When the Music Stops

by Paddy Eger

  Applause and smiles circled the group.

  “Tell them the rest of the news,” Irene said.

  Lily Rose smiled. “With our merged resources, the studio has people to provide legal help, inventory studio assets, design advertising, studio cleaning and maintenance, holiday sewing, provide hair cuts and perm services with part of their proceeds benefiting the studio. Even though we tried to keep this quiet, several dance families have called me. House cleaners and adult babysitters, holiday bakers, and even a yard cleaning service have offered to split their profits with the studio for one year. As new issues and problems arise, we’ll have most everything covered.

  “Each person will receive a written contract listing their contributions, the value of those contributions, and the anticipated payback schedule if money was loaned. The best part of this higher level finance scheme is that Elle will still have enough for her wedding and a brief honeymoon.”

  Marta watched her mom blush at the mention of a honeymoon. When her mom and Robert talked last night, they’d scaled down the already simple wedding to family and close friends in Robert’s backyard. By mutual consent, their honeymoon shrank from a ten-day trip to the Oregon coast down to a day at the ocean with the money saved going to help with dance studio expenses.

  Marta emptied her savings for a car into the studio fund and signed on to sew for the community theatre productions to increase her contribution. She offered reduced fees on lessons to all the contributing families to repay their generosity in saving the dance studio. Next came another hard decision. How long was she willing to put her personal life on hold?

  The tide was low on the beach along Corbett Drive as Marta took off her shoes and stood in the chilly water. She watched the shore crabs circle her feet then scoot away when she wiggled her toes. She couldn’t scoot away from her decision much longer. It wasn’t fair to Sam or Steve if she wavered about getting serious with one of them. As she returned to her little house, she gave herself an ultimatum—two weeks.

  The phone was ringing as she stepped into the house. It was her mom.

  “It’s happened. Lindsay had their baby boy this afternoon. Jeffrey Rahe Holland. Six pounds, seven ounces. Adam said both were doing well and we’re on the list to visit this evening.”

  Marta laughed. “I’II bet she’s happy. Did you wrap our gift to her yet?”

  “No, I wanted to call you, but I’ll add his name, wrap it, and pick you up at seven.”

  The maternity ward had two rows of beds; all were full. Marta and her mom spotted Lindsay holding a small bundle to her breast with a nervous Adam standing beside her. They clapped silently as they approached Lindsay’s bed.

  “Brava,” Marta said. “How are you three feeling?”

  “Like we waited too long to do this,” Adam said. “Isn’t he beautiful?”

  Lindsay handed the sleeping baby boy to Adam, who handed him over to Marta’s mom.

  “I remember Marta as a baby,” her mom said as she swayed with the baby in her arms. “Seems like yesterday. Where did this handsome boy’s name come from?”

  “He’s named after our fathers,” Lindsay said. “I’m sorry you won’t get to see him grow up. I hope he loves music and wants to dance.”

  “Wait, Linds,” Adam said. “We also want him to be an athlete, love boats, and be a good student.”

  Marta laughed. “This will be one busy boy.” She handed the gift from her mom and herself to Lindsay. “We hope you will think of us when you use it.”

  When Lindsay opened the package, tears formed in her eyes. “Oh-h-h. This quilt is gorgeous. You even wrote his name on it. Thank you so much. Some of these squares look familiar. Are they…?”

  Marta’s mom nodded. “They’re squares from various costumes we’ve made for the studio over the years, plus colors we knew you loved. You know us, we never throw anything away.”

  When they left the hospital, Marta and her mom drove to Rhododendron Drive and sat in the backyard. “It’s been quite a month, hasn’t it?” Marta said. “The Hollands will soon be gone, and we’ll be on our own. It’s exciting and kind of scary as well.”

  Her mom nodded. “But since we got our feet wet taking over the recital, I think we’re in good shape. We’ve received amazing support. I think we’ll be okay.”

  Her mom was right. The studio business was handled. Time for handling her personal life decisions, like sending a letter for Lynne to her family home before she scooted off the Europe.

  Dear Lynne,

  Lindsay had her baby. It’s a boy, Jeffrey Rahe Holland. The new family will drive to San Diego this next week, stopping to show off the baby to friends along the way. Please call to say good bye. I’m glad for you and sad for me.

  You never made it to the northwest. I had so many places I wanted to show you. I might have found a handsome guy you’d like, but too late. It’s becoming the story of your life, unless Mr. Almost is hanging in.

  I’m teetering on how I feel about Sam and Steve. It’s like having two doors with no windows, so I can’t peek inside. No matter which one I select I’ll be happy. It’s just that they’ll be different kinds of happiness.

  Write letters or send me postcards. I’m excited for your up-coming adventure. Try to stay out of trouble. Ha, ha.

  Love and hugs,

  Marta

  Marta stood in the dance studio office sorting the boxes delivered that morning. It felt strange opening boxes addressed to Lindsay; she’d need to change the addressee name with all the accounts as well as the post office to keep things current.

  The door to the dance studio opened, but no one entered immediately. Thump. Something bumped against the door, then it closed. A tiny fussy sound followed.

  “You’re okay. I want you to say hello to some special people.” Lindsay entered the office pushing a baby stroller. “I haven’t gotten the hang of opening doors without waking Jeffrey.”

  Marta smiled. “I guess this is your final good bye?”

  “It is. We’re packed and ready to drive south. I wanted to thank you for everything one more time and tell you how happy I am that the studio is in such capable hands.”

  Marta’s mom hurried into the entry carrying a box, which she set down so she could look at the baby. “You know we’ll be calling you when we run into something we don’t remember how to handle. But don’t wait for us to call you. We’ll expect you to keep us updated on Jeffrey’s progress.”

  “I will, and I’ll send photos,” Lindsay said as she hugged Marta and her mom. “I’ll miss this building and all the music and dancing that’s gone on in here. I expect great things from you ladies.” She hugged them again, then walked out for the last time.

  Marta wiped away a tear. “This feels so strange.”

  “It does, but we can handle it. We need to keep the dancing going and the music flowing and hope not too many Zandoras walk through the doors.”

  h

  Back at home, Saturday’s mail arrived with a postcard from Lynne. Three cows stood with their noses pressed against a fence. It said, “Looking a-head to that green pasture just beyond our reach.”

  Marta,

  Last of cows for awhile. Looking for my next green pasture. Stopping to see Bartley’s parents. I expect to find your letter waiting for me at my parents’. Excited about visiting New York City before I sail away like someone’s pop music says. Watch out world!

  Can you believe it? I’m scared but excited too.

  Lynne

  P.S. Letters to follow when I find or create anything worth reporting back to you. Ha!

  Marta laughed and shook her head. Lynne created a stir wherever she landed. She imagined Paris and the rest of Europe would be in for a big shake up. Funny, though, she didn’t mention anything about anticipating a shipboard romance. Something must be happening with the Billings rancher.

 
On Monday afternoon as Marta cleaned up the dance studio entry, the office phone rang.

  “Hi, Marta.”

  A jolt rushed through her. Steve. “Hi. Where are you?”

  “I’m nearby. I’ve had a couple of interviews and wondered if I might talk with you tonight.”

  They agreed to meet at her house. Now, as the time of his arrival moved closer, Marta began to fidget, straightening up her already tidy living room, then walking onto the porch and back inside. When the same blue car from Steve’s last visit drove up, she backed away from the open door and waited.

  Steve stepped onto her porch and knocked on the door post. “Hi, Marta.”

  She swallowed hard. “Come in.”

  He moved into the room and looked around. “You’ve changed things.”

  “A little,” Marta said. “Is that why you’ve come?”

  He frowned, then laughed. “Now, now. Let’s not start out with you in a huffy mood. I was nearby and thought we should talk face to face.” His expression changed to a guarded smile. “I like your hair down. Looks grown-up.”

  Marta nodded, not certain she could speak without crying or saying something she’d regret. Seeing him standing in her little house left her feeling happy yet anxious.

  “Your mom says you’re buying the studio. Yes, we’re still talking from time to time.” He ran his hand through his hair and sat down on the couch. “Look, I’m out here interviewing and…we need to talk and stop this craziness between us one way or the other.”

  Marta sat in the rocker and studied his face. “I agree. So you haven’t found a job yet?”

  ‘”What do you mean? I accepted a job in May in Portland, Oregon.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Steve shrugged. “I didn’t know if that mattered to you.”

  “But you just said you were nearby for interviews.”

  “I was. I had interviews at Fort Lawton, Sandpoint Naval Base, Fort Lewis, McChord Air Force Base, and here in the shipyard. I’m writing about the effects of the northwest military bases on the region’s economy.”

  Marta dipped her head, feeling Steve’s intended put down. “Oh. Guess I deserved that. I’m sorry I’ve acted so self-centered. I’m trying to change, really. The fact that I’m staying on as a dance instructor shows I’m changing, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, it does.” Steve stood and walked to the front window and looked out. “I’ve held onto my hopes for us for a long time. Lately I’ve had dreams about you teaching my children to appreciate music.”

  Marta reeled from his comment ”my children.” Her brain took in the information, sending shock waves through her body. “Congratulations. When are you getting married?”

  Steve turned and smiled. “I’m not until you say you’ll marry me.” He moved to stand behind her with his hands resting gently on her shoulders as she rocked. “Marta, I’ve tried to erase you from my mind, but I love you; I have since the first time we met.” He moved to kneel in front of where she sat. “Will you marry me or not?”

  Marta twisted a strand of hair around finger and looked away. “Now that the dance studio business is settled, I’ve found a new focus for my life, teaching dancing.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  “It is, but I’ve promised my mom I’d stay awhile. We’re expecting dozens of new students and we’ll need to hire another ballet instructor before next year ends.”

  “I understand, but you haven’t answered my question. Will you marry me or not?”

  Marta stood up and smiled. “It depends.” She pulled his hand and walked toward the front door. “Come with me. I want to show you something at the dance studio.”

  As they exited his car and entered the dance studio, Marta felt a gnawing in her stomach. What if Steve didn’t see the potential she and her mom saw? What if he thought her decision to stay here and teach was an ill-conceived idea?

  Marta dragged him into the large practice room. “I want to show you what’s happening in my life over the next little while.” She reached out her arm in a sweeping circle. “This is my mom’s new dance studio. We have three studio rooms, a waiting area and office, a messy director’s office, plus a small apartment upstairs.”

  Steve nodded. “And the fact that your mom will own the building is a smart business move. I’d like to see the rest of the space.”

  She smiled and dragged him from room to room, pointing out all the details that made the building a special place. “I want to stay and be part of what we’re building. Does that fit into your plans?”

  “It could,” Steve said. “I have to say, when you talk about this, your face lights up like it did when you danced in Billings. Do you still dance for yourself?”

  Marta nodded.

  “Will you dance for me?”

  “Yes. Of course. Let me change.” She hurriedly to the bathroom, changed, returned, then selected a favorite record. “This is the last ballet company choreography I learned from Damien. I modified it for my ladies’ ballet class.” She lowered the needle onto the first ring, closed her eyes, and waited for the opening clarinet slide of Rhapsody in Blue.

  As she moved from one step to the next, she felt Steve’s eyes follow her. She pretended to ignore him, but inside her spirit soared as she shared her passion to dance with him. When she ended, he stared at her but didn’t speak for several moments. She couldn’t read his face. Had she disappointed him?

  “That was beautiful. You are still the most graceful person I’ve ever met. Thank you for dancing for me.”

  Marta curtsied. “My pleasure. But before you say anything more, I have questions for you.”

  “Okay. Fire away, Miss Fluff.” Steve stood directly in front of Marta and saluted.

  First, Mr. Mason, do you continue to steal flowers from your aunt’s flower shop?”

  “No, I only did that when you were in Billings. But more recently I was forced to call her and have flowers delivered to you. I hope you liked the ones I sent for the recital. Someday I’m hoping to have a home where I can grow my own.”

  “Good answer,” Marta said. “Second, do you still think ballet is fluff?”

  He shook his head and laughed. “That comment will haunt me until I’m too old to remember it. Ballet is not fluff. You may quote me on that.” He leaned over and kissed Marta’s cheek.

  Steve reached out for Marta’s hands. “Now I have questions for you. First, are you still seeing that counselor guy?”

  “No, but I need to talk with him before too much longer.”

  “Second, do you ever wear the bracelet and necklace I gave you, and if so why don’t I see you wearing them now?”

  Marta reached into a tiny pocket sewn into her dance wrap. She handed them to him. “I carry them in my pocket when I’m at the studio. I don’t want them to get damaged or sweaty. I’ll admit that for a brief while, I didn’t wear them. And, in the hurry flurry of the recital, I left them here. Usually I wear them or carry them in my purse.”

  “Fair enough,” he said as he placed them back in Marta’s hands. “Third, will you marry me or not?”

  Marta closed her hand over the jewelry and looked at Steve. “I’ve spent lots of hours thinking about us. I dream about you, and if we can stay in this area, I’ll marry you.”

  “But Marta—”

  “Hold on; I’m not finished. But, if we’d need to move away from my home and the dance studio, I could manage as long as two things get resolved. First, I need to help find instructors for this studio. That might take as long as a year. Second, I also want to continue teaching ballet. It fills my need to dance.”

  “Really? You’d move to be with me?”

  “Yep. I’d move. I’ve discussed this with my mom, and she’s okay with my moving away once we find qualified instructors. Portland is close enough I could still get home to see her and help
her when she’s overextended.” Marta smiled. “As a bonus, I might even share my ocean with you.”

  “Your ocean? I like the sound of that, Miss Fluff.” Steve hugged Marta, then held her at arm’s length. “So, should I get this in writing in case you change your mind?”

  Marta absorbed his smile like a sweet fragrance that erased any of her doubts. She laughed. “Nope. I’ve made up my mind. You’ll be stuck with me if you can be patient while the studio gets its dancing feet settled.”

  Steve drew her close, then relaxed his grip to cover her face and neck with kisses. Marta felt his heart beat in unison to hers as she returned his kisses. She closed her eyes and listened to the music of her life crescendo.

  Elle Selbryth and Robert Marsden

  announce their private family wedding ceremony

  Sunday, July 12, 1959

  at the Marsden home

  Bremerton, Washington

  You are cordially invited to attend their

  Reception Celebration

  Sunday, July 12, 1959

  Drop-in between

  4:00 - 7:00 PM

  Holland Dance Studio

  Burwell at Montgomery

  Bremerton, Washington

  Dear Lynne,

  Here’s an article you may want to save. I expect you to be home to be my maid of honor.

  Love,

  Marta

  (Seattle Times reprinted from Portland News Tribune article)

  Mrs. Robert Marsden of Bremerton, Washington announces the engagement of her daughter, Marta Selbryth to Steven Mason, son of Diane and Neal Mason of Billings, Montana.

  The future bride is a former dancer with the Intermountain Ballet Company and is the current co-owner of the Holland Dance Studio in Bremerton, Washington.

  The future groom is a recent graduate of Rocky Mountain College in Billings, Montana, and a reporter for the Portland News Tribune.

  A June 1960 wedding is planned in Bremerton, Washington. The couple will make their home in Portland, Oregon.