Take the Lead

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  And, that was Jan for you. She started every conversation like they were in the middle of it. She wasn’t good at small talk.

  “Hi to you too.”

  “Whatever. Answer me. Are you okay?”

  Traci could practically see Jan. No doubt she was wearing an old pair of faded jeans and a button-down that had probably seen too many washings. Her feet would be encased in Birkenstocks and her toenails would be painted something bright. “I was just calling to see how you were.”

  “At nine on a Friday night? Traci Lucky, don’t you start messing with me.”

  “Yet, you didn’t say how you were,” Traci fired back.

  “Fine. I’m good. Nothing much to report.”

  “Do you have any kids in the house?”

  “Three right now.”

  “Just three?”

  “Two are permanent residents. They’re nice girls who’ve been through hell and back. I’ve decided to be more selective of who I put around them.”

  “Do you have your toenails painted?”

  “Are my— Traci, what is going on with you? And yes, ma’am, they are. I’m rocking alligator green and have rhinestones attached to my big toes.”

  “I’m sorry I’m missing that.”

  “If you finally start talking to me, I might snap you a picture when we hang up. Now, talk to me.”

  “Okay. Um, hold on a sec.” She parked on the street, rolled her windows down a few inches, and then turned off her engine. And texted Matt to let him know that she got home safe. “Sorry, I had to text someone.”

  “In the middle of my call?”

  “It was to the guy I’m dating. He likes to know when I made it home safe.”

  Jan chuckled. “You’ve got yourself a keeper?”

  “He’s a keeper, no doubt about that. But I don’t know if I have him.”

  “Why not?”

  Her voice had lowered. Softened. Traci knew it was Jan’s way of coaxing information from a rock.

  And it had worked with her every time. “His name is Matt and he’s a doctor, Jan. And obstetrician-gynecologist. He’s gorgeous and Italian and he made me dinner tonight. And bought cupcakes for me and all my roommates.”

  “How’d you meet him?”

  “Through work. I was bringing in this girl named Gwen . . . she’s pregnant. She’s another story. Anyway, he was the doctor on call.”

  “And you two connected just like that?”

  “Kind of. We’ve been taking small steps. And have kind of done things out of order. I’ve already met his whole family, but tonight was our first real date.”

  “Traci, why did you call?”

  “He asked me to talk about my past. And not just that I was given up, never adopted, moved to a group home spiel.”

  “Which is the truth but also a complete lie.”

  Ouch. “It’s not a lie. But you’re right.” She drew a breath, then added, “He asked me if I ever talk about specifics. How I felt. What it was like. What I was like.”

  “Did you tell him the truth then?”

  She nodded. “I told him never.”

  “And?”

  “And he was disappointed in me. I apologized, then he apologized and said he shouldn’t have pushed.”

  “Maybe he was right. He shouldn’t have pushed you for information.”

  “But Jan, I know I need to tell him. I mean, how can I have a real relationship with someone if I keep a whole section of my life as off limits?”

  “Say it, Traci. Say what you’re thinking of.”

  “Fine. How can I share that I was in some really terrible foster homes and got beaten and abused in them?”

  “And that you almost died when you were five.”

  She ran a finger along the scar on her side—the scar she’d told a former boyfriend that she’d gotten in a knife attack while on the job. “And that I almost died when the family’s real son decided to try to kill me, so I’d go away.”

  “There. You said it.”

  “I hate saying it.” Her voice was shaking now. “And don’t you dare tell me that it would get easier with telling because I don’t like thinking about it. I really don’t want to think about it out loud.”

  “I understand.”

  “I don’t want to tell the best guy I’ve ever met that I’ve got issues either.”

  “You don’t have issues. You were a little girl and people hurt you.” Jan’s voice was harsh. “You can take credit for a lot of things, but you don’t need to take credit for that, Miss Lucky.”

  That name bolted her out of the spiral she’d been falling into. She shook her head. She hated how it didn’t take much, even after all this time, to still remember how helpless she’d felt in some of those foster homes.

  “Jan, do I have to tell Matt about my past?”

  “You called to tell me that you did.”

  “But I haven’t even told Shannon and Kimber.”

  “Do you want to tell them?”

  “You know I don’t. But even worse than that, I don’t want them feeling guilty for something that wasn’t their fault.”

  Jan sighed. “Traci, I don’t have the right answer for you. I really don’t. I’ve had my share of kids in this house, and I’ve tended to more than one who was in a lot worse shape than you when you got here. Every time, I said a prayer for them. Prayed that one day they would be just fine and have a life to be proud of.”

  “Your prayers worked for me.”

  She laughed. “They did. In spite of your mulishness, you have a real nice life to be proud of. You’re not the only one who’s done okay, either.”

  “You raised a lot of decent people.” Which was a compliment. “You did a lot of good, Jan.”

  “What I want to tell you, Traci Lucky, is that I never tried to teach you how to talk about your bad. I never told you to forget it. You can’t undo a life.”

  Traci nibbled her bottom lip, trying to locate the advice in Jan’s words. “I still don’t know what to do. Do I keep it all inside? Can I still love if I don’t share it? What about Matt? What about Shannon and Kimber?”

  “Have mercy, Traci. You are wearing me out.”

  “All you have to do is—”

  “Tell you what to do? No thank you. I order around plenty of teenagers, I have no desire to start ordering around grown women.”

  She looked toward her house and saw that Shannon was standing in the doorway watching her. “I think I have to go soon. Shannon’s standing at the door.”

  “What’s special about that?”

  “You know. She’s waiting on me.”

  “So you’ve got yourself some love and family right there, don’t you?” She chuckled again. “Looks like you’ve got your answer.”

  “What? But—”

  “I’m going to go make myself some hot tea. I suggest you do the same, sweet Traci. After, you know, you assure that girl in the doorway that you’re just fine. Night, doll.”

  She hung up before Traci could say a word. Staring at the phone, she clicked END and wondered what she was supposed to do now.

  Then she noticed that Shannon wasn’t standing alone. Next to her was Kimber. Right behind, Jennifer and Gwen peered over her sisters’ shoulders.

  And she realized that her heart was already full. It turned out she’d been wrong.

  A person could absolutely find love even if they didn’t share all their ugliness.

  She was living proof of that.

  Opening the door, she slowly got out and walked to the passenger side to retrieve the box Matt had passed to her.

  “Traci! What are you doing?” Kimber asked.

  She looked down at the box with the bakery’s logo emblazoned in bright orange across the lid. Matt was going to have to offer her cupcakes that didn’t tattle on
him if he wanted her sisters to think he could bake. “Getting out a bakery box. Matt got all of us cupcakes from Pizzazz.”

  “Pizzazz Cupcakes? I love him,” Shannon said really loudly.

  Traci grabbed her purse and walked toward them. She knew one day she was going to tell Shannon that she wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

  CHAPTER 36

  “Dancing—however you do it, even if it’s in your

  living room—is a great workout.”

  —Ciara

  Gwen had now been living above the dance studio on Plum Street for three weeks. Even though she was living in a police officer’s room, getting bigger by the minute, and basically hiding from a crazy ex-boyfriend, she’d never been happier. For the first time in her life, she didn’t wake up stressed or mad at the world. Instead, she was feeling useful and cheerful.

  It was all because of the women who had essentially adopted her. Jennifer asked for her help every day in the kitchen and praised Gwen whenever she was able to do a new task well. Kimber brought home books from the library and bookstore for her and often invited her to sit in the living room and read.

  But her favorite part of every day was her time with Shannon in the dance studio. Shannon loved to dance and loved to teach other people how to dance.

  And to Gwen’s surprise, she enjoyed the lessons, too, even though she was inexperienced, not very flexible, and pregnant. Shannon didn’t seem to care about any of that, though. She just kept bringing Gwen water, vanilla milkshakes, and her smiles. After a little fifteen-or-twenty-minute lesson, Shannon would make Gwen sit down and rest for a bit.

  Usually, Gwen would only do so reluctantly. She loved her little dances sessions with Shannon.

  Unless they were tap dancing. That, she was discovering, was far harder than it looked.

  “That’s right, Gwen,” Shannon said. “Step, hop, step, ball-change.” She demonstrated the simple-looking tap move twice, each slight movement of her foot making a clear, distinct tap.

  Staring down at her feet, Gwen repeated the steps, then frowned as it all came out as a clunky mess. “Argh. Let me do it again,” she said before Shannon could correct her. “Step, hop, hop, shuffle.” She froze. “Wait, I just messed it all up, didn’t I?”

  Looking amused, Shannon nodded. “Yep, but it’s not a problem. We just need to break the combination into small sections.” She lifted her right foot. “Ready?”

  She took a steadying breath and nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “Hey, will you do me a favor?” When Gwen met her eyes in the mirror, Shannon continued. “Instead of looking down at your feet, look at the two of us in the mirror. It helps. I promise.”

  “All right.” Taking a deep breath, she looked in the mirror and said out loud the steps with Shannon. After two tries, Shannon clapped.

  “Good for you! Well done.”

  Gwen laughed. “Not hardly. But, it was better.”

  “Are you liking tap any better yet?” Shannon asked as they sat down next to her little desk.

  “A little,” Gwen said after taking a sip of water. “It’s frustrating because it looks easier than it is.”

  “I agree. People always act like those high kicks are the hardest things the Rockettes do. I’ve always believed it was all the other perfectly done movements.”

  Gwen started to nod, then said, “Don’t get mad, but who are the Rockettes?”

  “Oh, Gwen. Are you in for a treat! I’ll find a video of them on YouTube. You’re going to love them.”

  “Hey, Shannon?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Traci told me that you used to dance in competitions.”

  “She’s right. I did.”

  “What happened?”

  “I got hurt.” She pursed her lips. “And, to tell you the truth, I had to face the facts that while I was good, I was never going to be one of the best.”

  “That had to be tough.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. To be honest, I get more enjoyment teaching classes here than I did competing. I guess everything works out for a reason.”

  Gwen figured that was true, but she wasn’t sure why everything was working out the way it was for her. Looking up at the clock, she said, “Our old people are going to be here in an hour.”

  “That would be senior citizens, Miss Camp,” Shannon said. “So, are you ready to waltz tonight?”

  Gwen smiled. Last week, she’d been partners with a seventy-five-year-old man who fancied himself a Fred Astaire. She could hardly keep up with him. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Bending down, Shannon unbuckled the straps on her tap shoes. “We better go get ready . . . if you feel up to it?”

  “Of course.”

  Setting her tap shoes neatly in a cubby in the corner of the room, Shannon winked. “I’ll see you back here in about forty minutes. And don’t worry, Jennifer or Dylan is going to help me bring down coffee, water, and cookies,” she added before sailing out of the room.

  Gwen propped one of her feet on Shannon’s empty chair and unlaced a shoe, then did the same with her other foot. Just as she was walking to the cubby to put her tap shoes away, Officer Lucky appeared at the door.

  “Gwen. Good. You’re here.”

  Gwen’s stomach sank as she turned to face her. “What happened?”

  “Hunter turned up. Dylan got word that he’s laying low over in Newport.”

  “Newport? That’s in Kentucky.”

  Officer Lucky nodded as she took the chair that Shannon had just vacated and gestured for Gwen to sit down as well. “I didn’t give him much credit, but crossing state lines was pretty smart. We’ve got our contacts there helping out, but it’s going to be harder to pick him up.”

  “But he can just cross any of the bridges and get back to Ohio. He can even walk on the pedestrian bridge across the Ohio River.”

  “You’re right. This is one of those times that following the law makes things harder than they should be.”

  Though it wasn’t good news, Gwen couldn’t help but think that things weren’t all that different either. She was still hiding out from Hunter.

  Unless . . .

  “Officer Lucky, are you telling me this because you want me out of here? Do you want me to leave?”

  Her eyes widened. “Leave? No,” she said firmly. “Gwen, I wasn’t thinking that at all.”

  “Are you sure? Because you look like there’s something else you want to tell me.”

  “There is. We’ve already filed a restraining order, but Dylan heard that Hunter might send someone else to find you.”

  “Rick.”

  Officer Lucky pulled out her phone and started typing notes. “I know you told me about this guy, but tell me about him again.”

  “He’s Hunter’s friend. I know him. My girlfriend was dating him when she introduced me to Hunter. He’s dangerous too.” Watching Officer Lucky write more notes, she said, “I don’t understand why they care about me, Officer Lucky. I know he doesn’t love me. I know he doesn’t want this baby.”

  “I couldn’t tell you the answer for sure. Sometimes people act like little kids. They want what they can’t have. Sometimes they transfer blame. They see their situation as wrong and instead of taking responsibility for themselves they pick someone else to be the cause.”

  “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “These guys aren’t known for making sense, Gwen.”

  “I guess not. So, what should I do?”

  “Well, first off, I think you’re going to need to come to West Virginia with all of us.”

  “For Shannon’s party?”

  “Uh-huh. Gwen, I was going to ask Ellen if you could stay at the women’s center for two nights but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “But we’ve talked about me staying here by myself with j
ust some of your cop friends stopping by.”

  “I never thought that was a particularly good option,” Officer Lange said. “Now it’s a definite no-go. Plus, I think Kimber and Jennifer would really like your company. Don’t worry. Going to West Virginia will be fun.”

  Based on the way Traci Lucky was looking—which was like she’d rather be eating a bowl of tofu, Gwen was fairly sure this trip wasn’t going to be fun at all.

  But at least she’d be safe.

  * * *

  “I heard that you’ve been doing a few small errands with Jennifer and Kimber,” Traci said.

  “Yes. But I haven’t been doing much. Just going to the grocery store and the library.”

  “I need you to stop that. Stay inside.”

  The anxiety about her situation jumped up a notch. “Do I have to stay hidden? I’m supposed to help Shannon with her class tonight.”

  Officer Lucky looked like she wanted to say no, but her expression softened. “You really like helping Shannon, don’t you?”

  “Yes. It makes me feel like I’m not useless.”

  “You aren’t useless. Not by a long shot.” Staring at Gwen again, Officer Lucky seemed to come to a decision. “Fine. You can help out. But I’m going to be hanging out in the lobby, just in case something weird happens.”

  “Weird in the middle of a senior citizens’ ballroom dance class?”

  “I know it sounds like a long shot, but if I’ve learned anything, it’s that weird things happen when you least expect it. I’m determined to expect everything.”

  “I will too, then.”

  Officer Lucky stood up. “You best get dolled up then.” She winked. “Someone told me that you’ve got quite a smitten dancing partner.”

  She laughed. “He’s patient, that’s what he is. Last week I stepped on his toes twice. Mr. Holt is a sweetie, though.”

  “I’m thinking you are too, Miss Camp,” she said as they walked to the stairs.

  Walking up the stairs, Gwen swallowed hard. Officer Lucky didn’t seem to look down on her anymore.

  In fact, it was almost like they were friends.

  CHAPTER 37

  cha-cha: This flirtatious dance can be