by Kahlen Aymes
“But—”
Caleb nodded toward a chair, indicating that she should sit down, and then handed her the clipboard when she did. She looked up at him, towering over her. Even in a heavy leather jacket with his hair flopping boyishly over his forehead, he looked tough as hell, his vibrant blue eyes piercing. “Come on. You’re doing this.” His expression was adamant and she started to hope it was possible.
“How will I get here?”
Caleb’s mouth thinned in frustration and he rolled his eyes. “Wren, will you have a little faith? I got this.” Their eyes locked and his lips lifted in a sly smile. “Fill that thing out, but put down my cell number, not your mom’s. You just hafta trust me. ”
And she did. She trusted Caleb more than anyone in the world. She put the pen to the paper.
“You’ll be required to pay for the first month and the registration fee, up front,” the counter girl mentioned.
Caleb turned back toward the counter, pulling a wad of cash out of his coat pocket. “Like I said when I called, she’s more like a professional. She needs the real good lessons. Advanced stuff.”
“Caleb,” Wren called and shook her head. His pride showed and while it made her heart soar, she was embarrassed at the look the other girl threw at her.
“We have a package for nine to twelve hours a week; then she can take whatever classes she wants. However, to get that deal she’ll need to sign up for the year. Perhaps all day on Saturday, then a couple of nights a week?”
Caleb started peeling off bills one-by-one. “Cool. How much?”
Wren’s eyes widened when the girl told him the tuition and without flinching he simply handed over the cash. How would he afford nearly five hundred dollars a month? His father was rich, but Caleb was barely seventeen and his dad didn’t give him that kind of pocket change.
When Wren was finished filling out the paperwork, the girl handed her a sheet of required attire and shoes she’d need. “You can get the things you need in our shop. For advanced classes, you’ll need a good pair of pointe shoes, as well as slippers, lyrical, toeless lyrical, and jazz. Plus, a good selection of leotards, tights and skirts.”
Wren’s cheeks filled with heat. She couldn’t afford all of that and anything she had from her previous years dancing didn’t fit her anymore.
“Sure. Thanks,” Caleb said to the girl. “What about shows?”
“Shows? Oh, you mean recitals?”
“Yeah. Recitals.” He nodded.
“Twice a year in June and November, and costumes will need to be purchased in advance for each of her numbers.”
“Awesome. I can’t wait to see them.” He smiled at the girl, then down at Wren. He grabbed her hand and proceeded to pull her into the shop.
It was loaded with beautiful costumes, as well as many styles of dance apparel. Some were less adorned and relied on the cut for the style. Her eyes searched for the most basic, and she picked up a price tag.
“Cale, this is sweet of you, but it’s too expensive.”
“Shhh,” he ordered, taking the list out of Wren’s hand and giving it over to the clerk. She was a very thin older lady with steel grey hair, who looked exactly what Wren imagined a prima ballerina to look when her career was over and she was getting on in years. Still graceful, hair still wound in the tight bun, still beautiful and elegant. “We need everything on this list. The good stuff,” Caleb told her.
“Caleb you don’t realize how much that will cost. Just a couple of the basics will be fine.”
She wandered forward, unable to help herself. She looked through the pretty things with longing; not because of the price of the allure of the expense or quality of the items, but because of what they represented. It has been so long since she’d been able to dance. She was drawn to the round table circled with various ballet shoes and slippers, she reached out to ghost her fingers longingly over the soft pink satin of a pair Russian pointe shoes.
“Yeah. Let’s see.” Caleb pulled out the cash he had left and preceded to count it, and then took the few steps needed to reach the shop clerk and stopped in front of her. “I have eight hundred on me. So whatever we can get with that, today.”
Wren turned abruptly. “Cale! Oh, my gosh! That’s too much.”
Caleb ignored her. “Start with those pink things she was just looking at.”
“What size?” the woman asked with a smile.
Caleb walked up behind Wren and took the shoe from her, turned it over, and looked at the sole, and then inside, examining it thoroughly. “I always wondered how these things worked.” He tapped one toe on the table and it made hollow sound. His eyes widened. “You actually wear these things? They must be torture. I’d rather take a fist in the face,” he teased, then nudged her shoulder with his. “What size, Bird?”
Wren laughed softly, though her heart was full to bursting that he’d want to do this for her and pay for it with his fight club money. “It’s still too much, Caleb.”
“Size?” he persisted.
“Six.”
Caleb turned to the woman with a brilliant grin and repeated it. “Six it is!”
When the lady disappeared into the back room to gather the shoes in the appropriate size, Caleb spoke; a laugh lacing his voice. “You deserve it. I’ll just have to beat the shit out of a couple more guys every week. Not a big deal.”
A huge smile broke out on her face and she hugged him tight, reveling the feel of the strong arms he wound around her. He lifted her off the ground as if she weighed nothing.
“Thank you, Cale. You take such good care of me. No one has ever made me feel this special.” She turned her face, kissed his cheek and buried her face in his neck.
“You are special.”
When the woman brought out the shoes and some toe pads, Caleb knelt in front of her to help her try them on. She felt like Cinderella at the ball. It didn’t matter that he fumbled with the ribbons and got confused because there was nothing to distinguish one shoe from the other.
He looked up at her wryly. “What the hell?” he asked perplexed. “Which is the right?”
Wren giggled and took over. “They’re both the same. Until you wear them awhile and they form to your feet.”
His lips lifted in a soft smile. “Oh, no wonder.” He lifted her right foot and fumbled to slide one on. His fingers were gentle as they grazed her skin when he wound the ribbons around and around her ankle. His awkwardness and lack of ability to tie them properly were utterly endearing to Wren. He represented such juxtaposition: tough guy trying to tie pointe shoes with his big bandaged hands. He was so cute she couldn’t stand it.
It was the very moment when she fell madly in love with him.
What more could a girl want? Prince Charming buying her shoes with money he’d taken a beating for.
Amazing.
That’s the word her mind always chose when she thought of Caleb.
Her eyes welled with tears as she went to the ballet barre in front of the mirrored wall on the east side of the studio room, and lifted her leg to put her right heel over the barre. Her left foot fell into turnout as one arm rose gracefully above her head and her posture lengthened. Wren’s hands and body naturally assumed ballet pull up and heart forward position from her years of practice. With her neck long, fingers and arms poised, she bent at her waist, her left arm reaching toward her right foot as she stretched.
She’d been with her company less than a week prior and her body was still nimble, and she moved through the standard warm-up moves their Ballet Master put them through before every practice or performance.
Finished with her stretching and warm-up, Wren began to dance in the middle of the hardwood floor, letting the soft and gentle music overtake her. The lyrics about love and loss caused emotion to well up inside and overtake her in such a way that the rises and falls in the music dictated her steps. With practiced precision and flawless technique, she performed a series of Arabesques, Chasse’s, extensions, Jete’s and Fouette’ turns, not e
ven aware of her movements.
When the song ended, Wren was startled by the sound of clapping coming from the doorway of her studio. Her heart lurched and her head snapped around to find Macy lurking there. The woman would have had to walk through her bedroom uninvited to watch her dance.
Wren’s breath left her body and her hand went to her cover her heart. “You scared me, Macy.”
The dark-haired woman straightened from where she was leaning on the door jam to walk into the studio. “Sorry,” she said casually. “This is some set-up.”
Wren walked quickly to the other side of the room to turn off the music, and Macy took note of the way she walked. The way her knees and toes turned out from her hips screamed ballerina and Macy wondered if she always walked like that.
Wren was nervous about being intruded upon during such a private moment. She used shutting off the music as an excuse to turn her back and brush the tears from her cheeks.
“Yes, I’ve always loved it. Edison had it done for me after Caleb went off to college. He was very generous.”
“I can see that.” Macy looked around and peered through the adjacent door that led into Wren’s bedroom. “A little dancing suite, all your own. How convenient.”
Wren grabbed a small towel and made the pretense of wiping the back of her neck and face. It was strange having Macy sneaking around the house and watching her dance in silence. It felt creepy and awkward.
“I couldn’t sleep. The jet lag and the long nap before must have done a number on me.”
Macy went into Wren’s bedroom to continue snooping, and Wren could do nothing else but follow her through the doorway to watch her casually inspect the room and pick up odds and ends; examining everything.
Macy was a good 5 inches taller than Wren, but she wasn’t intimidated.
“Macy, can I help you with something?” Wren asked hesitantly, lifting first one foot, then the other, to peel off the ballet slippers.
Macy turned to look at Wren. “I couldn’t sleep either. Caleb seems to think we can’t do the nasty in this house, and I’m not used to sleeping without him.”
“Oh.” Wren’s cheeks and neck began to flush uncomfortably. That was a little more information than she wanted. “Well, it was his father’s house. And, I’m sure he’s not himself, considering his reason for being here.” She went to a drawer and took out an oversized sweatshirt that Caleb had sent her from MIT. She pulled it over her head, and shoved her arms into the sleeves. She’d often worn it over her leotard after a workout because it made her feel closer to him while he was in Massachusetts.
“MIT, huh? Caleb’s?” Macy sat on the end of the queen size bed and watched Wren untie the skirt and lay it over the back of the chair at her vanity.
Wren flushed at Macy’s correct assumption, but she was starting to get angry. The line of uncomfortable questions coupled with the intrusion, were starting to wear on her. “He sent it to me while he was away at school. It was new.”
“I see.” Macy’s eyes narrowed. “I think we should have a little chat.” She patted the bed, as if it were her right to invite Wren to sit down in her own room. “I’ll tell you all about me and Caleb, and you tell me all about your relationship with him.”
“Um…” Wren’s delicate fingers flitted over the top sheer chiffon on the back of the chair. She struggled with whether she should tell her to get the hell out, or be casual and get this out of the way. It was inevitable, given the way Caleb had melted into her in front of Macy, earlier. “I’m not sure what you want to know.”
Wren didn’t think she wanted to know anything at all about Caleb and Macy, nor could she tell her very much about her own relationship with him. He wouldn’t want it either, in any case. “Caleb doesn’t really like people talking about his business.”
“Aw, come on; it’s me and you. We’re the two women in his life. Surely the rules don’t apply to us.”
Wren’s well manicured brows shot up, but she went to the head of her bed, pulled down the covers and crawled under them, situating herself against the pillows and pulling another onto her lap. It was silly, but it was a barrier between Macy and herself and she needed it, no matter how frivolous.
When Wren didn’t volunteer anything, Macy launched into a set of questions. “How long have you lived in this house?”
“I was thirteen when Caleb’s father married my mom.”
“Where is she? Your mother?”
“She lives in California now. They were divorced just after I turned eighteen.”
Macy turned more toward Wren, pulling one leg underneath her. She was wearing a pair of satin shorts and a matching cropped chemise and showed a lot of cleavage between her large breasts.
“Hmmm. I gather you and Caleb are close, or you wouldn’t be here. Close for step-siblings, I mean.”
Wren still wasn’t sleepy, even though it was getting close to 2 AM. “Caleb represents many things to me; the least of which is my stepbrother. My life before I came to live here wasn’t good. My mother was really mean and after a while, Caleb became my friend. He wasn’t afraid of her like I was, and he kept her away from me. He’s very protective.”
Macy nodded. “I can see that. Caleb’s toughness is what attracted me to him, too. He’s got this bad boy thing going on underneath all that yumminess, even when he wears a suit. But it’s not just his body.”
“Right. It’s his attitude. He’s always ‘in charge’. He’s always been that way.” Wren stopped short. How much had Caleb shared about his relationship with his dad? She didn’t want to say anything he wanted kept private. “I feel bad for him. The company and the estate will be a lot to manage.”
“Yes. It’s too bad his father was such a bastard to him,” Macy said flatly. “But, at least Caleb has money now. When you were having dinner, did he tell you about the design firm he wants to start? It’s his dream. At least, it was before this.”
“No, we didn’t talk about that yet. There will be plenty of time.”
Macy’s eyes widened and she blinked once. “Maybe not. I think he’ll just put everything on the market and get back to life in San Francisco. At least I hope so. I couldn’t stand living this far from the ocean.”
“I love New York, but Colorado is so beautiful, especially in winter. I miss it.”
“Yuck!” Macy spat in disgust. “I hate snow and slush. Nope, I’m hoping we’ll be catching a flight Monday night, right after the will is read.”
Wren bit her lower lip. “Do you know that for sure?”
“I know Caleb, and he hates this house and the memories it represents.”
Wren’s heart fell but she hid it well, though her hand shook a little as she pulled her comforter closer. The memories here with Caleb meant everything to her and it hurt to hear he detested them.
“I’ve used Lux cosmetics my entire life. Ironic, isn’t it? Small world, I guess.” Macy smiled but it seemed like more of a sneer to Wren. She certainly lacked any real warmth and didn’t seem concerned for Caleb at all. That was the root of Wren’s dislike of this woman. She tried to push it down, but Macy’s arrogance was on the verge of obnoxious.
Wren turned onto her side and snuggled down into the covers, hoping Macy would get the hint and leave. Macy pointed to Wren’s locket, which had fallen out of the neck of the sweatshirt when Wren moved to her side. “Isn’t that the Lux logo? It looks familiar.”
Wren’s hand went to cover the precious gold and diamonds protectively, and she quickly shoved it back inside the shirt, not wanting Macy to see the photos of Caleb hidden beneath the swinging gate. The locket was the template for the Lux logo; the filigree rectangle nestled up to the “L”.
She could lie about it, and maybe she should. If she told the truth, she’d have to tell the whole story attached to it, and she wasn’t up for it, and selfishly, she didn’t want Macy to know. Ever.
“I’m really tired, Macy. Can we continue this talk tomorrow while we shop? Visitation is tomorrow afternoon, so I’ll want to
go right when the stores open.”
Macy smiled and to Wren’s eyes, it seemed to be genuine. “Of course. Listen, I don’t have any sisters, so I’d really like us to be close. I’ll need a maid of honor very soon, I think!”
Wren was caught off guard and she stifled a small gasp, but tried to hide her surprise and the deep pain that sliced right through her heart. Caleb was that serious about Macy? “Uh…” she stammered and forced a smile, trying to cover. “Sure. That’s very sweet of you.”
Macy stood and walked toward the door of Wren’s bedroom. “Nighty night.”
When the door closed, Wren reached over and shut off the lamp. Maybe the darkness would be better at hiding her misery. She squeezed her eyes shut, as tears squeezed out from behind her lids. Her chest began to seize in pain. When Caleb had issues with her dating Sam, it led to a small thread of hope that maybe he had hidden feelings for her, as she had for him. But now, with Macy’s declaration, it was lost.
Wren turned her face into her pillow and held it close, praying as she started sobbing, that no one would hear. The best thing she could do was to get through the funeral and get back to her life in New York as quickly as she could.
Her entire world was about to change. Edison was gone, and so was Caleb.
WREN WOKE TO A loud knock on her door followed by Caleb’s voice.
“Hey, Bird. Are you up?”
Wren sat up and put her hand into her hair, blinking at the sunlight streaming in below the half-closed window shade. She was still dressed in her leotard after her “chat” with Macy the night before. She’d fallen asleep after she’d cried herself out.
“Wren? Are you okay?”
Wren inhaled and scooted toward the edge of the bed. “Coming!” She didn’t think about what she looked like; she just hurried to open the door.
Caleb was standing in front of her, a look of concern flashing across his face. He was dressed casually in dark jeans and a dark blue button down; his hair was combed but still slightly damp from his shower, and his face was freshly shaved. The musky clean scent of his cologne enveloped her. Her heart stopped in her chest at how handsome he looked.