Into Your Arms (A Contemporary Romance Novel)

by Strom, Abigail

  “Anytime.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Two weeks later, Sara stood facing her dancers at the beginning of her first rehearsal, trying to project a confidence she didn’t feel.

  Last week at her appointment with Miles, she’d managed to talk him into letting her audition a piece for the new choreographers showcase—if she could get it ready in time. Then she’d started making calls, and it only took a couple of days to find five dancers—four, really, since she already had Emilio—who were staying in the city for the summer and could commit to working with her.

  She’d spent the next several days choreographing by herself, or with Emilio to help her with duet movements. She’d been excited to see what her ideas would look like in the studio.

  Until now. Now she was standing with her back to the big mirror just like her choreographers always had, with five dancers looking at her expectantly.

  She felt like a fraud. What was she doing up here? These people were professionals, and she’d never choreographed before in her life.

  Her hands felt twice as big as normal. She slid them into the pockets of her jeans, and her fingers brushed against the present Nick had given her that morning.

  It was a small ceramic spider and she gripped it hard, remembering what Nick had said when he gave it to her.

  “It’s supposed to represent Spider Woman. I got it from one of our campaign staffers, who’s part Navajo. She told me that Spider Woman is all about creativity. She taught the Navajo people how to weave, and she made the stars by putting dew drops on one of her webs and throwing it into the sky. That’s sort of like dance, right? Anyway, it made me think of you.”

  It had been a small, unexpected, and utterly perfect present. Now, as she felt the spider’s legs pressing into her palm, she felt calmer. She took a deep breath and started to talk.

  “Okay. So. Welcome, everybody. I wanted to start by playing you the music that inspired this piece, and then work through some of my ideas for the first section. I also wanted to try some improvisation if you guys are open to that.”

  She paused, feeling uncertain. She’d worked with a choreographer several years ago who used improvisation to generate ideas, and she’d loved it. But maybe other dancers didn’t feel that way. Maybe—

  “That would be great,” Andie Peters said enthusiastically. She was new to the company, and her bubbly energy could light up a whole stage. “I’ve always loved to improvise but I thought once I chose ballet over modern dance I’d never get to do it again.”

  Everyone else seemed excited, too.

  Emilio grinned at her, and she grinned back. So far, so good. Maybe being on this side of the creative process wouldn’t be so scary after all.

  She gave the spider in her pocket another squeeze and went to turn on the music.

  * * *

  For the last couple of weeks Nick hadn’t seen as much of Sara as he would have liked, but the reason was so good he couldn’t mind. And when he did see her, she was glowing and vital and full of life.

  His brother seemed to agree. The in-patient phase of Kevin’s treatment had ended, and he’d been staying with Nick for the last few days. And when the three of them were together, Nick couldn’t help noticing that Kevin’s eyes followed Sara wherever she went.

  “So what do you think of her?” Nick asked one August morning as the two of them drank their coffee with a copy of the Times spread out on the table between them.

  Kevin glanced up. “I think she’s incredible. And I think you’re an idiot.”

  Nick stared at him. “What the hell?”

  “I see the way you look at her—and the way you look at me.”

  Nick felt his muscles tense. “What are you talking about?”

  Kevin ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “You think I’ll go after Sara like I went after Laura.”

  Nick froze. “Of course I don’t. Why would you—”

  Kevin kept on talking. “You’ve never once let me tell you I was sorry about Laura. Not even when I was going through the ‘make amends’ step. You cut me off when I tried to talk to you about that. Remember?”

  Nick became aware that his hands were clenched into fists, and he slowly forced himself to relax. “There’s nothing to talk about. Neither one of you was trying to hurt me. You fell in love.”

  Kevin sighed. “Yeah, we fell in love. We also treated you like shit. We weren’t honest with you about what was going on. We acted like cowards. You said you forgave us, and you buried whatever else you might have been feeling. And we let you, because it was easier on us. And since then…”

  He got up and started to pace around the kitchen, and Nick felt a hard weight settle behind his breastbone. “Since then, what?”

  “Since then, I’ve seen you fight for everybody in the world except yourself. I’ve seen you fight for clients, and for laws and policies you believe in. When Dad had his stroke you put everything on hold to help him fight. You were there for me when my life fell apart. When Sara wanted to give up, you didn’t let her. But never, not once, have I seen you fight for your own happiness. And I think I’ve finally figured out why that is.”

  Kevin stopped pacing and sat down again. “If you don’t get in the game, you can’t lose. You can’t hurt or be hurt.”

  Nick frowned down at the table, avoiding his brother’s eyes. For most of his adult life, he’d focused his passion on his work. It was serious work, but it was also a game—a game he was very good at. He knew how to show his clients’ strengths and minimize their weaknesses. In the cutthroat world of politics, showing weakness was suicide.

  “Even if you’re right,” he said, finally, “I don’t see anything wrong with that. Are you telling me it’s better to get hurt?”

  “Yes,” Kevin said, with so much intensity that Nick stared at him.

  “You sound sure.”

  “I’ve never been more sure of anything. Look, Nick…in the last six months I’ve experienced a hell of a lot of hurt. You want to know what’s worse? Feeling nothing. Which is what I felt for the ten years before that.”

  Wasn’t that what he’d told Sara that night at the restaurant? Some of us go through life without feeling much of anything.

  “Do you feel something for Sara?” he heard himself ask.

  Kevin sat back in his chair, looking frustrated. “Yeah, I do. I feel she’s the perfect goddam woman for you, and you’re letting her slip through your fingers.”

  “Is that why you watch her all the time? Because you think she’s perfect for me?”

  “Jesus, Nick. She’s gorgeous and it would be hard for any man to take his eyes off her, but it’s not her I’m watching. It’s the two of you.”

  “The two of us? What are you talking about?”

  Kevin shook his head. “Do you honestly not know how you look together? Sara lights up whenever you’re around. And are you even aware that you always find excuses to be close to her? To touch her?”

  Nick felt himself flushing. “You know I’m attracted to Sara. I haven’t made any secret of that.”

  “This is more than attraction, little brother. You’re in love with her.”

  For a minute, Nick couldn’t say a word.

  Then, thank God, his phone rang.

  It was Jerry Brookfield. “We’ve got a crisis.”

  While definitely the most over-used word in any campaign office, Jerry had only used it three times since Nick had known him. He got up from the kitchen table and went into the living room.

  “Details?”

  “It’s a double crisis, actually.”

  “Well, we’ve had a slow couple of weeks. We were probably due. Lay it on me.”

  “We just got a call from Angie Liu at the Gazette, looking for comment on a story they’re planning to run about ‘the Keisha Watkins nobody knows’.”

  “This should be good.”

  “They’ve gotten hold of some personal stuff. Her son’s gay, and her husband’s a recovering alcoholic.”

&n
bsp; Both items were news to him. “True?”

  “Yes. Both.”

  He thought about it. “In this district, I don’t see why either has to be an issue. Certainly not her son’s sexual orientation.”

  “It’s the spin they’re putting on it.”

  “Which is?”

  “That she’s ashamed of her family. Afraid they’ll be a political liability to her.”

  “I see.” That could be more of a problem, but it didn’t have to be an impossible one. “You said a double crisis. What’s number two?”

  “Keisha. I think she’s about ready to throw in the towel. If not on the campaign, then on the talk show.”

  “They’re taping this afternoon. She’s talking about pulling out?”

  “Yeah.”

  Nick rubbed a hand over his face. “If she’s going to stay in this campaign, she needs to do the show. In fact, the timing couldn’t be better if we’re going to do damage control.”

  “She’s flat out saying she won’t do it. I just managed to convince her to let me call you before calling the station to cancel.”

  “She did fine in the prep session yesterday.”

  “I told her that, too. She said she did fine because there wasn’t an audience there.”

  “There were at least a dozen people in the room.”

  “All campaign workers.”

  “So let’s bring in some people who aren’t on the campaign.”

  There was a short silence while Jerry mulled this over. “That could work. It shouldn’t be a big group, though. Just a few people who aren’t working on the campaign and who don’t know Keisha personally. It would be even better if they live in the district. I think I can get hold of one or two on short notice. How about you?”

  Nick glanced at his brother. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Okay. Get them down here as soon as you can, and I’ll let Keisha know what we’re doing.” His sigh was audible over the phone. “Unless she decides to pack it in after all.”

  “One thing at a time, Jer. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

  * * *

  He ended up bringing Kevin, Sara, and Emilio. Keisha greeted them graciously when they arrived, but it was obvious that she was under strain. Jerry had brought in two people, so it was a small group that gathered in the conference room, which Jerry had set up to resemble the set of the talk show.

  Sara, Kevin and Emilio took their seats in the ‘audience’ portion of the room, along with Jerry’s friends and some campaign staffers. Nick took the role of the host, starting off with a few softball questions and jokes to ease Keisha into things, but it became apparent almost immediately that Keisha was not on her game.

  Finally she shook her head and rose to her feet. “I want to thank you all for coming down here, but I don’t think this is working. I’m very sorry to have wasted your time, and I hope—”

  “Ms. Watkins?”

  It was Sara, standing up to interrupt the candidate.

  “Yes?” Keisha asked, looking surprised.

  “I was just wondering…instead of doing this mock interview thing, how would you feel about just talking with us for a few minutes? I live in the district you’d be representing, and I’d like a chance to ask a few questions.”

  Nick looked at Jerry, who shrugged. Why not? The truth was, they didn’t have much to lose at this point. Both of them could sense that Keisha was very close to calling it quits, and that today, one way or the other, would be her moment of truth.

  After a moment, Keisha sat down again. “Well…I suppose so. All right. What would you like to know?”

  Sara leaned forward in her chair. “I’m curious about why you got into politics in the first place.”

  “I started out as an economist, but I found I wanted to make more of a difference than I was able to as an advisor. I thought I could make that difference by running for public office.”

  A dry answer, Nick thought automatically. Of course if she ended her campaign today she wouldn’t need his notes anymore.

  “No.”

  Everyone, including Nick, looked at Sara in surprise.

  “What do you mean?” Keisha asked after a moment.

  “Sorry. That’s the logical answer, and I’m sure it’s true. But that’s not what I was looking for. What I should have asked you was, what inspired you to get into politics?”

  “What inspired me?” Keisha asked, looking confused.

  “Yes. Something that got into your heart and your gut and wouldn’t let go. Maybe something that happened a long time ago, when you were young and impulsive and idealistic.”

  That actually made Keisha smile. “I must admit that at this particular moment it’s hard to remember a time I was ever young.”

  “But you were. And there had to have been something—a person, an event, something—that first got under your skin. That set you on fire. That inspired you. What was it?”

  Keisha blinked. After a moment she said, “Well…I suppose…if I had to pick one moment, it would probably be my tenth grade social studies class.”

  “What happened?”

  “I learned a speech. Sojourner Truth’s Ain’t I a Woman speech. At the time, I thought it was the most amazing thing I’d ever read.”

  Nick smiled, remembering the first time he’d read it himself.

  “I’ve heard of Sojourner Truth, but I don’t know very much about her,” Sara said, looking interested. “Can you tell me about that speech?”

  “It was 1850, in Ohio.” That was Jerry, who came over from his spot by the wall to sit down with everyone else.

  One of the campaign staffers nodded eagerly. “It was a women’s rights convention. 1851, actually. Sojourner Truth was a freed slave and an abolitionist. The story goes that the convention wasn’t going so well, that the men there were saying that women didn’t need equal rights because it was the job of men to protect and cherish them. And then Sojourner Truth asked to speak.”

  “The women running the convention didn’t want to let her, at first,” another staffer put in. “They didn’t want their discussion of women’s rights to get mixed up with a discussion of abolition. But finally they agreed.”

  Keisha nodded. “The class had to pick political speeches to memorize, and I picked that one,” she remembered.

  “Do you still know it?” Sara asked.

  “Probably.”

  “So say it. Right now. I’d love to hear it.”

  Keisha looked taken aback. “Oh, no. I couldn’t possibly.”

  “Why not?” Nick asked. “I’d like to hear it again, too. It used to be one of my favorites.”

  “Well.” Keisha shook her head with a smile. “I can’t believe I’m about to do this, but all right. I won’t give the whole speech, but I’ll say a part of it.”

  She thought for a moment, and then she took a deep breath. “‘That man over there says that women need to be helped into carriages, and lifted over ditches, and to have the best place everywhere. Nobody ever helps me into carriages, or over mud-puddles, or gives me any best place! And ain’t I a woman? Look at me! Look at my arm! I have ploughed and planted, and gathered into barns, and no man could head me! And ain’t I a woman? I could work as much and eat as much as a man—when I could get it—and bear the lash as well! And ain’t I a woman? I have borne thirteen children, and seen most all sold off to slavery, and when I cried out with my mother’s grief, none but Jesus heard me. And ain’t I a woman? If the first woman God ever made was strong enough to turn the world upside down all alone, these women together ought to be able to turn it back, and get it right side up again! And now they are asking to do it, the men better let them.’”

  She stopped, and Nick didn’t say a word for a long minute. Neither did anyone else. Goose bumps prickled his skin, and he guessed he wasn’t the only one.

  In the time he’d known Keisha Watkins, in all the speeches he’d heard her make, she’d never sounded like that. Like there was a fire inside her. Her voice had never be
en so strong and rich and vibrant.

  “Wow,” Sara said finally. “That was amazing, Ms. Watkins. Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

  Keisha took a deep breath. “Go ahead. And please call me Keisha.”

  “Why aren’t you ever that passionate when you’re campaigning?”

  Okay, that had taken some moxie. Nick glanced at Keisha, wondering if she’d think Sara had gone too far.

  “Well,” Keisha said after a moment. “You don’t expect me to channel a nineteenth century abolitionist, do you? I don’t think that’s what this campaign needs.”

  “Maybe not. But if you don’t mind my mentioning it, when you’re doing interviews and debating and all the rest of it, you seem almost afraid to let any emotion out. Like you’re afraid to let people see who you really are.”

  Keisha sighed. “As you’re no doubt aware, the Gazette is coming out with an article titled ‘The Keisha Watkins nobody knows.’ So no matter what I do, it seems people will make assumptions about who I am…and who my family is.”

  Nick spoke up then. “I think that’s the point Sara’s making. You’re letting other people define you, and you’re not even trying to fight back.”

  “How can I fight back against that kind of poison?”

  “With the truth,” Jerry put in. “With the truth about you and your family. And you can let them speak for themselves, too.”

  “No,” Keisha said firmly. “Absolutely not. They shouldn’t have to deal with any of this garbage.”

  Kevin had been quiet throughout the discussion, but now he spoke for the first time. “Ms. Watkins?”

  “Yes?”

  “Have you asked your husband and your son what they think?”

  “I—” she paused. “Of course I have. From the very beginning they’ve very bravely and generously offered to be more involved in the campaign. And after this morning’s fiasco, they both offered to give statements or interviews if I wanted them to. I told them it was out of the question. It’s not fair to subject them to this kind of scrutiny.”

  “With all due respect…don’t you think they should have the right to decide that for themselves?”