The Daddy Dance (17 page)

“I’m already involved,” Rye said, his voice deadly earnest.

Kat half expected him to make a joke as he said the words. Well, not a joke exactly, but some friendly gesture of comfort, a sly side comment that would make her blush, something that would make her wish that there were a lot more days left in the spring, that New York and Richmond were not so very far apart.

But there was no secret message behind Rye’s statement. There was no hidden tweak. He was stating a fact as bare as the red earth of the pitcher’s mound behind him—he
was
already involved. He’d become involved the instant that she’d let him drive her home from the train station, the moment that he’d offered to renovate the studio. The second that she had leaned against him in the kitchen, pulling him close for that deeper kiss, for that soul-shocking meld that had echoed through the past couple of weeks, culminating in the afternoon they’d spent in bed—was it already four days before?

He looked like he was thinking of saying something else, but Niffer came bouncing back, glove in hand. “Can I get mint chocolate chip?”

Rye said, “If they have it.”

“What flavor are you getting, Aunt Kat?”

Kat smiled and ruffled her niece’s hair. “I don’t eat ice cream, sweetheart.”

“Never?” Niffer’s eyes got very big.

“Never.”

Niffer scrunched up her nose. “Do you eat ice cream, Mr. Harmon?”

“Every chance I get,” he said, making the little girl laugh. “My favorite is coffee mint mango crunch.”

“That’s not a real flavor!”

“Hmm,” Rye said, as if he were considering the matter for the very first time. “Maybe I’ll just get butter pecan, then.”

As they drew close to the truck, Niffer said, “Mr. Harmon, why don’t you let Aunt Kat drive?”

Rye’s laugh was short. “That’s a great idea. What do you think, Aunt Kat? Want to get behind the wheel?”

Kat shot daggers at him with her eyes. “No, thank you,” she said, making her voice as cold as the ice cream the others were about to enjoy. She couldn’t resist adding a sarcastic edge. “But I really appreciate your asking.”

“My pleasure,” Rye said mildly.

He should know better than that, trying to egg her on in front of her niece. There was absolutely no way she was going to get behind the wheel of the silver truck. She was no idiot. She’d learned her lesson, in no uncertain terms. Only after she and Niffer were strapped into their seat belts did she think to ask, “Why do you care so much about whether I know how to drive, Niffer?”

“That’s what grown-ups
do
,” the child said, as if the concept were as simple as one plus one. “I’m just a kid, so I need to have a grown-up take care of me. Gram and Pop-pop and Mommy don’t love me anymore, but I thought that
you
could be my grown-up. You know. Forever.” Niffer had spoken matter-of-factly, but her lower lip started to tremble as she looked out the window. “But you can’t do it, Aunt Kat, because you don’t know how to drive.”

“Oh, sweetheart!” Kat folded her niece into a hug, looking hopelessly at Rye as he pulled out of the parking lot. He seemed to be concerned about the traffic on the road; all of his attention was riveted on the cars that streamed by. She had no idea where to start unpacking all the misunderstandings in what the child had said. “Gram and Pop-pop love you very much, but they need their house to be quiet right now, so that Pop-pop can keep getting better. Your mommy loves you, too, but she just can’t be with you now. And grown-ups can take care of you, even if they don’t know how to drive.
I
can take care of you.”

“Will you be my forever grown-up?”

Kat’s throat swelled closed with the sudden threat of tears. “Forever is a very long time, Niffer. I can promise you this. You’ll never be left alone. You’ll have a grown-up to help you for as long as you need someone. Okay?”

Niffer’s dark eyes were very serious, as if she were weighing every syllable of Kat’s vow. “Okay,” she said at last.

As soon as they arrived at the ice-cream parlor, Niffer saw a friend, and she ran across the room, squealing with delight, their serious conversation completely forgotten. “Yikes,” Kat said to Rye as they took their place in line. “I had no idea how to respond to that!”

Yikes, indeed, Rye thought. It had been everything he could do not to stop the truck right there in the parking lot. Not to turn to Kat and Niffer and make his confession. Not to tell them the whole truth, get the horrible weight off his chest, shed it from around his heart.

Of course, he didn’t say anything. Niffer would only be confused by what he had to say. The child was fragile enough, without witnessing her aunt’s justified, unbridled rage. And Kat would—rightfully—be furious when she learned what had happened. And there was still a chance—a tiny one, but a chance nonetheless—that Rachel would tell him something different when he finally tracked her down, that she would have some other explanation, some proof.

But there was something else. Something he had only just started to work out for himself.

He didn’t want to lose Kat, didn’t want to miss out on her gorgeous smile, her easy companionship, the unrivaled excitement that she brought to their shared bed. Sure, they seemed great together. But she
was
heading back to New York soon, with or without Rye’s big confession. He was going to lose her to the big city, to her life with the ballet—there had never been any other possible ending for their story together. This reckless spring was going to be a memory, probably in a week, maybe less.

Was it really so terrible to let Kat go without knowing the truth about him and Rachel? Was it the end of the world if she went back to her real life thinking fondly of Rye, of the time they had shared in Eden Falls?

Everything would be different, of course, if he had any chance of keeping her with him. But Kat was never going to come live with him in Richmond. She’d never trim her wings and settle for a second-rate city. Not when she could have it all in New York. And he had absolutely no basis for building a business in Manhattan.

It was only fair to Kat that he keep quiet—just for another week or two. Once she was safely in her real life, Rye would face the music. He’d step up and accept his responsibility, treat Niffer like his daughter, make sure that she was safe forever, that all her needs were met. There was just no need to make a formal acknowledgment now. No reason to ruin the short time that Kat had left in Eden Falls. This was a kindness to her. Really.

Rye resolved to ignore the headache that started pounding behind his eyes as he ran through his justifications one more time.

Niffer came skipping to the counter when they neared the front of the line. Kat was pleased to see that Rye had finally relaxed after the tension of Rachel’s no-show. He laughed as he ordered up Niffer’s mint chocolate chip, complete with the mandatory sprinkles and cherry. Rye’s own butter-pecan cone followed. He passed the ice cream to her so that he could pull his wallet out of his pocket.

Maybe it was the fragrance of the butter-rich ice cream. Maybe it was the freshly made waffle cone. Maybe it was the bright sunshine outside, or the emotional dam she had just built for Niffer. But suddenly Kat found herself saying to the woman behind the counter, “And I’ll have a scoop of chocolate, please.”

“Cone or cup?”

Cup was safest. No more calories. No greater threat to her dancer fitness.

But this was the first time she’d had ice cream in years. “Waffle cone, please.” Rye laughed and paid the total.

“Aunt Kat!” Niffer said as they sat down at a tiny metal table. “You got ice cream!”

“I couldn’t let you have all the fun, could I?” She licked her cone, and the ice cream melted across her tongue, cold and rich and satisfying. She laughed in pure enjoyment, marveling at the simple pleasure she had denied herself for so long. Niffer joined in, and Rye wasn’t far behind. Before long, Kat couldn’t even have said what was so funny. What was so perfect. All she knew was that
this
was living,
this
was embracing the world in a way that she had almost forgotten how to do.

They finished their treats and walked back to the truck. Before Rye could open the door, a siren began to wail in the distance. Kat automatically looked around for the source, and she spotted a huge fire engine, barreling down the road. The deep horn boomed as the truck approached the intersection, making Niffer huddle against her hip. “It’s okay,” Kat said automatically. Nevertheless, she held her niece close until the truck had disappeared.

“Hmm,” Kat mused, as Rye turned the key in the ignition. “That’s the first siren I’ve heard since I came to Eden Falls. Back in New York, I hear a dozen before breakfast.”

“A dozen fire trucks?” Niffer asked.

“Some fire trucks. And police cars and ambulances, too. You can hear the noise all day long. All night, too.” Even as Kat thought about it, she realized that her nights had been peaceful in Eden Falls. In fact, she routinely fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, and she slept so soundly that she couldn’t remember her dreams in the morning.

Not like New York, at all. Back in the noisy apartment that she shared with Haley, she woke up nearly once an hour. If it wasn’t sirens, it was barking dogs, or screeching garbage trucks, or noisy people on the street, six floors below. Even when Kat
did
sleep in New York, she was disturbed by vivid dreams, by nightmares that jolted her awake as she imagined tumbling off a stage, or breaking her leg when her partner failed to catch her after some dramatic leap.

Maybe that was why her foot had healed so fast here in Eden Falls. She was sleeping well for the first time in years.

Speaking of which… “Okay, Niffer. As soon as we get home, I want you changing into your nightgown and brushing your teeth. Got it?”

“Got it!” The little girl was already yawning as Rye pulled into the driveway.

Kat took extra care tucking Niffer into bed. She smoothed the sheets carefully, folding them so that they weren’t too high on the child’s chest. She kissed Niffer on her forehead, switched on the night-light, told her to “Sleep tight!” She sat beside Niffer’s bed, watching as the little girl’s frown smoothed out, as her breathing evened, as she slipped deep into sleep.

Will you be my forever grown-up?
Kat’s heart seized at the earnestness behind Niffer’s question.

Rye was waiting in the living room.

“I am going to murder my sister,” she said, whispering so that Niffer couldn’t hear.

For answer, Rye held out his arms. She let him fold her close to his chest. His shirt smelled of sunlight and spring air and something that was indefinably, unmistakably
Rye
. His arms tightened around her, carving out a refuge, making her feel safe. She felt his lips brush against the crown of her head.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. She wanted to tell him that Rachel had always been a flake, that Kat truly could not remember a time when she had been able to trust her sister to keep a promise. She wanted to tell him that she was grateful for all that he had done, for coming to the game, for treating them to ice cream. For coming inside now, and for holding her close.

She pulled back enough that she could look up at his face, and all the need for words disappeared. Instead, he touched his lips to hers, sudden urgency overtaking his initial chaste sweetness. Kat laced her fingers between his and led him toward her bed.

Chapter Eight

K
at flexed her left ankle and walked across the dance studio floor. “I can’t believe it,” she said to her mother. “My foot feels so light!” She glared at the bright blue boot she had just removed.

“Are you sure you should be walking on it?” Susan fussed.

“The X-rays came back fine. Daddy’s surgeon said that he could barely see where the original fracture was.” That morning, Kat had insisted on visiting her father’s doctor. Her foot felt entirely healed; she could not remember the last time she’d felt a twinge of pain. It was time to be shed of the boot.

Still, Susan shook her head. “I worry about you, Kat.”

“Mama, I’m fine.”

“You push yourself too hard. You always have. At least you’ve taken a bit of time off while you’ve been here. It seems like you and that Harmon boy are getting along quite well.”

Kat laughed at her mother’s not-so-subtle hint, even as she felt her cheeks flush crimson. “No, Mama,” she said, meeting Susan’s eyes in the mirror. “I
don’t
have anything to tell you about Rye and me.”

“I wasn’t asking!”

“Of course not.”

“It’s just that I like seeing you happy. I understand that you actually had an ice-cream cone, when he took you and Niffer out after the game?”

“Who told you that?”

“Teresa Rodriguez saw the three of you sitting at a table.”

“Does every single detail of everybody’s life get broadcast in this town?” Kat tried to sound annoyed, but she was actually quite amused. Susan looked as pleased as a well-fed cat that she had gleaned information about Kat’s not-date.

“Not every detail, dear. Teresa couldn’t remember if you ordered chocolate or coffee crunch.”

Kat’s mock frown twisted into a laugh. “You know me. Chocolate was always my favorite. It’s Rachel who likes coffee crunch.”

“That’s right,” Susan agreed. “Besides, Teresa wasn’t really reporting on ice-cream flavors. She was much more interested in telling me about your boyfriend.”

“Rye isn’t my boyfriend,” Kat said, but she spat out the words a trifle too quickly. She wouldn’t have believed herself, if she’d been on the receiving end of that denial. She tried to change the topic. “He
has
done a great job here, hasn’t he?”

Susan looked around her studio, her fond smile testifying that she knew exactly what her daughter was doing. “I don’t remember the last time the place looked so fine. We should be able to earn back all the lost income by autumn.”

Kat’s heart stuttered over a few beats. “Lost income?” she asked, as if she’d never heard the words before.

“Those checks from the fall session that Rachel never deposited? The money from spring and all those classes she let fall by the wayside?”

Susan sounded perfectly complacent as she enumerated her other daughter’s shortcomings. Kat had rehearsed those words, over and over in her own mind. She’d tried to figure out how to say them simply, without affect, without any hint of the outrage that churned inside her whenever she thought of Rachel’s failings. All that time Kat had rehearsed, but Susan had already known the lines. “Mama! When did you find out?”

Susan shrugged. “I’ve known all along. I kept hoping Rachel would pull herself together, that she’d get the money deposited for autumn term. Every day, I meant to ask her about the checks, to tell her that she wasn’t being fair, failing to get the money to the bank. I never got around to it, though, with everything getting so crazy after your father got sick.”

“She had an obligation to you, Mama! To the studio!”

Susan’s smile reflected a lifetime of quiet hope, decades of constantly readjusting her expectations. “I knew what was going on. Fairness to me wasn’t an issue. I never should have counted on Rachel to pull together an entire set of classes for spring. She’s never had any interest in dance.”

“She didn’t have to be interested in dance! She had to be interested in
you
! In you and Daddy! She had to be interested in our family and do whatever she could to help out.”

Susan shook her head sadly. “We both know that’s not Rachel’s strong suit, is it?”

“I don’t think Rachel
has
a strong suit,” Kat countered. Even as she said the spiteful words, though, she held up a hand. She didn’t want to fight with her mother, to force a conversation about difficult things. “Forget I said that,” she apologized. “But I still can’t believe she just did nothing. That she let the studio fall apart like that.”

“It wasn’t all her fault, dear. I looked the other way. I knew the classes weren’t going forward, and I let that happen. Sure, there were some disappointed little dancers…I know that. But I spoke to as many of the parents as I could, explained what was going on. Most of them already knew, of course. They were stopping by to bring meals, keeping me company at the hospital.”

“But it didn’t have to come to this! You should have called me back in December, when you first realized that things weren’t on track for the spring term. I could have straightened things out before they ever got this bad!”

“And missed
Nutcracker
?”

The question cut like a knife. Of course Kat wouldn’t have wanted to miss
The Nutcracker Suite
. She had been featured as the Sugar Plum Fairy. But now that she realized Susan had known what was happening, that Susan had been fully aware of how her lifetime’s investment in the studio was fading away to nothing under Rachel’s lazy management… “Mama, I would have come here in an instant. You know that.”

“I know, dear. And honestly, that’s why I didn’t call you. It’s not fair that you should always be dragged in to clean up the messes that your sister leaves behind.”

Susan sounded so sad, so utterly bereft, that Kat didn’t know how to respond. She tried: “Mama, I’ve been so worried. I couldn’t figure out how to tell you that the account was going to be low. I kept picturing you writing out a check and only then finding out that you had nothing left in the bank. The more I imagined it, the worse it became!”

“I keep a better eye on my checkbook than that, dear!”

“I know—or, at least, I always thought you did. I just figured that with Daddy so sick, and you so distracted, you hadn’t even realized what was happening. I think I started to write you a hundred different letters, outlining everything and offering to help in any way that I could.”

Susan shook her head. “I’m sorry this was all so stressful for you, dear. You should know by now—honesty is the best policy.”

“Well I
do
know that, in general. But because Rachel was involved, I just felt like…” She trailed off, unsure of how she wanted to finish that statement.

“You just felt like you had to protect your sister.”

Hearing those words brought tears to Kat’s eyes. She
did
feel like she had to protect Rachel. Or, rather, she
had
felt that way. Now she was tired of covering for her twin, tired of spinning out reassurances and lies. It had taken twenty-four years, but Kat was finally ready to accept that she and Rachel were completely separate people. She wasn’t responsible for the bad decisions that Rachel made. She couldn’t change them, couldn’t make them right.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” she said, and it was an apology for all the things she’d said, and all the things she hadn’t.

“Your father and I will always love both you girls. But we aren’t blind. We see what Rachel has done with her life. It’s taken us both a number of years, but we accept that we can’t do anything to change that. To change her. The most we can do is to make sure that her daughter is taken care of, that an innocent child has the comfort and stability to grow into the person she is meant to be.”

Kat thought of Niffer’s matter-of-fact statement on the way to get ice cream, the child’s certainty that she wasn’t loved. “Niffer’s a good girl, but she doesn’t understand what’s going on here. She’s afraid she’s going to be abandoned.”

A shadow ghosted over Susan’s face. “Your father and I worried about that when we asked you to come down here. We knew that Niffer would think we were pushing her away. But we hoped that she would find new strength with you, that she would realize there was yet another person who loves her, who wants to see her succeed. And in our wildest dreams, we never imagined that your father would recover so quickly, once the house settled down a little.”

“I think I was too tough on Niffer when I first got here. I made her follow too many rules.”

“Nonsense,” Susan said. “The proof is in the pudding. That child is better than she’s been in months.”

Kat nodded. She’d seen Niffer’s improvement. She’d seen the difference that her presence had made. And that was why Kat had reached a decision.

When she’d arrived in Eden Falls, Kat had planned on staying seven days, maybe ten. Those days, though, had stretched into weeks. And somewhere along the way, Kat had told herself a secret—she had decided to stay for even longer. She was going to stay in Eden Falls forever.

What had she told her mother, way back when she first came to town? She would leave the National Ballet Company the instant that dancing stopped being fun.

Sure, she had planned on dancing in New York for the rest of her life. She
knew
the company, understood the way it worked, knew its system in her very bones. She had set her goals, developed her strategies, lived by her very detailed rules. But somewhere along the way, it had stopped being fun. It had taken its toll on her sleep, on her physical health, on her mental stability.

When was the last time she’d even thought of the company? When had she spoken with Haley? It had been at least a week. No, almost two. Somehow, ballet gossip had become less compelling while she worked on finalizing things here at the studio. The hundred and one backstage dramas that she and Haley usually shared had lost a little—no, a
lot
—of their appeal. Life had come to seem so much richer, here in Eden Falls.

Besides, Kat could never get in shape in time for the
Coppelia
auditions. Of course she had always wanted to dance Swanilda. She was perfect for the role. But she could not deny that she had lost some muscle mass, with her foot confined to a cast. And she’d put on a couple of pounds, indulging in real meals, like a real woman, spending time with a real family.

Before, that weight would have sent her to the workout room, driven her to exercise as if she were harried by a thousand demons. But not anymore. Not now that Kat had made up her mind.

Not now that she was going to be Niffer’s forever grown-up.

Amanda and Susan would just have to get used to driving her around town. They wouldn’t mind, really. Shared drives would be a chance for all of them to spend time together.

Once Kat made up her mind, she felt as light as air, as certain as she’d been of anything since she’d been fourteen years old, since she’d headed up to New York to seek her fortune. She turned to face her mother. “Mama, I have something to tell you. I think I’ve known it for a while. Since I realized that we needed someone to teach the Advanced Showcase for the spring term.”

“Darling, I can—”

“No, Mama. You can’t. But I can. And I want to. I want to stay in Eden Falls.” She saw that Susan didn’t believe her, didn’t truly understand, but she laughed all the same. “This feels right to me, Mama.”

“But New York… Everything you’ve worked for. Everything you’ve spent your entire life—”

“Not my entire life, Mama. I spent more years here, with you and Daddy, than I’ve spent in New York. And it’s time for me to come home now.” Kat surprised herself, realizing how wonderful those words sounded. “It’s time. Come on, Mama. Let me show you the calendar I set up on your computer.”

She couldn’t say whether she laughed because of Susan’s expression of pleased surprise, or because her body felt so light and balanced as she crossed the studio floor without the hated walking cast.

By Sunday, Kat’s foot felt as strong as it had before her fracture. She had tried hard to limit her time at the barre, conscientiously keeping from stretching her practices into hours-long torture sessions. Nevertheless, she was overjoyed to find that her strength had rebounded so quickly.

The absence of the boot made it easier to carry food to the sprawling picnic tables in the park. It was Sunday—May Day and Eden Falls’s traditional Family Day celebration. In honor of the spring festivities, Kat had worn a green blouse. She’d actually bought it for the occasion, dragooning Amanda into driving her to one of the tiny shops on Main Street. Her cousin had been only too happy to help her pick out something more appropriate than New York black. Eventually, she’d have to choose a whole new wardrobe.

For now, though, Kat wasn’t worried about clothes. Instead, she was worried about balancing the pair of desserts she had made with Susan. The lemon chess pie was a family favorite, and Niffer had begged for blackberry cobbler. Kat suspected that the child really just wanted to eat spoonfuls of the traditional whipped-cream topping.

“Go ahead, Niffer,” Kat said, as they arrived at the park. “Go play with the other kids.”

“I don’t know anyone.”