Dancer in the Shadows (13 page)

All through the meal, Sean was the pleasant dinner companion Valerie remembered from the early days of their marriage. He spoke about his work and told anecdotes that caused her to laugh, bringing a glow to her pale cheeks. She wasn't hungry, though, and only pushed her food around on her plate. She silently wondered what excuse Sean had given Felicia for not being with her. She knew he had been with her all those other nights, when he wasn't home. Sean was a man with a man's physical appetites, and Felicia was just the kind of woman to satisfy them. Val bent her head, her hair falling forward. She put up her hand and tucked it behind her ear. "It's getting long. I guess it's time for another haircut," she said breathlessly as his eyes fell on her shiny tresses.

"No!" Sean's voice was hoarse. "Don't cut it. Let it grow long again."

Valerie looked at him, searching for some sign. Of what, she wasn't sure, but perhaps something that would tell her that he was softening toward her. Then a picture of Sean and Felicia in front of the store that day flashed before her eyes and she withdrew.

After dinner, Sean excused himself, murmuring about paperwork, and he retired to his study. He left the remote control for the television near Valerie as a pajama-clad Michael bounced into the room carrying one of his storybooks.

Later that evening, after Sara had led Michael off to bed, Valerie fiddled with the remote control, trying to find an interesting program to occupy her time. She wasn't used to any type of inactivity and was so rarely ill that she was fidgety. It wasn't long before the noise of the television wasn't helping the throbbing in her temples and she quickly switched it off. Resting her head back, she closed her eyes, hoping the throbbing would disappear, and soon she fell asleep. She didn't awake until a pair of strong arms scooped her up, holding her close against a warm body.

"My head hurts so much," she whimpered, resting her cheek against the silk-covered chest.

"I know, love." A soft voice sounded in her ear.

Still half-asleep, she was set on her bed and her robe was slipped off by gentle hands. She murmured in protest as a pill was slipped between her teeth and water sloshed against her dry lips. Her head was lowered to the pillow and she soon fell into a deep sleep.

In the middle of the night, Valerie murmured in protest as she found herself standing outside of town wearing only her nightgown. She stood in the middle of the road, feeling bewildered as she looked down the empty highway. Suddenly, a cloud of dust appeared some distance away. A large truck drove down the highway at a high speed and headed straight for her. Afraid, she began to run, looking over her shoulder. The driver's face came into view and she stopped in shock as she saw a grinning skeleton at the wheel. Valerie opened her mouth, screaming Sean's name as the skeleton disappeared from the truck and reappeared standing next to her, taking her arm to lead her away.

"Val, wake up! You're having a nightmare." Sean's voice floated through the heavy mist of her dream, causing her to reach out. His warm arms wrapped around her, cradling her body against his chest. He murmured in her ear, soothing her as she sobbed raggedly. He pushed the damp hair away from her tear-stained face.

"It was horrible!" She gulped air, trying to slow her racing heart.

"It's all right now. I'm here." His hands cupped her face, drawing her back so that he could see it. "The shock of your accident just caught up with you, that's all. You'll be fine in a minute."

"Oh, Sean," Valerie whimpered, clutching him around the waist and laying her cheek against his bare chest where the lapels of his robe parted. A faint light shone over his shoulder and, looking up, she noticed an open door to another room. He followed the direction of her glance.

"My room. That's why I was here so quickly," he explained, putting a hand against her forehead. "You do feel a little warm. Is your head still bothering you?"

She shook her head "no" as Sean gently disentangled himself from her arms. "Think you could go back to sleep?" he asked. "In fact, if you'd like, I'll leave the door open."

Visions of the skeleton made Valerie grab his hands. "Sean, please don't leave me alone," she begged. "I'm so afraid. I can't stay here by myself."

"Val, it wouldn't be a good idea." He hesitated as he looked down at her tear-stained face. "Oh, Val, you know what a mistake this is," he groaned, throwing the bedcovers back and picking her up. Sean carried her into the other room and deposited her on his bed. Sean turned out the light and discarded his robe before climbing into bed beside her. Valerie shivered with fright in the dark room until his arms brought her next to him, laying her head on his shoulder. "Now let's both get some sleep," he muttered, hugging her close.

Sean's body heat lulled her into a warm cocoon and she was soon able to fall asleep. When her nightmare started to return, her body tensed but his arms tightened, letting her know he was there.

Valerie didn't wake up again until late morning. She pushed her hair away from her face and focused on her surroundings. She sat up slowly, surprised to find herself back in her own bed, although she didn't remember Sean carrying her back. Unless it all was a dream?

"Sara." Her voice quavered, then rose in pitch. "Sara!"

When the housekeeper entered the room, Valerie was pale and wide-eyed. "So you finally decided to wake up?" She smiled warmly. "Sean said to let you sleep as long as you wanted."

"Di-did Sean go into his office?" Valerie's voice trembled as she tried to clear her fuzzy brain.

"No. He's out back cleaning the pool. I'll bring you some breakfast now that you're awake. Want me to help you to the bathroom?"

Val shook her head. After Sara left the room, she swung her legs around, setting them down gingerly. She gasped as needlelike pains shot up her legs. Gritting her teeth, she walked slowly to the bathroom and washed her face and brushed her hair, clipping the sides away from her face  before hobbling back to the bedroom.

"What the devil!" An angry Sean, clad only in dark brown trunks, stood in the bedroom doorway. "What are you trying to do?"

"I'm trying to make myself look a little more presentable, that's what." Valerie gritted her teeth.

"And hurt yourself more in the process, obviously." He swung her up into his arms, carrying her back to her bed.

"No!" Her tears fell from pure frustration. "I'm not so sick that I can just be here not caring what I look like. I haven't had a bath in three days, my hair is filthy, and I feel as if I've been through World War Three!"

"Would you like Sara to run you a bath after you eat breakfast?" Sean asked her. "On second thought, don't answer. I'll just have her do it."

Valerie looked up and glanced at the interconnecting door, now closed. She chewed her bottom lip, uncertain how to phrase her question.

"You had quite a nightmare last night." Sean read her thought. "I brought you in here when I got up; you were sleeping so soundly you didn't even stir." His tone hardened. "After all, I'm sure you wouldn't want Sara to get the wrong idea about us."

"Of course not," Valerie muttered, remembering how content she had felt sleeping in Sean's arms the night before.

"I'll keep that door open from now on in case you need me," Sean commented before leaving the room.

She sat on the bed, hurt by his implied rejection. He made it obvious that she was nothing more than someone who had been very frightened and needed solace. She reached down to the end of the bed, slipping her arms through the sleeves of her robe just as Sara walked in carrying a tray. A fluffy omelet graced the place along with juice and toast. "I want to see all of that gone when I get back," she said with mock severity. "Then we'll get you washed and feeling better."

Valerie was grateful for Sara's help as she carefully stepped into the deep tub full of scented bubbles. "I feel so helpless," she sighed. "I'm not used to having people wait on me."

"Then just relax and enjoy it," Sara suggested, patting Valerie's bare shoulder. "While you're in here I'm going to make your bed up with clean sheets, and I'll also bring you a clean nightgown. But don't try to get out of there by yourself."

Valerie relaxed in the warm water, ruefully examining the dark bruises on her legs. She reached for a small mirror and cried out when she saw the puffy bruises over her forehead and on her cheek. She hadn't bothered with a mirror when she had brushed her hair earlier, so she hadn't seen them before.

"What's wrong?" Sara ran in, holding a pale blue floral pillowcase.

"Oh, Sara, I look terrible!" she moaned as the older woman took the mirror from her hand. "I look as if I've been in a barroom brawl."

The housekeeper's tense features relaxed. "I don't think you need to worry. Sean is just happy to have you in one piece. He was pretty upset when he called me from the hospital. They wouldn't tell him anything, and he was worried that it was more serious than they'd let on."

"You wouldn't know it now," Valerie mumbled to herself.

The days passed slowly for Valerie. She soon finished her books and chafed to be up and about. She was surprised by Sean, who stayed home until mid-morning and generally came back home by late afternoon; he usually shared breakfast with her and was always home in time for dinner. She soon looked forward to his company and their conversations together. She spent her days by the pool, soaking up the sun and turning a deep gold; the bruises gradually faded until she could cover them effectively with makeup.

One afternoon, feeling more restless than ever, Valerie quickly changed into black leotards and tights and pulled on her leather ballet slippers. She walked down the hall to the practice room and closed the door, behind her.

A few minutes later, Sean walked into the house, loosening his tie and flexing his shoulder muscles wearily. Michael ran in behind him, happily making noises like a train.

"You change into your play clothes before you do anything else," Sara told him, as she came into the hallway carrying a dust cloth. "Then come out into the kitchen for your cookies and juice. Now scoot."

"Where's Val?" Sean looked around the hallway.

"Don't know." Sara shrugged her shoulders. "I haven't heard a peep out of her since lunch. She might be taking a nap or reading in her room."

"I'll go take a look." He walked away from her. "Be prepared to hear a choo-choo-train story Michael learned today. I've already heard it—twice."

Since the door to Valerie's room was open, Sean glanced in, noticing that it was empty except for some clothes lying on the bed. A faint sound caught his attention and he turned to follow the music that led him to the door of the practice room. Quietly opening the door, he saw her at the barre doing pliés, her face pale from the exertion.

"Val, what are you doing?" he demanded, walking into the room, his face dark with anger.

"It's known as a plié," she replied, counting the beats under her breath before stopping and wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. "I've been idle too long. I need to get my muscles working again."

"It's only been a week," Sean informed her.

"Even after a few days the muscles stiffen up," she protested. "A good workout is the only thing that helps."

"And that's why you look ready to drop!" His dark eyes scanned her paper-white face. "The doctor specifically told you not to have any strenuous exercise."

"Sean, to me this isn't exercise. It was once a part of my life," Valerie said quietly, placing her hand on the barre to balance herself as she slipped off her slippers. "I used to practice six hours a day, and although I'd be exhausted, afterward I'd feel as if I had accomplished something."

"If it hadn't been for Michael, you could have gone on with your career," he said thoughtfully. "Who knows what could have happened? I wouldn't be surprised if there were times when you resented both of us for halting those dreams."

"Resent Michael?" Her eyes blazed with sudden anger. "I love Michael more than life itself. Right now, he's all I have." She turned and ran out of the room.

Sighing heavily and feeling angry with himself, Sean walked out of the room.

Fighting angry tears, Valerie ran into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. She peeled off her leotards, leaving them in a heap on the floor, then walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

The warm spray soon relaxed her. Afterward, she wrapped a towel around her wet hair, slipped on a robe and walked over to the dresser where she opened one of the drawers, pulling out a large leather-bound book. She sat on the bed and opened the book to reveal color pictures of a dark-haired baby. Turning the pages, she studied the pictures of a younger Valerie smilingly holding Michael as a small baby. She looked up, startled, as a knock sounded at the door and Sean walked in. He glanced down at the book in her lap before looking up at her face. "I want to apologize for upsetting you," he said ruefully. "I seem to have a knack for it."

"It's just that Michael is very dear to me," she replied in a low voice, close to tears.

Sean leaned down, picking up the large book, and leafing through the pages. He stopped at one of a chubby Michael obviously learning to walk, helped by his mother's hands holding onto his. Valerie was smiling, yet there was a look of haunted sorrow in her eyes.

"Who took the pictures?" he asked finally.

"Shelly or her fiancé, Greg. Shelly said I should have some memories of Michael as a baby. The first picture was taken at the hospital when he was just a few hours old."

Sean turned to the front of the book, studying the color picture of a tiny red-faced infant with his wrinkled face screwed up, as if ready to cry at the camera's intrusion. "Sean Michael Hunter, Jr." He read the name embossed in gold on the cover before handing the book back. "Sara said dinner will be ready in half an hour." He turned to walk to the door.

"Sean, wait!" Valerie jumped up impulsively. "Michael had his picture taken at preschool recently. Would you like one of the large ones?" She walked over to the dresser and picked up a large photograph from the open drawer. The small boy in front of a neutral background wore an open-necked shirt and had a big smile on his face.