84 Ribbons (12 page)

At the top of the ridge, they pulled onto the shoulder of the road. Steve turned off the engine, circled around to Marta’s door, and opened it. When their fingers touched, heat surged through her. Their palm to palm connection felt uncomplicated and comfortable.

Steve smiled and tightened his grip as he led her across the gravel to the edge. “The Rims is the best view around. Behind us lies a vast plain that stretches into Canada. I imagine it covered with buffalo when the explorers came through. Below and in front of us, beyond town, the Yellowstone runs to the Powder River near our border with North Dakota.”

As Marta scanned back and forth, a small plane flew low and disappeared.

“Is there an airport nearby?”

“The regional airport is on the ridge, a short walk from here. Want to take a look?”

“No,” Marta said. “Let’s stay here and enjoy this view.”

“This is where I come to think. It’s peaceful and feels miles away from everything.”

The ridge muted the sounds of Billings. Streets and avenues, filled with their various buildings, converged at a distant point like a perspective drawing she’d done in high school art class.

“Where’s my place?” she asked.

“Off to the right. I live further west. I pass near your place every day when I go to classes or to work.”

“How far away are those mountains out to the southwest?”

“The Beartooths? Less than two hours. Want to go?”

“Can’t,” she said. “I promised to help Mrs. Belvern. If I bake and work in the kitchen, she reduces my rent. That way I have spending money.”

“Oh, I get it. Mrs. Belvern is your built-in excuse to avoid dating me.”

“What? No, and we’re not dating.”

Steve laughed. “Well, you can’t blame me for trying to change your mind.”

He tightened his grasp of her hand as he raised his left hand. “You can trust me. I’m a perfect gentleman. Scout’s honor.”

“You’re a persistent guy, aren’t you? But I know you were never a scout; you’re using the wrong hand.”

“Oops.” He grinned, then tipped his head and looked serious. “Miss Marta Selbryth, Queen of Fluff, I want you to be my friend. Let’s get that chocolate chip cookie to prove I’m generous as well as trustworthy.”

They sat in the tiny ice cream parlor by the window on curlicue-backed metal chairs with strawberry calico cushions. Marta nibbled her cookie while Steve inhaled a banana split. “So, tell me more about yourself,” she said.

Steve set down his spoon. “Not much else to tell. I’m twenty-one and an only child.”

“I’m an only child too.”

“Did you like it, or did you wish you had a big brother or sister?”

“I have my Mom and my dancing. That’s been enough.”

“Don’t you want anything else, like to go out, travel, have adventures?” He reached across the table and took her fingertips in his hands.

The electricity surged again, warming her entire body this time.

“Why don’t you want to date me, Marta? Haven’t I been a perfect gentlemen?”

“Not perfect, but a gentleman. It’s just that dancing is hard work. I’m exhausted by evening. Then I help Mrs. B. Right now I can’t handle much more.”

“I get it. School is demanding as well. Classes, projects, reading for hours, and preparing for tests. Then I work for my dad’s paper. But I still find time to go out.”

Marta looked down at their joined hands. “I’ve never dated.”

Steve smiled and squeezed her hands. “Promise me when you are ready to date I can be first in line? After all, I did buy you a cookie.”

She laughed and pulled her hand free. “Okay. But, for now I need to get home.”

At the boarding house curb, Steve reached for Marta’s hand again. She looked away as though the street held an interesting vista while she debated her next move. After a few seconds, she turned to face him.

“Thanks for the tour and the cookie,” she said. “You were a gentleman.”

“Does that mean I get a thank you kiss?” His eyebrows lifted as he waited for her reply.

“Do you
ever
give up?”

“Not when I meet an interesting young woman.” He hopped out and opened her car door. “Tomorrow at noon? Part two of the tour?”

Marta smiled, then hurried up the front steps. At the door she stopped, turned, and called back, “I’ll bring snacks.”

Sunday morning Marta slept in. At noon she sat in the porch swing, rocking back and forth, humming and rehearsing the corps movements in her head. Finding time to go places with Steve would be a welcome break from her dance routine. She’d complained about how her empty time dragged on. Maybe the time had come to start dating, and Steve would be a great way to begin.

A bubble of excitement jittered through her as she watched his car pull to the curb. Before she stood, he approached her, taking the porch steps two at a time and bowing. “Miss Fluff, part two of your tour is ready. May I have the pleasure of your company?”

“Yes, kind sir.” She curtsied, picked up a small cloth bag of snacks, and hurried down the steps.

They headed through town, away from the Rims, along a narrow road.     

The sign read Lake Josephine Park. Two dozen ducks paddled around the grey-blue water and waddled in the mud before disappearing into the cattails and grass that grew along the sloped banks.

They parked and took a trail past the cattails and through a forest of spindly willows. Marta tugged Steve’s hand, urging him to walk faster. When he didn’t speed up, she broke away and ran around the bend in the trail and stopped on a rise. Below and in front of her a small river shimmered in the golden sunlight. “Is this the Yellowstone?”

Steve took his time catching up to her. Before he answered he reached for her hand. “Good guess. It’s the Clark Fork. Lewis and Clark named it when they came through here on their way home.”

“You’re a walking, talking history book, Steve.”

He bowed. “At your service.”

Marta picked up a twisted stick. She wrote her name in the mud and dug thin trails around Steve. “This is almost like playing in the sand at the ocean, except there are no giant waves.” She threw the stick into the river and watched it bobble away.

“Anything to amuse you. So, sounds like you miss the ocean.”

“I do. We live near a bay. That’s nice, but going to the big, wide ocean is a three hour drive from my home. I love the roar of the waves. When I walk along the shore, I feel their thundering pull through me. It calms my thinking.”

“Marta, you surprise me every time you speak. You have an unusual view of the world.”

She smiled and studied his face. ”How do you view the world?”

Steve laughed. “I don’t really think about it much. I take each day as it comes. If I’m going to spend time with you, I guess I need to figure that out, huh?”

“Maybe.”

They climbed the grassy bank of the river to eat their snacks: peanut butter sandwiches and apple wedges. Neither spoke for several minutes as they ate and absorbed the sunshine on their faces.

“I‘m lucky you interviewed me,” Marta said. “It’s fun getting to know Billings with you.”

“What about getting to know
me
in Billings?” He stretched his arms and reached for her hand.

”Uh-h. That too, maybe,” she said as she closed her eyes.

“Marta?  Are you going to sleep?”

“No. Resting and thinking.”

“I’ve a confession,” he said. “The interview was no accident. When I saw you, I knew I had to meet you. You’re a beautiful young woman.”

“Hardly. I’m just me.”

His hand squeezed hers. The silence between them stretched on.

“Thanks for coming with me today,” he said. “Can you get me a ticket to the Classic Sampler? I’d like to see those costumes and pointy shoes at work.”

Marta shook her head and exhaled. “Pointy shoes? Really? It’s
pointe
shoes. P-o-i-n-t-e shoes.”

Steve’s serious look broke apart. He pointed his finger at her and started laughing. “Got you, Miss Fluff. You’re not the only one who can joke around.”

Marta pushed his pointing finger aside. “Are you ever serious?”

“Of course I am. But it’s fun to tease you.”

Back in front of the boarding house, Steve turned off the engine and helped Marta out of his car. They stood a breath apart on the porch. He pushed a stray hair off her face and tipped his head. His touch, his stare, and his closeness sent a warm anticipation through her.

“I need to go,” she said. “I enjoyed the weekend. Thanks, Steve.”

“Any time. Want a ride tomorrow morning?”

“That would be great.”

“Is it time for that first kiss yet?”

She looked away. “Yes.”

He put his hands on her shoulders and continued staring at her. She backed up one step. He drew her closer as he kissed her cheek, her nose and her forehead. She smiled and stepped forward. His thumb slid under her chin and kept her face toward him.

His kiss on her lips arrived with unexpected softness. She closed her eyes and let all thoughts float away. When she opened her eyes, he smiled, then backed down the porch steps and drove away.

Marta stood on the porch for several minutes reliving the kisses. Her body felt light as a feather. Odd. Her feet refused to move. It was as if they were nailed to the porch. When the sensation evaporated, she moved to the porch swing and sat rocking until Sunday dinner. It must have been the kiss.

Marta’s next day of rehearsing flew by. What had changed? Nothing except her interest in Steve. Madame actually smiled her direction during the
Sleeping Beauty
waltzes.

That night Steve called the boarding house. “You’ll never guess what the paper wants. We’re going to write a short series about the new corps dancers at the ballet company.”

“What? Why?”

I convinced my dad that it would be interesting for readers to learn about ballet through your eyes.”

“But Steve, you don’t know anything about ballet.”

“I know. We’ll be a team. I’ll talk with you and learn about ballet. Then I’ll write the rough copy. Susan, the arts editor, will refine it and add other information about the company. She wants to promote ballet. Isn’t it great? We can work together.”

“But Madame will never approve.”

“She already has. We’ll interview her as well. We can write our part between your shows, I mean performances. Madame Cosper asked to review the copy before it goes to press. Susan surprised me and agreed. So, what do you think?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you interview the other three new dancers?”

“I will. But you’ll be my primary contact. Susan thinks hearing from the new dancers may attract young people to the performing arts. As a side benefit, it will give us more time to get to know each other.”

Marta sat in her room thinking about the ballet articles. She liked the idea. Maybe it would put her back into Madame’s good graces. Plus, the thought of spending additional time with Steve sent a warm thrill through her.

10

T
he week before their first performance, the dancers moved from the company practice rooms to the Fox Theater, from spare work spaces to a velvet curtained stage with elaborate scenery. Brilliant stage lights added to the magic. Instead of a lone pianist, they danced to an entire orchestra. Now, their first performance, her first performance, began within the hour.

The ballet sampler they prepared divided into three distinct parts. Part One shared scenes from
Coppélia
. Assorted solos followed in Part Two, giving the corps dancers a chance to rest before returning to end the evening with scenes from
Sleeping Beauty
in Part Three.

That last segment worried Marta. It contained her fast change from light, festive fairy to angry, spiteful fairy, thanks to Madame’s assigning her the role of Carabosse.

“Half hour,” the stage manager called into the theater dressing rooms. A moment of panic froze Marta in place where she sat between Lynne and Bartley finishing her makeup. Their long table lay strewn with make-up pots, used tissues, combs, brushes, and open lipstick tubes. Dozens of small bare light bulbs lit the mirrors and whitened their faces.

Marta looked around at the other corps dancers. None returned her glances. She focused on darkening her eyebrows and adding deep blue eye shadow and true red lipstick. She smudged her lips together and touched the photo of her mom that she’d tucked along the edge of the mirror in front of her.

None of the friends spoke. Marta assumed Lynne and Bartley had drifted away to block out their nervousness. She certainly had. Could she find a word for the fluttery feeling zigzagging through her body? It felt different than stage fright, more mellow and expectant, yet intense. Her dance performance life began in less than thirty minutes.

She slipped on her leg warmers and a thin sweater as she moved to the stage for final warm-ups led by Damien. Lynne and Bartley joined her at a portable
barre
.

“Are you guys as jumpy as I am?” Marta asked. “It’s like someone poured live crickets down my throat.”

“Waiting is the toughest part,” Lynne said. “I feel like an imposter or a novice. Like I’m not supposed to be here.” She swiveled her neck from side to side and brushed back her hair.

“We’re supposed to be nervous,” Bartley said. “But we’ll be fine once we start dancing. We know our dances, so stop worrying.”

“Right,” Lynne said. “No need to worry. Forget about your tortured feet, the long hours, and the endless rehearsals. We’ll show them smiles and grace in spite of all that.”

All talking ended when Damien stepped forward to lead the dancers through
pliés
and stretches. Marta surveyed the stage. All the dancers had vacant faces, even the principals. They probably felt something similar to the crickets that jumped through her at breakneck speed.

“Fifteen minutes,” called the stage manager. The stage crew made final adjustments, removed the
barres
, swept the floor, and rechecked the lights. The dancers stood in the wings in throbbing stillness. Wardrobe staff checked the hooks and eyes on every costume, then positioned themselves backstage to assist with quick changes.