A Mom For Christmas. Lorraine Beatty
their deal. She could have a cell phone, minus internet access, and he had the right to check her call and text history. “Shouldn’t you be doing your exercises?”
“They hurt.”
“Don’t you want to play soccer in the spring?”
“I want to dance.”
“There aren’t any dance schools in Dover.”
“Miss Beth could show me. She’s famous. She knows all about dancing.”
Every word his daughter spoke poked an anthill of emotions. “Miss Beth has no time for teaching.”
“Yes, she does. She told me we could practice at her studio at Miss Francie’s house.”
He handed back her phone. “When did you talk to Beth?”
“Gram and I stopped in to see you after school today, only you weren’t there. I stayed and talked to her while Gram went to the bank.”
Noah set his jaw. He’d have to have a talk with his grandmother. He didn’t want Chloe getting too attached to Beth. Better yet, he’d have a talk with Beth himself and set her straight about a few things.
* * *
The next morning, Noah parked his car beside the small building behind the Montgomery home that had been converted into Beth’s dance studio. Yesterday he’d been determined to tell Beth to back off and not mention dancing to Chloe. But he’d been unable to dismiss his gram’s advice. Chloe was growing up, and she would strike out on her own. He didn’t want her resenting him for denying her something she longed to do. But there was one other fact that wore away at his resentment. What if Gram was right, and Beth could never dance en pointe again?
He knew what it was like to have your dreams shattered and see the future you dreamed of go up in smoke. Beth must be suffering greatly with the prospect of never being a ballerina again. It had been her whole life.
He stepped inside the studio and found her on the small settee, her head resting on her knees. A twinge of concern hit him. As he approached, he saw her shoulder shake, which elevated his concern. “Beth, are you all right? Are you hurt?”
She jerked, lifting her head and blinking away tears. “Noah. What are you doing here?”
Taking a tissue from the box on the side table, she wiped her eyes, then rose to face him. His heart lodged in his throat. She was the essence of femininity. The black leotard and tights highlighted every feminine curve. The filmy overskirt that ended around her knees swished enticingly as she moved. Her dark hair, usually floating around her face, was pulled back into a haphazard knot at the back of her head. She looked every inch the professional ballerina—except for the sadness in her hazel eyes that brought an unfamiliar ache to his chest. He fought the sudden need to pull her close and comfort her. “You first. Why are you crying?”
She lifted her chin in a defiant gesture, only to sigh and lower her gaze, her fingers toying with strings on her skirt. “I was thinking about my daddy and how much I miss him. It’s been a year already, and I still have this horrible hole in my heart.”
It was not what he’d expected her to say, but he was very familiar with the emotion. “My gramps has been gone two years, and I still expect him to walk into the shop or come up behind me and squeeze my shoulder.”
“Two years?” She gave him a sad smile. “I was hoping you’d say something to make me feel better.” She glanced around the studio. “Daddy built this for me when I was ten. I’d told him that I was going to devote my life to dancing, and he said if that was true then I needed a place where I could practice every day.”
“And you did.” He remembered the hours she spent locked away. He’d count the minutes until she would step outside, put the practice behind her and become his friend. “I’m sure he was very proud of you.”
She smiled, a sweet one this time that melted his insides. “He was. He never missed a performance, and he always gave me a bouquet of pink roses afterward no matter how small my part. I felt like a real princess. He was my biggest fan.” She met his gaze, then set her hands on her hips. “Your turn. Why are you here?”
The determination that had driven him here had been diluted by Beth’s tears. Seeing her in her element, here in the studio, forced him to understand the significance of her loss. For all his issues with Beth, he would never want her to lose the thing she loved most. Gram was right. He couldn’t control his daughter’s dreams. Making too much of his disapproval might have the opposite effect. And in the short term, Beth would eventually leave, and by then Chloe would hopefully have moved on to a new interest.
“I came by to tell you that if you’re still willing, I think adding dance along with Chloe’s PT might be a good idea.”
“Really? I’d love to. In fact, I’m going to start working with my niece and her friend. Chloe can join us, and we’ll have a little dance class here. It should be fun.”
Seeing the joy and anticipation on her face left a warm softness in his rib cage.
“What made you change your mind?”
He didn’t realize how close they stood until he looked into her eyes. He could see the gold streak in the left one. “I can’t say no to my little girl.”
She chuckled softly and touched his arm. “Neither could my dad.”
He looked into her eyes and saw them dilate. His pulse flipped. She was so close, he caught the flowery scent of her hair. He gathered himself and stepped back. She’d always made his heart race. Her loveliness never failed to captivate him, but she wasn’t dependable. There was no room in her world for anyone else. The frown on her face told him Beth clearly felt his withdrawal.
“You won’t change your mind, will you? About Chloe I mean?”
He rubbed his forehead, already regretting his impulse. “No.” Noah cleared his throat. “She needs to do her PT, and if dancing gets it done then I’m all for it.” He pulled out a business card and handed it to her. “I have one request. Call Pete Jones, her physical therapist, and make sure you know what her parameters are and that he approves of whatever type of dancing you’re planning.”
“Of course. I’ll be very cautious, Noah. You can depend on me.”
That was the one thing he couldn’t do. “Then I’ll be going. Let me know when Chloe should be here.”
She stared at him, a questioning look in her eyes. “Okay.”
He held her gaze a moment before walking to the door. He had a bad feeling he’d just made a terrible mistake.
The Sunday morning air was cool but pleasant for early November as Beth strolled through the courthouse park. Above the giant old magnolias and moss-draped live oaks, she could see the white steeple of Peace Community Church like a friendly hand beckoning her home. She’d agreed to meet her mother and family for late services today. She’d begged off her first two Sundays here, but she knew she couldn’t do that any longer. Surprisingly, instead of dreading going to church, she found herself looking forward to it. She’d realized last night that worship had been one of the things missing in her life the last few years. She hadn’t turned her back on God or lost her faith, but it had taken a seat high in the back balcony of her life to other things. It wasn’t something she was proud of.
The front steps of the old brick church were crowded with members chatting and laughing. She wasn’t in the mood to talk about her career or her reasons for being home. It was too painful a topic. Skirting the front entrance, she took the walkway along the side of the building and entered through one of the side doors. It didn’t take long to find her family. They always sat midway up in the sanctuary. Her older brothers, Linc and Gil, were already seated with their wives and children. Her mother was talking to Evelyn