by Laurie Paige
Susan watched her friend rush for the parking lot. Darla’s life seemed so full and rich in ways that counted. Husband, kids, successful business. Some people had it all.
Watching three golfers finish the eighteenth hole, she felt the emptiness in her own life. Since Michael seemed to think there was no reason she couldn’t go back to the stage, she’d started a very restrained practice program that morning. It made her feel better to be doing something constructive, to have a plan for her life.
She wondered if it would be enough. What more could she possibly want? Nothing came to mind.
Hearing footsteps, she glanced around. Michael and his lunch companion were approaching. Her spine stiffened.
“Hi, mind if we intrude?” he asked. “I wanted you to meet someone.”
“Please, join me,” she invited, her eyes on the young woman, who had the most perfect features she’d ever seen.
“Janis, this is Susan Wainwright,” he said, holding a chair for the young woman. “Susan, this is my niece. Janis is visiting from Hawaii. She’s going to stay with me for a while.”
Before Susan had time to sort through the implications of his remarks, his niece’s eyes opened wide. “Not the Susan Wainwright?” she said incredulously. “The prima with the Houston Ballet?”
“Well, I was once upon a time,” Susan said lightly. “I’m more or less retired at present.” She flicked a glance at Michael, who had taken the chair to her right. “Until your uncle says it’s okay, I can’t go back.”
The girl cast a puzzled look at Michael.
“Susan had heart replacement surgery last month,” he explained. “She’s recovering nicely.”
“Oh, good.”
Susan felt a bit uncomfortable being the center of such evident hero worship. She wasn’t sure what to say.
Michael spoke up. “Janis is interested in ballet. How does one go about auditioning for the Houston company?”
“No, no,” Janis protested, a blush rising to her cheeks. “I’m not good enough.”
“How do you know?” Susan asked. “Have you tried?”
Janis lowered her head. “I didn’t get into Julliard two years ago.”
“It’s a tough school. Have you been practicing since?”
“Yes, and taking lessons while going to the university. My parents insist I get a teaching certificate so I can support myself.”
“They have a point,” Susan agreed. “The arts are very competitive. Even if you’re good enough, it may not be sufficient. Being in the right place at the right time may be impossible.”
“If she danced for you, would you be willing to evaluate her?” Michael asked.
Put on the spot, Susan nodded slowly.
“No!” Janis said, obviously aghast at the idea. “I couldn’t impose like that. But thank you anyway. I saw a video of you in The Nutcracker. My ballet teacher showed it to the class last Christmas.” She sighed. “I would love to dance in that setting. It was wonderful. How did you ever do that leap from the balcony into the Nutcracker’s arms?”
Before Susan quite knew how it happened, she was deep into details of the various ballets she’d performed. Janis’s interest was unwavering as she asked endless questions about movements, costumes and settings.
Michael’s eyes shifted from one to the other as he silently listened. At times, he watched duffers on the last hole, a slight smile on his lips. Susan wondered what he was thinking.
She suspected some kind of conspiracy, but ruled that out. Janis was too transparent to take part. However, Michael wasn’t above taking advantage of any situation that arose. When Janis excused herself and left them, Susan turned to him. “Is this your way of introducing the idea of teaching to me?”
He wasn’t the least bit nonplussed by the blunt question. “I thought it was a possibility. Is it working?”
She shrugged. “Your niece is a true lover of the form. I’d like to see her dance.”
“You’ll have to convince her.”
She nodded as a tingle of excitement buzzed through her. The company needed new blood. It would be nice to discover a fresh talent for them. Pausing, she studied Michael for a long moment.
“What?” he asked.
“I like her, but I don’t like the idea of being manipulated. Is this part of your therapy for patients?”
He shrugged, his expression harsh. “Sometimes I’d like to pound some sense into you.”
She stood. “I’ll call Janis. Will you be here or in Houston?”
“Here the rest of the week, back in Houston Monday morning.”
Nodding, she left the café and drove back to the ranch. Going to her room, she repeated her short routine of ballet movements and exercises designed to keep her muscles flexible while she recovered.
Afterward, resting, she supposed it was only human to feel envious of a younger, healthier rival, but she didn’t like the feeling. However, she was enthusiastic about helping Janis. Watching the girl’s graceful movements, she’d spotted talent. It just needed to be developed more fully.
Susan watched Janis with a critical eye. “Lift,” she said. “Higher. You’re a little sloppy. Always lift the leg a bit higher before you put it down, as if it’s so effortless, you could do much more.”
Janis nodded. She blotted sweat from her forehead on the sleeve of her red leotard and lifted her leg again, held it for the next two beats, lifted it a couple more inches, then dropped it gracefully to the floor.
Susan didn’t like the red leotard. Her own teacher at Juillard had insisted on black for practice. Always.
Funny how habits became ingrained, and how it ruffled one’s sense of propriety for them to be disturbed.
The two had been working together for three days. Janis had a mind of her own about interpreting the ballet. There was a sense of creativity about her that was refreshing. Susan again experienced the thrill of discovery.
“Okay, that’s enough,” she said. “Here’s your uncle.”
“Already?” Janis looked at her watch, obviously amazed at how swiftly the afternoon had flown.
Susan was pleased. It was another sign of a dedicated dancer. “Use my shower, if you like, before you change. I’ll keep him entertained.”
“Michael,” Janis said suddenly, giving Susan a keen look. “His name is Michael.”
“Uh, yes.” Susan started for the door.
“You don’t call him by name unless you have to. Why is that? Don’t you like him?”
“Well, of course. Your unc—Michael is a very nice person.” She put a slight emphasis on the name to show it didn’t bother her to use it.
Unbidden, an image came to her. The two of them in his bed, her murmuring his name over and over…
She pressed her lips together as her breath came fast and her heart stampeded.
Laughing, Janis headed for the bathroom.
Susan went to the front porch to greet Michael. She’d seen him every day that week, once when he delivered Janis to the ranch for their practice sessions and again when he picked her up. Although he stayed but a moment each time, his presence lingered long after he had driven off to meet his friends at the golf links.
Her sister, Rose, knew quite a bit about Michael due to his friendship with the Carson family. Susan had picked up odd pieces of information. He was one of the best golfers of their group. He preferred iced tea as his regular drink, raspberry flavored being his favorite. He was considered easygoing and affable.
Apparently no one thought he was arrogant but her.
But then, maybe he didn’t try to interfere in his friends’ lives, only hers. And maybe Janis’s, but only in a very positive manner.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
A white cowboy hat shaded his eyes. He was dressed in navy shorts, a white polo shirt and tennis shoes. It wasn’t fair that he could look so incredibly handsome day after day. Her breath hung in her throat so that she had to clear it before she could speak.
“Fine. I want to arran
ge an audition for Janis with the ballet director and choreographer.”
His face became serious. “Really?”
“Really. She’s wonderful, a bit headstrong, but creative and dedicated. I think she can make it.”
The smile returned. “Headstrong. Now who else do I know like that?” He pretended to think about it.
Susan poked him in the ribs. “Very funny.”
When he caught her hand and gave a tug, she teetered forward. He wrapped her in his arms. “Thanks for taking her on. I thought she was good the last time I saw her dance, but I’m no judge. Mmm, you smell good.”
Putting her hands on his chest, instead of pushing away, she lingered in his embrace. She glanced up into his eyes and was hooked. Neither looked away.
“Could I get another ticket for the ball Saturday night? I don’t want to leave Janis home by herself.”
She nodded.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, finally stepping back. “Can you lift your arms above shoulder level?”
“Yes.”
“Show me.”
So there on the porch, she performed the exercise routine she’d devised to keep her in shape. He nodded and approved each one and extolled her determination to get past the pain of the surgery. When she finished, he swiped a finger across her forehead.
“You didn’t even break a sweat,” he complimented. His eyes roamed her face. “You’re my miracle patient, the one I hold up as an example for others to emulate.”
“I don’t feel like a good example. It’s taking forever to get back to where I was—”
She stopped in surprise when he burst into laughter.
“You don’t know,” he chided huskily. “You haven’t a clue. It takes a full year for most people to get back to where they were before any surgery, much less the one you had. You expect to be there in what, not quite five weeks? It’s amazing that you can lift each arm to shoulder height and above.”
“I won’t be an invalid,” she told him.
His smile softened. “Even if you were in a wheelchair, you wouldn’t be an invalid. You’re a fighter, one of the bravest I’ve ever met. Ah, here’s my niece.”
Janis bounded out of the house.
“Susan tells me you’re headstrong and willful. I explained you were merely spoiled,” he teased.
“I’m sure you misunderstood. She told me I was talented and creative,” the girl retorted.
Susan laughed at their play as she waved them off. Watching Michael with his relative that week, she’d realized what a good man he was and what a wonderful father he would make. Thinking of Darla’s adorable children, she thought of the children Michael would someday have.
He was ready for a home and family. His buying the house was proof, according to her mother and grandmother. They’d advised her to snap him up.
Pressing a hand to her chest to contain the sudden tumult of feeling there, she wondered what kind of life she could really live. Perhaps she should check the Internet and see what other transplant patients said.
Janis pressed a hand to her stomach. “I’m so nervous,” she confided. “I can’t remember anything.”
Michael patted her shoulder. “Once you’re on the stage, the music will guide you.” He hoped that was true.
Susan came backstage. “Okay, we’re ready. Remember, keep those lifts high and effortless. Focus on that.”
“Right. Lifts high.”
“Go,” Susan ordered.
Janis walked out and stood before the blinding footlights. She struck a pose. The music began.
“I’m more nervous than she is,” Susan admitted. “Being a teacher is harder than one would suppose.”
Michael clasped her hand and found it was cold. He brought it to his lips and pressed a kiss on each finger. “She’ll do fine. Wow,” he said as Janis made her first leap.
“Now, glissade, glissade,” Susan whispered. “Oh, very good. Perfect jeté.”
He was content to hold Susan’s hand and watch his niece perform her piece. He had flown the three of them to Houston that morning. They would spend the night in town, then fly back tomorrow for the Harvest Moon Ball.
If the audition didn’t work out, Janis had already called the university about transferring her credits and starting classes next quarter. She’d decided to be a dance teacher if she couldn’t be a prima ballerina.
Susan clapped and rushed forward when the music ended. She gave Janis a hug and told her to wait backstage while she talked to the director and choreographer. In a few minutes she returned, her eyes sparkling.
“They agreed with my assessment.” She turned to Janis. “If you’re willing to work very, very hard, they’re willing to sign you on.”
“You mean…will I dance in the chorus?” Janis asked, her cheeks aflame with excitement.
Susan laughed and shook her head. “You’ll start in small parts, of course, but you’ll be groomed for prima.”
Janis clutched her chest. “I think I’m having a heart attack, Uncle Michael.”
He linked an arm through hers and Susan’s arms. “Come on. Let’s go home. We all need to relax.”
At the penthouse, they settled on the balcony overlooking the city and discussed the younger woman’s possible career. He was content to listen.
Life seemed sweet at the moment. His two girls were happy. That was all that mattered to him. He looked from Janis to Susan. A fierce protective pride rose in him, a feeling like none other that he had ever experienced.
His girls?
Yes, in all the ways that counted.
When the phone rang, he went to answer. A man asked for Janis. “I’ll get her. Is this Rafe?”
“Uh, yeah.”
Janis sucked in a surprised breath when he told her who was on the line, then her expression changed, becoming thoughtful. “That seems so long ago. Another time, another place. Rafe is the past,” she told Michael.
“I suggest you tell him that.”
When she went to her room to take the call, he settled in his chair with a worried frown.
“She’ll be okay,” Susan said.
“Rafe has been around a long time. I’ve never understood the attraction myself, but Janis seems pretty loyal to him.”
“Maybe he was part of a rebellion against her parents. Free of that, she’ll be free of him. She’s on the right track now.”
He heaved a breath of relief. “You’ve been good to her. Have I told you how much I appreciate it?”
“She’s been a joy to work with.” She gazed into the distance, a slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
His heart contracted in a painful spasm. He’d never felt this way around a woman, aroused yet content.
“Remind me to take my tux for the ball tomorrow night,” he requested.
“I’ve been wondering if I should go.”
He gave her a lazily threatening glare. “I’ll come out and dress you myself if you try to welsh on the deal. Come to think of it, that sounds like an excellent idea.”
She returned his grin, but her eyes were thoughtful. For a moment he wondered if his plans for tomorrow night would come to fruition. Quite simply, he planned to seduce the willful ballerina.
Janis returned and took her seat. “That was Rafe,” she said. “He wants me to come home.” She burst into tears.
Michael cursed silently, not sure what to do.
Susan moved over to Janis. With a hand, she gestured for him to leave them alone.
Feeling every bit the coward that he was, he beat a hasty retreat to the study. Some matters of the heart were better left to other experts.
Twelve
Susan looked over the few formal outfits she kept at the ranch. Nothing seemed exactly right. She wanted something new and different, something no one had ever seen. Something that would be special for M—for the evening.
Irritated with her indecision, she grabbed a sea-green chiffon silk that floated around her ankles. The matching jacket had bugle beads
sparkling all over it. This would do just fine.
Slipping into the silk underdress, she paused and looked at herself in the full-length mirror. The scar started just below the hollow of her throat and flowed down to the end of her breastbone. An orderly row of dots from the stitches punctuated each side of it.
Most of the fiery redness was gone. The stitches were already fading. Michael had said they would go away with time and the long scar would become a faint white line.
Thinking of his caresses there, she realized the scar didn’t bother him at all. It hadn’t lessened his desire for her. His kisses were still as hot, as passionate as before. The imperfection didn’t bother her, either. She didn’t feel ugly or any less a woman.
Because of him.
Well, not entirely. But it was no big thing to him, just a fact of life, and so she looked at herself the same way. The surgery had been necessary. A few scars were part of the cure. Life was like that.
She inhaled deeply, letting the truth flow into that place where hopes and dreams dwelled.
Suddenly the future lay before her like the magical yellow brick road to Oz. The dizziness, shortness of breath and chest pains were entirely gone. The explosive ticking of her undersized heart had ended, replaced by the steady beat of a young, healthy heart. Tears blurred her vision.
Thank you for this chance, she said to the young woman who, in death, had given of herself so that others might live. Michael would know the girl’s name.
“If I have a child,” she whispered, bowing her head, “it’ll be for you, for this gift of life.”
Quickly, with time running short, she slipped into the light green silk, then applied makeup, adding a golden shine to her eyelids and cheeks. Tonight, she felt like a golden girl.
After fastening a gold chain around her neck and dangly earrings in her ears, she slipped into the jacket and headed for the door just as she heard Michael’s car in the driveway.
“You look beautiful,” her father said, meeting her at the door to welcome Michael.