“He kissed you?” Lisa said quietly.
“In public?” Miranda added, not quite so demurely.
I nodded. “I told Robert. Plus, Simon came to our apartment a few days later—while Robert was at home. I’m both amazed and relieved I didn’t come home to a fist fight. It’s ridiculous.”
“Oh, Beth.” Miranda placed a hand on my shoulder, rubbing gently. “If I’d known what would come of it, I would never have told him when I saw him at Thanksgiving. He seemed happy and he told me about his engagement to what’s-her-face first. It seemed safe.”
“How could you have known? I hadn’t spoken to him in seven years. I didn’t know he still had any feelings for me.” I shrugged, and returned the shoulder rub, trying to reassure my friend that I didn’t blame her.
“Beth?” Lisa said, clasping her hands together in front of her, like she hated to interrupt. “I think your butt is ringing.”
I straightened up, breaking the connection with Miranda, as my hand drifted to the back pocket of my jeans. Pulling out my phone, I swivelled it so I could see the screen. “Excuse me,” I said, as I accepted the call. “Hey.”
I listened for the response but couldn’t distinguish the voice I knew should be on the other end. I glanced up at my friends, mouthed ‘sorry,’ then drifted down the hall, toward the front door, away from the party. “Are you there, Robert?”
“Love?” He sounded exceptionally far away—the moon far away.
“I can barely hear you.” I blocked off my other ear with my hand, tying to deaden all sound from the party.
“—in Pine Tree—”
He was in Pine Tree? That was good, a start. That cold tickle I’d felt earlier in the pit of my stomach and had been briefly forgotten thanks to the bustle of the party, sparked again. I wandered over to the front door and peered out the window. The snow had picked up since we’d arrived. I could see out to the road, but the flurries were swirling faster, falling more thickly. That tickle grew into more of an ache.
“Have you picked up Xander?” I spoke louder, while trying not to shout.
“—delayed—half an hour.”
“The train’s been delayed?” I said, repeating what I’d thought I’d heard. “By half an hour?”
“—At least—text—my way.”
“You’ll text me when…you’re on your way?” Something caught in my throat. What was the weather going to be like in half an hour, assuming the train made it in then? Was Robert going to make it back this afternoon? By the evening’s dinner? A shiver rocked through my body from head to toe. What if we got hit by a full-on blizzard and he didn’t make it back for tomorrow? Or later?
“—Text—Love you.”
“Drive safe. I love you, too.” I didn’t hang up. I pressed my phone to my ear as hard as I could, as if eliminating every nanometre of space between me and the speaker could make Robert’s words clearer.
There was no response. I strained my hearing a moment longer before I drew the phone back and looked at the screen. The call had timed out.
Damn it. Tears rolled down my cheeks.
Chapter 10
I didn’t return to the party. I sagged against the front hall closet, knees hugged to my chest, head down. Breathing.
In, two, three, four, out, two, three four. When did breathing become so difficult?
What was the worst that could happen if Robert didn’t get back today? Didn’t get back until tomorrow? We’d kept everything as simple as possible. It’s not as if this afternoon’s rehearsal was crucial to our success of standing in front of a justice of the peace and saying, ‘I do.’ We were getting married in front of twenty or so people, our friends and family. If we didn’t say quite the right thing, or fumbled with the rings, no one would be offended. We’d all laugh a little, then recover ourselves and move on.
Everything would be fine.
I picked my phone off the floor and held it so I could see my screen between my legs. No messages yet. I’d lost the connection with Robert ten minutes ago, not that long. I had to be patient. If he’d said half an hour, I wouldn’t be surprised in the train was delayed for more like an hour. I switched off my phone and slid it along the floor so it was out of reach—as if physical proximity was the thing keeping me from worrying and would suppress the urge to check for texts every minute.
When would someone drift out here and force me back into the party? Would anyone even notice I wasn’t there? It was…sweet…of Dehlia to say people wanted to have a party for me, but it’s not as if I’d been teaching long with Flying High, and even less likely that I was anyone’s favourite instructor. It seemed more likely that people wanted to have an excuse to have a party and if Dehlia and Stephen were willing to host, then it wasn’t my place to judge. As long as no one called me to make a speech, or worse, to sit through other people making speeches about me.
I rested my forehead to my knees and closed my eyes. The distant voices of the party mixed together and washed over me, sounding much the way an orchestra did when the musicians warmed up before a concert. Someone laughed, trilling away like a flute. Cups and saucers clattered—they were the cymbals. Footsteps approached, they were, well, footsteps.
I looked up to find Rachel paused a few paces behind where my cell phone lay on the floor. Her lips were pressed together in a firm line. Her brown eyes looked steadily at me, while I stared back at her. Neither of us were overly talkative, so who was going to break the silence first?
“I suppose you’re waiting for Jake to get back as well?” The thought struck me, instantly hitting me with a sense of guilt. I wasn’t the only person with someone they cared for attempting to travel in this increasingly dangerous weather.
Rachel carefully stepped over my phone, then turned, pressing her back against the closet door, and slid down to join me on the floor. “He texted this morning as he was packing up. He said it was clear where he was, but he’d keep me updated as to his progress, but of course it’s difficult—and unsafe—to text and drive during a snowstorm. I haven’t heard from him since.”
I nodded. “Does he have a long drive?” Making small talk about someone else’s problem was preferable to dwelling on my own.
“It’s about four and a half hours normally, but there’s no guarantee with this weather. I just hope he gets in before it gets dark, so I don’t end up awake the entire night waiting and wondering if he’s in a ditch somewhere.” Rachel glanced at her phone, then placed it screen down on the floor, and pushed it over in the same direction as mine.
We sat side by side for a while. Neither of us speaking, or even looking at the other. The quiet company, both of us able to understand the other’s feelings of growing anxiety for our loved one’s safety, afforded some comfort. It was preferable to being forced to talk about how I was feeling, or possibly worse, forced to talk and pretend like nothing was wrong.
“Did you decide about the audition?” Rachel said after some undetermined period of silence.
“I’m going to do it,” I said, attempting to infuse some degree of confidence into my response. What if something happened to Robert while he attempted to drive back from Pine Tree? What if he ended up in an accident, severely injured? How likely was that to happen, really? What if he wasn’t temporarily injured? I couldn’t think that way. If the snow got that bad, they’d pull over. Pine Tree was a little over an hour away, not like Jake’s four plus, from wherever he was driving.
“That’s great, Beth. Jake will be happy with your decision. He wouldn’t have offered you the opportunity if he didn’t think you were a good fit for Cirque Celestial.”
Rachel spoke calmly, but I wondered if some of the same thoughts I’d had were now flashing through her mind. How serious was Rachel about Jake? How devastated would she be if something happened to him? At least she always had her sister as her performance partner.
“I asked about some of the other things we discussed, why he didn’t recruit Robert, too, and what the policies were for partners,
if you’re interested.”
I shook my head, even though we both continued to keep our heads down. Something about this conversation was made a great deal easier without eye contact. “Robert is done touring. We’ve decided if I’m offered a position, I’ll go out without him.”
“Hm.” Rachel’s response was noncommittal, even for her.
“You don’t think it’s a good idea?” I inspected my hands. My knuckles were dry and cracked, nearly bleeding in some spots. Between the dry winter air and washing my hands regularly to avoid the colds my students carried into the studio, I couldn’t moisturize enough. On the other side, I had calluses built up on the fleshy bits below the last three fingers on both hands.
Rachel drew a breath but didn’t respond. Oh boy. That wasn’t a good sign. “It’s definitely hard. Mom and Dad managed for five years, but eventually Dad told her she had to make a choice.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t heard the in-depth details of Dehlia and Stephen’s marriage. It wasn’t my business and I hadn’t pried beyond what they’d willingly shared with us. Five years, mostly apart. Right now, ignorant as to where Robert was, whether Xander had arrived yet, and if they were safe, felt like a near-insurmountable mountain.
“If Robert wants to reconsider it, there are options. He doesn’t have to stay behind, that’s all I’m saying.” Rachel reached across, and awkwardly patted my knee two or three times, before resting it on her own leg.
“There you two are. What are these cell phones doing on the floor?” Feet quickly scuffled over the tiled front hall. Becca had found us. “Man, you two look glum. You know there’s a party going on in the next room, right? A party to celebrate you, Beth. What are you doing out here? Mom wanted to say a little something if you’re not so self-effacing that you can’t handle the attention for five minutes. Or do you need a pair of silks to stand it for that long?”
Becca nearly stood on my toes, hands on hips, hovering over top of me. She was smiling, evidently intending to tease me, rather than cajole me into returning to the party.
I snuck a glance at her twin, who merely shrugged at me, as if to say, that’s Becca for you. “I needed a little break, that’s all.”
Becca held out our phones. I shifted forward so I could balance my weight over my feet, then stood. I accepted my cell, glancing quickly to see if the message light was blinking. It wasn’t, so I slid it into the back pocket of my jeans.
“Mom promised no embarrassing stuff.” Becca looped her arm through mine as we walked back toward the party epicentre. “Just a few words. There’s a gift, but it’s extremely sensible, so don’t worry, then that’s it. We’ll let people mingle for a bit longer before we start to kick them out. McAllister’s parents are supposed to be coming for lunch, right? What are they like? Oh, and his gymnastics buddies, too, right? Do you think he’s going to make it back from Pine Tree in time with this weather?”
∞∞∞
The extremely sensible present was a gift card to one of the local houseware shops; the words were indeed few. Some of my other, less frustrating students, surprised me by taking the time to speak with me. Indeed, their expressions of disappointment that I may be leaving after such a short tenure with the studio, seemed more genuine than I’d expected. I’d always gotten the impression that I was merely all right as a coach. At best, I had tricks to share, which were generally well received by students, even if I did have a propensity to plan more conditioning than anyone wanted to do, and demanded that everyone complete their moves with straight legs and pointed toes.
When those students had said their goodbyes—one even caught me off guard by planting a kiss on my cheek—my chest felt a smidgeon lighter as I watched them retreat down the hall toward the front door. Perhaps if things didn’t work out, it wouldn’t be so bad to return to near full-time coaching? Then Cass sauntered past me, giving me one of those super saucy, sullen teenager looks she was so good at, and I remembered how unsatisfied I’d felt with studio life all fall. If I never had to deal with Cass and her sense of superiority again, I wouldn’t complain.
Once most of the guests had filed out, I drifted towards a bank of windows at the front of the house, where the main seating area was located, and where we should be saying our vows tomorrow. I pressed my nose against the glass, and my breath transformed into fog, impeding my observation of the outdoors. Pulling my sweater cuff over my hand, I used it to clear the window—not that it improved the view much. Since Rachel and I had huddled together in shared misery in the front hall, the conditions outside had worsened.
Snow flew, seemingly in every direction. I couldn’t see to the road.
I patted around the pockets of my jeans, searching for my phone. Locating it in my back pocket, I pulled it out and flicked on the screen. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Where was Robert? Was he still waiting in Pine Tree for the train to arrive? Was he currently attempting the drive back? Had he gotten into an accident? I heard footsteps scuffling across the hardwood floor.
I turned to find Ellen walking toward me, her cheeks flushed. “Oh dear,” she said, grabbing my free hand and holding it tightly. “Having you heard anything from Robert? We only know Xander’s train was delayed.”
I stashed my phone back into its pocket. “No, nothing.”
Ellen bit her lower lip, her eyebrows drawn tightly together. “Oh. We’d offered to go get Xander ourselves, but Robert insisted. He’s always been so much better at sign language than me, so I thought it was better to let him go.”
I patted Ellen’s hand, still holding tightly on to me. “It’s not worth fretting yourself over. If you’d gone to Pine Tree, you’d be stuck in the same situation that Robert’s in right now. Then he’d be upset about having let you and David make the drive instead of him.”
Ellen’s frown deepened. “You’re right, of course. I feel so useless, waiting and wondering if they’re okay. I wish there was something we could do to make sure they got back safe.”
Now it was my turn to bite my lip. This was exactly why Rachel and I had sat in silence together by the door. No one could do anything about this storm, or for the people who were stuck out in it. Listening to other people fret, and speak in sympathetic but useless tones, set a fire in my belly. Ellen didn’t mean to make me angry, but her comments made me want to scream.
“If you’re the type, I guess you can pray,” I said, as I took Ellen by the elbow and slowly escorted her toward the kitchen, where I could see Dehlia bustling round, getting food out of the fridge, readying to serve lunch. “Otherwise, I don’t think there’s much to do besides keep checking your phone for messages and the progress of the weather.”
“You’re right, of course, Beth. It’s so hard to do nothing but wait.” Ellen broke from my grip, then joined her husband, who was already engaged in an animated discussion of…something, home renovations, maybe, with Stephen.
“We can hide in my room if you want,” Rachel said, as she sidled up beside me, her phone in one hand, looking like she’d refreshed her messages for the one hundredth time without a satisfactory result. “We can nick some Scotch from the liquor cabinet, if you think it’ll help.”
I laughed. “A tempting offer, but I’m the guest of honour, I shouldn’t ditch everyone else.”
∞∞∞
The rest of the afternoon processed, one minute after the next, stretching to one hour after the other. My phone remained silent, and I tried to keep my worries over why that was, at bay; however, my thoughts grew harder to rationalize, as the normally calm and reserved Rachel grew more outwardly panicked.
Should I show more emotion? Should I pick at my food, or absently shred the Kleenex I’d used wipe up my tears? Was I coming off as uncaring? Would people start to wonder if the reason Robert wasn’t going to come out on tour with me—if I went on tour—was because we weren’t all that attached to each other? I wasn’t about to start sobbing or have a fainting fit, but should I be struggling more? Between the nerves and the worry, I couldn’t summon the energ
y. I felt completely drained.
Midafternoon, I received a call from the Justice of the Peace to say she wasn’t going to attempt the drive out to the Nicks. She assured me there wasn’t that much to rehearse for a small, civil ceremony, and that she’d see me tomorrow unless we were all snowed in. I didn’t mention it also depended on the safe return of the groom. When I reported this development to Dehlia, she looked at me long and hard, her lips pressed firmly together, her hands resting on her apron covered waist.
“You look dead on your feet. I’ll wrap up some food, and you get your friends to drive you home. Everyone should go home at this point if they feel comfortable hitting the road.”
Dehlia said this all so matter-of-factly, there seemed no point in arguing. I didn’t have the slightest idea how I would dispute her, anyway. I didn’t want to continue milling about the Nicks’ beautiful and luxurious home, attempting to make small talk with friends. I wanted to go home, crack open the bottle of sauvignon blanc I was pretty sure was stashed in the back of the fridge, and eat crackers from the box until I finally heard something from Robert.
I nodded, and somehow managed to dredge up a smile. “Thanks, Dehlia. I’d be more comfortable at home. I’ll go speak to Miranda and Lisa.”
Dehlia gave my shoulder a squeeze, before she turned to her cupboards and started pulling out plastic food containers. I pivoted on my heel and scanned the room for my friends. I hadn’t spoken to either of them since lunch. How had I lost track of them? We’d all sat around the table for a good half an hour after the last course was served, drinking our choice of caffeinated beverage, many nibbling on yet another Christmas cookie, before anyone levered themselves from their chair.
After a few moments of squinting and sweeping my gaze across the open concept kitchen-eating-living area, I noticed Miranda pressed up against Mark, standing in the same window I’d watched the storm through earlier. Was Lisa around somewhere, or was she similarly cozied up to Devon? The idea of interrupting either of them was less than appealing, and likely to elicit no small amount of blushing. I could see if someone else would drive me home—Ellen and David would no doubt offer their services—but my friends should be informed that the rest of the day’s events were cancelled and they could head back to the privacy of their hotel room.
Love's Final Act (Circus of Love Romances Book 3) Page 13