When the Music Stops (13 page)

“A bowing alley with burgers? Sounds good.”

With the burgers finished off, they sat side by side and talked instead of bowling. Dennis asked about her dance career and how her recovery progressed.

“I feel like I’m making headway. Working on the plays takes my mind off myself. I’ve enjoyed learning about making sets.”

Dennis studied her face and twisted his mouth to one side. “When you got all bothered that first time about the kind of nails I wanted, I almost laughed. You looked cute and so irritated with me.” He paused and smiled. “I wanted to kiss you and see how you’d react.”

Marta shook her head. “I’d have probably slapped you and left.”

“And now?” He stared at her with one raised eyebrow.

Marta turned away. “We’d better get going.”

All the way home, she said nothing. She felt Dennis watching her, but she remained silent, focusing on her hands, then the scenery, then her hands again to avoid his gaze.

As they stopped at her mom’s, he turned off the engine and shifted to face her. “You’re certainly quiet. Have I upset you?”

“No,” she said. “You surprised me that’s all. I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll let me take you out on a date.” Dennis circled the truck to open the passenger door for her. He held her hand as he walked her through the back gate and to the base of the kitchen steps. “I’ll call you later in the week. Right now I’m going to kiss you.” He planted a lingering kiss on her cheek.

Marta felt his breath as he pulled back and smiled. She stared up at him, feeling her body react to his closeness and the touch of his lips on her skin. “Um...Thanks for the nice day.”

Dennis ran his hand down her cheek. “Totally my pleasure.”

She waved and watched him get back into his truck. As she turned toward the back steps, she noticed someone walking toward her from the front yard.

She reached for the back step railing as her knees weakened. Steve stood a few short steps away.

7

S
teve watched the truck as it drove away. When he turned back to face her, his eyebrows were furrowed and he'd crossed his arms.

Marta froze in place, waiting for him to step closer or speak. He did neither. She swallowed hard. "I wasn't expecting to see you."

"Obviously." He walked to within reach, close enough for her to see the sadness in his blue eyes.

"I can explain, Steve. It's not what it looked like."

"Okay," he said. "Explain away."

Marta told him about the play and the furnishings they needed and about stopping for burgers.

"Plausible so far. What about the kissing?"

Marta gulped down her nervousness and reached for her necklace, the one he'd given her as a sign of their commitment. She wasn't wearing it. Steve's eyes followed her hand and she quickly lowered it. "That was my fault, Steve. He's a nice guy. He reminds me of you. I've worked with him for several months. We tease each other and he kissed me. It just happened." Marta looked away. "I know I shouldn't have let him, but I was flattered that he wanted to. It didn't mean anything."

"Really? That's hard to believe, Marta. If it meant nothing, why were you holding hands as you came in the back gate? I love you, Marta. I thought you loved me."

"I do, Steve, and I've missed you. I…I'm sorry." She watched his face through her blur of tears. Each second moved as slow as an hour. She pulled in her lips, pressing them together to keep from blurting out something, anything, to fill the continuing silence. She longed to hear him say he'd forgiven her, that everything was going to be all right.

But Steve didn't invite her to step into his arms as he'd done back in Billings when they had disagreements. He stood motionless, looking across the yard, breathing slowly, not speaking. Finally, when he looked toward her, she saw the damage she'd created.

"I think I should leave," he said, "before either of us says something we might regret." He studied her face as he backed away from her.

Marta followed him, reaching for his hand, but he moved away from her grasp. "Not now, Marta. We both need time to figure things out."

She nodded and stepped back as he opened the gate.

Marta watched him walk toward downtown without a single glance in her direction. When he'd disappeared from view, she closed the gate and sat on the kitchen steps. She stared at the space around her, hoping to feel his presence. A tightness lingered in her chest as she replayed the last moments over and over, wishing it had been a bad dream. It hadn't been.

h

Rocking and pacing through the remainder of the evening didn't release her or stop her from reliving the disappointment on Steve's face. All night when she tried to sleep, images of Steve hovered over her. Much as she tried to picture the way his hair flopped over one eye and the happiness that had always flowed around and through him, the images dissolved, causing her to relive seeing his sad face and the hurt gathered behind his usually bright blue eyes. How could she have forgotten the intensity of his touch? The comfort of his arms wrapped around her? The steady beat of his heart when he held her close?

She pictured his arms open wide, inviting her to step closer, but as she moved forward, his presence turned to fog and disappeared. She startled herself awake and lay in bed crying in the darkness.

As dawn arrived, she realized she had no idea why Steve had shown up at her doorstep. Did he have an interview, get a job, come on a whim? Yesterday's drive with Dennis got out of hand. She should have avoided him like her instinct suggested. Did she want his attention and his kisses more than she wanted Steve's? What would have happened if she hadn't come back in time to see Steve? Would she feel the same ache of emptiness she felt now, or would missing his visit have been easier? Her tears and confusion returned and replayed over and over and over, becoming as entangled as her bed covers.

All morning Marta paced, rocked and watched the clock, imagining what Steve might be doing. Surely his coming all this way for whatever reason proved he loved her, didn't it? His visit sent her onto a roller coaster of confusion. She owed it to him to figure out what she wanted from their relationship and to tell him how she felt. If he was “the one,” she needed to stop spending time with Dennis and extinguish the embers of interest she experienced in his company.

After her restless night, Marta felt exhausted as she entered the studio to help paint the upstairs rooms. The previous tenant had left behind scarred walls and scuffed stairs along with her rental cleaning deposit. Lindsay’s coaxing resulted in the owner agreeing to allow them to paint and install wall-sized mirrors and barres for warm-ups.

Lindsay stood in the entry beside gallon cans of paint, paint rollers, and brushes. “Thanks for giving up your Sunday afternoon, Marta. Not the best way to spend this lovely day, but I’m so glad to get this space painted. The owner’s allowing my plumber to finish the roughed-in bathroom, and I’m asking to add a storage room and a small office space next.”

Marta plastered a stage smile on her face as she opened a can of light green paint. “The owner is getting a great deal by us fixing up his building. It’s not costing him a penny. If he’s smart, he’ll let you make lots of improvements.”

“He did make me promise to not build any permanent walls, but you’re right. He’s getting a lot of benefits, but so are we.” Lindsay smiled as she handed a paint brush to Marta. “I’m thinking the upstairs should be your space. How does that sound?”

“Wonderful. Thank you.” Marta smiled and forced energy into her voice. She made a quick ballet turn and curtsied, covering her emptiness with silliness. “In that case, let’s get busy!”

By eight that evening the entire upstairs smelled and looked refreshed, but Marta scrambled to find any energy she could to finish the task. The pale cedar green walls created a calm space. With the mirrors and
barres
awaiting installation the first of the week, Marta hoped to satisfy Lindsay’s belief in her within hours of destroying Steve’s. Not even close to an even trade-off, but it was all she could look forward to until she found a way to reconnect with Steve.

h

With Monday morning studio classes and household tasks complete, Marta spruced up her mom’s house as a welcome back surprise for when she returned from Kalaloch and to keep herself busy. Had it only been a day and a half since she’d seen Steve? Why did it feel like ten? Maybe she’d start adapting clothes for the
Our Town
play, turning current day street wear into 1930s costumes. The black curtain backdrop meant no painting jobs and helped her break her connection with Dennis. Ah, Dennis. She needed to talk with him.

For the rest of the week, her daytime overflowed with dance classes, not allowing her time to think about anything, including Steve. It was her evening hours that hung limp and suspended like the play’s black backdrop.

Sometimes her loneliness clawed like angry hands squeezing the life out of her. Did Steve feel the same way? From his reaction to Dennis, she assumed he’d not dated anyone since she’d left. That meant she’d been the one who’d broken the promise. No more. She’d find a way to explain to Steve that she wanted to wait for him and to be with him. That’s what she wanted, wasn’t it? Why was life so complicated?

Maybe she’d invite Dennis over for dinner to talk with him. No. Bad idea. But she did need to talk with him about her commitment to Steve. She was committed to Steve, wasn’t she? She needed to decide and call him. No, she needed to start by calling Dennis and clear up things so they’d stay on good enough terms that she could work with him on future plays. Or should she start by calling Steve? Neither conversation would be easy.

On Thursday as Marta sat down at home to sew, Lindsay phoned. “Rosalia must leave high school early on several days when she performs for events her mother’s set up. The school wants a note from us before they’ll allow her to miss P.E. Could you go to the high school and speak with the counselor to find out what’s needed?”

“Of course,” Marta said. “I’d like to see Miss Abbot again. She was supportive last year when I needed early releases for auditions. I’m certain she’ll support Rosalia as well.”

Walking the steep hill beside the cemetery reminded her of Steve’s hasty departure. The ache of his walking away saddened her. The challenge of walking on her weakened ankle faded in comparison. Maybe she needed to walk more often to exhaust herself and chase away thoughts of Steve. If nothing else, walking would build up her physical strength and maybe she’d not need to resort to icing her ankle on every return home.

Marta felt a warmth inside herself as she entered the high school office and saw the familiar face of Mrs. Blair, the secretary.

“Marta! What a nice surprise! How’s the first year of your dance career going?”

“It’s been a challenge, Mrs. Blair. I broke my ankle, and I’m home recovering.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. That must be difficult. I so enjoyed watching you dance at assemblies last year. Best of luck, my dear. Now, what can I do for you?”

“I made an appointment with the counseling office. I’m hoping to talk with Miss Abbot.”

“Oh. She’s been called away to a meeting. Let me check who’s taking her appointments. One minute.”

A tall young man entered the office. “Miss Selbryth?” He extended his hand when she stood. “I’m Sam Faris. Follow me.” They shook hands then walked together down the office hallway. “So, do you have graduation questions or a problem in a class?”

Marta smiled at his query. “Neither. I graduated last year. I’m here about Rosalia Marcus. I’m one of her dance teachers.”

Mr. Faris held the door for Marta and invited her to sit down. He rounded his desk and nodded as he sat. “Rosalia. Yes. I’ve spoken with her mother several times. The latest is that she wants Rosalia allowed early dismissals for a series of performances. As a recent graduate from this school, I’m surprised you don’t know our policies.”

“I do, Mr. Faris. The dismissals are for performances her mother’s arranged. She’d miss P.E. class with Mrs. Taylor, who allowed my early dismissals last year. Dancing is definitely exercise. I’ll gladly sign the forms you require.”

Mr. Faris made a tent with his fingers. “I’m new this year, so let me check with Mrs. Taylor and Miss Abbott. I’ll get back to you. The Holland Dance Studio, right?”

“Yes. I’ll write our contact information for you.”

“No need. My daughter takes classes there.”

“You’re Betty’s father!”

“And you’re the famous Marta. Betty loves to dance and wants to be a ballerina just like you. She keeps us hopping. Now she wants me to buy her scarves for entertaining us at home.”

Marta smiled. “Have her ask me about scarves after her next class. I’ll send one home with her.”

“Thanks. She’s excited to show us whatever you teach her.” Mr. Faris stood and opened his office door. “As far as Rosalia goes, I’ll talk with staff and call Mrs. Marcus with our decision, then let you know the outcome. If you have questions, please do not hesitate to contact me. We’ll need a week’s notice for any approved early dismissals.”

When they reached the front entrance to the school, they shook hands again. Mr. Faris held the door open for her. “Thank you, Mr. Faris. I appreciate your help.”