Dance of Temptation

by Janice Sims

  After that incident Belana and Erik insisted, despite their mother’s protests, that she be thoroughly examined by the noted cancer specialists at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center. They prayed for a more optimistic prognosis than Mari’s French doctors had given her, only to be disappointed.

  Mari told them she was not saddened by this news. She had fulfilled her wish of seeing them again, and that’s all that mattered to her. Two months after she showed up at Belana’s dressing room door, she was admitted into Sloan-Kettering after she had trouble breathing in the night.

  She died three hours later with Belana and Erik at her side.

  At the memorial service held at the Abyssinian Baptist Church, Belana and Erik sat on the front row: Nick at Belana’s side and Ana at Erik’s. Ana had proven to be as good a friend to him as he had been to her. Mari’s name alone had drawn a crowd of hundreds. Even though she had been retired from dance for several years she was still thought well of in the dance community. Dance luminaries rose to speak of her accomplishments in glowing terms and tell how she had inspired them in some way. Belana barely heard what they said because her mind was in turmoil. She had known her mother so fleetingly. She did, however, hear the sobbing of someone behind her. It was Nona.

  Later, after they’d gathered at a restaurant in Harlem for a buffet-style meal, Belana had pulled Nona aside to hug her and say, “Are you all right? I heard you crying at the service.”

  Nona forced a smile for Belana’s benefit. She’d let her dreadlocks grow and now they were halfway down her back. “I feel so sad for you,” she told Belana, “because I realize now why you never told me Mari Tautou was your mother. She broke your heart, and if I’d found out how badly she’d hurt you, I might have been discouraged in some way, given up my dream of one day being as good as she was.” Tears ran fresh down her face. “My mother’s gone and now yours is, too. We’re both motherless, Belana!”

  Nick happened to walk up at the tail end of his daughter’s declaration and misunderstood the meaning behind it. He thought she was insensitively reminding Belana that her mother was dead. “Nona,” he said quietly but fiercely. “Apologize at once.”

  “Nick,” Belana said quickly. “She was just saying that she and I have that in common. She was trying to console me.”

  Nick immediately apologized to Nona. “I’m sorry, baby. It’s been a stressful day.”

  Nona simply smiled. Her father had been watching her like a hawk ever since the Vincent incident. She really had to be on her p’s and q’s around him. He’d also been overprotective of Belana lately. He was wrong when he said it had been a stressful day. It had been a stressful month. She didn’t know how Belana had danced six shows a week for eight solid weeks while her mother had been dying. But, she supposed, entertainers actually lived by the adage—the show must go on.

  “Don’t worry about it, Daddy,” she said. “I think I’ll go get something to drink.”

  After she’d gone, Belana said, “You’ve got to ease up on her. She’s doing her best to make up for what she did.”

  Nick grimaced as he looked after his daughter. “I know, but I’m paranoid now and wonder if she’s just telling me she’s taken a vow of chastity. She’s still going to the same school, and she’s still friends with the same kids.”

  “Yes, but she’s made up her mind. Your daughter is an indomitable young woman when she decides to do something. Have faith in her.”

  “I’m trying,” said Nick.

  “Try harder,” Belana told him, and rose on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek.

  Drusilla, who had come to the memorial service with John and Isobel, walked up to Belana and Nick. “I always said I would dance on that woman’s grave,” she said of Mari as she leaned heavily on her cane. “Now, all I have is sympathy for her. I must really be getting old!”

  Belana laughed in spite of herself. Leave it to Drusilla to inject humor into an otherwise sad day. Belana hugged her grandmother. “I love you. I hope you never change.”

  Drusilla smiled up at her. “I love you, too, baby.” She sighed as she peered across the room at Erik and Ana, standing with John and Isobel. “Those two are still ‘friends,’” she said with a touch of irritation. “I’m gonna have to light a fire under them.”

  She crooked her finger at Nick. He leaned down to hear what she had to tell him and she kissed him on the cheek. “You’re a handsome devil.”

  Nick grinned. “Thank you, Mrs. Whitaker. You look lovely today yourself.”

  “You’d just as well call me Grandma,” said Drusilla. “Practice for when you marry my granddaughter.”

  “Grandma, really,” Belana protested. “No one’s said anything about getting married.”

  “Well, somebody up in here should be talking about getting married,” said Drusilla, getting her second wind. “What is it with you young people? I married your grandfather three weeks after I met him.”

  “Three weeks?” asked Nick, incredulously.

  Belana had heard this story many times before. She wouldn’t dream of interrupting her grandmother, though.

  “Yes, three weeks,” Drusilla confirmed. She shifted her weight. Belana thought she looked absolutely adorable in her black pantsuit and white blouse. She had on a sleeveless black dress and black pumps. The only jewelry she wore was a three-quarter-length pearl necklace.

  “Veni, vidi, vici,” intoned Drusilla.

  Nick knew that meant, I came, I saw, I conquered, and wondered who had conquered whom. Knowing Drusilla, she had definitely been the conqueror.

  “I knew I was going to marry that man the moment I laid eyes on him. He was a tall drink of water. Broad like an oak tree and, boy, did I have fun climbing him,” Drusilla said loudly.

  “Grandma, please keep your voice down,” said Belana.

  Drusilla did as she was told, but didn’t quit talking. She winked at Nick. “There’s nothing wrong with newlyweds enjoying each other. It’s their God-given right.”

  She smiled at Belana. “I’ve embarrassed you enough for one day.” She gestured for Belana to lean down. She kissed her granddaughter on the lips. “So sorry about your mother, darling. I’m going to have your parents take me home now.”

  “Thank you, Grandma,” Belana said, hugging her warmly.

  That evening Belana and Nick sat in one another’s arms on her sofa with the music turned down low. Tomorrow was Saturday and for once in a long while neither of them had anywhere to be except with each other.

  “You know, your grandmother was right about one thing today,” said Nick softly in her ear.

  Belana was so relaxed, the day’s stresses having been vanquished by Nick’s nearness, that she lazily asked, “Mmm?”

  “That somebody should be talking about marriage,” Nick reminded her.

  Belana perked up.

  “Although it might be too soon to be talking about marriage,” said Nick, referring to the fact that she was still grieving her mother.

  Belana was silent for a moment. After all the time her mother had wasted, she didn’t believe she would want her to waste any. “No,” she said, turning around to peer up into Nick’s eyes. “It’s not too soon. I don’t think my mother would want me to postpone my life. She thought she had wasted too much time.”

  Nick smiled and said, “I’ve got to get up for this.”

  Belana let him go and tucked her legs under her as she watched him walk over to the hall tree, reach into his coat pocket and retrieve a small box covered in red velvet.

  She felt a mixture of nervousness and excitement as he sat down beside her, opened the lid of the little red box and offered her the most beautiful diamond solitaire she’d ever seen. In a platinum setting, the stone was perfect and it was a tasteful five carats. He had known she didn’t go for ostentatious displays of excess.

  Their eyes met and held. “Belana, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  Belana burst into tears. Maybe it was the stress of the day. Maybe it w
as because she knew how close she’d come to losing Nick forever. Maybe it was because she loved him so much she couldn’t imagine life without him.

  “Yes!” she cried. “I would love nothing more than to become your wife.”

  Nick grinned. Then he bent and kissed her until they were both dizzy from oxygen deprivation, and in that drunken, elated state, he put the ring on her finger.

  After which they sealed the deal by making slow, sweet love right there on her couch.

  Four months later, on a Saturday in June, they were married at her family’s New Haven estate with two hundred people in attendance. Elle and new mother Patrice were her matrons of honor. T.K. sat in the front row with their son sleeping in his arms. Ana and Nona were two of her six bridesmaids. Ari was the sole flower girl, spreading rose petals along the aisle while guests sighed over how precious she was. She, being the daughter of two entertainers, ate it up and smiled prettily.

  When the minister announced that Belana and Nicolas were husband and wife, Drusilla yelled, “Hallelujah!”

  At the reception, Belana and Nick cut the wedding cake which had been made by none other than Mrs. Lyla Daly. It was a traditional multitiered masterpiece with three different flavors of cake: lemon, vanilla, and red velvet covered in vanilla crème icing and decorated with lilacs.

  Nick and Belana each had a morsel in their hands and they crossed arms and fed each other, not trying to smash the cake into each other’s faces as they’d seen some newlyweds playfully do. No, they had no time for antics such as that. They could not take their eyes off each other. They wanted nothing more than to be alone but felt they must endure the rest of the day out of love and respect for their friends and family.

  But after all the toasts had been said, and the bride had danced with her father, who was teary-eyed, they danced together and socialized for a while then at the first opportunity that presented itself, they snuck off and climbed into the waiting limousine that would take them to the New Haven luxury hotel where they would spend the night.

  In the hotel suite, it took less than a minute to doff wedding attire that had seemed to take forever to get into. Then they were making love, skin against skin, mouths seeking succor and relentlessly finding it. Not saying a word, because their bodies spoke louder than words ever could.

  She was his equal in every way, giving him all of her because it would never occur to her to do less. Warm unyielding muscles felt like velvet-covered steel to her roaming hands. He was intoxicated by the silken texture, fragrance and sensuality of her skin.

  He could not stop inhaling her scent, tasting her, reveling in the utter delight that touching her filled him with.

  He held back as long as he could. He never wanted this ecstasy to end. But when she came and he heard that mewling sound she made at the back of her throat he also rushed over the precipice and they fell together. They hit the bed, as if they had actually fallen from a great height, and looked into one another’s eyes.

  “Felt like…” Belana said breathlessly.

  “The first time,” Nick finished for her.

  They were lucky enough to stay in love the entire length of their marriage. In the second year they were blessed with a baby boy. They named him after his father who was a junior, so everyone called him Tre, pronounced tray, which was short for tres, Spanish for the number three. His sister, Nona, called him less complimentary names when he was just being a little brother, but he never let that bother him. He simply adored her.

  Belana danced until she was thirty-three, working four years longer than she’d anticipated. Nick opened his own agency and while it might not have been the biggest agency in Manhattan, it represented some of the top athletes in the world.

  When they had been married six years, Belana presented Nick with a daughter. They named her Mari Drusilla. Her great-grandmother, who had managed to dodge the Grim Reaper and was approaching eighty-eight took one look at her and said, “She looks just like me!”

  Belana had smiled. Indeed, her daughter with her scrunched-up newborn face did look remarkably like a gnome. But she knew she would grow out of it and be as beautiful as the two women she’d been named for.

  One night they left Mari Drusilla with her doting maternal grandparents and Nick took his wife to the ballet. They held hands and watched, rapt, as Nona danced her first solo with the New York City Repertory Dance Theatre. Later, Belana hugged her stepdaughter and said, “You danced beautifully.”

  And her stepdaughter beamed at her and said, “I learned from the best. My mom used to be a ballerina.”

  ISBN: 978-1-4592-0815-5

  DANCE OF TEMPTATION

  Copyright © 2011 by Janice Sims

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