Siobhan's Beat (10 page)

The next round, she lifted from the balls of her feet, just as he had instructed, and went airborne for just fractions of a second. The exercise seemed to be well tolerated, too.

“Ready for those plies?”

“Torturer.”

“True.”

She stepped an arms-length from the barre and rested her fingertips against the wooden rod to ensure balance and stability. Next, she dipped from the knees then lifted smoothly to her toes, but she failed to stifle a pained sound. She didn't quit, though. She lowered once more, lifted again, and trembled the entire time. AJ could only imagine the ways her body screamed at her right now. A light sheen of perspiration caused her shoulders and neck glow, leaving a stain of moisture against the back of her leotard.

“Don't move so fast. Go still with each repetition. Find center and focus on your posture as you complete the repetitions.”

As expected, she could barely maintain position as she stretched outward from the knees, both legs bearing her full weight. Also, in an attempt to ease stress and pain she began to favor her right side just slightly. When he noticed that development, AJ pushed away from the wall and joined her, offering support by standing behind and placing his hands very lightly on her waist. Sensing the reinforcement, Siobhan relaxed a trace and continued to repeat the slow, methodical squat, lift and rise maneuver.

“While we work at this,” he continued, “talk to me about what's simmering in your mood and your emotions. You're hurting, and not just physically. Is it the meeting?”

Wisps of golden hair fell free from her elastic ponytail holder, bouncing against her neck and cheeks. Vanilla and apple combined with an undercurrent of flowers—her shampoo and perfume, he supposed—and his senses tripped from steady to intent—and aware.

“I can't seem to wrap my egotistical little head around the fact that in basic terms I'm being asked to audition. I have to prove myself to these people when, before the accident, all
four
of us had knocked their collective socks off. It's humiliating because I now feel like a failure. The accident, everything I've had to cope with afterward, has been out of my control. I never asked for this! I was ready to embrace a wonderful opportunity with my three best friends. We were following God's plan. Only He could have ordered what's come to be with Sisters in Spirit. Now, it's over. It's like the entire dream ended before it began, because of me!”

During her next lower and lift, AJ removed his hold from her waist, but held one hand a hair's width from her lower back in case she required a quick spot. “Siobhan, don't operate under that kind of misconception. Walking in tandem with God and following His will doesn't mean there won't be setbacks, hardships, and tribulation. In fact, most times the opposite is true. Satan just loves to wreak havoc on a believer's soul.”

She tagged his gaze in the mirror, continuing her pliés. “Therefore?”

“Therefore, don't let him. And keep something else in mind. From our bleakest points, God brings joy.”

Her hard breathing, brought about by emotions and exertion began to even. AJ stepped aside at that point, allowing her space to cool down. He sat on the floor and drew up his knees, wrapping his arms around them loosely.

And he decided to toss out an idea that brewed. “Would you like me to be there? At the meeting?”

Siobhan spun, echoes of her natural grace and smooth agility rising to the surface. She tilted her head and gave him a look rife with hope and tempered by vulnerability. “You'd do that?”

“In a heartbeat.” He let that sink in for a second or two and was rewarded by the ripening pink of her skin. “I'm not your doctor anymore, Siobhan. Not in an official capacity. Still, my opinion and history with your case might help.”

“If you were there”—her chest rose and fell on a deep breath—”I just might survive. I'd appreciate that, Coop. Very much.” Shyly she avoided his eyes for a moment. “Seems you're not just a skilled physician, you're a brilliant therapist as well.”

“My job requires knowledge of both, yes.” Beyond that, he kept mum for the time being, now eager to let her in on a little secret she just might enjoy. First things first, though. Therapy. “In order to continue progressing you're going to have to keep two things in mind. First, don't be afraid of the pain. Lean in and push through it. Second, learn to trust your legs again.”

AJ lifted to his feet and went to the table where the docking station stood. “Time to do some stretches. You need to rebuild those muscles.” A number of long, colorful scarves trailed from pegs on the nearby wall. He pulled one away and handed it to Siobhan. “You know the drill. Lay down on the mat, grab each end of the scarf and wrap it around your foot to maintain support and tension as you lift and pull.”

“You're quite good at this.”

“I moonlight as a dance coach.”

“Funny.”

Once she completed her stretching exercises, she grabbed a t-shirt from her duffle and yanked it on. She joined AJ who had returned to his sitting position on the ground, this time with his legs stretched comfortably. She settled next to him once more, and a wave of tentative emotion swept across his nerve endings. This time, he obliterated that reaction, making a decision to go for broke and reveal a bit more about himself.

“I like your fashion statement.” With a nod, he indicated the freshly donned garment.

Siobhan looked down, pulling slightly at the edge of her dark green shirt lettered in white script which read,
I'm Irish. What's your super power?
Her lips curved upward. “Thanks. It was a get well gift from Maeve and her family.”

AJ stood and held out a hand. “Come with me. I'm going to show you my super power. Since you've been kind enough to ask and all.”

She giggled. Granted, the sound was brief, but still, that joyful sound pushed to life. “You're a healer. That's more than enough of a super power for me.”

“Not quite.”

What he intended to do had nothing to do with rehab and recovery or physical limitations. Where he longed to take her next was all about the psychological—he ached to soothe her wounded spirit.

The effort it took for AJ to draw Siobhan to her feet was nominal; she remained incredibly graceful, despite her injury. He led her to the center of the studio then strode to the techno set up where Siobhan's phone remained docked.

“When I came in, you were listening to Big Daddy Weave. You a fan of their music?” Siobhan nodded. “I am, too, although I'm also a Group1Crew guy.” He didn't give either of them time to dwell on anything but the present moment. Nothing meant more to him than helping her reach deep and recover. He longed to connect with her, yes, but most of all he wanted her to reclaim what was rightfully hers—the gift of dance.

He switched out her phone for his and stroked through his playlist until the song “He Said” was highlighted. Once he tapped the selection, music filled the air once again, and he didn't miss a beat before sweeping Siobhan into his arms and moving smoothly, precisely, across the space of the room. Coop absorbed her surprise-widened eyes which sparkled like sunlight on crystal blue water. She smiled and let out a soft sound as they drifted and spun.

“You…you're…you can dance. Really well.”

She was breathless. That tickled him, so did her increased smile. In her countenance he detected tantalizing traces of effervescence, of joy. He happened to look at their joined hands and noticed something else. She had goose bumps, and he could swear he felt her heart beat against his chest.

This was becoming dangerous—tricky in the extreme because this interlude was leagues away from the doctor/patient relationship that originally brought them together—the type of relationship in which he thrived and felt most comfortable. Here and now he craved permanence. He wanted much more from her than a return to good health and professional-centric gratitude.

Music drifted around them like a cloud as they moved. Then, he lifted her and spun. “Like I told you in the hospital, the ways the human body functions, moves, achieves flow and balance and maneuverability has always fascinated me. Dance is one of the truest means to test and experience that miracle, so I learned. I was taught because it fascinated me. That's how I know about gallops and four-counts and extensions.”

He made certain no pressure came to rest on her injured leg. He wanted nothing to impede on her freedom as they moved. He lifted her again and performed a second spin. By design, he pampered her, doing all he could to separate Siobhan from the nightmare her accident had left behind. Victory arrived when she relaxed fully and synched her movements with his. From there they simply floated…together.

The song came to an end. Refusing to reconsider what he wanted to do next, AJ cupped her face. A gentle stroke of his thumb against her lower lip caused Siobhan to tremble against his hold. Her lashes fluttered; an answering shiver vibrated against the palm he smoothed down her arm and flattened against the small of her back to keep her steady—and close. He closed his eyes, releasing this moment to the deepest wish of his heart. AJ lowered his head and captured her sweet, waiting lips with his own. When he sensed her sinking against him, AJ landed them against the solid support of a nearby wall. For precious moments, he allowed the kiss to build, to speak love's vivid language.

All too soon he knew he needed to temper this consuming exchange. By soft and gentle degrees, he slowed things and then inched away. Still he held her face between his hands, stroking her jaw, resting his forehead against hers.

“And that concludes today's display of my super power.” His voice was rough. Affected.

“Which is?” She whispered the words, sliding her fingertips against his forearms.

“Dancing, coupled with the ability to make a weeping angel feel joy again.”

She leaned back and tilted her head. Her eyes lit with a playful spark. “Well now you've gone and done it, you big cad.”

“What's that?”

“You've managed to completely ruin my wonderful little pity party.”

He burst into laughter, resting a cheek against the crown of her head when she leaned against him, visibly tired and spent. “After everything you've just put yourself through, you've more than earned a hit of gourmet java. Interested?”

“Absolutely. Let me throw on a pair of sweat pants and get my purse.”

Siobhan wove her fingers through his and led the way down a narrow hallway and opened the door to her office. AJ stepped inside after her and came to an abrupt stop, hammer-struck by what he saw.

An unframed canvas, done in sepia tones, hung centered above Siobhan's desk. In the photograph, she was framed in perfect profile, her arms a graceful arc above her head, her legs fully extended in a leap that was stunning in its fluid lines and symmetric grace. She wore a dark colored leotard and a calf-length skirt that rippled against her body.

The photo snagged his focus and refused to let it go.

“Wow.”

Siobhan looked back at him in question. Realizing the reason for his outburst, a tide of red flowed up her neck and cheeks. She grabbed her purse and hoisted the strap against her shoulder. She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear, and AJ noticed her trembling fingertips.

She crossed the room, intent upon leaving, and he touched her arm. “Not so fast. Where was that taken?”

Siobhan expelled a breath and turned back. Reluctance slowed her motions, shadowed her eyes. “Carnegie Hall.”

Carnegie.
AJ's jaw dropped. Couldn't be helped. “Siobhan, it's incredible. I can feel your energy.” Deliberately he caught her eye. “And your passion.”

She nodded and once again turned to leave. AJ remained rooted to the spot, staring. Part of him wanted to challenge her to open up, but another part, the stronger part, stayed transfixed simply because of the beauty of the photograph.

Siobhan propped a hip against her desk and fiddled with the strap of her purse. She looked at the ground rather than the striking work of art hung in prominence.

“It was my senior year at the New York Dance Academy,” she began. “We performed at Carnegie, and the school hired a professional photographer to take individual shots. This one was mine.”

She shrugged the matter aside, turned yet again to attempt retreat. Once more, AJ refused that goal, standing with feet planted.

Pursing her lips, Siobhan paused for a moment before looking into his eyes. “It was such a fantastic moment. I came alive on that stage—it was the thrill of a lifetime. I'll never, ever forget it.”

“I can only imagine…and I can't wait to see that”—he gestured toward the photo—”for myself.”

Words faded to silence. The flesh-and-blood woman who stood before him took in a stuttered breath, head tipped to search his face. She was so small, yet so powerful in impact. AJ touched her cheek, absorbing the silky texture of her skin when his fingertips glided slowly along her creamy neck.

“That said, I won't hold us up any longer. I can tell you're ready to leave.”

Siobhan didn't respond except for the brief, telling wrinkle of thought that creased her forehead.

 

****

 

Once Siobhan was alone, once AJ returned her to the studio and quietly clicked the door closed behind him, she sank against the wall and pressed a hand against her chest. Had the past few hours
really
just happened? Siobhan forgot all about the world around her, the pain, even dance, as she lost herself in the memory of his touch—and the way he had soothed her ragged senses.

Then there was that mind-blowing kiss…a kiss so perfect, so sweet and reverent it had lifted Siobhan away from everything that clouded her mind, and heart. She had drifted into him in an eloquent beat of love and longing that still moved through her system hours later. A kiss so powerful it reminded Siobhan of how beautiful it felt to float and spiral through air with nothing holding her in place and nothing but happiness pouring through her soul.