Moon Dance (22 page)

"Now, why would you say that?" Lee glanced down at his beeper as it went off, then frowned as he read the number which flashed across the small screen. "Damn. It's the restaurant. I hope nothing's wrong. May I use your phone?"

"Sure. It's on the wall right inside the kitchen door." Georgia said, seemingly unaware that her eyes had never left the dark-haired man who was swinging Ally around by her arms.

Dropping Ally carefully onto her feet, Matt looked past her to where Georgia strolled with Lee. The look on his face was not the look of a man who gazed upon someone he wished would disappear.

A squeal of terror startled them both.

"That's Spam
…
oh, no. Artie!"

Georgia took off across the yard.

"
Artie, no, no!" She called to the dog, who was in the process of backing the terrified pig into the fence.
"
Good dog, Artie. Here, Artie."

Artie wagged his tail. He knew he was a good dog. He was also a pleased dog, having backed the str
ange-looking creature into a corn
er.

"
It's okay, Spam
,"
she said as she knelt down next to the frightened pig. Only Spam's low-slung profile kept her from climbing into Georgia's lap.
"
Artie, you have to be nice to Spam."

"
Spam?"

She looked up to see Matt, who had raced to discover the cause of the commotion.

"
She's my pet." Georgia told him without looking up.

"She's one scared little hambone." He leaned down and placed one big hand on the pig's neck as if taking her pulse. "Artie, come here."

The dog, who had been busy making friends with Lee, bounded over
. Immediately, the pig began to
scream.

"
Artie, sit. Be nice." Matt told him.

Artie sat.

"Do you mind?" He asked Georgia as he reached for the pig. She handed Spam over.

"Aw, it looks like something almost had you for dinner." Matt gently examined the scars on the pig's hindquarters. "I'll bet it was a big dog like Artie, wasn't it? Is that why you're so afraid of him? Aw, poor girl. It's okay, Artie won't hurt you, will you, Artie?"

Artie lay down on the grass and looked innocent.

"She's in pretty good shape, it would seem," Matt was saying, "except for the scars. Where'd you get her?"

"She just showed up. As a matter of fact, she's our garden-mauler. I found her raiding the garden at about five in the morning a few days ago."

"Someone turned you out, didn't they?" Matt said, and Spam, knowing a friendly voice when she heard one, grunted.

"So, then, what are you going to do with her?"

"What do you mean, what am I going to do with her? I'm going to keep her."

"You'll forgive me, but you just don't strike me as the pig type. A bichon frise, maybe. Or a silkie. A pap
il
lion. Maybe even a Persian cat. But a pig?" He shook his head. "It just doesn't seem to fit."

"You couldn't be more wrong." She gathered her pig to her side. "Spam is exactly the right pet for me, aren't you, girl?" Georgia gave Spam a tickle under the chin and the pig rolled over happily, if somewhat warily, Artie still being clearly too close for Spam's peace of mind.

"Georgia, are you going to introduce me to your friend?" Lee had been watching the exchange from the top step with great amusement. He couldn't remember when he'd ever seen Georgia blush like that. Or the last time he'd seen a man fight harder not to notice than Matthew Bishop at that exact moment.

"Lee, this is Laura's brother, Matt. Matt, this is my good friend, Lee Banyon."

Matt offered Lee a reluctant hand and a scowl.

Lee smiled broadly. Unless he was mistaken, that scowl was warning Lee to back off.

Interesting. Very interesting.

"Georgia, I'm so sorry, but I have to go back to the restaurant. It seems the cook sliced off half a finger and if we're going to be serving dinners tonight, it appears that I will be cooking them."

"Oh, I was hoping you could stay
…"
Georgia was
cl
early disappointed.

"Next time, I promise. Now, let me say good-bye to those adorable little dancers of yours, and to you, of course, Matt, nice to meet you." Lee gathered Georgia into his arms and kissed her soundly.

Behind her, Lee noticed, Matt's knuckles were turning white.

Ah, so that's how it is, is it?
Lee mused as he kissed the top of Georgia's head and swung an arm around her as they walked to the car. He could feel Matt's eyes boring holes th
rough his shirt. Georgia, howev
er, appeared to be totally unaware.

"I'll call you, Georgia."

"Do. I want you to come back."

"Nothing could keep me away." Lee started his car. "Think about what I said, Georgey. About the dance studio."

"I will." She nodded.

"Bye, Lee," the girls tumbled out of the house.

"Bye, girls!" He waved as he turned the car around and sped down the drive to the road.

"Aunt Georgia, can we go back down to the pond?"

"Sure. Just try not to get too muddy."

The girls ran off in a pack of pigtails and sneakers.

Georgia started to follow, a pacified but still somewhat wary Spam at her feet.

"Just a minute." Matt grabbed her elbow.

"What?"

"I don't think you should be making plans to have your boyfriend come to stay if Ally is here with her friends. I don't think it gives her a very good message."

"I think you assume too much
,"
was all she said, distracted by the pulsin
g bits of fire that were spread
ing from his fingers to her upper arm and across her chest and back like an electrical current. "If you'll excuse me, I need to keep an eye on the girls."

Matt stood with his hands on his hips watching her walk through the field, Spam trotting at Georgia's heels while keeping a watchful eye on Artie, and tried to deny to himself that he wished he was walking with them. That seeing her again hadn't been the real reason he'd made the trip to Pumpkin Hill. That it didn't bother him a whit that there was a man in her life for whom she obviously cared greatly. That he hadn't felt a gnawing at his insides watching the sway of her hips as she disappeared over that first rise that led down to the pond.

"Matt!"

Laura touched his shoulder and he started.

"Matt, didn't you hear me calling?"

"No. I was, um, looking for Artie. He, ah, took off someplace." He mumbled, not willing to admit that he'd been distracted to the point of deafness.

"I guess you didn't get the message I left on your answering machine earlier today."

"No, I didn't go back to the house after I closed up the clinic."

"Artie will find his way back. He always does." Laura took his arm gently and turned turn back toward the house. "Let's go inside and have a cup of tea. We need to talk, Matt, about Mother
…"

thirteen

T
he back road between Shawsburg and O'Hea
rn
was old and bumpy, the result of too many potholes gone far too long without repair. Having made the trip so often over the years, Matt knew where the worst of the craters lay, yet today, his attention being diverted by other things, he somehow managed to hit just about every one of them. He cursed under his breath as his right front tire bounced into a particularly nasty patch of broken macadam head-on, causing the cab to swerve momentarily toward the center of the road. The jolt on the worn out shocks slammed his back teeth into his tongue.

He should have seen that one coming. He'd hit it once before, some months earlier, but since then had been successful in avoiding it. Until today. Of course, the last time he'd driven this way he hadn't quite as many distractions fighting for his attention.

Matt sighed and leaned back against the worn leather seat, his right hand absently reaching over to
pat Artie's back in time to the music on the truck's radio. He'd been in the mood for oldies that afternoon, but the radio was acting up again. He settled for a static-y version of Van Morrison's
Brown Eyed Girl
and tried to force himself to relax. It had been a very tough week, and this weekend was not likely to make things any easier.

He eased up on the gas pedal, reminding himself that he had no good reason to want to get to Pumpkin Hill any sooner than necessary. If it wasn't Ally's birthday, he wouldn't be going at all, having decided that, after today, he'd keep his visits to the farm at a minimum for as long as Georgia was there. Something about the woman worked on his nerves in strange ways, and he knew enough to know the less
that
territory was explored, the better off he'd be, all things considered. He hoped that he wouldn't have to see too much of her today, because he really wasn't in much of a social mood. Daily visits to Riverview over the past six days had totally drained him emotionally. The news hadn't changed from one day to the next. His mother was deteriorating, and it was breaking his heart.

He just didn't have much left to deal with Georgia Enright.

With any luck, his contact with her today would be minimal. He wondered if her friend—had his name been Lee?—would be there. The thought soured his mood even more—another bit of business he didn't feel like thinking too much about right now.

There were more cars than he'd expected already parked along both sides of the drive leading to the farm, and Matt had to weave between a dark green
mini-van and a long Mercedes sedan to get to his usual spot unde
r the oak tree back near the barn
. He glanced at the sedan as he walked past, wondering which of Ally's friends had parents prosperous enough to afford such a vehicle.

Music from the barn's second floor told him that the dancing lesson portion of the festivities had alre
ady begun. He stood near the barn
door debating whether to go up and watch or to sneak into his apartment via the outside steps. He would have loved to skip the rest of the afternoon completely, but this was Ally's day, and she would want him to see her dance.

"You sit, Artie. Stay right here till I come back. And don't go chasing after that little porker, hear?" Matt told the dog, who flopped under a nearby tulip poplar tree and watched with soulful eyes as his master walked away.

Matt blew out his resignation in a long thin
stream of air and opened the barn
door. Once inside, the music was loud and full, and he started up the steps reluctantly.

Matt didn't know much classical music, but he recognized the piano time that had been playing the first time he'd barged into Ally's dance class. The tempo had segued from lively and spirited to light and delicate, and halfway up the steps he almost stopped, knowing
she'd
probably be wearing that pink thing. He wasn't sure he wanted to subject himself to that again. He just didn't think he was up to it.

But it was Ally's birthday, and she was expecting him.

When he reached the top of the steps, he was surprised to see how the old ba
rn
had been transformed. There were folding chairs—with pink and lavender balloons tied onto their backs with long strings—in a semicircle around the makeshift dance floor, and upon the chairs sat the mothers of a few of Ally's friends, and a few other adults Matt did not recognize. There was only one seat left, that being next to a kindly looking older woman in her midsixties with straight salt and pepper hair who turned upon hearing Matt's footsteps. She smiled at him pleasantly as she removed her sweater from the vacant chair and patted the seat, inviting him to sit. On her right sat a pretty and obviously pregnant woman with masses of blond curls pulled back from a delicate face, and next to her, a dark-haired man who appeared to be in his early thirties who watched the ballet lesson with mild amusement. Laura sat near the opposite end of the row whispering something to a woman Matt recognized as the mother of one of Ally's friends from Bishop's Cove.

From her place behind her chair where she had lined up in third position, Ally bounced up and down with glee when she realized that Matt had arrived.

"Hey, Uncle Matt! You were late and we had to start without you!'' She cupped her hands to her mouth and stage whispered.

"Sorry, sugar. I got a late start." He whispered back.

"It's okay. You're here now and you can watch
me!"

"I'm watching, Ally." He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs, his hands dangling
between his knees, and tried to pretend that he did not see Ally's ballet teacher.

He had been right. She was wearing the pink thing, only today she also wore a light pink chiffon-y wrap skirt thingy that tied around her tiny waist. She had piled her hair atop her head, but it was too thick and too heavy to stay there. Long tendrils had escaped to flirt with the back of her neck and the sides of her face, which was flushed as pink as the leotard that was leaving little to the imagination as far as that petite and perfect body was concerned. Matt decided he was better off keeping his eyes on the students and away from the teacher.

There were a dozen or so little dancers who had been invited to spend the day with Ally, and they all hung on Georgia's every word. Surprisingly, there was no horseplay and very little giggling while the steps were being taught, nor any later when each of the girls had a turn to perform the positions along with the teacher. All of the adults, on the other hand, ooh'd and ahh'd at the girls' efforts. In particular, Matt noticed a handsome looking woman with short, soft hair the color of champagne sitting five seats away who beamed with pleasure as she watched the dancers follow their instructor around in a circle to end the performance. The small audience applauded the efforts of the children as the class came to an end.

"And that concludes our lesson for today," Georgia bowed first to the audience, then to her class, telling them, "Girls, there's a cooler over here with popsicles if you'd like one
…
"

She laughed then, as the small sea of sprites in various colored leotards engulfed her, and she
opened the cooler and took a few steps back to permit the children access to the treats. As she did, she caught Matt's eye. She'd known he'd been watching her, had felt his eyes on her before she'd been aware of his arrival. She tried to smile at him as a sort of peace offering, to make him feel at ease, surrounded, as he was, by Enrights and near-Enrights, but he appeared to be making polite conversation with August Devlin, who was seated on his right. Georgia wondered if Matt knew how close to the enemy camp he had been sitting, then realized that he had no way of knowing that many of those in the audience were members of her immediate family.

"Is there anything more
earnest
than little girls who are just learning their first ballet steps?" The woman who sat next to Matt patted his arm. "Aren't they just delightful?"

"They are cute, yes, ma'am," Matt nodded.

"And have you ever seen anyone more graceful than Georgia?" The woman shook her head slightly in admiration, then added, in Latin,
"Vera incessu patuit dea."

It took a minute or so for his four years of high school Latin to kick in so that he could translate the phrase.
By her walk the true goddess was revealed.

He smiled wryly and asked, "Virgil?"

"Good for you, my boy." The woman laughed. "I'm afraid I forget myself at times. I taught Latin for more years than I care to admit to, and old habits, you see, do indeed die hard." She said as she stood, dropping the forgotten sweater. Before Matt could respond, she asked, "Now, did I hear Ally call you 'uncle'?"

"Yes," he said as he bent down to pick up the sweater, earning him a smiled thanks as he handed it to her. "Ally is my niece."

"Then you must be Matthew. Laura's brother." She touched his arm softly with the fingers of her left hand.

"Yes," he nodded.

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Matthew," she said with a smile that revealed dimples in her softly lined face. "Laura's told us so much about you. And of course, we've all been looking forward to meeting you."

"I'm
sorry, ma'am, but you are…
?"

"Terrible of me." She flustered. "I'm August Devlin."

The name rang familiar but not familiar enough for Matt to readily identify it. His blank expression gave him away, and she laughed again, saying, "Which tells you nothing, I would guess. I'm India Devlin Enright's aunt."

"Oh," he said, not quite sure of who India Devlin Enright might be, other than to know she was a part of Laura's life that did not include him. "Nice to meet you. If you'll excuse me, I just want to
see my sister for a minute…
"

Matt's head had begun to pound as he walked toward Laura, the ba
rn
walls closing in upon him. How many of the people surrounding him were members of her new family, and why hadn't she prepared him? He stopped halfway across the scuffed pine floor and caught Georgia's eye. He wanted to pretend he had not seen her, but there was something in her expression—a wary, uncertain welcome—that
spoke to him whether he wanted to listen or not, and for a moment he felt as if he had read her mind. The unexpected intimacy spooked him, and suddenly, speaking to Laura did not seem so very important after all. He turned and walked toward the stairwell, fishing in his pants pocket for his keys. By the time he had reached the door to his apartment, the key was in his hand and slid into the lock in the blink of an eye.

Georgia's eyes were on him every step of the way.

He's fled like one in fear—or in pain,
she thought.
Perhaps a bit of both
…

She bit her bottom lip, wondering whether to follow her first instinct—to follow him—or to let it go.

"This was lovely, darling," Delia approached Georgia from behind and kissed the side of her daughter's face. "What a wonderful place for a dance studio, such wonderful space. Although you really do need some mirrors and a real barre. And you really should do something about the lighting."

"What?" Georgia, whose mind had not been on her surroundings, tuned back in. "Oh. Yes. Well, you know I'm only staying month to month for the time being, so I have to make do."

"Maybe you should think about looking for a more permanent spot. Your little dancing
school has tre
mendous potential. All the mothers are talking about signing their daughters up for regular lessons. You could have quite the lively business going. I can just see the sign out front," Delia mused. "Ballet in the Ba
rn…
at Pumpkin Hill."

Georgia laughed. "Why, thank you, Mother. If I
decide to open a real dancing school, I just might use it. It does have a certain flair, doesn't it?"

"You are a wonderful teacher, Georgia." Zoey joined them. "You had those little ones eating out of your hand. And you looked like you were having such a good time."

"I was. I really enjoy working with them more than I ever imagined."

"Well, I for one am very impressed." Delia said. "Your little students are adorable, and you look better than I have seen you look in years. I had the same feeling I used to get, watching you dance so long ago. You look, well,
happy,
Georgia."

"I am happy, Mother." Georgia's eyes kept returning to the door in the wall at the top of the steps to see if Matt had reappeared. He had not.

Georgia handed Delia the tape deck and said. "Mother, would you take this down with you? We're going to need these chairs outside for the party— some of the mothers are staying plus there are so many of
us
—so I want to get Nicky and Ben and Zoey to help carry them. Oh! And there's Gordon Chandler. Ally must have invited him."

"Gordon Chandler
…
?" Delia's eyebrows knit together in concentration, as she tried to place the name.

"Oh, Mother, you've met him. At a book convention or something a few years ago, he mentioned it. He's a ship salvager
…"

"Of course! I remember him." Delia smiled. "Fascinating man."