LUKA (The Rhythm Series, Book 2) (29 page)

SARAH WOULDN’T TAKE
my calls and neither would Seth.

As time ticked down to when I should be leaving for the theater that evening, I grew desperate, calling Mrs. Lintort. She sounded flustered when she answered, but she was the only one who had the balls to speak to me.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“I understand that, but I need to know if she’s coming home tonight.”

“This has all been a terrible shock for her, you know.”

“I was the one who wanted to tell her the truth from the start,” I clipped out.

There was a long pause before she said, “I really don’t think it’s a good idea that you call here.”

“Yeah? Well, do you think it’s a good idea that Sarah’s left Beth behind?”

“I’m sure you can manage for one night.”

“I’m supposed to be at work in an hour.”

“Then I strongly suggest you take the night off,” she snapped, ending the call.

Fucking great.

I sighed, slumping onto the couch.

“Just you and me tonight,
princesa
. Do you want to watch some TV, or . . .”

I sat up straight. No, they weren’t taking my dancing away from me.

“We’re going to the theater.” I said excitedly. “Tonight you’ll see daddy dance.”

Beth waved her tiny fists in the air and celebrated by pushing out a big one, if the expression on her face was anything to go by. She wrinkled her nose at the foul smell, demanding to be changed immediately.

“Christ, Kathryn is going to kill me,” I said to myself as I cleaned her up. “
Princesa
, you have to be a good girl and sleep right through the performance or Daddy is going to get his ass fired.”

I was definitely taking a chance. Beth had been doing a lot better, crying less and sleeping more, but she was unpredictable. Being in a strange environment . . . I had no clue what would happen.

I called a cab, waiting impatiently with my gym bag and Beth’s diaper bag. I was only five minutes late, but Kathryn was already pacing nervously. When she saw Beth, her eyes widened.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Sorry, Kathryn. Family emergency.”

“Luka!”

“Fine, I’ll go home again,” I snapped, calling her bluff.

She let out a string of curses that had me holding my hands over Beth’s ears.

“Gretchen!” she yelled. “Where the hell is Gretchen?”

Finally, we found her sewing up a split in the evening gown that Beverley wore for her closing number.

Her lined face darkened when Kathryn said she needed her to look after Beth.

“I am seamstress, not childminder!” she sniffed, her accent noticeably stronger.

Kathryn looked as if she was about to have an aneurism.

I threw myself on my knees, holding up Beth as an offering.

“Please, Gretchen. I’m desperate. Her mom . . . please. I need to dance tonight. I
need
to.”

Her stormy eyes softened.

“I will call my daughter,” she said. “She likes babies. But this is one-time favor. No children backstage.
Kinder verboten!
”

“Yes, ma’am!” I said gratefully. “
Danke schön
.”

I changed as quickly as possible, keeping one eye on Beth who was sleeping peacefully, while Ben shook his head at me.

“Fuck’s sake, Ben! Put your dick in your pants—my daughter is in the freakin’ room!”

He laughed out loud. “Bloody hell, she’s a baby and she’s asleep. It’s not like she’s going to Instagram it.”

I grumbled some more while he laughed his ass off. I felt an urge to punch him in his grinning face.

Gretchen’s daughter Marcie arrived a nail-biting five minutes before curtain up.

She looked like Gretchen: just as short and even rounder, but she had kind eyes, and that was all I cared about.

“Thank you so much for this,” I mouthed over Beth’s sleeping head. “When she wakes up she’ll be hungry, but because you’re a stranger, she’ll probably yell a bit.”
Huge understatement
.

“We’ll be fine,” she said, taking Beth from my arms. “I have five children and three grandchildren. Don’t worry.”

I was worried
.

“Two minutes to curtain up! Places!” yelled the stage manager, a harried look on his face. “Beginners in place.”

Along with the other ‘beginners’, the people who opened the show, I had to sprint across the back of the stage to the opposite wing, throwing a hurried smile at Alice who grinned and gave me a thumbs up.

I don’t know if I was inspired or just scared shitless that night, but I swear I jumped higher, turned faster, and was more on fire than I’d been all season.

“Bloody hell!” gasped Alice as we ran off stage, hand-in-hand at the intermission. “Are you high?”

“Yeah, high on life,” I laughed. “Or possibly running on pure adrenaline after a lot of sleepless nights.”

She followed me up to one of the back offices, where Marcie had settled herself in with Beth. She was reading to her from a children’s book, and Beth was gurgling quietly in her car seat.

“Wow, she’s so small,” Alice breathed, watching nervously as I stroked Beth’s tiny fingers.

“Small is beautiful,” I said softly.

Alice didn’t say anything, and the truth was Beth was kind of odd looking and still scrawny, although she’d been putting on weight. But she was beautiful to me. I was certain she’d grow into a swan.

“How did she do?” I asked Marcie, keeping my voice low.

“She woke up when the music started,” she said, smiling at Beth. “I think she likes it.”

I smiled.

“We always have music on at home. She likes the Latin beats. Did you like the music tonight,
princesa
?”

Beth closed her eyes, her lips moving soundlessly, and Marcie laughed.

“Well, she wasn’t sure about me at first, but when I produced her dinner, she was happy enough. We’ll be fine,” Marcie said, waving us away. “Now go and change for the second half or you’ll have my mother after you, and you wouldn’t want that!”

That was the first night of many that Beth came to the theater with me. Sarah didn’t come home and she didn’t get in touch. It was Mrs. Lintort who told me that Sarah was being treated for postpartum depression. I guess I wasn’t surprised to hear the diagnosis, I just wished I could be there to help her. But I was the last person she wanted to talk to. That was a direct quote, by the way.

I took Marcie on as a nanny, agreeing to pay her £40 an evening, and £75 for the Saturday matinée and evening. Mostly, I took Beth to Marcie’s apartment, but sometimes I brought Beth to the theater. Kathryn turned a blind eye.

I was hemorrhaging money, but I didn’t know what else to do. Alice said I could get child support from the British government, but I had no clue how to do that, or what it would mean for Sarah, for us, if officials got involved. It was hard enough fielding questions from the district nurse who came once a week to weigh Beth. There were only so many times she was going to believe that Sarah went shopping.

And I had no idea how long it would be before Sarah demanded the apartment back and kicked me out.

The only thing that kept me going was the news from Ash that
Life Circles
was getting a lot of interest, and Selma was close to securing our first booking for April. If it went ahead, rehearsals would start in March.

There was never any question in my mind that I’d be there doing the tour. Beth would be with me every day—it was the best I could do for her as a father. But I was enormously fucking relieved when Marcie agreed to come with me for six months. She’d never been to America, and she liked the idea of going globe-trotting, as she put it, before she hit the big six-oh.

Mrs. Lintort phoned me twice a week to see how Beth was doing and even visited, which always made for an awkward half-an-hour. She didn’t like me, but she admitted that Beth looked well. I guess that was as good as it was going to get.

Until the day Seth showed up.

I’d heard nothing from him for six weeks, nothing since Sarah had found out about us. But for the last five days, he’d been calling and texting me. I’d ignored them the way he and Sarah had ignored me and Beth, cutting us out of their lives. I’d even deleted his number, but it sucked that I knew it by heart anyway.

It was a Monday afternoon in February, and I’d taken Beth for a checkup with her pediatrician. He was pleased with her progress, although I knew he’d made a note that Sarah wasn’t around. I gave an excuse that she had a cold, but something in his demeanor told me that he didn’t believe that.

The shop windows were full of greetings cards with hearts on them, and red balloons. I stared at a display of pink cushion hearts in the market, and wondered for the millionth time if we’d ever be a family. Surely Sarah couldn’t hate me forever?

I guess I wasn’t entirely repulsive, because women of all ages smiled at me when I was out with Beth. It’s non-threatening when you’ve got your baby strapped to you.

And in the supermarket, women were always talking to me, asking questions about Beth, commenting on what I was putting in my shopping cart. And then because British people always think I’m Polish, they assume I must be a plumber. I could have made a lot of money fixing pipes.

But
moja princesa
was like a key to friendship with strangers.

I just wished it worked on the people she was related to.

I trudged back along the street with my groceries, Beth wrapped up like a
potica
. The sun reflected in her pale gold hair, like spun silk, like treasure. I was totally and completely in love with my daughter. But not her mother.

The little white beanie that I’d bought for Beth had slipped off again. I pushed it down over her ears and she squawked softly.

I’d treated myself to one of those baby carriers they make for guys with kids. Beth loved snuggling against my chest, and it left my hands free for grocery bags. But I was tired, so tired. I felt as if I’d been ironed flat, pressed down with the weight of the world.

I recognized his car from 50 meters, and seriously thought about turning around and walking away. I had to remind myself I’d done nothing wrong. And besides, it was cold and I needed to get Beth indoors.

Seth was waiting for us in his Benz. When he saw us, he opened the door and stood staring at me uncertainly before walking over.

“Hi,” he said.

He was nervous. I could tell from the tremor in his voice.

“What do you want?”

“To talk,” he replied simply. “To see my niece.”

When I hesitated, he took the grocery bags from my hands and stood there hopefully.

“Please?”

Sourly, I jerked my head at him to follow me inside.

Beth was sleepy, so I put her in her crib, preparing a bottle for her to have later.

Seth had unloaded the grocery bags, spreading everything over the breakfast bar.

“I would’ve put them away, but didn’t know where you’d want them,” he said quietly.

I started to sort the groceries, putting dry goods in the cabinets, fresh food in the refrigerator, feeling his eyes watching every move.

“Make yourself some coffee,” I said with no emotion in my voice.

“I . . . okay, thank you.”

Seth reached out for a cup, but dropped it into the sink, the sound too loud in the quiet kitchen.

Beth screamed immediately, objecting to being woken so rudely.

I knelt down to rock her gently and slowly her screams subsided.

“ ‘Although she be but little, she be fierce,’ ” I said, smiling down at her.

“Pardon?”

“It’s Shakespeare,” I said, still watching my daughter as if she was the only baby in the history of the world.

I looked up to find Seth watching me with the same intensity.

“
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
.”

“Ah. Sorry I woke her.”

He sat down at the breakfast bar with a fresh mug of coffee, and pushed one toward me.

I stayed standing as I sipped the hot brew.

“You look tired,” Seth said quietly.

“I am.”

I waited for him to say something else, about Sarah, maybe about her wanting me out of the apartment. Something.

I definitely wasn’t expecting the words he finally managed to stammer out.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For everything.”

I couldn’t help staring: shock, surprise, rage, maybe even a tiny breath of hope raced across my brain and burned through my body. I forced myself to stay where I was, letting anger win out, needing to protect myself.

Seth’s hands were shaking as he wrapped them around his coffee cup.

“I miss you.”

His mumbled words were so quiet, that if I hadn’t been holding my breath, I wouldn’t have heard him.

Then he stood up, walked toward me with purpose, plucked my cup from my hands and wrapped his arms around my waist.

It had been so long since someone had just held me. So long.

“I thought I could do the right thing,” he rasped, his voice cracked and broken. “I thought I could say goodbye. But I can’t give you up.”

I’d waited so long, not even knowing that I needed to hear that.

No.

I couldn’t do this dance again.