Waltzing on the Danube

by Miranda MacLeod

  Eleanor watched with apprehension, wondering just how far gone her friend might be. She sucked in her breath as she felt Jeanie’s arms envelop her.

  “Dance with me, Elle?” The yearning in Jeanie’s eyes was undeniable.

  She didn’t say no. Instead, Eleanor put her arms around Jeanie’s waist to steady her and as she did she took a step, and for the briefest moment it felt as if they were dancing. Tousled blond curls tickled against her neck as Jeanie rested her head on Eleanor's shoulder and pulled her closer. Warm, moist breath caressed her and she shivered, Jeanie's lips so close that she could imagine the silky feel of them against her bare skin.

  As if responding to her thoughts, Jeanie shifted her head upward and for the briefest of moments their lips brushed. The sensation was like breath over a dandelion as you closed your eyes to make a wish, so soft it was barely there at all. Eleanor took another step and they swayed together, in time to the music.

  Maybe I don’t have to say no. Her fervent desire echoed within as hope flooded her that this time things could be different, she could be different. Maybe just this one time I could dance. She didn’t have to be stick-in-the-mud Eleanor, anxious in her own skin. Maybe there was something of the fearless, rebellious Eleanor still hiding somewhere inside.

  Who am I kidding? Eleanor knew it was no use. It had been half a lifetime, and that version of herself was gone for good. With every ounce of restraint she possessed, she peeled Jeanie’s body gently from hers and positioned her to face the door as she took another step. Jeanie groaned tiredly, but didn’t argue.

  A cab waited back on the main street and they climbed inside. As Jeanie drifted into a light sleep, Eleanor gave her bare shoulder a tiny nudge, so that her head would rest against the taxi’s window instead of on her. Even that faintest brush of her fingers against Jeanie’s skin made Eleanor wish for things she knew she couldn't have.

  What am I doing? Am I falling for her? I can't fall for her! She'd said it herself in the club. Everyone fell in love with Jeanie, and she was too sweet to turn them away. Incompatible. Sure, they might go on a few dates, even have sex once or twice, before Jeanie realized that she was no different that the rest: completely wrong for her. It was a heartbreak she could do without. Eleanor closed her eyes and rested her head against her own window, but she could still see Jeanie's face. Beautiful, carefree Jeanie deserved someone she could dance with, and Eleanor would never manage that type of risk.

  Chapter 15

  The room was shrouded in semi-darkness when the alarm on her tablet began its relentless screeching, and for once Jeanie was grateful that her cabin lacked a view. In her hungover state, she didn’t think she would survive more than the barest hint of sun. Grabbing her robe, she braved the journey from her room to the shared bath down the hall, and was relieved to find it unoccupied. She hadn’t looked at the clock and couldn’t recall exactly how many times she’d snoozed her alarm, but the lack of a line for the shower hinted at it being well past breakfast. Just as well. Jeanie’s stomach lurched in opposition at the slightest thought of food.

  My God, what was in that drink? Eleanor had been right to be cautious. She usually was. Smart, sensible, sexy Eleanor. Under the hot stream of the shower, Jeanie froze. She hadn’t intended to think the word sexy. Her brain had just been searching for a third word that started with the letter ‘s’. That she heartily agreed with the word it had chosen wasn’t the point. Eleanor was strictly off limits in that regard. They were becoming friends, and the last thing Jeanie wanted was to screw that up.

  She thought back to the night before and groaned. Toward the end of it, her memory became a little fuzzy. She had the vague impression that she’d tackled Eleanor and forced her to dance. She was pretty certain the resulting choreographed tango to a Depeche Mode love ballad, ending in a passionate kiss to the raucous applause of a roomful of Slovakians, was purely embellishment. The tackling part, however, felt real enough to be true.

  I can’t be trusted. Jeanie scowled at herself in the bathroom mirror as she toweled herself dry. After promising herself, after even promising her own mother, that she wouldn’t lead Eleanor on, what did she turn around and do? Tackle her and force her to tango. I’m a merciless flirt!

  Usually possessed of a healthy self-esteem, this morning Jeanie hated the person who stared back at her from the mirror. Why couldn’t she have more control? She knew Eleanor wasn't interested in anything more than friendship. Why ruin a good thing by complicating it with a meaningless holiday fling that they'd both probably regret?

  What if it’s more than just a fling? Jeanie stared quizzically at her reflection, as if it had been the one to suggest the idea. Her face brightened. Reflection-Jeanie might have a point. Most of her previous relationships were better classified as flings anyway, with as quickly as they usually were over. Yet she couldn’t remember feeling about any of them the way she did about Eleanor. Captivated by their conversations, amused at Eleanor’s many foibles, and when their bodies so much as brushed past one another, it felt wonderfully intoxicating. Maybe she wasn’t just mindlessly flirting with Eleanor. Maybe she wanted something more?

  So what if you do? Jeanie looked at her reflection in shock. What a time for it to pick to start arguing with her, right as she was almost convinced! Her reflection’s voice sounded different this time, too. Less like her, and more like Eleanor. That figures. It was a reasonable question, and Eleanor was the queen of practicality. Jeanie gave the question some thought. As hard as it was to believe, the cruise was nearly halfway through. In another week, she and Eleanor would be heading their separate ways. Not that their separate ways were all that far apart. It was only a couple of hours from her house to Manhattan. Hell, if she drove into Poughkeepsie proper, she could take the train straight to Penn Station.

  Be practical! This time the voice was Eleanor’s, through and through. It was a short distance to travel, but they lived worlds apart. Eleanor was a sophisticated career woman, a Manhattan native, who clearly made a good income. Jeanie had saved for years for a single vacation. Assuming it did work out between them, where would they live? Eleanor would never leave the city, and Jeanie could never afford New York on a teacher's salary. Two different planets. Besides, she'd been down that road before.

  Of all the women she'd dated, she'd only been in love once, her junior year of college. Rochelle. They'd planned their whole future together after graduation, only Rochelle's parents didn't approve. They thought Jeanie was just a gold-digger, even though at that point she was a student at Vassar in her own right and not just some townie. But their little princess could do better, so they'd packed Rochelle off to study in Italy, and Jeanie was too short on funds to follow. They'd tried long distance for a while, but then Rochelle met an art patron with her own gallery in Rome, and that was the end of that.

  It won’t work, Jeanie! Her reflection agreed, but failed to provide any useful tips for how best to maintain their just friends status for the rest of the trip. It wouldn't be easy. Every minute they spent together, her attraction was harder to fight. The tension between them right now was perfectly balanced, keeping them apart. But if something shifted the slightest bit, heaven help them. There was no telling how things could go.

  The fact that she’d been arguing with herself in the mirror for fifteen minutes reminded her that she was half-crazed from lack of coffee, so she dressed quickly and went up to the snack shop in search of a cup. The ship was already speeding away from Bratislava on its way to Vienna. Jeanie’s spirits lifted at that thought. Vienna was the city she most wanted to see. So much art! So much history! Her schedule would be so full once they arrived that the whole Eleanor issue might resolve itself. Eleanor didn't seem like a big fan of museums. Their paths would barely cross. It was much easier not to fall in love with someone if you didn't see them.

  As she approached the snack shop, her stomach tightened on the off chance that she would run into Eleanor while there. A love for morning coffee was one thing they def
initely had in common, though like all the other things she’d already thought of, it was hardly the basis for a relationship. It could, however, become the opportunity for an awkward conversation. Jeanie still couldn’t recall exactly how affectionate she’d gotten the night before, or whether any apologies might be due.

  The was snack shop empty. After a surge of relief, Jeanie detected a lingering disappointment, too. That wouldn't do. A few minutes of feeling lonely and she was likely to start searching Eleanor out. The ship was small. She'd find her in no time. She picked up her coffee and resolutely carried it to the one place on the ship she knew Eleanor would not be: dance class.

  Entering the room, she waved at George and Marylou, then promptly joined the circle they’d all formed around the room. The instructor explained that, in honor of their arrival in Vienna, he would be taking a break from the usual swing dancing class to teach a few traditional Viennese folk dances, instead. They took partners around the room, changing frequently as each new step was taught, and Jeanie’s spirits were lifted measurably as she learned the quaint steps and made new friends in the process.

  As the class drew close to the end, the instructor introduced one final dance, the polka. With a room of mostly experienced dancers, they caught on quickly to the basic steps, so to make it more fun, he suggested a twist. Each couple would dance just two times through, then the gentleman would fling the lady down the set to the next gentleman, so that she, and he, could dance with someone new.

  The music was fast, so fast that Jeanie soon felt like she was flying, leaping from partner to partner without a care in the world. She threw her head back breathlessly and laughed as she spun and bounced her way around the room. The tempo shifted, and with the song nearing its end, Jeanie’s current partner let her go. Dizzy and disheveled, she landed in the arms of her last partner as the room went silent, and gasped as she looked up. It was Eleanor.

  Earlier that morning…

  Eleanor stretched her legs in front of her on the lounge chair, tilting her head back to soak up the early morning sun on the observation deck. The cup of coffee clutched between her pale fingers was likely to be just the first of many today. She’d slept little, and fitfully. Her night of tossing and turning could be boiled down to one mistake: When slow dancing in the dark with a woman you’re determined not to fall in love with, never listen to the lyrics.

  Song lyrics lie.

  She was hardly what anyone would call a romantic, but even Eleanor had her weaknesses. One of them, embarrassed as she would be to admit it, was going weak in the knees when a few well-turned phrases were paired with a catchy melody. When done at just the right time, in just the right way, even her skeptical self could be a complete sucker for a love song. Last night had been one of those times. It was the only explanation she could accept for how she felt.

  Wanting someone to talk with, who understands you, and loves you—what sane person didn’t want those things? Declaring your desire for someone to hold you through the night hardly qualified a person for a medal in profound thinking. And yet the combination of a pop song almost as old as she was with the solid warmth of Jeanie falling into her arms in that club had broken her completely, thrusting her across the boundary from daydreaming about the impossible to believing it could happen. At some point last night, she’d dared to think that she and Jeanie could have a chance. And then she'd kissed her. Or maybe the other way around, Eleanor wasn't sure. But either way, it had gotten out of hand.

  It was as foolish as wishing on a star to think it could ever come true. The whole reason so many love songs resonated with people was because everyone was searching for love. It didn't mean they ever found it. If everyone were finding what the lyrics promised, why would they bother taking time out from their bliss to write a song? It was a dream that didn’t exist. A lie. There was no version of events where an uptight Manhattan actuary and a free-spirited teacher from Poughkeepsie fall in love and live happily ever after. Not this side of a Hollywood movie. They were too different, and this was the real world. In the real world, women like Jeanie needed more than Eleanor could give.

  Eleanor glared at her coffee and set it, virtually untouched, on the table at her side. Caffeine wasn’t going to clear her foul mood. She needed exercise. It had been a week since her last trip to the gym, and she could feel it in every tense muscle. Spying the tennis court on the far side of the deck, Eleanor went to check it out. Her shoulders slumped at the empty court, a cruel reminder that even playing tennis required having a partner. She was the only person on the deck, except for a couple of old-timers chatting by the shuffleboard court. Probably playing hooky from dance class and hoping their wives didn’t catch them and drag them back in. See? That’s what love looks like in real life.

  She understood their plight. Dance class was the last place she wanted to be, as well. The men didn’t look up to engaging in a tennis match, and Eleanor had no interest in shuffleboard, so she left the deck in search of some other way to pass the time. The ship’s library was her next stop, but it mostly held travel guides and romance novels, and both held equally dangerous associations of a certain leggy blond who was best not dwelt upon too long. For the first time that she could remember, she couldn’t find a single thing she wanted to read.

  Stifling a yawn, her thoughts turned back to the cup of coffee she’d left to grow cold on the upper deck. Another cup would help, but what she really needed was to move around. The thought of Vienna brought a smile to her lips. The ship was set to arrive in the afternoon, and if she timed it right, she could roller blade the paths at Donauinsel, Vienna’s island recreation area, before dinner. Surely that would help to straighten her head. She’d found a comprehensive list of parks and recreation facilities in the tour book Jeanie had given her. It occurred to her that their itineraries for the city were unlikely to overlap. Despite the woman’s glowing tan, she seemed like more of an inside girl. Eleanor should have found relief in the realization, but didn't.

  As she wandered down one of the ship's deserted passageways, a cold tingle worked its way down her back. With the rest of the passengers in class, the ship was quiet. Too quiet. It was the kind of quiet that made her feel uneasy, like something was hiding in wait. Objectively she knew it wasn't true, but she'd be more likely to maintain composure in the presence of a bit of ambient noise.

  Drawing closer to the ballroom door, she was reassured by the sounds coming from within, but frowned as a raucous polka reached her ears instead of the expected big band jazz. Intrigued, she cracked open the door and slipped inside for a closer look. She instantly regretted her choice.

  Finding the room in chaos, Eleanor squealed as one of the dancers careened into her side, knocking her off balance. Before she could straighten up and scoot back into the hall, she felt the grip of a hand on her arm, her body sliding against her will into the out of control crowd. Her heart pounded, trapped in the bobbing and swirling, and unable to fight her way out of the circle. She sighed in relief as the music slowed and she came to a safe rest in the arms of one final partner. Her skin burned at the contact, her body vibrating to its core, and Eleanor knew who it was before she even saw her radiant face shining up from her arms. Jeanie. She held her breath, unsure what to do.

  “Hi.” The word escaped despite the breath remaining trapped in Eleanor’s lungs.

  “Hi.” The awkward silence stretched into eternity. “I thought you didn’t dance.”

  Eleanor recoiled as if slapped, imagining the reprimand buried in those words. You didn't last night. Silent accusations were usually the first step in the downward spiral of her relationships. She stiffened, projecting a confidence she didn't feel. “I was just passing through.”

  “Oh.” It was an implausible excuse, but Jeanie appeared not to notice.

  “So I assume you have a full schedule for Vienna? Museums and…such?”

  Jeanie nodded. “You?”

  “Some outdoor sports.” Relief washed over her. Saved by our plans. “I guess
that means we won’t be seeing each other much.”

  The faint smile on Jeanie’s lips suggested that she felt much the same. “No, I guess not. Well, I hope you have a good—” Jeanie’s words were cut short by a crackling noise from a speaker on the wall.

  “Attention passengers! Due to a disabled ship in Vienna, our assigned berth will be unavailable today. The captain has been advised to take a detour to Melk in the Wacchau Valley overnight. We will continue on to Vienna in the morning. Thank you for your understanding.”

  “Wacchau Valley?” Jeanie shook her head. “I’ve never even heard of it.”

  Eleanor’s brow crinkled. “I may have…but I don’t have anything planned for there at all.” Her stomach tightened at the prospect of a full twenty-four hours without a schedule. Just when she thought she was in the clear, with activities to keep her busy—and far, far away from Jeanie—another wrench was thrown in the works.

  Chapter 16

  The sun was high in the sky as the ship docked along the south side of the river, coming to rest on the outskirts of a small village that was nestled at the base of the verdant hills of the Wachau Valley. This stop was not a part of any of the usual tour routes, and as Jeanie walked along the cobblestone path toward the cluster of half a dozen stuccoed buildings with red roofs that made up the town, she doubted whether the place was even large enough to merit a dot on the map. Not that she was carrying a map.

  She’d nearly opted to wait for the sightseeing coach that the ship’s captain had ordered to keep passengers entertained during the unexpected detour, but her friendly steward, Thomas, had tipped her off to a bicycle rental shop in town. The paved cycling path that ran along the river and through the vineyards was, he claimed, the very best way to explore the region. She'd been on the verge of looking for Eleanor and inviting her along, but thought better of it. She couldn’t bear a repeat of that clumsy encounter between them at the end of class. Neither one of them had known what to say to the other, and they’d both fled in relief as soon as they could. She hadn’t experienced such a painful social interaction since she was thirteen!