So the Heart Can Dance (A Hidden Beauty Novel Book 2)

by Mary Crawford

  It really shouldn’t surprise me that Tara immediately hones in on my unspoken fear. She has always been able to read me like a dime-store novel. I almost growl in frustration as I explain my dilemma. “I don’t really know what to do. I hardly ever use sign language interpreters anymore, since I got the cochlear implants, and I don’t want to draw attention to my deafness because I want to be treated just like every other contestant. But that’s the kind of environment where I may actually need an interpreter.”

  “It’s your right to have an interpreter. If you need one, you should ask for one,” Tara argues.

  “I know it’s my right to have one, but I’m afraid if I ask for one, I’ll be singled out and treated differently and I just want to be treated like everyone else. Do you know what I mean?” I ask, not knowing if I’m making any sense at all.

  “Maybe. When I was a kid, if someone found out my parents had died, all of a sudden any normal conversation we were having suddenly stopped, and they would immediately start praying for me or speaking in psychobabble. It was so annoying. Finally I just stopped talking to people. For a long time, you were my only friend because you were the only person who treated me like a normal person instead of a tragic soap opera character.”

  “See, you totally understand what I’m talking about. Some days, I just want things to go back to the way they were before I got sick. I mean, not every day. I think the struggles I’ve gone through with deafness, then meeting Delores and her family, which wouldn’t have happened without the meningitis. It has taught me a lot and made me a better musician. But sometimes being different is a pain in the ass. This is one of those situations, and I don’t know the best way to deal with it. I don’t think I’ll need an interpreter after the competition is underway, though. In most situations, I don’t need one, even when I’m working in a bar.”

  Tara says abruptly, “Aidan, can I call you right back?”

  Startled by the shift, I stammer, “Sure, you can call anytime. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Tara responds with a light laugh. “I’ll call you right back. I promise. Bye.”

  I hang up the phone, unsure what happened. On the surface, I failed on every level. I didn’t get to reschedule the date, and she hung up on me. Yet she doesn’t seem angry, and she did say she would call me back. I’m in a holding pattern until I can figure this out.

  I message the wedding party and Stetson to see if I can arrange a last-minute substitution for my gig. They respond to my text message immediately and thanks to YouTube, the bride is familiar with Stetson’s work, so she has no trouble with the switch.

  Now I need to choose songs for the audition. The rules say I need to choose songs from four different decades. I want to do Piano Man by Billy Joel and Candle in the Wind by Elton John, but sadly, they were released around the same time in the 70s. Dock of the Bay would be cool and I think that it was the late 60s. For my current song, I think I’ll go with Sam Smith’s Stay with Me. I might give the 90s a nod and show I have crossover potential with Standing Outside the Fire by Garth Brooks. My most surprising song choice might be Michael Jackson’s 1987 hit, Man In the Mirror.

  I like to sing songs that matter to me. I think it will be really important to follow this strategy in the competition setting. Eventually, as I progress through the competition. I will also have to write a song. I have most of the melody down for the song I’m writing for Tara, but I haven’t worked much on the lyrics. I haven’t sung in public since before I lost my hearing, so writing lyrics has not been a high priority. But that’s about to change. I’m sure Delores will be thrilled to hear it, because she was disappointed when I put my lyric notebook away under some old books from high school. She probably still has them in my old room. She often threatens to take my stuff to the dump, but I doubt she ever will – at least, not without checking with me first.

  Just as I finish verifying the copyright dates on all the songs, my phone rings with the special ring tone I have reserved just for Tara. Even though I’m expecting the call, my heart still races when I see her phone number come up on the caller ID.

  “Well, howdy, gorgeous Gracie. That didn’t take long,” I say as I answer the phone.

  “Didn’t I warn you about the empty puffery?” Tara asks, pointedly.

  “Well, I’m pretty sure it’s neither empty, nor puffery, when it’s simply true. You are gorgeous, so I’m innocent on all counts.”

  “Very good!” She compliments. “You sound lawyerly enough to give Jeff a run for his money. I called to tell you I’ve made arrangements so I can be at your beck and call this weekend, if you need me. So, consider me your interpreter,” Tara declares.

  I shake my head to clear it. I must have misheard that. I’m pretty sure Tara did not just say what I thought she just said. “Excuse me?” I sputter.

  Tara giggles. “You heard me, AJ. I may not be a full-fledged interpreter yet, but I can more than hold my own. I’ve cleared my schedule and I’m all yours for the weekend. I just need to know your flight info,” she explains.

  I did in fact hear what I thought I heard. It’s just as stunning the second time I heard it, if not more so. The generosity of her offer is simply mind-boggling. I know the new school year just started for her, and she’s juggling two part-time jobs. I also know that crowds are not her thing. So this is more than just getting away for the weekend. She’s making a huge sacrifice to help me.

  “Tara, I appreciate the offer more than you can imagine,” I reply. “But I can’t let you do that. The cost to book a flight this late is beyond outrageous. It’s way too much to ask of you.”

  “Why don’t you let me decide what’s too much? I wouldn’t offer if I couldn’t do it. It just so happens I’m one of those rare people who was grandfathered into my frequent flyer miles program. I still have a kazillion miles left over from when Rory and I used to travel all over the world when we competed internationally. They like me so much at the airlines, they’ve made me a quadruple platinum member of their extra special club. I have my own special travel concierge. All I have to do is call and tell them when I want to travel, and they’ll book my plane ticket, hotel, and car. Quite frankly, they get annoyed that I never use my benefits, since it means they have to pay a cash bonus on my credit card instead. They’ll probably throw down some cartwheels if I actually fly somewhere.”

  It’s not often at a loss for words, considering I write songs for a living. An amusing thought crosses my mind, though; that’s probably the longest explanation I’ve ever heard from Tara on any subject.

  I decide to go with a starkly honest answer, “Gracie, it would mean the world to me if you were there. Whether or not you end up interpreting for me, I think I’ll perform better, just because you’re in the room. On the other hand, you’ll also be a hell of a distraction.”

  “Uh oh, maybe I shouldn’t go, then.”

  “Now wait just a second... I never said what you were a distraction from. Maybe I need you to distract me from all the nerves and craziness. Make no mistake, Tara, I want you by my side for this adventure. If my best friend isn’t there, then what fun will it be?”

  I can hear Tara’s sharp intake of breath as she utters, “Wow, Aidan, you’re good. My heart kind of skipped a beat, there.”

  I smile into my phone, not even caring that she can’t see it. I’ll take any sign of progress and celebrate it, no matter how small. Tara Grace Windsong accepting a compliment with grace and good humor is a victory indeed. There is a road trip in my future. Things are definitely looking up.

  “I’m certifiably insane, right?” I ask Heather as I throw my dingy workout clothes into my suitcase. “I don’t know what came over me. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Somehow in the excitement of the moment, I forgot—some days, I can’t even eat out at a restaurant without freaking out.”

  “I’m not just saying this because you can kick my butt in fifteen very painful ways, but you are my favorite Warrior Chick and to people who don’t know you extrem
ely well, you look like you have it completely and totally together all the time. You rarely ever have a lock of that gorgeous hair out of place,” Heather says as she examines a faded tie-dyed T-shirt. “Now, just because you scream confidence doesn’t mean your wardrobe is speaking the same language,” she quips, shaking her head in dismay.

  I laugh out loud at the expression on her face. The woman does have a point. There are trolls living under bridges who dress with better class than I do. If it’s big, bulky, ugly and old, it’s in my closet. “It’s safe to say I don’t invest a lot of money in clothes,” I admit with a smirk, picking up a pair of sweatpants with the left knee completely blown out.

  Heather rolls her eyes at me. “Dare I ask what you did with the $500 gift certificate my mom got you from Nordstrom’s for Christmas? Because, clearly, you have not used it for wardrobe enhancement.”

  “I’m a college student. What am I going to do with clothes from Nordstrom?” I shrug. “It’s not like I go anywhere. I work at a gas station. It would be fashion sacrilege to wear Nordstrom’s clothes there. So the gift certificate is still in my purse.”

  “Well, how fortuitous for you that my mother’s taste is completely ostentatious and over-the-top. Because to put it bluntly, you, my warrior friend, are having a fashion emergency.”

  This time, there is no hope of holding it in. I let loose a loud guffaw of laughter and say, “Well, duh! Tell me something I don’t know. But I think I have bigger problems than what to wear. The whole point was to be helpful. Do you think he’s serious about me being a huge distraction?” I ask, trying to resist an urge to chew my fingernails.

  Heather just shakes her head at me. She grabs me by the shoulders and walks me over to my closet door. I try to avoid this area of my room whenever possible, because there’s a huge floor-to-ceiling 1970’s style sliding glass mirrored door. It’s a bit pitted and warped with age, but it clearly shows our reflection. “Honey, take a good, long hard look at yourself. This is why he’s going to be distracted. Because even in ratty yoga pants and a T-shirt that’s four sizes too big that should’ve been recycled a couple decades ago, you look absolutely stunning. Unlike the rest of us, it doesn’t even matter that you haven’t bothered to comb your hair or put on any makeup, you still look adorably sexy. If you weren’t my best friend, it would be really easy to hate you.”

  “Oh, I’d be crushed if you hated me—” I start to explain.

  Heather holds up her hand to stop me. “As your best friend, I know you hate the idea that you’re attractive. Unfortunately, there isn’t anything you could do to make yourself not a distraction to Aidan. He finds the fact that you breathe distracting. That’s true whether you’re in Los Angeles with him or not. So you might as well go with him and be helpful.”

  “It’s just too weird to me that he thinks I’m sexy. We were kids the last time we were together.”

  Heather snickers at me as she says, “Isn’t that just a tad hypocritical since you think he’s hotter than the sun? Weren’t you just telling me how awesomely sexy he is? Yes, I think you were. In fact, I remember a rather detailed discussion about his kissing prowess. It didn’t seem at all childlike to me.”

  “Oh wow! For all your Miss Manners charm, you don’t sugarcoat things, do you?”

  “Face it, Tara. The two of you have grown up and are on the verge of a mature relationship, with all that implies. It sounds like Aidan is willing to work through whatever it takes to make that happen. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that boy has been in love with you since before he could shave. It doesn’t seem like the decades away have changed his mind at all,” Heather observes as she grabs my hairbrush and starts working through the tangles in my hair.

  “That’s almost what I’m afraid of most, Heather,” I admit. “I don’t think he can possibly understand how much I’ve changed from the girl he once knew. I don’t even think I know. What if he doesn’t like the person I’ve become?”

  “What if he likes this version better?” Heather counters. “Tara, I know this is not a situation you ever expected to find yourself in, but you can’t sell yourself short. You are an amazing survivor. You went through more things in the first fifteen years of your life than most people face in a lifetime. Not only that, you didn’t just curl up into a little ball and quit. You are a phenomenally talented person who is genuinely nice to other people.”

  “If you hadn’t decided to share your story, I wouldn’t have known any of this occurred. I mean, I knew you were skittish around guys. But I know a lot of women who have bad experiences with exes and are a little gun shy, so I didn’t think anything of it,” she explains. “All I’m saying is that this dysfunctional picture of yourself you have in your head may be slightly exaggerated. The rest of the world doesn’t see you like that, including Aidan. In fact, it’s probably especially true of Aidan, because he sees you in the best light possible.”

  I shrug. “You’re probably right. Even as kids, Aidan said I was way too hard on myself. His world was turned completely upside down since then, too. I wonder how much it’s changed him.”

  “I think you guys should look at this LA trip as a chance to get to know each other as the people you are now, as opposed to the kids you used to be. You may find that you like each other on a whole different level.”

  I look at the chaos around me and swallow hard. “Do you think I’m ready for that?” I ask, a note of panic entering my voice.

  “Well, we have a few days and we might have to call in reinforcements from the Girlfriend Posse. But we’ll get you there,” Heather assures me.

  As I watch Aidan gawk around the first-class cabin, it reminds me of the times I used to fly with my dad. I was really young when he died, but I remember occasionally traveling with him when he went on informal translating jobs for diplomats. There was this one time, shortly before he passed away, when he did some translating for a high-level official. I don’t remember if it was a congressman or a wealthy CEO, but I do remember that we traveled with the man’s family on his private plane. His little girl and I played with Barbies together on the floor of his multimillion-dollar aircraft as if it were a totally normal thing to do. It was also the last time I remember my mom being truly happy. She and the client’s wife were exchanging recipes and talking about their days in college. Of course, I had no way of knowing that this impromptu family vacation was going to be the last one our family would ever go on together.

  Aidan runs his fingers along the soft leather of the seats and studies the upgraded headsets. He lets out a soft wolf-whistle in my ear, and murmurs, “I’ve always wondered how the other half lives, but at the risk of sounding like a totally geeked out teenager, ‘This is dope.”

  I laugh. “Well, that’s one way to put it. They’ll even serve you more than peanuts, if you ask them to.”

  “You know what I don’t get?” Aidan says, as he flips through the airline evacuation instructions.

  “What?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

  “If you can fly like this all the time, why don’t you? If it were me, I’d be going on... I don’t know... four or five vacations a year,” he concludes thoughtfully.

  Honestly, the question stumps me. I don’t really have a good excuse. As of four and a half years ago, technically I’m not even poor anymore. The court found Warren Jones criminally and civilly liable for my rape. So, for the event which completely shattered my life, I was awarded a very large chunk of his very sizable trust fund. It should have made me happy to be filthy rich. Instead, it just makes me feel filthy. I no longer feel guilty that I caused myself to be a victim, but I do wonder if there were other victims because I was too much of a mess to make him stop sooner. That question haunts me more nights than I care to admit. I try to shake off my dark thoughts. I can’t dwell on this. I need to focus on Aidan.

  “I don’t really know. I guess it’s because travel was such a family thing growing up, and it just seems wrong to enjoy it without them. Besides, it’s not fun to do stuff by
myself. Have you ever gone out to eat by yourself? The looks of pity can be unbearable.”

  “Yeah, I suppose they would be. I guess I was just thinking how much fun it would be to go places with your friends,” Aidan says as he gestures around the plane.

  “If it makes you feel any better, I’m taking Mindy and the family to Disney next summer. She’s even planning to dine with the princesses.”

  “Well, that sounds like the only way to truly do Disney. Are you going to go to Universal Studios to learn how movies are made? It wouldn’t surprise me a bit if Mindy turns out to be the next Angelina Jolie,” he offers with an easy smile.

  “Oh, it wouldn’t doubt that for a second,” I concede. “But for now, she has her sights set on being a trucker like Kiera’s dad. We’ll just have to wait and see. Although, with her level of curiosity, I’m leaning toward doctor or scientist.”

  “You’re so good with Mindy. Do you have any plans to have your own passel of rug-rats?”

  Something about the way he asks that question just strikes me as funny and I develop an uncontrollable case of the giggles, not at all befitting a person sitting in first class. Even Aidan, who usually takes great glee in cracking me up, is looking at me strangely as tears start to leak out of the corners of my eyes.

  He reaches into the pocket of his leather jacket, and pulls out a neatly folded Kleenex and hands it to me. “Jeez, Gracie, are you okay? I thought it was a pretty straightforward question.”

  “Yeah, it could have been if we had been on more than two dates.” I manage to answer between my fits of giggles. “You seem bound and determined to have our relationship go at warp speed.”

  “I can’t deny there’s some truth in that statement.” Aidan admits, blushing slightly. “But I swear, this time I’m totally innocent! I was only making conversation, but I clearly lack basic social skills. I was genuinely trying to give you a compliment about your relationship with Mindy. I’m sorry if it sounded presumptuous.”