A Season to Dance

by Patricia Beal

  A truck passed us. Beeeep, beep-beep-beep.

  “Whatever,” Dad mumbled.

  A season to go. A season to fly high. I nodded slowly. A season to dance. I planted a kiss on my shaky fingertips and pressed them against the cold window.

  Peter hit the steering wheel with his fist, his forehead furrowed, lips pressed together. I looked at his red eyes and covered my mouth, holding back words and emotions that didn’t belong.

  My head dropped and hot tears fell on my lap. By the time I looked up again, Peter had accelerated, and all I could see was the back of his head, the back of Jäger’s head, and the back of the truck.

  Traffic was thick, and the blue skies over the busy Atlanta airport were crowded with airplanes arriving and leaving.

  Dad got behind Peter to take the airport exit.

  This is it. The turn signal sound was like a steady heartbeat. I was doing the right thing, wasn’t I? Why was it so hard? Looking at the truck heading north, I screamed into my hands and kept my face there.

  When I lifted my head, we were approaching the terminal parking. I turned to the door and held my knees with a whimper.

  “Shh.” Dad touched my hair. “It’ll be okay.”

  My tears slowed under his touch. “This looks all wrong, and I know I messed it all up, but it feels right at the same time, Dad.” I sniffed hard and turned to him. “I’m not making any sense, am I?”

  “We’re always here for you.” He kept a firm hand on my shoulder.

  We parked but I didn’t move. Dad didn’t show any intent to get out of the SUV either. With his less-than-stellar voice, he started to sing with Willie Nelson to “On the Sunny Side of the Street.”

  “Oh, you sing horribly.” I laughed.

  “Then you do a better job.” He danced with his shoulders, moving them up and down to the happy beat. “Got you laughing.”

  I shook my head. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  He cut the engine. “Let us, baby girl.”

  We met Claus at the terminal.

  Between my luggage, Claus’s luggage, and the dog, it took us almost one hour to check in, and by the time Barysh had been taken care of, I’d run out of things I cared to say before embarking on my most ambitious adventure ever.

  “Dad, I want to be done with the heartbreaking part of the program.” I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them back up. “Can we go to the gate?”

  “Of course.” He held my hand, and we started walking to the security checkpoint. Claus walked a few steps behind us.

  Was this really happening? Was I really saying goodbye to everything and everyone? We walked in silence and arrived too soon. I didn’t want to let go of his hand now.

  Until two years ago, I was still living with Mom and Dad. Then we were almost an hour apart. Now a whole ocean? This is hard.

  Dad put his strong arms around me. “If you hate it, come back and fast,” he whispered, squeezing me.

  I squeezed him back and nodded in his embrace. We swayed to the sounds of the busy terminal. “I’m so scared,” I whispered.

  “Don’t be.” His voice was gentle but assuring. “Go have an adventure.”

  I nodded. An adventure.

  “I love you, baby girl.”

  “I love you too, Dad.”

  “Son, good luck to you guys.” Dad gave Claus a strong hug and patted his back.

  “Thank you, Mr. Brassfield.” Claus looked more serious than usual. “I will take good care of her, and you are welcome to visit any time.”

  Dad’s face was turning red, and he bit his lower lip as he nodded with his fist to his mouth. His eyes filled up with tears. “We’ll visit.”

  His voice was brittle, and so was my heart when I heard him. I wished things had been different. Surely that was not how he’d imagined giving me away. And I was going to be so far. Did I trust myself to give him one more hug without both of us falling apart?

  Claus helped me with my handbag, the old neck scarf tied to it.

  “Let me get the scarf,” I said, untying it. I put it around my neck and kissed Dad gently on the cheek.

  I reached for Claus’s hand with all the confidence I could muster, and we started a slow backward walk.

  Quiet tears couldn’t stop me from smiling and waving. “Give me a couple of months to get settled, Dad. Then I expect you and Mom to come see us.”

  “We will, honey.” He sounded better, but I could see the distant tears rolling down his aging face.

  I waved one more time, and then we turned away. Away from Dad and away from Georgia.

  Dad’s words still played in my head: if you hate it, come back and fast. My eyes rested on Claus’s handsome face. His eyes were red, his hand firm on mine. I wasn’t going to hate it. I was moving to Europe.

  Claus Vogel Gert was holding my hand. The Claus Vogel Gert. Would I ever get over how famous he was now?

  We were going to take classes together and dance together, and I was going to get my shot at the Met. And could it be that I would be Mrs. Gert one day? Frau Gert. Wow.

  If Claus could hear the adolescent squeals that filled my head, he would leave me in America. With a smile stretching my lips, I took off my old boots and tossed them in the gray bin at the top of a short stack.

  “What are you humming?” Claus placed his tan leather shoes side by side in a different bin.

  I hadn’t realized I was humming, but as soon as he asked, I knew what it was. “ ‘On the Sunny Side of the Street.’ “

  “Frank Sinatra?”

  “Yeah, I think he recorded it.” But in my mind, I heard Dad and Willie singing it, and I did Dad’s shoulder move as I hummed one more verse before it was our turn to go through the metal detector.

  That was going to be my song for the road. Not the sad songs of the past or the uncertain songs of the future. Just my father’s sunny song, putting a spring in my step as I walked toward the international concourse.

  Chapter 11

  I was looking at a large picture of Hanna as the White Swan when Claus came into the elegant living room and announced he’d finished bringing up all our belongings.

  “I’m sorry about the pictures.” He touched the gold knob of a dimmer switch, and one of two intricate chandeliers added a soft yellow light to a space that was too big to be lit by a sun that would soon set. “I had no idea I would be bringing you home.” He reached for my hand and leaned against one of three brown leather sofas.

  There were five large ballet pictures on a tall burgundy wall that brought warmth to an otherwise pale area. Three were of Hanna alone and two of them together.

  The ones of them dancing together were gorgeous, if somewhat expected. The first was a sweet supported arabesque from Les Sylphides, a plotless romantic reverie in which a poet dances with beautiful sylphs in a forest. The second was the final pose of a Le Corsaire pas de deux. Hanna was an exquisite Medora in a sky-blue pancake tutu, and Claus, in gold and cobalt-blue pants that accented the embroidery work of her bodice, was the servile Ali.

  The ones of her alone were altogether unusual. They were all upper-body shots: Giselle, the White Swan that had first demanded my attention, and a sylph of some kind. The sylph was possibly from the twisted La Sylphide since the arm ruffles and hairpiece were slightly different from their Les Sylphides picture. Hanna was probably about my height but even skinnier, with thin lips and a tiny face. In each shot, she looked fragile, withdrawn, and almost scared—haunted even.

  Was her fragility alluring to Claus? And if so, then what did he see in me?

  Claus broke the silence. “I have some of our Romeo and Juliet pictures on my computer, and if you have any others you want to put on the walls, you let me know. I will take care of it this week.”

  “You don’t have to take her pictures down.”

  “Well, if they don’t bother you, I may keep one or two.” He kissed my forehead.

  “You play?” I asked, pointing at the shiny guitar case next to a large couch.

>   “A little.” He looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. “I need more lessons, though. I’m not very good at it.”

  “You can’t be good at everything, you know.” Did he know that Peter played the guitar—and very well, at that? “It’s neat that you’re learning. I had no idea you played.” Claus seemed more like a piano kind of guy, but so far I hadn’t seen one.

  “There is a lot you don’t know.” He smiled and dug his necessaire out of his leather bag. “Give me a minute, and then I’ll give you the grand tour of the place and get you settled in.” He disappeared into what looked like the bedroom.

  I glanced at the pictures again. They did bother me, but I didn’t feel like it was my place to ask him to take them down. And maybe Hanna’s presence would make it okay for me to think about Peter sometimes—not that I was planning to, but I suspected it would happen in the first few months.

  What was not okay was to keep hiding that I’d been to Wiesbaden before. My ability to pretend that I was seeing things for the first time had ended. Why was I struggling so much to tell him the truth?

  I walked to one of three tall windows and managed to open it after a few tries. Leaning out and breathing in the cool air, I looked at the city beyond the treetops.

  Ten years after my first visit to the Hessian state capital, the towering steeples of the brick market church still dominated the cityscape.

  Old four-story buildings with beautiful architecture decorated the streets of Wiesbaden. These structures weren’t going anywhere anytime soon—if ever. It was safe to say that the steeples of the church would continue to soar high above the historic cityscape for years to come.

  I glanced at the pictures of Hanna once more. Would she always be a presence in our lives? Would Peter? Time would tell.

  Whatever Claus was doing, he sounded busy. Was he unpacking? He’d said “give me a minute.” How long was a German minute?

  I turned my attention to the street below. Claus’s building was somewhat like the ones I’d been studying before, but in a quieter area—separated from the church, stores, and restaurants by a large park.

  He lived on the top floor of a bright-white corner building that was adorned with Roman-style pillars on every level and nestled in lush deep-green vegetation. The elevator was prehistoric, but I was thankful for it. Without it, I would never be able to take Barysh out for a walk by myself.

  Downstairs, a narrow stone driveway, edged by clusters of miniature roses, ended at a dark iron gate that led to quiet Blumenstraße, two long blocks from the downtown attractions and from the Warmer Damm Park, a large English landscape garden with a lake and a fountain, which bordered the southern façade of the state theater where Claus danced.

  “How about we rest for now and then walk downtown for dinner?” Claus popped out of the bedroom and rolled my two suitcases to a room in the opposite direction. “I can’t wait to walk past the theater and show you the heart of the city. I love this place. And I know you will too.”

  Where was he taking my stuff? I followed him into what looked like a guest room. “Claus, we need to talk.”

  “Uh-oh, that’s never good.” He put my two suitcases next to the tall double bed and walked toward me. “What is it? Is it the sleeping arrangement? We didn’t talk about it, so I didn’t know what to do.”

  “No,” I said. “Well, that too, I guess.” I’d assumed we were moving in together.

  “You are welcome in my suite. I just didn’t want you to feel like I expect you to…” His face reddened. “You know?”

  “I know.” We could talk about that later. If I don’t share the suite, I just might be lonely enough to end up at the Baptist church outside the main gate—on the economy. I laughed as a wave of panic turned my stomach. “That’s not it, though.”

  “What is it then?”

  “I’ve been here before,” I said, with my eyes closed.

  “What?”

  “Ten years ago. After you left, I was confused and heartbroken, and I needed to know what had sent you running.” I paused to catch my breath. “So I finished my commitments with the company, and two months later, I was here.”

  “But you never contacted me…” His voice trailed off.

  “I went to the theater to watch Giselle, and after seeing you with Hanna, I knew what we had was nothing compared to what you shared with her.” Slow tears burned my face.

  He put his arms around me. “What we had—and have—is something. It’s very special.” He waited for me to stop crying. “But I hope you understand now that it was just the circumstances. Timing was against us. I wish you had contacted me, though. Maybe I would have told you about Hanna’s diagnosis if I’d seen you in person.”

  “What do you mean maybe you would have told me?” I took a step back. “It would have been that simple? I spent a decade trying to figure out what I’d done wrong. A decade feeling like I wasn’t good enough. And all of it because I didn’t want to further humiliate myself by seeking you out in the middle of a foreign city when you were obviously happy with someone else?” I couldn’t believe I’d been that close to the truth and hadn’t reached out for it.

  “I’m just saying, in person, and after a couple of months, it would have been easier to talk.” He paced, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m really sorry.”

  “Whatever.” I closed my eyes and shook my head. Oh my goodness, talk about the missed opportunity of the century—of my lifetime, for sure.

  “I can’t believe this. How long did you stay?”

  “A week. I stayed a week, but I didn’t do anything. I just sat in my hotel room and cried.” I still remembered the visceral pain of that first broken heart, that moment in life when I realized for the first time that love didn’t conquer all.

  “Why didn’t you fly back earlier if you weren’t going to contact me or do anything?”

  “Pride? Whatever was left of it anyway.” I leaned on the wood-carved wardrobe and folded my arms tight. “I needed time to figure out what to do and what to tell people. I’d left home hopeful, thinking you would look at me, realize you had made a tragic mistake, throw yourself at my feet, and beg for forgiveness.”

  Claus listened, silent and unreadable.

  “When I realized that wasn’t going to happen, I had to reinvent myself.” That’s when I decided I wanted to dance at the Met. But now was not the time to discuss that dream. “By the time I got home, I’d recovered some. I’d had some closure. And I had a new dream, so the trip served a purpose.”

  “I still can’t believe you were here and that you were at the theater and watched me dance.” He shook his head. “Wow.” He raised both eyebrows and sat on the edge of the bed.

  “I know.” I massaged my forehead to relieve the tension that had accumulated there. “And I still can’t believe that I came all the way here to find the truth, that the truth was available to me, and that I ended up going home with nothing because I was too intimidated by Hanna, by her beauty and by the love you shared, to try to talk to you.”

  “You should have told me all this before, though.” His expression hardened. “I feel like a fool now. I went on and on about Wiesbaden, and you already knew about it.”

  “Sorry.” He was right. I should have said something sooner.

  “Are there other things you haven’t told me?” His mouth was set in a hard line now.

  Really? What kind of question was that? “No.”

  He sighed. “Let me take this in. We’ll rest and then go out.” He stopped at the door and looked at me and at my stuff. Maybe now we would talk about sleeping arrangements.

  “We won’t walk past the theater since you’ve already seen it.” His tone was now dripping with sarcasm. He tapped on the doorpost as if not finished with me but then walked away.

  I guess I’m staying in the guest room. Wow. Not exactly a good start. But I had to tell him about that trip—now it’s done. Ought to be uphill from here.

  After organizing my things, I grabbe
d a jacket and went to sit outside with Barysh.

  Opening the double glass doors, I found him on the best corner of the large terrace and sat with him to enjoy the view through the classic wrought-iron railing.

  A sudden breeze ruffled the treetops and brought the alluring fragrance of jasmine to our noses. Barysh lifted his head and closed his eyes. His state of bliss brought a smile to my face and tears to my eyes. I lifted my head and closed my eyes too.

  Would Claus really have told me the truth if I’d contacted him? That would have made a huge difference in my life. I kept my eyes closed as the sounds of a thousand dancing leaves filled my ears in a crescendo. As a young woman with Claus, I’d felt like the worthiest person in the planet because of his love. And then for years and years, I’d kept looking for that first-love magic. Forever looking—from bed to bed—but never finding it.

  I opened my eyes and reached for the railing.

  You know what? You want me in the guest room? That’s fine. Why not?

  The smell of jasmine lingered, but there was no jasmine bush in sight. Looking around the terrace, I had a couple of ideas on how to make it greener and add dimension to a space that had potential.

  Peter would have reacted differently if he’d realized something he did or didn’t do had upset me to the point I’d crossed an ocean to fix it.

  But Peter didn’t want to be with me. Peter was on the other side of the Atlantic.

  Claus is here. I checked the quality of the dirt in a nearby pot, pulled up a small vine that had dried up beyond recognition, and tossed it aside. And if I were to give him my heart again—who knows? He just might mend it.

  “And if it doesn’t work out?” I whispered, putting my arm around Barysh.

  He looked at me as if waiting for an answer, and I lowered my nose to his. “If it doesn’t work out, I will still be dancing.” I looked at the horizon. The sky over Wiesbaden was turning pink and orange with the impending sunset. “At the Met—because this will be my season to dance. Come what may.”

  Chapter 12

  I let Claus’ shopping basket fall to the elevator floor and pushed the top button. My face and chest were hot, despite the slow start of the German spring season. My hands and arms ached from the weight of carrying the basket the four blocks between the store and Claus’s apartment but I couldn’t be happier.