84 Ribbons (30 page)

“Surprise. I wanted to see you as soon as possible, so I drove through.”

Marta studied him. He looked tired, rumpled, and yet more handsome than she remembered.

Mrs. B. walked in with a bowl of fruit. “Steve! Welcome back. Ready for breakfast?”

“That would be wonderful.”

Marta stood frozen in place. “Yes, welcome back.” She reached out and took his hand, feeling its familiar warmth spread contentment through her. He’d come back to her.

When Mrs. B. returned to the kitchen, they shared kisses and hugs. Lips touching lips. Arms around arms. Heartbeat against heartbeat. The ache of his being away became the ache of longing to stand entwined. Only the arrival of the boarders broke their attention on each other.

Steve sat beside Marta and answered questions from the boarders: Did he like San Francisco? What projects did he work on? Would he want to go back? He answered each one but kept his eyes focused on Marta.

She didn’t eat a bite, afraid her hands would shake and give away her excitement. This time she knew it wasn’t diet pills; she’d yet to take any today.

After breakfast Steve helped her clear the table and finish the dishes. Then she banished him to the common room while she put dishes and breakfast condiments away.

When she looked in on him, he’d fallen asleep. She watched his steady breathing, the way his head lay to one side, and heard a faint snore flutter from his lips. Poor guy. He must be exhausted from the long drive. She touched his hair and brushed it off his forehead; she’d let him sleep while she rushed upstairs and took a quick shower.

Marta’s hands shook as she showered. It was like stage fright; or was it excitement at seeing him here in the boarding house? She dressed quickly, grabbing whatever looked clean and reasonably wrinkle-free. As she returned downstairs, she heard his laughter. He was on the phone. “I’ll be home in a little while. Just wanted you to know I’m with Marta.”

Ease spread through her. She relaxed, knowing he’d returned and chosen to see her before heading home. She smiled as she turned the corner and saw him smiling back at her.

“All set? I must say you look great, Marta. Prettier than I remember.”

She felt heat rise through her body. “So do you, I mean, you look good too.”

He grabbed her hand. “Do you have time for a drive? I’d like to have you to myself for a little while. Dad said I should get to the paper by noon.”

They drove east along the Yellowstone and crossed the river. Steve held her hand as he drove. Soon they pulled into a ranch that sat back from the main road. “Since you like tossing rocks and you keep a bag of polished rocks in your room, I wanted to bring you out here to see an interesting rock called Pompey’s Pillar.”

“Who’s Pompey?”

“Sacagawea’s son. Clark called him Pom and named the rock for him.” Steve circled the car, opened Marta’s door, and pulled her to her feet. “Now that you can walk, I want to show you the view.”

“But isn’t this private property?”

“Yes, but my dad knows the owners. It’s okay that we’re here.”

They climbed around the edges of the pillar, finding foot and hand holds in the sandstone butte. Steve pulled Marta up the last few feet. At the top she made a slow turn, looking from the Yellowstone to the surrounding grasslands. “This is amazing. How do you know Clark came here?”

“He signed the rock. We’ll see it on the way back down. It’s a great place isn’t it?”

They stood holding hands, listening to the wind rustle the grasses. The sound reminded her of hands rubbing together, creating small moments of heat on a chilly day.

“The owners, the Foote’s are letting the paper do a story about the pillar. They’re considering letting tourists visit the site. I’m putting my bid in to write the article.”

Marta hugged Steve. “It’s good to have you back. I missed you.”

Steve smiled and brushed his hand against her cheek. “I missed you too.” He kissed her forehead and stepped back. He scanned her from head to toe, held one hand, and twirled her around to look at her. “Let’s go where we can talk away from this wind; maybe share a few more kisses.”

They drove across the river and along a windy road heading west back toward Billings. At the end of the gravel road they parked and walked toward a wall of rock. This early in the morning they had the area to themselves.

“I wanted to bring you here this morning so you could see the prehistoric carvings in these three caves. On the drive home I realized we’ve never come here. The effect of the early morning light is worth the trip.”

They followed a narrow gravel trail under the overhang and stopped at the first cave. Marta looked up. High inside the shallow cave the morning sunlight cast spotlights, highlighting the stick figures and animal petroglyphs.

“This is amazing,” Marta said. “The air feels cool even though the trail up here has heated up. Must have been a great place to cool down on a hot day.”

“Archaeologists think the local Indians used these caves as shelter. Come on. I want to show you my favorite—the ghost cave. Wait until you see the rock formations.”

The ghost cave did not disappoint. Its large boulders looked to be cemented into the wall of the cave, as if they had rolled down the wall and gotten stuck.

“What do you think, Marta?”

“It’s interesting, but why did you want us to come here this first morning you’re back? Are you thinking of doing an article?”

“Yes, I’m hoping to, but I wanted you to see it when the light makes it magical. It’s only this time of year that it’s special. I might be gone this time next year.”

They sat under a box elder tree and held hands while they shared a dozen kisses. Steve leaned back and looked at Marta. “Thanks for driving out with me. I know we both love the lake and The Rims, but I also like the snugness out here, being boxed in this hollow, away from the river and the big view. Probably not a great story.”

“It’s a great idea for a story. I doubt many people think of coming here, especially so early. They will after you write the story. Then we’ll need to find a new place to be alone.”

Steve laughed. “I have lots of cozy places left for us to explore, but I think I’ll keep a few just for us.”

“I’d like that.” Marta kissed Steve’s cheek and closed her eyes, enjoying the quiet.

“So, Miss Fluff, how’s your leg?”

“Better. I’m back to exercising. My limp is less noticeable, isn’t it?”

“You walk like a dancer.” Steve held both of Marta’s hands and stared at her face. “I’ve missed you so much.” He kissed her fingers. “You look thinner. Have you lost weight?”

Marta pulled her hands free. “No. Let’s not talk about me. Tell me what your plans are now that you are back.”

“Back to school and back to the paper. Then start looking for a job by Christmas. I don’t know if the paper in San Francisco will consider me for a job.”

“Would you want to go back?”

“In a heartbeat. Starting my career at a large newspaper is the chance of a lifetime. It could shave years off my getting a byline. If they offered me a job, would you move there to dance and be near me?”

“Maybe. It’s not that easy to get a position in a dance company. I’m like you, focused on my future. My audition to rejoin the company here is coming up.”

“At least you didn’t say no.” He stood, pulled her to her feet, and bowed. “I am getting smarter. I’m not planning on handing you any small boxes; at least not right now. Come on. Let’s get you back. I need to head home, shower, and get to the paper.”

Marta watched Steve’s car disappear around the corner. She sat on the porch swing, thinking about his plans. If she regained her position here, would she give it up and move to San Francisco to be near him? One of Miss Wilson’s “out of my control” questions. It was something she couldn’t control, but there didn’t appear to be a way to erase it from her mind.

That afternoon the basement pulsed with excitement when the four young dancers learned they’d have a June recital for their families and friends, complete with costumes. Questions flew about jumps, solos, swooshing scarves, and twirling dances.

Lynne held up her hand. “Slow down, ladies. There’s lots of time. We’ll create a solo for each of you to do in addition to the group dance. Now, head for the
barre
to warm up.”

Marta felt a tug on her leotards. Lucy stood close and signaled Marta to bend down. “Can I do a dance with a fairy wand? My mother gave me one for Christmas.”

“Of course you can. Bring it to class. We’ll figure out how to include it in your solo.”

Lucy skipped to the
barre
and smiled as she began her first
port de bras
.

Marta marveled at the way the girls absorbed every new part of their routine. At seven and eight, they demonstrated amazing focus at the
barre
and during center work. Their eyes shimmered as they danced around the small basement space. Maybe one day some of them would dance on a real stage. She had, and the thrill of the first time in front of the lights lasted as a treasured memory.

h

Marta’s weekly visits with Miss Wilson continued to be a highlight in her life; almost as important as seeing Steve. She realized she spent more time with Miss Wilson than Steve. Since his return, his free time shrank from hours to minutes and from every day to once or twice a week. Phone calls replaced face-to-face time. Marta longed for their walks and talks but settled for brief updates.

Now, as Marta sat in the blue chair, she relaxed and ignored the leather notebook on Miss Wilson’s desk. Quite a change from her first visit.

“We have a few minutes left today. What else do you want to talk about, Marta?”

“My mom. Her life’s changing now that she has a boyfriend. It sounds strange to call a forty-year-old man a boyfriend, but that’s what he is.”

“Does that bother you?”

Marta thought for a long minute before answering. “Some. But I want her to be happy. She’s been alone for several years, working and taking care of me. She deserves someone who cares about her. But Robert will never take my dad’s place.”

“He may provide an important change for your mother.”

As she walked the four blocks to the ballet company, she thought back on what Miss Wilson said. Her mom might be ready to move ahead with her life. Was she also ready to move ahead? Steve had stepped back into her life, although not with the frequency she’d hoped. Their relationship had changed since they met. Was that a good change or just the next step? Both their careers remained unsettled. Perhaps that was the change to deal with first.

Marta approached the dance company building and flashed back to her first day waiting on these steps. She revisited the anxiety of that day as she opened the heavy double doors.

Karl sat in his little room, reading a newspaper. “Can I help you…Marta?  How’s the leg?” His eyes drifted to her foot.

“Better. Are Damien and Madame in?”

“They are. Go on up. You know the way.”

Marta inhaled the familiar smell of rosin and sweat as she climbed the stairs. Her heart raced like the first day. Maybe she should have prepared what she wanted to say. Maybe if she waited a few more days she’d feel more confident. At the office door she paused, took a deep breath, then knocked.

“Come in,” Damien’s voice called out.

Good, she thought; he’s alone. Marta elongated her spine and plastered on a stage smile as she walked in. She stood behind a straight-backed chair that faced his desk, hoping the throbbing of her heart didn’t drown out her voice.

Damien smiled. “Marta! Welcome!” He set aside his paperwork and indicated she should sit. “How’s the leg?”

“Better.”

“Feeling strong enough to start dancing?”

“Yes. I exercise several hours every day. I came by to find out if you’d set the date for my audition.”

“Yes. I’d planned to contact you this week. Let’s see.” Damien flipped through his calendar. “It’s May twentieth after rehearsals. We’ll use the first section of the ballet I’ve choreographed to Gershwin’s
Rhapsody in Blue.
It’s part of our musical tribute to America. The corps begins rehearsals next Monday. I’ll call you with specific times.”

Marta nodded. A shock wave traveled through her. One week? Only one week to become ready to rejoin the other dancers. “Thanks. It will be good to get back.” She turned to leave.

“Wait,” Damien said. “Do you want coaching or extra rehearsal time to help you prepare?”

“That would be wonderful, but I don’t have money for lessons.”

“How about a trade? I hear you are a great cook. Our family life is hectic. My wife runs a gallery, and by the time she gets home it’s catch-as-catch-can dinners. Our kids would love a few kid-friendly meals. Want to trade cooking for coaching?”

“Sure. I love to cook and bake.”

“Great.” He scribbled a short note and handed it to Marta. “Here’s my wife’s phone number at the gallery. Call her to set up a schedule. She’ll be overjoyed.”

As Marta reached the bottom of the stairs, Lynne appeared. “Hey! What’s going on?”

Marta explained and started out the door.

“Wait. We’re done for the day. Want a ride home?”

“That would be great.”

“Let’s stop at the burger shop out on Russell. Haven’t had my fatty food fix this week.”

Marta ate a small salad and sipped iced tea. Lynne worked on a double cheeseburger and a shake. “I’m starving today. I could never get by on your skinny salad. How are you feeling?”

“Good. I hope I’ll feel ready to dance with the corps by Monday.”

“I’ll come over and help you get ready. It will be fun to see you every day.”

Marta’s ankle ached as she straightened the paperwork in the hotel office before her shift ended. This last overnight had been crazy. A convention of farm equipment companies stayed in the meeting room long after twelve. Then she’d stored the tables and chairs and swept. Stale beer and sticky splotches covered the floor. She’d mopped the entire floor twice. Quite a way to end a job.

Now she sat in the boarding house common room waiting for Lynne to arrive for their afternoon with the little girls. Having the consistent time with her and the girls gave Marta focus. What would she do without Lynne’s craziness?