Dancing in the Dark

by Sandra Marton

  He was right. Wendy had been born to ski. She was quick, graceful, a joy to watch. At eight, she’d won her first junior medal. At ten, she was taking winter vacation trips with Howard to Aspen. By the time she was twelve, skiing was all she lived for.

  She was bright, thank goodness, so she did well in school, even though she didn’t pay much attention to her studies. As for dances and parties and the sweet silliness young girls enjoy—those things didn’t interest her. Gina closed her eyes, remembering how she used to long to be able to make the same complaints as other mothers of teenage girls, but Wendy didn’t spend hours tying up the phone, or plaster her room with posters of rock idols and giggle over boys.

  And then, when Wendy was seventeen, she’d met a boy on the slopes. She was practicing; Seth was running the lift. Gina didn’t know what had happened that day, except that her daughter came home with high color in her cheeks and excitement in her eyes.

  “A good day at Brodie, huh, punkin?” Howard said at dinner.

  Wendy nodded. “Yes...terrific.”

  Something in the way she said it, or maybe in the quick rush of color that climbed into her face again, told Gina the truth.

  Wendy had met a boy.

  Gina kept her thoughts to herself. The phone began to ring with calls for Wendy, all of them from the same polite young man. Sometimes she came home a little late from school, and in the evenings, when she sat at the kitchen table doing her homework, Gina caught her staring into space with a dreamy look in her eyes.

  Gina was glad. It had begun to trouble her, seeing Wendy lock everything but skiing out of her life. Her daughter still loved to ski, still skied almost all weekend, but for the first time, she balked at Howard’s rigorous practice schedule.

  Howard was perplexed.

  “What’s gotten into her?” he mumbled one evening when Wendy said she wasn’t in the mood for a drive to Brodie for an hour’s work.

  “She’s a teenage girl,” Gina answered. “She just needs time for other things.”

  “Not if she wants to make it to the Olympics, she doesn’t,” Howard said, and not for the first time, Gina wondered whose goal that really was, his or Wendy’s.

  One evening at dinner, Wendy asked to be excused before dessert.

  “Apple pie,” Gina said. “Your favorite.”

  “I know, Mom, but...” She blushed. “I have a date.”

  Gina smiled. Howard stared.

  “A date? With a boy?” Howard spoke in the same tone he’d have used if Wendy had announced she had a date with a Klingon warrior.

  “Yes.” Wendy’s blush deepened. “His name is Seth Castleman.”

  From that night on, everything revolved around what Seth said or did. Gina thought she’d never seen her little girl so happy. Howard thought he’d never seen her so distracted.

  “She’s going to lose her edge,” he grumbled late one Friday night when he and Gina lay in bed, listening to the clock chime eleven and knowing Wendy had yet to come home.

  Gina sighed and put her head on his shoulder. “She’s in love, Howard.”

  “Don’t be silly.”

  “The signs are all there.”

  Howard had snorted. “Puppy love, maybe. That’s all it is.”

  Gina had been sure it was more than that—until the accident, when Seth flew to Norway to be with Wendy and Wendy wouldn’t even see him. When she’d sent him a note that cut him out of her life.

  The doorbell sounded. Gina glanced at the clock. Howard was the reading coordinator at the school where they both worked. He was meeting with the principal and she expected him home for lunch, but it was only ten. It had to be the UPS man with the books she’d ordered.

  But it wasn’t the UPS man. It was Seth.

  “Hello, Gina.”

  She stared at him stupidly. Seth hadn’t come to the house in a long time, and now, only minutes after they’d talked about him, he was here. She gaped at the young man before her, snow dusting his dark hair and leather jacket, as if he were an apparition.

  “Seth? I didn’t expect... I mean, what are you—”

  “May I come in?”

  Gina swallowed. “Actually,” she said carefully, “this isn’t a very good time.”

  “I know she’s here.”

  “Seth.” Gina glanced over her shoulder at the stairs. “I really don’t think—”

  “How come you didn’t tell me she was coming home?”

  There was anger in his voice, but she thought she could detect pain, too. “Oh, Seth...”

  “You should have told me,” he said gruffly.

  The snow was coming down harder. And Mrs. Lewis, out walking her dog, had paused on the sidewalk and was watching the scene with frank curiosity. Gina swung the door wide and moved aside. “Come in, then. But only for a minute.”

  “Thanks.” Seth stepped into the entry hall and stomped his boots on the mat a lot harder than necessary. He didn’t give a damn just now about the snow he might track in on Gina Monroe’s slate tiles. Driving here, he’d gone from ticked off to angry to plain furious. It was stupid, he knew, because Wendy didn’t mean anything to him and Gina was under no obligation to tell him anything. Still, stupid or not, his temper was almost at the boiling point.

  His anger started to abate as he looked at Gina’s worried face. Calmer now, he wasn’t even sure why he’d come. It was only that it was wrong that nobody had told him Wendy was coming home, warned him so he’d have been prepared for the shock of seeing her again.

  “Seth.” Gina looked up at him. “You can’t stay. Really, I wish you could, but—”

  “Yeah.” He ran his fingers through his snow-dampened hair. “Look, I’m sorry. I just...I saw her, you know? And it was—it was a surprise. How come you didn’t tell me?”

  “Because...because—”

  “Because I asked her not to.”

  Seth lifted his head. He stared past Gina and saw Wendy coming slowly down the stairs.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  WENDY CLUTCHED the banister and looked down at Seth.

  This was the moment she’d feared, the one she’d known was inevitable ever since her father said it was probably going to take longer than he’d expected to get time alone with Dr. Pommier. The longer she stayed in town, the greater the risk that Seth would learn she was here. It was one of the reasons she’d come up with excuses yesterday, when her father asked her to go with him while he ran some errands.

  “Are you concerned folks will ask you questions when they see you? About your plans and if you’re home to stay, things like that?” he’d said, and then he’d answered the question himself. “Well, don’t worry, honey. We won’t tell them a thing until after you’ve seen Dr. Pommier and he’s agreed to do that surgery. Okay?”

  What could she have said after that? That she didn’t want people to see her limp, or she didn’t want to risk bumping into Seth? Either answer made her sound like a coward, so she’d smiled and said, sure, she’d go with him, now that she’d had a little time to get used to being back in Cooper’s Corner.

  But the thumping beat of her heart gave proof to the lie. She was a coward. She hadn’t wanted to see anybody because she hadn’t wanted to see pity in their eyes. But most of all, she’d been afraid of what she would see in the eyes of the man who’d loved the girl she used to be. She didn’t want his sympathy any more than she wanted his rejection if he ever found out exactly how critical her injuries had been.

  Looking down at him, Wendy knew with relief that she’d had nothing to worry about. What she saw in Seth’s face was anger. Cold, controlled anger, and she knew, in that instant, that it was over for him, too.

  Good.

  So what if her pulse was rattling like a runaway train? That was normal when you saw a man who’d once been your lover
, a man you hadn’t seen or spoken to in nine endless years.

  “Seth,” she said carefully. “You’re looking well.”

  “Hello, Wendy.”

  His voice was lower than she remembered. And he seemed bigger, though he’d always been tall and leanly muscled; standing next to him had made her feel feminine, almost delicate, even though her body was toned and hardened from years of skiing. He wasn’t bigger, she realized. He was mature, a man instead of a boy. A ruggedly handsome man with a strong jaw and a beautiful mouth.

  “How have you been?” There. Wasn’t that good? Her voice was steady, her smile pleasant. So what if she left dents in the banister from gripping so hard? He’d never know.

  “Fine.” His gaze swept down her body, lingered on her leg, then returned to her face. “And you?”

  “Oh, I’m—I’m well, thank you.”

  “Last I heard, you’d been putting in long hours at rehab.”

  Wendy glanced at her mother, the source, she was sure, of any updates. Gina seemed frozen in place, her hands clasped at her breast, her gaze moving from face to face as they talked, like a spectator watching match point at a tennis game.

  “Yes, that’s right. I still do.”

  “And it’s obviously paid off. It’s good to see you on your feet again.”

  The few people she’d talked with in town yesterday—in the general store, at the gas station—had carefully avoided making any reference to her leg. Did he think he was going to get to her by bringing up the past?

  “Thank you. Mom,” she said pleasantly, “if we’re going to get to that mall—”

  “Are you happy, living in France?”

  “Very happy, thank you for asking.”

  “I was surprised to hear you were back.”

  “Why?” She turned to him again and smiled politely. “This is my home. Why wouldn’t I come back?”

  “Is this a visit? Or have you come home to stay?”

  “Seth, really, it’s very nice to see you, but—”

  “You didn’t answer my question. Why haven’t you come home before?”

  “Because I didn’t want to,” she said, holding the smile. “Anything else?”

  “Wendy,” Gina said sharply, “there’s no need to—”

  “That’s okay, Gina. Wendy’s right. Where she lives, what she does is none of my business.” He stepped back and put a hand on the doorknob. “I probably should have called first.”

  What had happened to all that calm certainty she’d felt when she first started down the steps and saw him? Seth was just someone from the past. He was nothing to her now. Then why was the sight of him making her feel as if she was seventeen again and he’d just come to pick her up for their very first date? It had been snowing then, too, and he’d come inside the house just as she started down the stairs....

  “Yes,” she said, “you should have.”

  “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Well, it’s good seeing you again.”

  “Thank you.”

  “This is where you’re supposed to say it’s good seeing me again, too.”

  “Goodbye, Seth.”

  He turned away and opened the door. Then he hesitated. She saw his shoulders stiffen and suddenly he swung toward her, and she knew his anger had gotten the best of him.

  “That’s it? Nine years of silence, and all you can manage is ‘Goodbye, Seth’?”

  “I haven’t anything else to say to you.”

  “Well, damn it, maybe you should. Maybe you should start with explaining why you treated me like a stranger after I flew to Norway to be with you. After a while, you might work your way around to ‘I’m sorry, Seth.’ How’s that sound?”

  “I don’t owe you anything. You flew to Norway on your own. I didn’t ask you to come.”

  His eyes bored into her as he reached behind him and slammed the door shut. The sound echoed off the walls. Out of the corner of her eye, Wendy saw her mother jump.

  “No,” he said bitterly, “you sure as hell didn’t.”

  “Please leave.”

  “Great. It’s still a dismissal, but this time there’s a ‘please’ attached.”

  Wendy came down the rest of the steps. Her heart was still banging away but now it was with fury. Who did he think he was?

  “Get out.” She raised her hand, pointed at the door. “Get out of this house!”

  “Wendy,” Gina said, “Seth—”

  “Oh, I’m going. I’m going, all right. I just wanted you to know that...that—” He clamped his lips together. “The hell with this,” he muttered. “Gina? I’m sorry.”

  “No. Seth, it isn’t your fault—”

  He yanked the door open, stepped onto the porch into the swirling snow and was gone. Gina shut the door, leaned against it and let out her breath.

  “That poor boy.”

  “I can’t believe he did that.” Wendy was trembling. She wrapped her arms around herself and sank down on the bottom step. “Did he really think he could just...just barge in here and say...” Her head came up as her mother’s words penetrated. “What?”

  “I said—”

  “I heard what you said, Mother. Do you mean to tell me you feel sorry for Seth?” She grabbed the banister and pulled herself to her feet. “You heard the things he said to me! How can you feel any sympathy for him?”

  “You could have been more polite!”

  “Polite?” Wendy barked out a laugh. “He came here uninvited, put me through an inquisition, acted as if I owed him something, and you call him a poor boy?”

  “You do owe him something. An apology. I’ve never said that to you, not in all these years, but you treated Seth—”

  “I don’t want to hear it.”

  “Well, you’re going to. That boy—”

  “He’s not a boy, he’s a man. And if he thinks I’m going to grovel just because I had the courage to do what I knew I had to do—”

  “That man,” Gina said sternly, “dropped everything he was doing to fly to your side. And you—” She broke off in the middle of the sentence, breathing hard, eyes suddenly welling with tears. “Oh, honey. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s all right,” Wendy said stiffly. “Say what you have to say.”

  “No. Baby, I didn’t mean...” Gina stepped forward and took hold of her daughter’s shoulders. “You were right to concentrate all your energies on yourself. You had to. It’s the only way you got through the accident. It’s just that I saw how hurt Seth was. All through the years, I kept hoping you’d get in touch with him.”

  “For what? I don’t love him.”

  “I’m not talking about love, baby, I’m talking about doing the right thing. You could have called him just to say, I don’t know, that you appreciated what he’d done, that you hoped he was happy....”

  “Is he?” The words were out before Wendy could stop them. “Alison says he’s seeing someone. Is he happy with her, Mom?”

  “Oh, my,” Gina said softly. “You still care for him.”

  “No!” Wendy wrenched free of her mother’s hands. “You just finished saying I should have asked him if he was happy. Can’t I ask it without you making it into something personal?”

  “And it isn’t?”

  “Of course not!” Wendy ran the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip. “Okay. You’re right. I mean, I should have gotten in touch with him at some point. I just... It’s hard, looking back, Mom. Can you understand that?”

  “Yes, I guess I can. He reminds you of the past. And you only want to think about the future.” Gina sighed. “And you’re right. It’s none of my business.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to.” Gina smiled. “I kind of got the message.”

  Wendy’s
shoulders slumped. She sighed and put her arms around her mother. “Forgive me,” she said softly. “I shouldn’t be letting all this out on you.”

  Gina returned the embrace. “And I shouldn’t have jumped on you. No matter how much Seth might have wanted to see you, you were right. He should have called before coming here.” She drew back and clasped Wendy’s face. “I know it must have been a shock to see him again, after such a long time.”

  Wendy nodded. “It was.” She hesitated. “Mom, I know you think I treated Seth badly, but—”

  “What I think,” Gina said gently, “is that I have to keep out of this.” Wendy sighed and sank down on the step again. Her mother sat down next to her. “Can I ask one question?”

  “Of course.”

  Gina brushed a curl back from Wendy’s forehead. “Did you break things off because you thought you might be in a wheelchair for the rest of your life?”

  “That was part of it.”

  “Honey, you have to know that wouldn’t have mattered to a man like Seth.”

  “There was more to it than that.”

  “I hope so,” Gina said gently, “because that kind of decision wasn’t yours to make.”

  “You’re wrong, Mom. It was my decision. It couldn’t have been Seth’s. I knew he’d...he’d opt for the honorable thing. That he’d say my being unable to walk wouldn’t matter, but it did.”

  “Wendy—”

  “Don’t tell me it’s not true, Mother.” Wendy’s voice trembled. “I wasn’t me anymore. I’m still not the person I was, the person Seth knew and fell in love with....” She bit her lip. “Seth and I had our time, and we lost it.” She wouldn’t cry. Wouldn’t give in to the almost overwhelming desire to lay her head on her mother’s shoulder and sob. She hadn’t done that, not once, not even when she’d first awakened to a world in which pain was the only constant. Instead, she reached for Gina’s hands and held them tightly in hers. “But that’s not the reason I ended things.”

  “You decided you weren’t in love with Seth.”

  “We were wrong for each other.” It was the truth, in a way. “And I knew I had to do something about it.”