Chapter Six #3
Her involuntary sigh unleashes even more frustration.
Once, the gleam of affection swirled in her hot-chocolate eyes.
Now, they’re distrustful, reflecting a wall between us I want to demolish, but I don’t know how.
My thoughts go to my daughter, because protecting her is the only thing I can control.
“Is it going to be a problem?” I grit out, crossing my arms to cover my heart and hating myself for it. I stare down at her, allowing the gruffness to enter my expression.
“Is what a problem?” Ivy rears back.
“My daughter, Emmy. Is it going to be an issue to have her dance here?” My head hitches a nod toward her studio.
Immediately, Ivy’s eyes ignite. “Of course not. I’m a professional.
Your daughter will be treated with the same dedication and care as any other one of my students.
” Her response is as expected, generous despite the fury I triggered, but it makes me sad to think she will never know Emmy as more than her student.
“Glad to hear it,” I reply without emotion.
“If you’ll just give us another fifteen minutes or so, I’ll have her returned to you.” A sudden sheen of emotion glistens in her eyes as we stare at each other for a moment, neither of us backing down from our ledges of lost time and unspoken words.
Finally, she grunts in frustration and turns back to her studio, clearly freezing, but pauses when she reaches the door.
Her elegant back expands with a deep breath.
I will her to look back at me, to give any sign that she’s struggling with this reunion as much as I am, but she simply shoves open the door and walks through it.
Shaking off the frustrating experience, I only inhale again when my long strides have taken me several storefronts away.
I don’t want to stand in front of her studio window, watching her teach my daughter.
But now that I’m near her, I can’t seem to stay away.
I turn back toward the studio and get a glimpse of her hands moving through the air in a way that stops my breath.
Over the years, I imagined what it would be like to see her dance.
I thought of buying a ticket to one of her performances in New York and sitting in the back of the audience just to see her again, but I never could bring myself to do it.
Now, I see what I always knew. She’s grace mixed with strength.
Her body comes into view through the window, pointe shoes wrapped up in leg warmers and a sweater over a leotard, but then it disappears again.
I wonder if she’s found someone to hold her the way she deserves to be held.
Or is she alone, like me? That thought hurts me even more.
Because the truth is, I’m ashamed. I’m angry that I couldn’t find her, that life seemed to decide that I wouldn’t be enough for her without my consent, and that I’ve made choices that will prevent me from ever being able to earn her love, even after all this time.
Being thrown together again almost feels cruel.
She’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and I’ve become the equivalent of something from the deep ocean washed ashore.
“Well, honey, you look like you could outrun a moose and properly throw something big if you wanted to.”
The voice stops me in my tracks. I turn back to find a woman with silvery hair and fire in her eyes standing behind me. A wicked gleam of amusement can be found in her grin.
“Ma’am.” I nod my head and turn away to keep moving in the opposite direction once more, but I’m no match for this woman.
I recognize her. I’ve been warned about her, and though she’s confronted me several times in the grocery store, I’ve somehow avoided being a casualty of her direct antics. Even so, I know her name is Gladys.
She follows behind me. “The love that you’re looking for might just be in this town,” she states with such authority that I almost believe her.
But then I make the most critical mistake of the day: I look back at the dance studio, where Ivy’s form appears in the window again, followed by a whole troop of little ballerinas. Gladys positively beams.
“I thought so,” she quips. “You know, if you would stop being a Scrooge for five seconds, you might realize that it won’t kill you to celebrate the season.”
I don’t love being compared to a crotchety old literary character, but I can’t deny the resemblance.
Gladys continues without pause. “I know you honked your horn at Delores—after she was waiting for some little creature to cross the road, no less.” She dares me to challenge her, a gleam in her eyes.
I . . . did not know that. The driver had stopped in the middle of the road, and I nearly spilled coffee on myself. My irritation had boiled over, resulting in the honk. “I will have to apologize for the outburst,” I reply to Gladys somberly.
With Ivy long ago released from my reality and with Jenna’s betrayal leaving me vulnerable, it’s been my daughter or nothing.
My heart feels like stone. Other than my brief interaction with Sparrow today, which wasn’t all that great, there’s not a chance I’ve been considered neighborly in this town for the short stint of time we’ve been here.
And I haven’t cared one bit about the impression I made.
For five years, Emmy has been the sole joy of my existence, and even I’m aware that, one day, she’s going to grow up.
And the emptiness I feel in my loneliness is going to swallow me whole.
“But I’m not celebrating.” My tone is flat and unmoving, but her knowing glare has me confessing the truth. “Christmas is only for my daughter.”
“Well, that’s no way to live, especially given the fact that your daughter will no doubt be in the upcoming Christmas ballet production.
And since Ivy is in desperate need of someone to help build the sets, I’m seeing an incredible opportunity here.
I feel it in my bones that you are meant to volunteer. ”
She gives me a grin, and my mind races through this sudden revelation. Ivy needs help? How the woman before me knows I’m capable of building things is beyond me, but I don’t dare question her ways.
I can’t help Ivy. Now, she knows I have a daughter, so she either thinks I’m married, or with someone, or that whoever came after our brief meeting must mean more to me than she did.
I’ll always respect the mother of my child.
Yet, in this moment, after seeing Ivy again, it’s so clear to me that what I had with Jenna wasn’t love, even from the start.
But I want Ivy to have the very best in this world, which I suspect confirms there was once something that could have been love between us.
“For the record, I tried with her once,” I admit, hitching my head toward the studio.
Gladys hums, a knowing smile on her face. “So you’re why she can’t seem to find someone to hold on to. You must’ve made quite an impression.”
My jaw clenches at the casual way Gladys just told me that Ivy is single. Did she wait for me?
At my reaction, she nods, and I see a hint of compassion overtaking her face, her cheeks reddened from the wind. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but you can’t protect your heart forever, dearest. At some point, you’ve gotta find someone worthy of giving love another try.”
The words make me grimace again, and I resist the stirring in my heart as music from the studio is sent our way on the wind.
“Perhaps for you, she is the worthiest of them all.”
My eyes gravitate back to the dance studio, the warm light pulling me toward it like a beacon.
What would it look like for me to put my heart in someone else’s hands again?
But not just someone—the woman who once gave me reason to believe fairy tales might be possible. Am I even capable of loving again?
I shake the urge to tell Ivy everything from my mind. “I’m not sure . . .” I begin, looking over my shoulder toward Gladys. But I find that I’m talking to myself, and Gladys has disappeared, taking my courage with her into the darkness.