in separately. I’ll just be there in case something happens.”
“Like I freak out when I’m on the floor petting a puppy?” She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”
So, it was done. She was going to give up. Even though the counselor’s voice was ringing in his ear and offering all kinds of advice, he couldn’t hold back his thoughts. “I think you have to try again.”
“I’m going to. One day soon.”
He nodded, still trying real hard to say the right thing. “I know it’s going to be hard, but it’s like riding a bike, you
know? You’ve got to get back on.”
Jennifer waved a hand in front of his face. “Dylan, did you hear me? I’ve already decided to go back.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “I promised Jack I would.”
“Jack, as in that guy?”
“Yes.” She smiled.
Well, this was new. Treading carefully again, he murmured, “He made an impression on you, didn’t he?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” She hopped on one of the barstools. “Or . . . maybe it’s that his mother was nice. For some reason, after I, you know, got burned and freaked out . . . I wasn’t as scared.”
“That’s awesome.”
“Well, I don’t know about that. But I do know that I can’t give up. For a few minutes, I was almost happy, Dylan. That counts for a lot.”
His insides felt crushed. His little sister had a big day today. For a few minutes she’d been almost happy. It broke his heart. But, looking at her face, he noticed that there was something new lurking in her eyes. She was determined to do better. Determined to get better. “I’m proud of you.”
“You know, the sad thing is that I think you actually are.”
“Of course I am. I love you.”
“Do you ever resent me living here?”
“No.” When she looked skeptical, he repeated himself. “I don’t resent you being here. Not ever.”
“Come on. Are you certain? I know we both thought I’d be back to normal by now.”
“I promise you, everybody has something. I don’t know what ‘normal’ is anymore.”
“I’m pretty sure it starts with someone not being afraid to leave the house.”
No, he was pretty sure that normal meant that a person wasn’t assaulted on their way to their car. “Don’t act like you’re a burden. You do all the grocery shopping, cooking, and cleaning. Half the time I feel like I’m the one taking advantage of you.”
“I don’t feel that way.”
“If you don’t, then you’ve got to know that I don’t feel that way either. All I want for you is to be happy.”
“I want the same thing for you, too, Dylan.”
“Then we don’t have a thing to worry about, right?”
“Right.” She hopped off the barstool. “I made a chicken enchilada casserole today. Are you hungry?”
“I wasn’t until you mentioned that. How did it turn out?”
She gave him a look. “Good.”
“Of course it did. I don’t know how you do it, Jennifer. It’s like you can make any dish amazing.”
She laughed. “Go get cleaned up, and I’ll heat some up for you.”
He was ready for a shower. “Hey, want to watch something while I eat?”
“Sure. I’ll even let you pick.”
“No reality dance shows? Thank you, Lord. Meet you in the living room in ten.”
As he went down the hall to the small bedroom, he thought again about being almost happy. Right then and there he vowed to do his best to edge his sister toward that point.
She needed it, and he needed it for her.
CHAPTER 8
“Take more chances. Dance more dances.”
Wednesday Night
“Good class, ladies!” Shannon called out to her country line dancing class. “I fully expect to hear that all of you have gone out line dancing before I see you next.”
Emily, her cute twenty-two-year-old student, walked up to her. “Travis is going to take me tomorrow night.”
“Good luck. Maybe you’ll be teaching him a thing or two.”
“Maybe! We’ll see.” Throwing on her fuzzy North Face jacket, she waved. “Have a good night.”
“You too.”
After saying goodbye to the rest of the ladies, Shannon picked up a stray water bottle that someone had left. Then, just as she was about to turn off the lights, she caught sight of herself in the mirror.
Then she stopped and really looked.
Memories came flooding back. Being a little girl and standing so carefully at the barre. Later, wearing out ballet shoes. Then toe shoes. Then deciding to switch to ballroom dancing in an effort to save her feet. Hours of learning how to do all kinds of dances that she’d thought were boring as a teenager but whose complexity she had learned to appreciate in her early twenties.
But it had all started with one class and looking into the mirror. Before she could stop herself, she took off her shoes and did a pirouette. Then another one. Then another. Muscles flared to life as they remembered what to do, almost of their own volition.
The movement felt good. She began doing part of an old recital piece she hadn’t thought about in over a decade. Laughing when it became obvious that she wasn’t nearly as strong or as flexible as she used to be. But she wasn’t nearly as bad as she sometimes thought she was. She did another turn, then an extension, and finally did a little leap.
“Hey.”
She skittered to a stop and looked at the doorway. “Hey Traci. Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I was upstairs. What were you doing?”
Remembering. “Oh, nothing.”
“It looked like something.” She tilted her head to one side. “You looked like a ballerina in a blue dress.”
Shannon grinned. “That sounds like it should be either a song or a painting.”
“Or my sister.” Traci smiled, walking closer. “You know, I’ve watched you teach your students from time to time, but I’ve never seen you dance like that. You were a ballerina?”
That made her smile. “Well, I used to take ballet.”
“For a long time?”
“Yeah. For years and years.” She didn’t like bringing it up, because she knew all those dance lessons had been expensive and time consuming. Traci hadn’t had access to the money for such things or even anyone to really care enough about her to give up their time to take her.
But seeing Traci’s look of interest, she knew she simply couldn’t shrug it off. Haltingly, she said, “I started taking ballet and tumbling classes when I was four.”
“You were only four years old?”
Smiling at how incredulous she sounded, Shannon explained. “My mom said that I was always flitting around the rooms, climbing on things, singing. She said she had to put me in something or I would drive her to drink. I loved it.”
“Can you do handsprings and stuff?”
“Not really. I quickly realized that I didn’t like gymnastics but I loved to dance. By the time I was eight, I was taking ballet, tap, and jazz classes.”
“Three of them?”
“They started out just an hour class three times a week, then I dropped jazz and just did ballet and tap. And then I moved to a better dance academy and started competing.”
“Whoa. You were serious.”
Shannon nodded. She paused, not knowing whether to continue or not, but Traci motioned with her hand. “Around the time I was seventeen, a senior in high school, I started having some problems with my feet and some of my thigh muscles. Because the thought of not dancing made me so upset, I gave ballroom dancing a try when the physical therapist suggested it.”
“And you became just as focused on that.”
“Yeah. I don’t seem to be able to do anything halfway.”
“Thank goodness for that, huh?”
Shannon smiled then looked at Traci a little more closely. There was something more there than just a cute comment. “What do you mean?”
“What if you hadn’t tried so hard to discover your past after that DNA test? What if you hadn’t reached out to Kimber and me again and again?”
“We wouldn’t all be living together. Or maybe we would. I don’t think I’m the only sister who is determined.”
“I’d like to think I would have done as much for you two, but I don�
��t know.”
Well, there was honesty. “Traci, I do. I think you’re doing yourself a disservice. You are as determined as I am.”
She looked embarrassed. “Anyway, I’m really glad that you were in here dancing. You’ve been doing so much for all of us and this business, I haven’t seen you do much for yourself.”
Was this what she did for herself? The thought caught her off guard. Did she still love dance and not just teaching other people to enjoy it? She made a mental note to consider that some more later.
“Are you ready to go upstairs?”
“Actually, I came down to see if you wanted to go grab something to eat at Paxton’s. There’s nothing upstairs.”
“Sure. What about Kimber?”
“She’s in sweats and eating a pint of some kind of diet ice cream.”
“Is she okay?” Shannon asked as she started turning off lights.
“I think so. I asked if she wanted to go out, but she said that she was all into some Netflix show.”
“Gotcha.” She considered going upstairs to put on a pair of jeans, but it sounded like too much trouble. Instead, she slipped on her long eggplant-purple wool coat and picked up her purse. “Let’s go grab a burger.”
* * *
When they got to Paxton’s, it was just as crowded as ever. Luckily, though, they found two seats at the bar. Shannon noticed that Traci was receiving more than one double-take. She wondered if it was because of her looks or the fact that she was the new cop in town.
After they ordered a pair of drinks and two burgers with fries, she brought up the new job. “So, how are you liking small-town police work?”
Traci chuckled. “It’s good. I’m still trying to figure out who are the movers and shakers in the department.”
“It’s not the sergeant and lieutenant?” She didn’t know much about police stations, but they seemed like the logical people.
Traci thanked the bartender when she delivered their drinks then answered. “Oh, they count, but it’s just like any other office. There are the gossips, the negative influences, the people who make everything easier. It’s better to just keep your head down, you know?”
Shall We Dance? Page 5
