Dance with the Doctor (18 page)

“No one will be looking at you, Dad,” Taylor said. “They’ll all be watching the dancers.”

“Of course.” But there was one dancer he hoped might look at him. He straightened and studied Taylor, who was wrapped neck to ankles in her bathrobe. “Are you sure I can’t have a quick peek at your costume?” he asked.

She folded her arms over her chest. “No. It’s a surprise. Now come on!” Without waiting for him, she started across the parking lot.

Mike hurried after her. Others joined them in the trek up the hill: men and women and children and teens, some of the women swathed in capes and robes, the tiny bells on their costumes providing a soft soundtrack for their progress toward the auditorium.

Taylor turned to him once they were inside. “You find a seat,” she said. “I have to meet Darcy and the others.”

Then she was gone, leaving him standing in the doorway staring after her. When had his daughter become so grown-up?

A dancer brushed against him, a short dark-haired woman with purple feathers in her hair. She looked vaguely familiar. “Excuse me,” she apologized, then hesitated. “Can I help you find something, Dr. Mike?”

She must be one of his patients. He searched his brain for the name. “No thank you—Mrs. Sheffield, isn’t it?”

“Jane.”

“Jane. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You look lost.”

He glanced around at the crowd of dancers and their friends and family and suddenly did feel lost, or at least out of his element. “I’m here with my daughter,” he said, by way of explanation.

“Who is your daughter?”

“Taylor Carter.”

The woman’s smile broadened. “She’s in the class with my daughter, Hannah. They’re so excited about the show.” She patted his arm. “You go on into the auditorium. I think there are still some seats up front.”

“Thanks.” He joined the line at the door and made his way inside, accepting a program from a petite dynamo in turquoise veils.

“Enjoy our show,” the woman said.

“Thank you.” He had told himself he should enjoy it, but as the day had approached the heaviness in his stomach had increased. He kept thinking of the night he’d watched Darcy dance at the Middle Eastern restaurant. His emotions had been on a roller coaster ride ever since. He didn’t plan on punching—or kissing—anyone tonight, but he’d stopped trying to predict how he’d act around Darcy. That last day at the Breckenridge condo he hadn’t handled things well, and the few times they’d met since he’d hidden his true feelings behind a professional reserve.

Melissa had accused him of being emotionally distant, but not everyone was wired to bare his soul at the drop of a hat. Why couldn’t Melissa—and Darcy, too—understand that?

He found a seat at the end of the third row with a good view of the stage and studied the program. Darcy opened the show. Taylor’s group was third after that. Damn. He forgot his camera. Later, he’d have to try to get pictures from someone else. Melissa would want to see them, and he’d send one to his folks. Most of all, he wanted the photographs to help him remember this day.

“Excuse me, is someone sitting next to you?” A large woman with two children in tow stopped beside him.

“Oh, no.” Mike stood to let them pass. He’d hoped Melissa would take time off to be here but she was somewhere in Europe. She’d sent flowers to the house and promised to join Taylor later in watching the video Darcy had hired someone to make, but Mike knew his daughter was disappointed.

The lights blinked and a regal woman with silver hair hanging past her waist moved to the center of the stage. “We’re going to get started in a few minutes,” she said. “I just have a few announcements.” She read off a list of show sponsors and thanked some volunteers, then the lights dimmed and the music came up and the show began.

Mike recognized the pulsing rhythm and wail of strings and flutes he’d first heard at the Middle Eastern restaurant. Darcy glided onto the stage. She wore a costume of iridescent green and gold, multilayered skirts swirling to reveal tantalizing glimpses of her slender legs. A gold beaded belt encircled her hips and more gold outlined her breasts, which swelled above the V-neck of her costume. Her stomach was bare, and as she undulated, gold glitter reflected the lights.

Mike stared, scarcely breathing, transfixed by the grace and sensuality of her movements. Darcy danced with such confidence—such joy. She was so beautiful. So strong. She’d survived a great tragedy and rebuilt her life, yet he hadn’t judged her strong enough to help him rebuild his.

He scarcely noticed the next groups of dancers. Why had he been so stupid, so afraid?

Then it was Taylor’s turn. He leaned forward, holding his breath as the eight girls filed onstage.

His heart pounded. Where was Taylor? Had something happened to her? He half rose to rush backstage, then his gaze fixed on the girl in the middle of the front row—the one in purple and silver. Someone had piled her hair in ringlets and she was wearing makeup—elaborate eye shadow and liner and mascara, and glitter across her cheeks. She looked fifteen, not ten, but it was definitely Taylor, her smile broad, if a little nervous.

Mike sat back, all the breath knocked out of him. The music came up and the girls began to sway. He couldn’t take his eyes off Taylor, off her costume. He’d thought at first her stomach and upper chest were bare, though mysteriously without scars. Then he realized she was wearing some kind of sheer body stocking. At first glance she looked just like the other girls.

Only more beautiful. And older. Watching her now was like looking through a lens into the future. Here was Taylor as a young woman, confident and happy, healthy and strong. Tears stung his eyes and he didn’t bother to wipe them away. This was the dream he’d held on to all those tortured nights at the hospital while they fought to keep her heart going, waiting for a transplant, then hoping her body would accept the donor heart. He’d prayed for the chance to see Taylor grow up and tonight it was as if some genie had granted that wish.

No genie. He had Darcy to thank for this moment. Darcy, who had given his daughter her son’s heart.

“Which one is yours?” the woman beside him leaned over and whispered.

“The one in the middle, in the purple.”

“She’s beautiful.” She shoved a tissue into his hand. “I know just how you feel. Chokes me up every time I watch my sister dance.”

The song ended and the girls took their bows to thunderous applause. Taylor grinned, then blew a saucy kiss over her shoulder as she exited the stage. Mike blotted tears, still stunned.

The feeling of numbness stayed with him through the rest of the show. Darcy danced again at the end, a lively, flirty number that brought the audience to their feet. Mike rose with them, applauding until his hands stung. “Isn’t she amazing?” the woman beside him asked.

“Yes,” he agreed. “Yes, she is.”

He headed backstage as soon as the last notes of the last number died away. Taylor was engulfed in a crowd of well-wishers. Mike stopped in the shadows and watched her exchange hugs and congratulations with other dancers. What had happened to the self-conscious, lonely girl he’d lived with only a few months ago?

“Dad!” She stood on tiptoe and waved at him. “Did you see me?”

“You were beautiful.” He hurried forward and hugged her tightly. “The prettiest dancer up there.”

“Not the prettiest,” she corrected. “That’s Darcy. And some of the other women are really beautiful, too.”

“And so are you.” He smiled down at her. Up close the makeup looked a little garish. He felt a surge of relief as he recognized the girl behind all the paint. “You were gorgeous. Really. Your dance was wonderful.”

“Thanks.” She ducked her head and smoothed the spangles at her chest. “Do you like my costume?”

“It’s terrific.”

“Darcy thought of it. It’s like the stuff ice-skaters wear. This way no one can see my scars.”

“Did Darcy do your makeup, too?”

“Yes. You’re not upset about that, are you?”

“It was a surprise when I first saw you, but I guess that’s part of being onstage.”

“It makes me look older, doesn’t it?”

“Don’t get any ideas about wearing it to school.”

“Oh, Dad! I’d look ridiculous wearing all this gunk to school. But maybe some eye shadow…?”

“We’ll talk about it later.” He looked over her shoulder, at the milling crowd of dancers and friends.

“Where’s Darcy?”

“I think she’s in her dressing room.” Taylor took his hand. “Let’s go find her.”

They wove their way through the crowd, down a long corridor to a doorway. Taylor knocked. “Darcy, it’s Taylor. Can I come in?”

“Sure, honey. It’s open.”

Taylor dragged Mike in after her.

Darcy, in jeans and a gauzy top, sat at a dressing table, peeling off a pair of false eyelashes. Her eyes widened when she saw Mike in the mirror and she turned to him, one spiderlike set of lashes still pinched between her thumb and forefinger. “Mike!”

“The show was wonderful,” he said.
You’re wonderful.

“Thanks. I’m glad you liked it.” She turned back to the mirror and began brushing her hair. Though most of the stage makeup was gone, she had glitter on her cheeks and around her eyes, as if she’d been sprinkled with fairy dust.

Mike suddenly felt awkward, a subject kept waiting before the queen. He guessed he couldn’t blame her if she was cool toward him, considering how he’d frozen her out. Words filled his head, but he couldn’t find the voice to say them.

Taylor came to his rescue. “Dad really liked my costume,” she said.

“You were beautiful in it.” Darcy’s smile was all warmth again. “I’m so proud of you.”

Taylor hugged the woman, eyes shining. Mike’s eyes burned and he fought back his emotions. “I’m proud of you, too,” he said. He touched Taylor’s shoulder. “Do you think you could leave Darcy and me alone for a bit?” he asked. “Don’t wander off too far.”

“Dad!”

“I know. You’re not a little kid anymore. I know that. Even if I can’t always accept it.”

She kissed his cheek. “Kiss and make up,” she whispered, then, giggling, scurried from the room.

“What did you want to say to me?” Darcy asked, still facing the mirror.

He wanted to tell her to turn around and look at him, but what right did he have to ask her for anything? “Watching Taylor dance, I realized how much you’ve done for her,” he said. “She used to be so self-conscious about how she looked. So aware of all the ways being a transplant patient made her different.”

“Taylor is a very special girl. What she’s been through has made her older in some ways, yet she’s managed to hang on to a lot of innocence.”

“But you’ve brought out another side of her—you’ve given her so much confidence. We both owe you for that.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I love her as if she was my own daughter.” Her eyes met his in the mirror.

“I didn’t come here just to talk about Taylor.” He took a step toward her and at last she did turn. “I’m sorry I acted the way I did that Sunday in Breckenridge,” he said. “I was afraid.”

“I was afraid, too.”

“I wasn’t just afraid for Taylor. I was afraid for me, afraid of giving up control. I think, with all that’s happened these past few years—not just Taylor’s illness, but my divorce and my life being turned upside down—there was so much I couldn’t control that I learned to keep a tight grip on everything else. From my schedule to my emotions. Especially my emotions. It was as if I convinced myself if I kept everything else in line, I wouldn’t lose Taylor.”

He began to pace, words pouring from him with each step. “Then I met you and that very first day I felt some of that control slip. You made me think things—feel things—I hadn’t allowed myself to think or feel for years. It was unsettling. But I liked it. I thought I could handle it.

“That night at the condo was so incredible. When I left to return to Denver I was flying so high. Then Taylor got sick and it was as if I’d crashed into a wall. She needed me and I couldn’t be there with her. Things were hurtling out of control and I had to stop it. So instead of letting you handle it, I did what I always do.” He stopped in front of her. “That was wrong.”

She pleated the hem of her top in her fingers. “I was scared, too,” she said. “Afraid something would happen to Taylor. I made a wrong decision for Riley and it cost him his life. What if I made the wrong decision for Taylor?” Her eyes met his. “I was angry you didn’t trust me, but part of me thought maybe you were right. Since Riley and Pete died, I’ve avoided responsibility—I don’t even have a dog. I told myself I was being smart, giving myself time to heal.

“Then I took a chance with you and Taylor and when that didn’t work out I thought it proved I didn’t deserve to be happy.”

“You do deserve to be happy.” He squeezed her shoulder. “And I deserve a life where I don’t always have to be responsible for everything. I’m learning to let go of some things, but I don’t want to let go of you.”

He pulled her up beside him and kissed her, a long, drugging caress that said more than words ever could. When at last their lips parted, she pressed her face into his neck, her arms wrapped tightly around him. “Will you give me another chance?” he asked.