by Kathryn Shay
Bridget reached the stage. Dressed to the nines in matched pants and sweater, all in muted green, she said, “Hello, Ronan.”
Finding his voice, he came to the front of the stage. “What are you doing here, Bridget?”
“I went to the lake house and you weren’t there. I tried to get in, but couldn’t.”
“I changed the locks.” Because he knew this woman and knew she’d do whatever the hell she wanted, even go into a house she no longer owned. Hayley had told him that Bridget was shocked he’d bought the place, then criticized him for not doing it in the open.
“How’d you get in here?”
“Why, the front door was open.”
Irritated, he added, “What do you want with me?”
“I heard you came out to Hidden Cove and were producing a play. I’d like to know why.”
His temper started in the pit of his gut. “Why what?”
“You’re out here. And not in New York.”
“None of your business.”
She fussed with the strap of her Coach purse. “Of course it is. I have a right to stay abreast of what my children are doing. I have to depend on gossip, mostly. Even Finn makes himself scarce these days.”
He let out an ugly laugh. “Now, why do you think we don’t communicate with you?”
“Don’t start with that nonsense about your terrible childhood. All of you had everything you ever wanted.”
Revisionist history was her fallback? Christ! He strode to the steps, down them and over to her. He’d forgotten how much taller he was than her. She even seemed smaller in build, bordering on fragile. Up close, he could see the lines around her eyes and mouth. None of this softened him. “How dare you come here and pretend that everything is normal between you and your offspring. Have you forgotten our last conversation when I left?”
She lifted her chin. “That was decades ago. I want—”
“I don’t care what you want, Bridget.” His voice raised. “Get out of my playhouse and my life. I never want to see you again.”
She huffed, but stayed where she was.
He yelled, “Now get out!”
Turning, she walked down the aisle. She didn’t rush out in a fit of emotion, but calmly and deliberately left the auditorium.
He sank into one of the audience seats. For a minute, he did some deep breathing, but the images came anyway…
Bridget sat at the kitchen table in their fussy house in the Hamptons. She was making lists and glanced up at him when he entered the den. Then at his hand. Her eyes widened. “Dear God, Ronan. What did you do?”
“I found pictures, letters.” He could barely say the words. “Dad had an affair.”
Her face paled and her lips thinned.
“Holy hell, Mother, aren’t you surprised?”
She evaded the question. “You had no right to pry into my personal life. His personal life.”
A more palliative thought came to him. “Mother, did you know who he had the affair with?”
She stared at him. Then, “I did. At the time, I thought it best to ignore his indiscretion.”
Ronan’s young heart, his eighteen-year-old heart, broke into little pieces that would never be put to right again.
“Damn you. Why didn’t you protect me from her? From him?”
“I can see why you might be upset, Ronan. But it’s all in the past. Let it go. Your father’s dead. So is…she.”
He was filled with disappointment. Shock. Incredible pain that twisted in his gut. “I can’t believe it. You knew about this! You fucking knew about this and let it go on.”
“Don’t use that language with me!”
After he made the discovery that his mother knew everything, tacitly condoned it, ignored what effect their actions might have on him, his only thought had been to flee. He rushed out of the house he’d grown up in and left his amoral mother behind forever. He’d had to do the same with his beloved siblings in order to survive this awful truth.
* * *
François Marcel was a good-looking man in his forties, built like a yogi. Not an ounce of fat on him. Muscles toned to perfection. A tie held back his long blond hair that shone in the light coming from his office window. “So, Ms. Ellington, you were a professional dancer?”
“For eight years. When I quit, I took an interest in yoga.”
“Sometimes, dancers have developed habits with their bodies counterintuitive to yoga.”
“I worked through those inconsistent tendencies rigorously, and now I’m trained properly.” She smiled, and he smiled back.
“How much training have you had?”
“I worked my way up to a Teacher Training Certificate, which I got with Judith Lassiter.
His brown eyes widened. “Then I’ll accept you at The Yoga Institute. I’ll start you in the most advanced class, but if you can’t keep up, you’ll be transferred.” He checked the clock. “One starts in ten minutes. I’ll be your instructor.”
The studio itself was new. There were three rooms, where a variety of classes were held each day. A lovely oak covered the ceiling and walls, along with skylights and large windows.
After rolling out her mat, she sat on a blanket in lotus position. Six other students came in at different times, and in ten minutes, François entered. No one spoke, and Eliza liked it that way. The website for The Yoga Institute instructed students to be silent on the way in and out, which she thought showed discipline.
First, they did pranayama. “Breathe in, breath out,” he said in a subdued voice. That lasted for six minutes. Next, they went into classic poses: trikonasana or triangle pose, virabhadrasana the warrior poses and finally, lunges.
François then said, “Let’s practice some handstands. Lisel, will you spot our newest student, Eliza. Eliza, this will happen only until I’m sure of your competence.”
“Of course. I expected no less from you.”
The woman walked toward her. Eliza’s jaw dropped. It was Lisel Loring. The woman was a world-renown performer. As a young ballet student, Eliza has seen her dance many times, in different shows. Her hair was still black and pulled off her face. Her blue eyes sparkled, with a complexion that lived up to the adage peaches and cream.
“Hello, Lisel.”
“Hello. François demands a spotter at first for new students in this class,” she said quietly. “I promise I won’t interfere unless I have to.”
Eliza dropped to the floor and into malasana, a squat pose, with hands folded in prayer position. Its purpose was to gain concentration. When she was ready, she set her hands on the floor, lifted her butt and jackknifed into a forward bend. She kicked one foot up then the other, in a clean hop. Upside down, she tucked her toes and sucked in her navel, then extended her feet. She held the pose until François called a halt and came down gently. She said to Lisel, “I can hold the pose longer.”
“I bet you can. Your handstand was absolutely perfect.” She turned to François. “She’s a keeper.”
“So, I see.”
During the rest of the class, Eliza tried not to steal glances at Lisel, who did everything with grace and beauty. When class ended, François came over to her and whispered, “You did well in this class. You still have the grace of a ballerina. Come back soon.”
In the locker area where people stored their street clothes and belongings, Eliza bypassed hers and found Lisel down another row. “Thank you for your help. I recognized you right away. I saw most of your Broadway shows and the performances at Lincoln Center when I could get to them. You were quite wonderful.”
“Thank you, Eliza. You seem familiar to me, too. I was going to stop by your locker and ask why.”
“I was a professional ballet dancer.”
Lisel held her gaze. Then said, “Of course. You were a prima ballerina. I saw you dance, too, many times. Didn’t you leave the rat race like I did?”
“Yes, but I didn’t stay in it for as long as you. I got pregnant and quit. Do you have any kids?”
“I do. Let’s walk out together and talk a bit.”
They stopped at Eliza’s locker, and when they stepped outside, the woman was even more beautiful in the sunlight. “I have a daughter who’s ten and a son who’s only four. He was quite a surprise, but a good one. Tell me about yours.”
Eliza filled her in on Taylor. When she finished, Ronan’s car swerved in front of the Institute. He got out. His shoulders were stiff again and his brows furrowed. Something was wrong. When he reached them, he smiled. “Hey, there.”
“Hi. Ronan Casella, this is—”
“I know, Lisel Loring.” He held out his hand. “I recognize you from your incomparable performances. I wasn’t aware that you were living in Hidden Cove.”
“Eleven years now.” A vee in her forehead. “Casella? Any relation to Rafe and Kate?”
“Yes, cousins. Close cousins.”
“What are you two doing here?”
“I’ve rented the Hidden Cove Playhouse. I’m going to put on a performance.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Now, if you don’t look familiar, too.”
“I’ve used the name Ron Klein, to direct shows.” He rolled his eyes. “Before that, I was Ronny Case.”
“Of Rebel fame.”
“Yes. Come on down and check us out at the playhouse sometime.”
“I will.” She turned to Eliza. “Glad to meet you. Maybe we can have coffee one day after yoga. I come three times a week.”
“I’ll be here three days, too.”
Lisel glided off.
Ronan said, “You already made a friend.” He slid his arm around her and drew her close as they walked to the car. He’d done that a million times, but this time it seemed more intimate, probably because of his indecent proposal earlier.
“Are you all right, Ronan?”
“I will be. I had a visitor at the playhouse.” He heaved out a sigh. “Bridget.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No. Not now. We will before we go to Hayley’s Saturday night.”
“Am I going to Hayley’s?”
“Of course. We can run into town and pick up the rest of the stuff you need, then drive to Brooklyn. But maybe you won’t want to come.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I’m going to tell her and Finn the entire story. They’ll be upset.”
“They should know the truth. Would you like me to go as moral support?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then I will.”
Inside the car, they held hands all the way out to the lake.
* * *
Instead of vegging out at the lake, Ronan and Eliza went for a hike. They found a trail at the end of lake road, not far from his house, and parked in the lot.
He followed her up the path because it started narrowly. The position was fine with him because it gave him an unrestricted view of her ass. She was in perfect shape, and wasn’t even skinny like she must have been all those years ago. There was meat on those bones, which settled in nicely rounded curves.
He said, “I didn’t know you hiked.”
“I used to take Taylor when I couldn’t stand being cooped up any longer.” She waited for him to come to her side when the trail opened up. “After years of training and performances, I felt better quickly and got restless.”
“Do ballerinas ever go back to work after having a child?”
“I think some must. But that would have meant leaving her with sitters all day and night sometimes. It was out of the question.”
“You worked though, right, after a while?”
“I opened a studio in the east end of the Village. I only accepted a few, very talented students, charged a fortune, and was gone about twenty hours a week. It was enough money to pay the rent back then.”
“I never knew all that.” He bumped a shoulder into her. “I’m in the dark about so much of your past. Were you ever happy with Craig?”
“I was, the first few years. It took me a long time to see how he was…reshaping me.”
“What does that mean?”
“I used to be free-spirited. Gradually, his conservatism, his demands of an ordered life, forced me into that mode. I did it, but I resented him.”
“Did you tell him how you felt?”
“I tried, at first. He shrugged it off, saying I could do and behave however I wanted. But when I began to be outspoken at dinner and parties, he was displeased. He didn’t talk to me at home afterward, and spent even longer hours at work. He hardly ever came home for dinner.”
“What did you do?”
“I’m ashamed to say that after a year of the cold shoulder, I relented.”
“Didn’t you have friends to talk to about this?”
“No. I made acquaintances, especially when Taylor went to school. I became involved with a group of women, and a few men, who were stay-at-home parents, and we socialized during the day. But they were never close enough to confide my marital woes.”
They hiked some in silence, then he asked, “Did you ever have close friends?”
“Yes. In my dancing days. I could tell Janey and Susie anything. They understood. But both of them got positions in other ballet companies, out of town, and I lost that.”
He slid his arm around her, tugged her close. They walked slowly like that for a while. “I’m sorry for all the issues you had.”
“Nothing like you, though. I had a wonderful childhood. The only disagreements I had with my parents were when I was asked to dance in the summer with The Ballet Company of New York. At first Mom and Dad were happy for me. Then, when I didn’t want to go to college, there were fights. Which is why I didn’t object when Taylor started down the same road. I hope she keeps her commitment to Butler.”
“I do too. Tell me how she’s doing.”
Talk about Taylor cheered them both up, and when the trail turned steeper, they hiked with vigor. Consequently, she was tired when they got back to the car. Her phone rang just as she slid inside. “Do you mind if I take this?”
“No, not at all.”
“Hello…What on earth are you calling me for?” A long pause. “No, I will not do that. Like I said at the bistro, I’m not interested in your change of heart. Goodbye, Craig. Don’t call me again.” She disconnected.
“What was that about?”
“I ran into Craig in a bistro near our apartment. He told me he was unhappy in his marriage. That his new wife had gone to her mother’s indefinitely. He asked if there was a chance of us seeing each other again.”
“That takes fucking nerve, after what he did. And it infuriates me.”
“Me, too. I was incensed. But that’s Craig. He sees life as he wants it. I think he expected me to say yes.”
“Amazing.” He took her hand across the gear shift. “Of course, I have an ulterior motive here. I want you in my bed.”
Silence.
“Have you decided?”
“Not yet. It hasn’t been that long.”
“Seems like an eternity.”
She socked him in the arm. “Poor you. Well, you’ll have to wait until I figure out if this will be good for us.”
“Oh, it’ll be good, baby.”
“Stop it. If you pressure me, the answer will be no.”
“I’ll stop. Boy scout’s honor.”
“You, Ronan Casella are anything but a boy scout.”
Chapter 3
* * *
Ronan watched the tears roll down Hayley’s cheeks, each one searing his heart. Then he looked at Finn, whose wet face gave away his feelings. The two of them sat on the couch, with Paul there, too, and all of them stared at him. From behind his chair, Eliza placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Her touch gave him the stamina to finish up. “I’m so sorry to have to tell you all this. It’s one of the reasons I ran away to Hollywood and abandoned you.”
“To protect us.”
“Yes, Finn, but also to protect myself.”
Hayley turned her head onto Pa
ul’s shoulder and he grasped her neck, held her there. He nodded to Ronan “You had to tell them. Don’t feel bad.”
“This isn’t about me today. I’ve had decades, and therapy, to overcome most of what happened.” Except the trust part. That was still missing from his psyche.
When Hayley pulled back, she stood and crossed to him. Knelt on the side of his chair. Took his hands. “You must have been destroyed.”
“My world shattered.” He cupped her cheek. “I don’t want yours to.”
She shook her head, dislodging her braid some. She had an innate youth and innocence, but now seemed even more so. “Nonsense, those people are not my world now. I hardly speak to Bridget.”
“She came to see me this week at the playhouse.”
Color, fueled by anger, return to Finn’s face. “Why the fuck would she do that?”
“She wanted me to put all this shit behind me. For all of us to do that. She said we shouldn’t hold any grudges against her.”
Finn grasped on to Millie’s hand. “She was probably afraid her circle of friends would find out that her children wouldn’t have anything to do with her.” His voice was hoarse.
“He’s right.” Hayley perked up some. “She cares more about what people think of her than about us. It’s probably why she let our father continue his obscene affair.”
“I can just hear her.” Finn again. “Albert, I do not care who you sleep with. Just don’t let it get out and disgrace me.”
Shaking his head, Ronan looked back at Eliza, who smiled down at him.
Then she said, “Paul, why don’t we get everybody drinks?”
“I’ll help.” Millie stood and accompanied them out.
Hayley watched them go. “They didn’t have to leave us alone.”
“Is there anything else you need to say?” Ronan asked.
“Not me.”
“I’m glad we know.” Finn stood now and took a seat on the couch closer to Ronan so he could grasp his forearm. “I can’t imagine how much you must have suffered.”
