Dance with the Doctor (5 page)

“I’d be happy to meet her.” She was curious about the woman who had divorced a man like Mike. The more she saw of the handsome pediatrician, the better her picture of a devoted father. Had he been a less devoted husband? Or was some other fatal flaw lurking beneath the handsome, caring facade?

“Can you come to dinner at my house this weekend?” Taylor asked.

“Your house?”

“Yeah. She said that would be easier. Her apartment’s really small and besides, she doesn’t cook.”

Wasn’t that what restaurants were for?
“And your dad is okay with us meeting at your house?” she asked.

“Dad doesn’t mind. Mom eats with us all the time.”

“All right,” Darcy said. What business was it of hers if Mike dined regularly with his ex. After all, the woman was the mother of his child. It was probably great for Taylor that her parents got along so well. “I’m working Friday evening, but I can come Saturday.”

“Great.” Taylor’s eyes shone. “I can’t wait.”

Darcy was nervous at the thought of sitting down face-to-face with Mike and his ex. They’d want to talk about the transplant, of course, and about Riley and the circumstances of his death. She’d have to work hard to keep it together. But maybe talking with two sympathetic adults would help her. They, of all people, would come closest to understanding her pain. And she’d have Taylor there to remind her that some good had come of her sacrifice.

For the next forty-five minutes, the girls tried out their moves and learned new ones. The studio echoed with their laughter and shouts as they turned and swayed, dipped and shook. They sang along with the songs they knew and made up words to new ones. Taylor turned out to have a wicked sense of humor, and a knack for outrageous rhymes. “The boys all think I’m such a cutie, when they see me shake my booty,” she rapped, shaking her hips for emphasis.

She quickly looked at Darcy. “Don’t tell my dad I said that,” she said. “He’d be horrified.”

No doubt. “My lips are sealed,” Darcy promised.

Toward the end of class, the talk turned once more to costumes. “My mom found this pink fabric with glitter all over it,” Hannah said.

“I want a red costume,” Debby said. “With lots of fringe.”

“I’m trying to talk my mom into buying me silver pants,” Zoe said.

Only Taylor failed to chime in. She’d fallen silent, her expression glum.

Since Mike appeared to be late today, Darcy waited until the other girls had departed with their mothers before she asked Taylor if she felt all right. “You got so quiet suddenly,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

Taylor lifted one shoulder in half a shrug.

“You were fine when you got here,” Darcy persisted. “Did one of your meds make you not feel well?”

“I’m worried about my costume,” Taylor admitted.

“Your costume? Honey, you’ve got six weeks. I’m sure you can come up with a very nice one by then. I’ll help you.”

Taylor shook her head. “I’m not worried about
finding
one, I’m worried about
wearing
one.”

Darcy knelt so that she was eye level with the girl. “I don’t understand.”

Taylor pulled at the blue turtleneck sweater she wore. “I have a scar from my surgery,” she said. “A big one.”

Darcy swallowed hard. “Can I see?”

Taylor nodded and pulled up the hem of her sweater. Darcy struggled not to reveal the shock she felt at seeing the pink, puckered scar that bisected the child’s torso from neck to navel. She stared at the spot near the center of Taylor’s chest. Riley’s heart was in there.
Taylor’s heart
, she corrected herself.

“That is a big scar,” she said, tugging the sweater back into place. “But as you get older, it will fade—and you’ll get bigger, so it will seem smaller. In the meantime, I’ll help you come up with something to wear that will hide that scar.”

“But belly dancers have to show their bellies.”

“Says who?” Darcy stood. “Did you know that in Egypt—where belly dancing started—it’s actually
illegal
for dancers to show their stomachs?”

“It is? That’s silly.”

“Sometimes rules are silly, but it also shows that you can dance real belly dance and not show much of your body at all.”

“I just don’t want to look different,” she said.

“You’ll be beautiful, I promise.” Darcy was determined that Taylor would leave here today feeling better about her body and about dancing. After all, that was one of her aims in teaching this girls’ class. “The important thing to remember when dancing is to not think about the people watching you or what they think or feel,” she said. “It’s all about how dancing makes
you
feel.”

“How do you feel when you dance?” Taylor asked.

“I feel I have a healthy body and can move and am alive. I listen to the music and try to forget about everything else except losing myself in the beauty of this one moment.” It was dance’s power to help her forget that had saved her in the agonizing days and months after Riley’s and Pete’s deaths.

“How can I forget other people if I’m performing for them?” Taylor asked.

“They only think you’re performing for them,” Darcy said. “The secret is, you’re really dancing for yourself. You’re doing this for you.”

“That’s what I wanted to tell my dad when he was worried about me coming here,” Taylor said. “But I don’t think he’d understand.”

“Dads don’t always understand. But that’s okay. He let you come to class after all,” she said. “So he must be getting better about not being so overprotective.”

“Maybe.” She sighed. “It would be easier if he had a girlfriend or something. You know, if he had someone else to worry about besides me.”

So Mike didn’t have a girlfriend? A single, good-looking doctor? Darcy ignored the flutter in her chest at the thought. What was so unusual about that, anyway? She didn’t have a man in her life. She didn’t want one. She liked making her own decisions and not having to rely on or be responsible for anyone else. “I don’t think a girlfriend would keep your father from being concerned about you,” she said. “And tell the truth—you’d miss it if he didn’t fuss over you some.”

“Some. I just wish…I wish sometimes he didn’t fuss so much.”

The door opened and there was the man himself, looking harried. “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “I got behind at the office.”

“That’s all right.” Darcy rested her hand on Taylor’s shoulder. “It gave Taylor and me more time to talk. She’s concerned about what costume she’ll wear in our show. I promised to help her put something together. If that’s all right.” She didn’t want Mike to think she was overstepping her role. “Or maybe her mother would like to make something…”

He shook his head. “Melissa isn’t the domestic type. And her schedule is so hectic she might not have time to shop before the show.”

“Darcy can come to dinner Saturday,” Taylor said.

“I hope it wasn’t too short notice,” Mike said. “Melissa just let me know she’s going to be in town.”

“No, that’s fine.” She’d never known a woman who had willingly given up custody of her child. If she and Pete had divorced, she would never have surrendered custody of Riley to him.

But theirs had been a different situation. Pete wasn’t responsible like Mike. He couldn’t be trusted to put his son’s welfare ahead of every other consideration.

He’d proved that when he’d taken the boy out on the night of their deaths. When Darcy had left them that evening, Pete had intended to stay home. He’d been drinking, as he did every evening he didn’t work, but he hadn’t been drunk. Darcy had trusted him to look after their son.

After Darcy had left, a friend had called and invited Pete out. Pete, always ready for a party, had set out in a snowstorm, Riley in the backseat of the car. He’d lost control on the icy road, plunging them over a cliff to their deaths.

If only Darcy had stayed home that evening. If only she’d insisted Pete stay home. If only she’d been harder on him about his drinking… She closed her eyes against the familiar guilty litany. Pete’s drinking and driving had killed their son, but Darcy’s irresponsibility in leaving her son in the care of a man she knew was an alcoholic made her just as responsible. She’d been given the greatest gift a person could have, the gift of a child, and she’d screwed up. She could never forget, and she could never atone for that mistake.

The prospect of dinner with Taylor and her parents was both a welcome change and a concern. Darcy looked forward to good conversation and a meal that wasn’t microwaved, but she hoped she could get through the evening without too many sad memories intruding. She was curious to observe the relationship between Mike and his ex. Was the handsome doctor still single because he was carrying a torch for his ex, or had marriage to her turned him off the idea altogether?

Saturday afternoon, she took her time getting ready for the outing, and was putting the finishing touches on her makeup when someone pounded on her door, startling her.

“Hey, sis.” Dave greeted her with a bear hug when she opened the door. “Don’t you look nice.” He sniffed. “You smell nice, too. You dancing somewhere tonight?”

“That’s not a dancing outfit.” A woman with shoulder-length auburn hair peered around Dave’s broad back.

“Carrie!” Darcy hugged the woman. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you, too. And Dave’s right, you look fantastic.” Carrie stepped back, surveying Darcy’s jeans and sweater combo. The sweater was a bright ruby-red scoop neck with three-quarter sleeves. She wore simple hoop earrings and a ruby heart pendant on a gold chain. “Do you have a date?” Carrie asked.

“A date? No!” Darcy felt her face heat. “One of my dance students invited me to dinner.”

“Since when does a dance student make you blush like that?” Dave asked.

“Maybe this student has a handsome single brother,” Carrie said.

“The student is ten years old,” Darcy explained. “She’s in a new class I’m teaching for girls.”

“How sweet,” Carrie said. “I bet they’re just adorable. Will they dance at your student recital in the spring?”

“Absolutely,” Darcy said, relieved the subject had turned away from her plans for the evening. “They really are a great group of girls.”

“We won’t keep you,” Dave said. “I just stopped by to return your snowblower.”

“It’s fixed?” Darcy asked.

“No, I’m returning it broken.” He punched her arm, though not too hard. “Of course it’s fixed. You want me to leave it in front of the garage?”

“That’ll be fine. Just make sure there’s room for my students to get around it.”

Carrie and Darcy moved into the living room after Dave went back outside. “A kids’ class is such a good idea,” Carrie said. “If you ever need any help with it, let me know.”

“I might take you up on that offer,” Darcy said. “You could help with costumes, maybe.”

Carrie glanced out the window, toward where Dave was unloading the snowblower from his truck. “I really love children, but I’m not sure how Dave feels about them. What do you think?”

Darcy’s stomach tightened at the not-so-casual question. She loved Carrie, and her brother’s refusal to commit to her after five years was frustrating, but her loyalty was to Dave. “I don’t know, Carrie,” she said. “I’m not the one you should be asking. Talk to him.”

Carrie turned from the window. “But it’s a touchy subject. If I bring up children, he’ll think I’m pressuring him to get married. That’s why we split up the last time.”

“I didn’t know that.” She tried hard not to pry, and Dave had kept silent, either to avoid burdening her further in her grief or to protect himself.

“He says the men and women in your family aren’t cut out for marriage,” Carrie said. “He can list every divorce or failed relationship for every one of his relatives going back three generations. I can see how those kind of statistics could make a person wary, but it didn’t stop you.”

“No, it didn’t,” Darcy agreed. She’d been determined to break their family curse, but she hadn’t succeeded.

“I sometimes wonder if it isn’t really marriage,” Carrie said. “If it’s just me. Maybe I’m not the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with.”

“Dave loves you,” Darcy said. “He was miserable while you were apart.”

“I was miserable, too. But I want children. And I’m not getting any younger. I don’t know what to do.”

Darcy squeezed Carrie’s arm in a gesture of comfort. “Talk to him. Tell him how you feel.”

“You’re right. I just have to find the right time.”

The door opened and the sound of Dave stamping snow from his feet echoed through the house. Such a masculine sound, Darcy thought. She had a flashback to a snowy afternoon a few years before, Pete coming in from work, knocking the snow off his boots, enveloping her in a hug, his cheek cold against hers, his arms squeezing her so tight…

She shook away the memory, the vividness of it making her chest hurt. How long before emotions would stop ambushing her this way?

“You’re all set,” Dave said when the women returned to the kitchen. “Call me if it gives you any more trouble.”

“Thanks for fixing the snowblower,” she said.