by Charley Lynn
After tryouts, Rosemary heard the whispers around her. “Doesn’t she know she’s too fat to be a dancer? She’ll never make the team.”
Connor ran down from the top of the bleachers. You did great, Rosie.”
“Don’t expect me to make the team.”
“Why not?”
“I’m too tall, too big and not mediocre enough. I won’t make it.”
“Then they’re stupid.” Connor frowned.
Rosemary laughed. “Don’t worry about it, bud. I also noticed the older girls didn’t like it when Chelsea Keller clapped.”
“Chelsea doesn’t care. Chad is a football star and the rest of the Keller kids were all stars, too. Chelsea and her sisters do whatever they want. Nobody will mess with them.”
Rosemary nodded. “Are you riding home with me?”
“Can you pick me up at the shop entrance in fifteen?”
“Sure.” Rosemary was thoughtful as she walked to her truck behind the gym. She did a double-take when she saw the movie-star handsome African-American man standing next to her truck. “Cruz?” She laughed when Chelsea Keller’s older brother grabbed her in a bear hug. “Did you just get home?”
“Yesterday. Mom roped me into carpool duty because she and John are working on a special project at the church. Something about a dance studio?”
“Yep. I’m going to give dance lessons in the fall. They’re hoping to do some work on the gym so I can use it for classes.”
Cruz laughed. “I should have known when she said the word ‘dance’ it had something to do with you. That’s cool. I just realized something. Why are you here? I thought you went to Roosevelt in Des Moines.”
“I’m transferring to C-M for my senior year; I just tried out for the dance team.”
“Chloe tried out for Dance team, too. Chelsea was supposedly staying to cheer her on, although it’s more likely she was trying to make Chloe miserable.” The two girls approached, bickering loudly.
Chloe was a petite girl with beautiful light brown skin and large dark brown eyes, like Cruz’s. Chelsea was about the same height, but more solid; her skin and hair lighter than her sister’s. Her eyes were green, like their father’s. Both girls were movie-star beautiful, although Chelsea, unlike her sister, wore little to no make-up, jeans and red Converse. Rosemary smiled. “They’re so darling, Cruz.”
“They’re horrendous. They bicker about everything.” A third girl followed, walking slowly a few feet behind. Thick, golden brown hair in braids, the girl was reading with glasses perched on her nose. She either didn’t notice the twins were arguing or she ignored them.
“Who’s the other girl?”
“Darcie.” Cruz smiled, his eyes on the girl. “Darcie Greene. Our neighbor.” Rosemary glanced at Cruz. His face had softened as he stared at the young girl. Cruz gently took Darcie’s arm and steered her across the sidewalk. “Front seat for you, Darcie-bug.”
The girl gave Cruz a sweet look. “I’m glad you’re home, Cruz.”
Cruz smiled gently. “I’m glad to be home, bug.”
“Darcie always gets to sit in the front seat! It’s not fair, Cruz!” Chelsea complained loudly.
“I love her more, Chels.” Cruz snarked. Grumbling, Chelsea climbed into the back seat behind Darcie.
After Cruz shut the passenger door, he turned back to Rosemary and saw her watching with a speculative look. “She’s special,” he said quietly.
“I see that.” Rosemary smiled gently.
Cruz stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Her mom died when she was ten; her dad’s a good guy but wrapped up in his work. She’s an only child.” He shrugged again. “Like I said, she’s special.’
“I get it, Cruz. Really.”
Three guys wearing baseball caps and carrying bat bags approached, talking and laughing. They stopped on the sidewalk. “Hey, Cruz!” The tallest guy grinned.
“Hi, Mike. How’s baseball?” Two of the guys waved and moved off, but Mike stayed behind.
“Good. I think we’ll do okay…”
“Mike! Mikey!”
A large group of girls swarmed the tall guy. Rosemary watched him while one after the other, the girls flirted and cooed. Light brown hair streaked with blond, his grin was a mile wide, lapping up the attention. “Ladies, ladies, there’s just not enough of me to go around,” he said teasingly. When he looked up and saw Rosemary watching, he winked at her. His light caramel-colored eyes twinkled when he caught her looking.
Rosemary turned away from him and rolled her eyes. Cruz chuckled beside her. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, making her giggle. Cruz’s eyes danced with laughter. “If you get bored this summer, we could hang out. Maybe a movie this weekend?”
“Sure. That sounds good.” Rosemary didn’t notice that the tall boy was watching her exchange with Cruz, even while he continued to flirt with the posse of girls vying for his attention.
When Cruz kissed her on the cheek before he walked away, Rosemary saw Mike frown. He kept watching her with that slight frown as she drove away, leaving him on the sidewalk surrounded by girls.
Connor was quiet when he climbed into the SportTrac. Rosemary didn’t pay too much attention; with Connor, quiet was normal. He was either listening to music from his ear buds, reading, studying or just sitting quietly. Chatter from Connor never happened.
He finally sighed. “I saw the list for the dance team.”
Rosemary smiled faintly. “I wasn’t on the list, was I?”
“No, you weren’t. I’m sorry, Rosie.”
“It’s okay. I’m not upset about it.”
Rosemary may not have been upset, but John was. “I’m sorry, Rosemary. It never occurred to me that you wouldn’t make the dance team.” He rubbed his hand over his bald spot, a sign he was feeling anxious.
“I’m fine with it, John. Other than Chelsea Keller, nobody was friendly. I saw the look on the coach’s face when she saw me for the first time; I knew then that it was a lost cause.”
Connor spoke up. “Chelsea was the only one who clapped after Rosemary’s tryout.”
“John, dance is cut-throat even for small high school teams like Central-Marion. Every team, every teacher and every coach has their own biases. I don’t fit the norm because of my size, but I love dance and it has given me a lot. Without dance, I’d never have modeled and I wouldn’t have any self-confidence. Making C-M’s team isn’t essential for me, it isn’t even a disappointment. I’ll always find ways to dance.”
“You’re sure? You’re not just trying to make me feel better because I pushed for you to transfer?”
“I’m sure. God shut this door but there are windows open all over the house.” She winked at her step-dad. “Even in little Ivy, Iowa. So, as the twins would say, ‘chillax, Dad.’”
John brightened when she called him ‘dad.’ “If you say so, Rosemary. I’m disappointed, but I’ll believe you when you say you’re not.” John looked around the table. “Changing the subject; I bought ice cream today, so anyone who cleans their plates can have some.” He grinned when he saw heads lower and eating resume.
Margie looked up from feeding Jared. “I wish you had made the team, too, Rosemary, but I’m sure you’ll find plenty of things to fill your time.” She smiled at Rosemary. “Cruz stopped at the church to see his mom this afternoon. He said he saw you the other day. He’s a nice guy, isn’t he?”
“He is. Fun and low-key.”
“He’s a little old for you, isn’t he?” John frowned. “I think he’s at least twenty-one.”
“Dad…” Rosemary grinned when John’s frown turned into a bright smile. She knew it was because she had called him ‘Dad’ again. She realized it made them both happy when she called him ‘Dad’ and she decided to continue with it. “Dad, Cruz and I are friends. We have fun together. There’s nothing romantic with us.”
Connor spoke up. “Chelsea thinks he’s got a girlfriend stashed somewhere. He gets hit on all the time, but he never does anything but flirt.�
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Rosemary changed the subject. She grinned at her sisters. “Girls? Dance lessons this summer? You two, me, in the studio?”
“Yeah! Can we get new leotards?”
“Sure, I’ll get you some new leotards. Two different colors. Purple for Leesa and orange for you, Lara.”
“I hate orange! I won’t wear orange!” Lara pouted.
There was laughter around the table; Lara was vocal about her hatred of the color orange. She refused to even eat oranges, tangerines or carrots, strictly because of their color. “I was joking, silly. No orange for you. Orange for Leesa and purple for you, okay? Now, finish your green beans if you want ice cream.”
Rosemary came home on the last day of school. She found John in the kitchen, waiting on her. “You were serious about giving dance lessons, right?”
“I was. Have you and Jocelyn decided where I can hold classes?”
John nodded. “In the gym. We have a group of donors who will contribute to remodeling the gym, putting in new windows and fixing the roof. One end will have a ballet barre and be usable as a dance studio.”
Rosemary pumped a fist. “Yeah!”
“Work will be started inside early or mid-July, after the roof is fixed and the windows are in. Everything should be done by the time school starts.”
Rosemary’s phone chimed; she looked at the screen. “This is weird. Central-Marion School. Just a sec.” She touched the screen and said ‘hello’.
“Miss Masters, this is Bob Madison, the Central Marion Athletic Director. I’d like to talk to you about an employment opportunity.”
“Alright.”
“I know it’s very short notice, but would you be available this afternoon for an interview? We have an unexpected summer vacancy for dance team coach. Your coach from Roosevelt recommended you for the position.”
“I can be there at four o’clock to discuss it.”
“Excellent. My office is on the lower level of the gym. Take the first set of stairs inside the east door. My name is on my door.”
Rosemary blinked at the phone and looked at John after she disconnected the call. “That was the C-M Athletic Director. I have an interview today to be the summer dance team coach.”
John’s grin split his face. “I think God just opened a window.
Chapter 3
Mike sat on the bleachers in the hot June sun, watching the pitching coach work with a tall kid. He’d never seen the kid and he thought he knew every baseball player in the district. The kid was hanging on Coach Armstrong’s every word, completely focused. The only time even a ghost of a smile crossed his face was when Coach A clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Good job.”
In his periphery, Mike saw a white vehicle pull in slowly and park by the first-base fence. Pulling the cap off his head, he turned to wipe his sweaty face on his sleeve and saw the white SportTrac the girl drove. The girl he’d seen with Cruz two weeks ago, a few days after he’d noticed her at Good’s Gas Topper. The girl who’d smiled her thanks when he held the door open for her, but didn’t spare him a second glance.
Mike had been thinking a lot about that girl. He’d watched her walk to her truck at Good’s, entranced by her aura of confident grace. She moved like an athlete who heard and danced to her own music. Even more fascinating was that her movements seemed unconscious; there was no artifice or contrived sexual come-hither air about her. Completely unlike the girls he knew.
When she had passed by him, he could see she was young, seventeen or eighteen. She had huge blue eyes with long, dark eyelashes. Not only was she gorgeous, but if she’d had make-up on, he couldn’t tell. What he saw was her, completely natural. He noticed again that she was very tall, even in flats. She barely had to look up to make eye contact with him.
He glanced again, verifying it was her in the drivers’ seat. He watched her frown at a book and twist her long dark ponytail around her hand before she tucked the ends of the ponytail in and grabbed a pencil to hold the messy bun in place. She bent slightly over the book and seemed to be sketching. She didn’t look Mike’s way; in fact, after a quick glance at the field, she didn’t look anywhere except her book.
He’d been thinking about her a lot. He didn’t know who she was, and that was strange. Like the kid he’d been watching work with Coach A, it was odd that Mike didn’t know the girl because he’d lived here his whole life, and they were around the same age. He was also confused that she didn’t even look his way. Maybe she was totally into Cruz; that could explain it. Otherwise, it was just weird that she didn’t look at him. It was even more frustrating because he couldn’t seem to stop looking at her.
Mike turned his attention back to the field, watching while the tall kid packed up his bat bag and headed to the parking lot. When the kid dropped his bag into the bed of the white truck and climbed in beside the mystery girl, Mike was even more curious. They looked like they could be brother and sister, both tall and dark-haired. The boy was very lean with sharp, hawk-like features while the girl was curvy with softer features. Those big blue eyes and a wide mouth. He’d only seen her truly smile once (at Cruz!) but her smile took his breath away. The boy’s eyes were slightly smaller and of an indistinguishable color. Mike shook his head after he watched them drive away. Sighing, he jumped off the bleachers and headed to the field.
As Mike finished tying his cleats, he looked up at the pitching coach. “Hey, Coach, how are you doing?”
“Pretty good, Mike. Everything okay with you?
Mike stood. “Yep. All good. Hey, who was that tall kid you were working with a few minutes ago?”
“That’s Connor Masters.”
Mike nodded, then dropped into a stretch. “I’ve never seen him before—I thought I knew every baseball player in the district.”
“Connor moved to Ivy a couple of years ago, but he was involved in a league in Des Moines. You know his dad--John Masters, the pastor of the Methodist church.”
Mike frowned. “That doesn’t make sense, Coach. John Masters has lived here for years, and he doesn’t have any sons; he has twin girls.”
The coach tapped Mike’s forehead. “Think, Studor. John adopted Connor and his brother Caleb when he married their mom.”
“Oh, yeah. I totally forgot that John got married.”
“You’d know this stuff if you got up on Sunday morning and came to church.”
“Yeah, Coach. I know.” Mike knew the coach was right, but his avoidance of church was his own business. The coach brought it up occasionally, but Mike wouldn’t discuss it with him.
Chapter 4
Rosemary had noticed the boy on the bleachers after she parked the truck. He was watching the players on the field and didn’t look her way. When she realized who he was, she hurriedly opened her sketch pad and pretended to concentrate while she nervously twisted her ponytail. Irritated at herself, she finally made her hair into a bun and stuck a pencil through the mass of hair to hold it in place before she started to sketch.
Under her lashes, she watched the boy. His yellow tee shirt was tight over his broad shoulders and muscled arms. His sun-bleached blond and light brown hair stuck out under his cap every which way. He was lightly tanned, and he was all-around gorgeous. Rosemary sighed. The guy was hot, but she was so not his type. She’d never been anybody’s type. She shook herself a little. She didn’t want to start at a new school with a crush on a cute guy who’d never look her way.
She jumped when she heard Connor’s bat bag hit the bed of the truck with a loud thud. It startled her out of her reverie about the hot guy with the caramel eyes. Connor climbed into the passenger seat.
“Good practice?” Rosemary asked, clicking her seat belt.
“Yeah. Got hot.” Connor clicked his own seat belt and grabbed his water bottle.
Rosemary nodded. “Okay.” She watched as Connor popped in his ear buds and turned on his music. “Hi, sis. How’s your day been?” Rosemary muttered, aware she was talking to herself.
Vacation Bible Sc
hool was always held the second full week of summer vacation. Rosemary pushed open the doors of the church, and stationed herself on the walk to greet the arriving children. She gave a lot of hugs, listened to stories and gave directions to activities.
“Roma! Roma! Roma!” A small girl tugged on the hem of Rosemary’s tee shirt.
Rosemary scooped up the little girl. “Hello, Miranda! I’m so happy to see you today!” She waved at the girl’s mother as she joined them. “Did you bring a special something to show today?”
“I brought a picture of Mickey to show my class!” Miranda shouted, waving a photo.
Rosemary chuckled. The little girl with Downs’ Syndrome was funny, opinionated and feisty. “Mickey’s your favorite brother, right?”
“He’s my only brother, silly!” The little girl giggled loudly.
Physically an eight-year-old, the child’s developmental age was age five. “Let’s see Mickey.” When Miranda shoved the picture at her, Rosemary had to try hard not to look shocked. Miranda’s brother Mickey was also Mike, the tall, handsome guy with the caramel eyes who had girls falling all over him. In the picture, Mike’s ball cap was on his head, his hair was stuck out every which way, his face and baseball shirt were covered in dust and his face was split in a grin.
“My mom took the picture. Mickey slid and won the game!”