A Mom For Christmas. Lorraine Beatty
yet. You have to work up to that. Put your things over there and we’ll get started.”
Beth’s new sister-in-law, Julie, stopped at her side. “Thank you for doing this. Abby and Hannah were so excited on the way over, I thought my eardrums would burst.”
“I have to admit I was nervous about this at first, but I think it’ll be fun.”
“And much needed.”
“What do you mean?”
“Abby has wanted to take dancing for a while, but the only school near here is in Sawyer’s Bend. I’ve been reluctant to let her attend there. I’ve heard some disturbing things about the kind of dance moves they teach.”
Beth looked to her sister-in-law for an explanation.
“A lot of the moms here in Dover have pulled their girls from that school. At the last recital Hannah was in, she looked like a pole dancer. Her mother was furious.”
Beth was well aware of the suggestive movements popular in today’s world, though she couldn’t imagine teaching some of them to children. “I had no idea that was happening.”
“How do you teach your daughter Christian values and modesty when the world tells them it’s okay to dance like a stripper? Maybe you should think about opening up a school here. I know dozens of mothers would love to sign their children up if they knew they didn’t have to worry about inappropriate dances.”
Julie waved goodbye, and Beth focused her attention on her students. But her sister-in-law’s suggestion began to churn in the back of her mind.
“Okay, ladies, let’s get started. First we have to stretch out all our muscles.”
She noted with interest what each girl had decided to wear. Abby had chosen black tights, leather dance flats and a purple-and-black leotard. Hannah wore bike shorts and a tank top. Chloe proudly wore traditional pink tights and a leotard with a net tutu to match.
Hannah chuckled. “You don’t need a tutu to practice, silly.”
“I don’t care. I want to look like Miss Beth, and that means I have to have a tutu.”
“But she’s not wearing a tutu today,” Abby pointed out.
Beth chuckled and gestured to her all-black dance ensemble with a knee-length wrap skirt.
“You wear what makes you comfortable. And today I’m comfortable looking like a teacher. First we warm up.”
Watching the girls’ excitement as she introduced simple steps and explained various movements chased away her lingering nerves. They were sweet and eager to learn. She’d take her cues from them and use this first class as her barometer to gauge how she would proceed.
An hour later the girls were pulling on their jackets and gathering up their things. The warm glow filling her chest as she watched them brought a smile to her face. Teaching these girls had been more enjoyable than she’d ever expected. Their energy and enthusiasm had filled her with joy. The idea of a dance school didn’t seem like the end of the road, but a possible new bend in it.
Abby and Hannah waved and hurried out the door. Chloe stood at the barre pretending to be on her toes as she waited for her father to pick her up. A flash of light and a soft squeak filled the studio as the door opened and Noah strode in. In his leather jacket, which showed off the breadth of his shoulders, and faded jeans that hugged his muscular legs, he bore little resemblance to the tall, skinny boy she remembered. He grinned in her direction, his blue eyes soft with affection. Her pulse hiccupped. It quickly stilled when she realized his warm welcome was directed at his daughter and not her.
Chloe ran toward him and gave him a quick hug, chattering about what she’d learned. He gave Chloe a pat on the shoulder. “I’m glad you had fun. Why don’t you wait in the car? I want to talk to Miss Beth for a second. I’ll be right there.”
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