She dialed Mrs. Wilcox, and the teacher picked up on the second ring.
“Thank you for returning my call, Ms. Ward.” The teacher’s voice was young and soothing. “I know Max has been through a trauma, and I’ve been keeping my eye on him, talking to him, giving him extra attention.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your concern.”
“I thought he was doing okay until today.”
“What happened?” Meridith leaned on the check-in desk, listening intently.
“There’s an event tomorrow night, Shining Star. I’m not sure you’ve heard. It’s a parent-child talent show we’re trying this year. I’m coordinating it.”
“No, I hadn’t heard.”
“Well, I’m afraid I goofed. I printed the list of participants without checking it, and—well, Max is on there. He and his mother had planned a ballroom dance presentation.”
“Oh. I didn’t know.” Poor Max. She wondered if he’d been thinking about it all week.
“The list was posted for participants to see the dress rehearsal order today. I heard some kids being cruel to Max at recess. I handled the situation, and the other boys are being appropriately disciplined, but I’m worried about Max.”
Meridith closed her eyes, aching for the boy. “Thank you for letting me know and for handling the situation.”
“Max was noticeably upset through the afternoon, and when I removed the list from the wall, I saw he’d marked out his and Eva’s names. In fact, he scribbled through the names so hard it left a hole in the paper.”
“Oh, I see.”
“I tried to talk to him after school, but there wasn’t much time before he had to catch the bus. I just wanted you to know.”
Meridith thanked her, then hung up. She felt so bad for the little guy. So helpless. All those books she’d read had nothing about this sort of thing. How was she supposed to know what to do?
“Everything okay?” Jake’s voice cut into her thoughts.
The screech of brakes announced the bus’s arrival.
“Fine.” Or would be. Eventually.
When the children scrambled through the door, she caught sight of Max’s mottled face and red eyes. All the books had recommended helping children express their feelings, so maybe she could start there.
After she greeted them, she asked Max to follow her into the dining room while Noelle and Ben disappeared upstairs.
Max plopped into a chair, the weight of his body sagging downward. Someone had written on his pale arm in ink, though she couldn’t read it upside down.
“Max, Mrs. Wilcox called and told me what happened today.”
His eyes flashed at her. “Toby and Travis are stupid morons.” He crossed his arms.
She’d expected sorrow, not anger. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He looked down at the table. “No.”
Okay, now what? The books said children need affection when they’re grieving. Not her strong suit.
She set her hand on his tense arm. “I’m sorry about the talent show.” Did the words sound as awkward as they felt? She was no good at this touchy-feely stuff.
Max blinked rapidly. Maybe she’d said the wrong thing. Maybe she was making it worse. But she was doing what the books recommended.
She tried again. “Were you looking forward to it?”
Max sniffed, then nodded his head. In the next room she could hear the squawk of the flue opening.
“How did you learn to ballroom dance? That’s quite an accomplishment for a boy your age.”
“My mom taught me.” He glanced at her. The anger had faded from his eyes. “I’m pretty good.”
“I’m not surprised.” She liked the way he’d perked up. It was good to see his confidence emerging. Too bad he couldn’t showcase his talent for tomorrow’s audience. She was certain it would be beneficial.
“Is there anything else you could do for the show? What other talents do you have?”
Max shrugged. “Nothing, really.” His feet shuffled under the table. “’Cept being a goalie and building boat models, but I can’t do those for a talent show.”
“Is there some other kind of dance you could do?”
“It’s too late to come up with a new dance. The show’s tomorrow. Besides, it’s for a parent and their child.” His eyes pulled down at the corners, and he ducked his head.
“I wish I could help, but I don’t know how to ballroom dance. I guess it wouldn’t be the same without your mom anyway.”
His head lifted. Hope sparkled in his eyes. “You could learn.”
“Oh, I—I think it would take longer than a day, Max.” Meridith laughed uneasily. “Especially for me.”
His head and shoulders seemed to sink. “I guess you’re right. I only know how to lead, and I don’t know how to teach it.”
“I know how.” Jake appeared in the doorway, filling it with his broad shoulders and tall frame. “Didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”
“He could teach you!” Max’s eyes widened. He looked back and forth between Jake and Meridith.
“Oh,” Meridith said, “We couldn’t ask—”
“I’m offering,” Jake said. “I can be here bright and early tomorrow morning.”
Max’s dimple hollowed his cheek.
“No, I—you don’t understand, the show’s tomorrow night, and I’m a bad dancer.”
Jake leaned against the doorframe, crossed his arms. “You said you wanted to help.”
“Well, I do, but I don’t see how—you know how to ballroom dance?” The notion suddenly struck her as unlikely.
“I can do more than swing a hammer.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“So you’ll do it?” Max bounced on the chair.
She hadn’t seen him this excited since she’d arrived. She looked at Jake. At his wide shoulders, thick arms, sturdy calloused hands. She remembered the look in his eyes just minutes ago and imagined herself trapped in the confines of his embrace for as long as it took her to learn the dance. Which would be about, oh, a few years.
“And why would you do this?” It wasn’t as if he owed her anything. Unless he was punching the time clock on the lessons.
“Let’s just say I was picked on a time or two myself.”
Max rubbed his hands together. “Toby and Travis, eat your heart out!”
“Now, hold on. We already missed dress rehearsals. I don’t know if Mrs. Wilcox will let us slip in last minute.”
“Call her,” Jake said.
He had all the answers, didn’t he? She spared him a scowl as she slid past on her way to the phone.
“Hi, Mrs. Wilcox? This is Meridith Ward again.” She looked over her shoulder.
Max waited, Jake standing behind him, thumbs hooked in his jeans pockets, looking all smug.
“I was wondering. If Max can get a replacement for the dance, could he still participate?” Please say no. “I know he’s missing dress rehearsals and—”
“That would be no problem whatsoever.” Mrs. Wilcox sounded delighted. “We’d fit him in and be glad to have him. Have you found him another partner?”
“Uh, looks like we have.”
She thanked Mrs. Wilcox and hung up, then turned to face a hopeful Max.
“What did she say?” he asked.
Meridith swallowed hard. “She said they could work you back into the schedule.” She cast Jake a plea. “But I don’t know if I can do this. I wasn’t kidding, I have no rhythm whatsoever.”
“Look at the kid. You can’t say no to that.”
Max was grinning from ear to ear.
It was Meridith’s shoulders that slunk now. Heaven help her. She winced and forced the words. “All right. I’ll do it.”
Max let out a whoop and threw his arms around her.
Seventeen
“What if potential guests stop in?” Meridith asked.
Max and Jake moved the sofa against the wall. The living room was quickly becoming a dance studio.
Jake straightened to his full heig
ht. “That happen often?”
“Almost never this time of year.” Ben unplugged the lamp and moved it aside.
If Meridith had been anxious the night before, it was nothing compared to her response upon seeing Jake at her door. His hair was damp, like he’d just stepped from the shower, and he spun a roll of blue painter’s tape around his index finger. He wore a black polo, fitted jeans, and a furtive grin. How had she gotten herself into this?
“Noelle, grab the stuff on that table,” Jake said.
Surprisingly, the girl complied. Maybe she was glad her little brother was getting his chance onstage.
After moving the coffee table, Jake rolled up the rug, Ben assisting from the other side. Only one week with a cast and he was one-handing things like he’d done it all his life.
“Be careful, Ben,” Meridith said.
She watched them prepping the room with a sense of impending doom. The thought of dancing for an audience in ten hours was almost as distressing as the thought of being in Jake’s arms all morning. Maybe ballroom dancing would be easier than she thought. It was just a few steps, and Max had learned it, right? How hard could it be?
“You know, I don’t have any music,” she said. They couldn’t dance without music, right?
Jake whipped an iPod from his jeans pocket. “I’m sure one of you kids has a dock.”
“I do!” Noelle bolted off, taking the stairs two at a time.
Wasn’t she the eager beaver.
Jake knelt on the floor, pulled a strip of blue tape, and tore it with his teeth.
“What are you doing?” Meridith asked.
“Taping off a square.”
“Won’t it mar the wood?”
“It’ll come right off.” He tossed her a look that let her know he saw through her excuses. “Are you done?”
She pressed her lips together, hating the heat that crept into her neck. She rubbed it with her sweaty palm as if she could massage it away.
By the time he finished the box, Noelle had reappeared with her iPod dock, and Jake set it up on the hearth.
“Okay, we’re set,” Jake said.
Noelle perched on the displaced sofa, leaning forward, a smirk curving her lips. “This should be good.”
Now Meridith understood why the girl had been so eager.
“Don’t think so,” Jake said. “Off you go, all of you.” Jake shooed the grumbling children from the room, and Meridith felt like kissing him.
She cleared her throat.
“Take off your shoes,” Jake said after the kids disappeared up the stairs.
Meridith eyed her leather loafers. For some reason, she was reluctant to part with them. Not to mention she needed every inch of height.
“You’re still wearing yours.”
“I’m not planning on trampling your feet.”
She removed her shoes and set them by the wall, taking her time. “You want something to drink? I made coffee. Or there’s always tea or soda if you prefer.”
He tucked the corner of his lip. “No, thanks. You want to come closer? I can’t teach you from over there.”
She inched closer. “I’m really bad.”
“So you said.” He gestured to the blue box. “We’ll start with a basic box step. Ballroom dancing is counted off like this: one-two-three, one-two-three. Max said he knows how to lead, so I’ll teach you to follow.”
“Good luck with that.”
“Stand right here.” He placed her on the upper right corner of the box. “The first count, step back with your right foot. Good.”
“Shouldn’t we start the music?”
“Don’t think you’re ready for that. Bring your left foot back with your other foot, then sweep it to the other corner.”
Meridith tried that. So far so good. She went back to the beginning position and did the entire step. “One-two-three. I did it.”
“That’s just the one and two count. The third step your feet are together on the bottom left corner of the box.” He demonstrated slowly from where he stood. “One-two-three.”
“Oh, I see.” She mimicked the move with painstakingly slow movements.
“That’s it.”
Though the steps were right, she was sure she resembled an elephant in high heels. At least he wasn’t laughing. Yet.
He showed her the next three counts, up and around the front left corner of the box and back to start. “So it takes two counts of three to complete the box. Why don’t you try it?”
“Okay.” She went to the start position and proceeded slowly.
“One. Two. Three.” And then she was stuck.
“Left foot forward.”
“One. Two. Three.”
“There you go. That’s all there is to it.”
She gave a wry grin. “Except ten times faster and in sync with a dance partner.”
“Exactly. Do it again.”
“Tyrant.”
“What’s that?”
“Nothing.” She went through the steps slowly again. Then again and again until she could perform them at normal speed. Even though the steps were right, her movements felt awkward, more like she was on an espionage mission than a dance floor.
She stopped midstep, huffing. “Something’s wrong . . .” Her voice came out in a whine. She knew she’d be no good at this. What if she embarrassed Max in front of his friends?
“Let’s talk posture.” He placed his hand in the small of her back. “Straighten your spine.”
She arched her back, more to escape his touch than anything.
“Good. Shoulders back. Maintain this posture while you do the steps.”
She tried the steps again, concentrating on her posture. It took all her focus to do both. She completed the box and started another one.
“Good posture not only makes the dancer look better, but is essential for communication between the—”
Her steps faltered. “Shush!” She glared at him, and was rewarded with a smirk. “I can’t think with you yammering.”
He motioned her on.
Back straight. Shoulders back. One. Two. Three. One. Two.
Daggonit.
“Try again.”
Meridith took the starting position and did a slow turn around the box.
“Good. Again.”
She completed three more box steps, going a little faster each time.
“Posture,” Jake said.
By the time she’d made a few more turns, she was beginning to feel like she might have a chance. She turned a satisfied smile at Jake.
“Not bad. You’re getting there.”
She practiced the move a few more times, then he turned on the music and counted it off for her. The song was mercifully slow, and she was able to move at the right tempo.
Ten minutes later Jake stopped the music. “You’re ready for a partner.”
It took no more than those words for her heart to go off like a jackhammer. “I’m not sure about that.”
“We’re on a time crunch here, and you need to practice with Max too.”
“Where did you learn to dance? No offense, but you don’t seem like the ballroom type.”
“You stalling, or you really want to know?”
He’d see right through a lie. “Both.”
He appraised her, then seemed satisfied with her answer. “Had a foster mom who was a dance instructor. She thought a boy should know how to dance.”
She wondered what had become of his real parents, but he didn’t offer and she wasn’t asking.
“Haven’t had much use for it till now, though. More of a Texas two-step kind of guy.”
“Two-step? And you’re teaching me a dance with three steps?”
“Fewer steps doesn’t make it easier. All right, enough stalling.”
His approach launched a nervous ripple through her. He stopped a breath away. She stared at the V of his open polo.
“The height difference will be a challenge. It’ll be easier with Max. But for now, you don’t want to st
and toe to toe.” He moved to her right until his foot was between hers.
“Put your hand here.”
His upper arm was solid beneath her palm. The heat emanating off him made her own temperature kick up a notch.
“Thumb to the front, fingers to the back. Give me your other hand.”
He curled his hand around hers, and her heart stuttered. Her eyes focused on his leather corded necklace that disappeared under his collar.
“Right, like that.” He settled his hand on her back.
She got a whiff of his woodsy cologne and wondered how long she could hold her breath.
“This is the basic position. It’s important to maintain your space.
No noodle arms, got it?”
“Got it.” She stiffened her arms, all the better to keep him at a distance.
“Let’s go through the basic box step slow. I’ll count it off.”
She drew in a breath and blew it out slowly through her mouth.
“Five. Six. Seven. Eight. One-two-three. One—that was my foot.”
“I know that was your foot.” She pulled her arms away and rubbed the back of her neck with her cold hand. She couldn’t think when he was so close. Didn’t like the way he made her feel, all agitated and nervous and awkward. Why was she doing this to herself?
“Let’s try again.”
“I don’t think I can do it.”
“You’ll get it.” He took her in his arms.
Meridith took another calming breath. Focus.
He counted them off and took them slowly through the box step. This time she made it around without treading on him.
“You got it. Again.” They repeated the box step a dozen more times, faltering a few times when she stepped on his foot or knocked him with her knee.
“Again,” he said over and over each time she misstepped.
When they were almost up to tempo, Meridith started feeling more confident. She could do this. One-two-three, one-two-three.
She was doing this.
“Straighten up, Quasimodo.”
Did he have to be so rude? She shot him a glare. If it was posture he wanted, it was posture he’d get. She pulled herself up to her full five foot three.
In her concentration on posture, her steps suffered, and she trod on his foot.
He stopped. “Too much give in your arms. When they’re loose, I can’t lead you. You can’t feel where you need to go. Close your eyes.”
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