by Paddy Eger
“Go home. Keep working on my ankle. I want to dance again, if I can.”
“And you might. Let me know if I can help in any way. You have lots of wonderful skills. It would be a shame for you to waste your talent.”
“Thanks for your kindness.” Marta looked to her feet. As she opened the door, she stopped. “Good luck with the tribute performances. The Gershwin evening should be a popular performance.”
“I hope so. It’s always a gamble to try something new and different.”
Outside the office, she leaned against the wall until her breathing slowed and a calmness settled in. She had tried, done her best, but now it was time to step away, to create her own new and different.
With the rest of the day free, Marta strolled through town, picking up small gifts for the boarders, Mrs. B., and Lynne. Then she headed home to finish packing.
The dinner at Lynne’s ended up being spaghetti with a jar of marinara sauce, a lettuce wedge salad with mayonnaise for dressing, and Coca Cola in wine glasses. They sat and laughed, talking about the drama at the company and their encounters with Madame and how they missed Bartley.
“Well, Marta, we had an exciting year, didn’t we? I could have done without the sad parts.”
“I agree.” Marta fiddled with the edge of her place mat, then let her eyes wander around Lynne’s apartment before she looked at Lynne. “I’ll miss you so much. I promise to come back next year to see the little girls dance.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” Lynne stood and collected their dishes as a knock sounded at the door. “Get that, will you?”
Marta opened the door. Steve was standing on the porch.
Marta’s eyes widened. “Hi. How did you know…?” She turned and shouted, “Lynne?”
Steve touched Marta’s hand. “Don’t be mad. Lynne and I set this up. May I come in?” He handed her the largest bouquet of daisies she had ever seen. “I hope you like daisies.”
Lynne joined them. “Of course she likes daisies. I thought you weren’t going to make it.”
“Had to raid my aunt’s shop. Couldn’t find enough wild ones.”
Marta held the bouquet, enjoying the yellow and white daisy faces. There was no way she could stay upset with their tricking her. “Thanks, Steve.”
“Are you ready to go, or should I wait in the car?”
Lynne put her arm around Marta. “If you don’t take her soon I’ll probably start to cry all over again, and that isn’t a pretty scene.”
Marta leaned her head against Lynne’s shoulder. “I’ll think of you every day, especially when I wear the blue sweater. Call me, write, and please come visit. I, I don’t know what I am going to do without you.” Marta began to cry.
“Now don’t get me started again.” Lynne wiped her eyes as she pushed Marta toward the door. “Get her out of here before the flood breaks. I’ll see you tomorrow at the train.”
“No, Lynne. Say good bye here. Please?”
Lynne grabbed Marta and hugged her tightly, crushing the flowers. “Whatever you want. You be happy and call me, hear?”
“I will.” Marta headed out the door, then rushed back to hug Lynne. “Oh, Lynne, I’ll miss you so, so much!”
“Go! Get out of here!”
Steve drove Marta to The Rims. The city lights sparkled in the warm evening. They wandered the edge, watching car lights below them move like grounded stars. He took Marta’s hand and kissed her fingers.
She leaned against his chest. “Your being at Lynne’s was a nice surprise.”
“I’m glad you weren’t mad.” Steve put his arms around her shoulders. They stood quiet for long moments. “Marta, I want to tell you something important.”
“What?”
“Okay. I’ve mentioned this several times, but you usually react so strongly I’m almost afraid to try again.”
“What, Steve?”
He brushed aside her hair and traced the side of her face with his fingers. “From the first day I saw you, I knew you were special. I want you to know that I will always care about you.”
Marta lay her head against his chest, listening to the loud thumping of his heart; it matched her own. “I care about you too, Steve.”
“You do? For real?”
“Yes. I didn’t want to, but I’ve always cared for you.”
“Really? Then stay here. I’ll work for the paper in town.”
Marta shook her head. “I need to figure out who I am going to be since I’m not a dancer. I need time for everything to settle down. And you need space to think about where you want to work. I’d feel guilty if you settled for something less than what you dream about doing.”
“So, you care about me, right?”
“Course I do. At first I needed to focus on my dance career. I didn’t know how to handle being a girlfriend at the same time.”
“Do you know how to handle it now?”
“Yes. When you’re not around I feel like something, someone, is missing.”
“You tell me this, and now you’re leaving me?”
She nodded against his chest. “Can you understand? I have to leave to get back on track.”
“Sure.”
They stood in a knotted hug. Marta tried to absorb his presence, to save it for the times ahead when they’d not be together.
“Will you write to me in San Francisco or wherever I end up? You could come visit me or I could visit you. I don’t want to lose you, Miss Fluff.”
“You won’t.”
“I’ll try to call you every Sunday. I promise I’ll do a better job this time.”
“I’ll count on that.”
Steve released his hold on her, moving her away so they could see each other’s faces. “Can I entice you to wear the bracelet I gave you before I left for San Francisco?”
Marta studied his face. Was he serious? “You still want me to have it?”
“Of course. I hoped you’d agree to wear it one day.” He pulled the box from his pocket, opened it, and held up the bracelet. The faint city lights made the diamonds sparkle like stars.
His fingers shook as he hooked the clasp. Marta touched his fingers and held them against the bracelet. “This is so beautiful. Are you sure you want me to have this, Steve?”
“Positive.” He kissed her and let out a sigh. “Thank heavens you didn’t say no this time.”
Marta laughed. A tangled sensation grew inside her. “I’ve been so confused and moody and selfish. I’m trying to figure things out. One thing I do know is that I love you.”
He kissed her again. “It’s about time, Miss Fluff.”
They stood wrapped together, alternately holding each other and kissing. When another car appeared on the side road, Steve released all but her hand. “We’d better go.”
An hour later he backed down the boarding house porch steps, pulling Marta’s hands along. “Tomorrow’s a big day.”
“I wouldn’t call it that. But remember, you promised not come to the train. I can’t stand saying good bye again. Promise?”
“I promise.” He smiled and blew a kiss. “I love you, Miss Fluff.”
“I love you too, ink boy.”
Marta stood on the porch until Steve’s car disappeared. Then she sat back in the swing. In a few hours she’d be on her way home, stepping into a life that wouldn’t be choreographed until she set it in motion.
34
Sunrise. Pale gray clouds covered the sky as Marta stood on The Rims one last time. The bike ride and the walk up the long hill wore her out, but she had been determined to make the trek on her own.
After nine short months she could pick out numerous landmarks: her boarding house street, the highway cutting east to west through the valley, the Beartooth Mountains, the Yellowstone River
. She’d grown to love these open spaces, the cottonwoods, the big sky of Montana. But being a sea level, Puget Sound girl, she missed a cool edge in morning weather. Not long now until she’d be back home, for better or worse.
Late in the afternoon, Marta said her goodbyes on the boarding house porch. James hugged her. “You’re a nice person. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
Marta cried and hugged him tightly.
Shorty cleared his throat. “I hope when you dance in your old garage studio, you’ll remember us. I listened to your music every time I heard you in the basement. It made me feel like I helped you in some tiny way. Did you get those eighty-four ribbons?”
“I came close, Shorty. I’m taking eighty-three ribbons home.” Marta patted his slumped shoulders, then pulled him into a hug. “Thanks for remembering my ribbons.”
That left Carol. Did she want or need to say goodbye to her? As Marta considered her options, Carol stepped out. “You’re leaving? Well, goodbye.” Carol walked to sit in the porch swing, set it in motion, and watched Marta with disinterest, as if she were a passerby, not someone she’d shared a house, meals, and a bathroom with over the last nine months.
Marta took Mrs. B.’s hand and gave her a small ballerina figurine she’d found in the second hand store. “I hope you’ll come for a visit. My mom and I would both love it.”
Mrs. B. hugged Marta. “You take care of yourself. You’re talented in many ways. You’ll find a way to dance again or something else to wrap your heart around.”
A cab pulled up in front of the boarding house. Marta climbed in and waved until it turned the corner. Her head and her heart ached as she headed to the train.
The early evening train vibrated in readiness to depart. Passengers boarded, dragging luggage and children through the aisles. Marta sat in a window seat looking out at the depot, thinking about her life heading in an unknown direction. Her years of dancing and dreaming swirled around like dust. She fidgeted with the bracelet from Steve and touched the Christmas necklace tucked inside her blouse. She smiled, thinking of these tokens of their future together. Would that piece of her future hold together across so many miles and unknowns? She hoped so.
Marta caught a movement along the platform. She leaned forward to look out the window. Lynne and Steve smiled and waved as they opened a long, hand printed banner that read, ”We love you, Miss Fluff.” Lynne shrugged as if to say ”how could we not come to say goodbye?”
Laughter filled Marta’s heart as tears filled her eyes. Inside she broke apart, but she stifled a hysterical sob inching up her throat. She wiped her eyes and raced to the stairway and leaned out. She waved and waved shouting, “I love you both!”
The train lurched. The clatter of its circling wheels began. Her friends ran beside the train until they reached the end of the platform.
Marta stood in the stairway watching Lynne and Steve grow smaller and smaller. Within a short time, the entire city of Billings shrank away. Even The Rims dissolved into the prairie countryside. She returned to her seat and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes as the train rocked from side to side heading west.
“Miss? Miss?”
Marta awoke with a start, trying to remember where she was. On the train. A porter stood next to her seat, waiting for her to come fully awake.
“Excuse me, miss, but your friend handed me this package and asked me to give it to you when we’d left Billings.” He handed her a small wrapped box.
“Thank you,” she said.
Marta untied the ribbon, undid the wrapping, and lifted off the lid. A envelope inside said “Read this first.” She opened the envelope and read:
Marta, you left me more than your dirty clothes and the little girl costumes in that box. I thought you’d want to take this home with you as well.
Lynne
Under the card she found another wrapping; so like Lynne to make things complicated. Inside that wrapping she found one pink ribbon with a tiny note attached that read:
Found this tucked in the pocket of a blouse you stuffed in my take-away box. Best of luck on collecting your next eighty-four ribbons.
Tears streamed down Marta’s face as she ran her fingers along the silky pink ribbon. She’d gotten her eighty-four ribbons after all. Did it matter anymore? Yes, it still mattered a lot.
She sat back, fingering the ribbon and watching the small mountain towns pass by as if playing on a large movie screen. Soon they’d start the climb into the Beartooth Mountains, leaving the prairie, Billings, and her career with the Intermountain Ballet Company behind.
Marta opened the pouch of stones she carried in her pocket, coiled up the ribbon, and dropped it inside. Dad wouldn’t mind her sharing space in the pouch for a new treasure. Would he have agreed with her decision to return home? She hoped so. She missed him every day. Now she’d add Steve, Lynne, and Mrs. B. as people she’d also miss.
As she slid the pouch back into her pocket, a small kernel of expectation settled inside her, pushing away the sadness she’d been holding onto so tightly. She’d lived her dream of becoming a professional dancer and reached one goal. Now it was time to reach for a new one.
Marta curled her legs up under her skirt and turned to watch the scenery. The gentle rocking of the train, like the motion of a rocking chair, soothed her.
Next stop, home.
Author Notes
A book is like a ballet. I took the lessons and practiced over several years before I was ready to audition and actually write the book.
My mentors provided ongoing inspiration like a ballet summer camp, building up my skills. Lauraine Snelling invited me to join her intensive workshop. She stressed the importance of stepping into the characters’ lives to understand what they were thinking and why. The Snoopy Dancers, the writers I met there, became my first cadre of support. Thanks, Ceil, Nancy Jo, and Eileen.
My second mentor, Kirby Larson, asked probing questions which highlighted my strengths and what I needed to continue to practice.
Like ballet, I had numerous practice sessions, sharing my interpretations in an effort to receive honest, useful feedback. Thanks, critique groups: Karen, Dusty, Dick, Sue, Gail, and Bill and Gretchen, Maureen, Nicki, and Emily. I appreciate your acting as my corps de ballet and supporting my debut novel.
Special thanks go out to my parents for providing me the opportunity to dance and to my dance teacher, Margie Speck, who taught me to love ballet. My first editors Ceil, Gretchen, and Nancy Jo and my early readers, Linda, Marilyn, and my husband trusted me to follow my dancing spirit through to the final bow.
My developmental editor, Sarah Overturf, acted like a ballet master in a dress rehearsal. Together we smoothed out the movement of the story.
Lastly, my publisher and creative designer, Karin Hoffman of Tendril Press, choreographed my performance. She brought the story to life as a completed work. Now, I’m waiting in the wings, hoping the audience, my readers, enjoy all the acts of the performance.
Thanks also to my husband, Rich, and my family for supporting me as I created Marta’s ballet world.
Author Notes
A book is like a ballet. I took the lessons and practiced over several years before I was ready to audition and actually write the book.
My mentors provided ongoing inspiration like a ballet summer camp, building up my skills. Lauraine Snelling invited me to join her intensive workshop. She stressed the importance of stepping into the characters’ lives to understand what they were thinking and why. The Snoopy Dancers, the writers I met there, became my first cadre of support. Thanks, Ceil, Nancy Jo, and Eileen.
My second mentor, Kirby Larson, asked probing questions which highlighted my strengths and what I needed to continue to practice.
Like ballet, I had numerous practice sessions, sharing my interpretations in an effort
to receive honest, useful feedback. Thanks, critique groups: Karen, Dusty, Dick, Sue, Gail, and Bill and Gretchen, Maureen, Nicki, and Emily. I appreciate your acting as my corps de ballet and supporting my debut novel.
Special thanks go out to my parents for providing me the opportunity to dance and to my dance teacher, Margie Speck, who taught me to love ballet. My first editors Ceil, Gretchen, and Nancy Jo and my early readers, Linda, Marilyn, and my husband trusted me to follow my dancing spirit through to the final bow.
My developmental editor, Sarah Overturf, acted like a ballet master in a dress rehearsal. Together we smoothed out the movement of the story.
Lastly, my publisher and creative designer, Karin Hoffman of Tendril Press, choreographed my performance. She brought the story to life as a completed work. Now, I’m waiting in the wings, hoping the audience, my readers, enjoy all the acts of the performance.
Thanks also to my husband, Rich, and my family for supporting me as I created Marta’s ballet world.
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About the Author
Paddy Eger’s debut YA novel, 84 Ribbons, springs from her years of dance lessons. Between age three and twenty she performed ballet, character, and tap routines for local recitals, hospitals, area musicals, and for a World’s Fair.