Siobhan's Beat (9 page)

“I fought against it as hard as I could.”

“I know that without being told.” She whispered the words; still, they came out rough and choked.

“Here's what I got them to agree to.” Liam sat in the chair across from her and planted his feet, propping his elbows on his knees. He captured her gaze and paused for a moment. Stalling, she knew. “They want to meet with you, face-to-face, but they want to give you time to recover before that meeting takes place. Furthermore, they want the meeting to happen right here.”

“At the studio? Why?” Her tone was flat, purposefully void of emotion.

“Because they're…well…”

“Liam, out with it!”

“When they meet with you, before they finalize any tour specifics or video schedules, they want reassurance of your capabilities. They want you to perform a couple of dances.”

The air turned thick and hot. Silence became so oppressive it choked her lungs. “An audition.”

“I hate it, Siobhan. I truly hate it—”

“I own a ballet school.” She cut in, rage boiling. “I was trained at the New York Dance Academy, yet I'm being required to audition in order to earn the right to be part of a group with my friends—a group we put together that captured interested based on the four of us—
the four of us
, Liam! And all of this was set in motion long before my injury. I just need time. What right do they have to do this?”

She had no air left in her body; she levered to a stand. With cane and stuttered footsteps, she paced off a quantum dose of resentment…and fear.

“You can
do
this, Siobhan.”

She snapped around, facing her brother. “In my
sleep
if it weren't for the fact that I'm
injured
. How long do I have?”

Liam gnawed on the inside of his cheek. “Six weeks.”

Her jaw dropped. “I've just set up my first round of therapy sessions. They're telling me to expect eight to ten weeks. Your friends at Zion and Ganneton need to lower their expectations. Six weeks is way out of line and unreasonable.”

“But sprite, all they're seeing is money, and prompt exposure following the way Sisters in Spirit exploded and captured attention. But remember this: you're what makes Sisters in Spirit special. You're the unique component this group requires. Once I pushed that fact home, they agreed to give you the chance you deserve to show them what you're capable of.”

Tears sprang to her eyes; the beauty of the time spent with AJ faded fast as a nightmare scenario came to life.

This was so grossly unfair.

Liam pushed to his feet and joined her. Cupping her elbow, he took hold of her free hand. “My advice is this: give them their meeting. Dazzle them by being exactly who and what you are—a charming, winsome ballerina who will be perfectly able to perform on tour once recovery is complete.”

“Three months, Liam. It'll be three months until I'm ready to do the kind of leaps and jumps and extended spins that are required by our music. They'll never hear of it.”

“They will once they meet you and they will once I remind them what you bring to the stage. Remember, we've still got those videos from the fundraiser and you'll light up the room when you meet them. In six weeks, give them the best you have and we'll go from there. This isn't a sealed deal one way or another.”

Liam squeezed her cold, trembling fingertips. “Siobhan, this entire endeavor has belonged to God from the beginning. Pray about it, give it back to Him then come out fighting. Trust the plan.”

“That's just it, Liam, the plan seems to be changing. And apparently, as it changes, it's up to me to deal with the aftermath.”

Tears welled all over again, spilling down her cheeks. An instant later, Siobhan found herself engulfed in the rock-solid, assuring embrace of her brother.

 

 

 

 

8

 

Steam curls lifted from the surface of AJ's mug, tickling his nose with the temptation of a morning hit of coffee. On the plate before him was a freshly prepared omelet, heavy on green pepper, light on onion and tomato. The speckles that dotted the egg, the spicy tang that burst against his tongue left Coop thinking about the Cuppa Café and the grocery store—the way his path had crossed with Siobhan.

Like developing a relationship was meant to be.

Just home following early services at Westerville Methodist church, he had prepped breakfast and was now settled on a stool at the counter-side nook in his kitchen. Today's sermon had referred to finding God's will and plan and further centered on a reading from Song of Songs. The Scripture passage was so profound AJ had already claimed his Bible from the stand next to his bed and now slid it close, flipping open to the selection.

Scarcely had I passed them when I found the one my heart loves. I held him and would not let him go.

Scratching his chin, AJ's gaze traveled across the words once more. The joyful hope attempted purchase in his spirit. It was true. In God's time, Spirit plans and promises would come to fruition no matter the circumstance.

He thought of Siobhan once again. They had gotten together frequently during the past three weeks, sharing dinners and even a holiday concert featuring a number of their favorite Christian artists. But he noticed something of alarm.

Siobhan's meeting with executives from Zion's Peak and tour reps from Ganneton Productions would take place in a few weeks, and it didn't take long-term knowledge of her personality traits to realize the closer that date loomed, the more Siobhan closed off, the harder she pushed, and the deeper within she sank. Although AJ lauded her desire to perform at peak, the battle she fought broke his heart.

Today he knew she would be working out at the studio since business practices were closed and all would be quiet. After that, they had set up plans for dinner and a movie. Despite Siobhan's outward appearances at resolution and the classic stiff upper lip, AJ knew she needed the uplift and distraction.

Tugging back the sleeve of his dress shirt, he checked his watch. He had a couple hours before her session would begin. She had wanted to show him the studio, but his schedule at work had been erratic of late, and the opportunity to follow through simply hadn't synched. Today might be the perfect opportunity to both monitor her progress and take a peek at the academy her talent, hard work and passion had created. Plus, doing so would give them the entire day together. That realization gave him a rush of pleasure.

Unwilling to surrender to second thoughts or doubts, AJ finished eating and firmed his itinerary for the day, shooting Siobhan a text to see if she was interested.

 

****

 

The music of Big Daddy Weave's song “When I See You” drifted AJ's way as soon as he pushed open the door to the first instruction room at the Douglas Dance Academy. Quiet footsteps led him into the mirrored space which was occupied by Siobhan alone. And music, he amended with a smile. Always music.

She executed a trio of pirouettes using her right leg as anchor. Fluid and airy, the movements were gorgeous. Then she changed directions and spun all over again, this time utilizing the support of her left leg. She wobbled immediately. She missed a beat but pushed on, chin jutted, eyes fierce but glittery. And AJ could tell she was so focused on making her body function the way it used to that she was oblivious to anything else…even his arrival.

He held his breath as she completed the interlude by arcing backwards and twisting at the waist, her arms a graceful swirl of motion until she went still then straightened. The music ended. Back turned to AJ, she pounded a fist against the wooden barre that rimmed the wall. Her shoulders trembled. She swiped fingertips beneath her eyes in a fast, reckless motion that spoke eloquently of the tears she cried.

Sometimes, being a doctor was vile. What AJ hated were moments like this, when pain and the time and effort of rehab tapped a patient dry.

“Siobhan?”

Following a jolt, she steeled her shoulders. She didn't turn, but he took note of the way she shook herself then hoisted her left leg, settling it against the barre, beginning to stretch.

“Hey, Coop.”

AJ wasn't one bit fooled by a greeting that was way too bright and false. “Yeah. OK.”

The words were spoken in a tease, but served notice that he had witnessed her battle with frustration.

Siobhan's shoulders sank, and she faced him at last. “I've been attempting some pointe work—struggling to do something that up to now came as easy to me as walking, or breathing. Now, I'm nothing but a stinkin' mess!”

Anger boiled into spatters of lava and then cooled on the deep sigh she released. Pressing fingertips against the bridge of her nose, she went limp all over again, propping a hip against the wall.

AJ stepped forward to the center of the room. “Small moves, Siobhan. Small moves. And remember, overcoming this is like learning to spin. Center, then twirl. As you twirl, steady yourself by focusing on a single, unmoving point of reference. You can
do
this.”

She looked at him, scowling, possessed of a wounded soul that left AJ longing to reach out.

“Come here. Give me your hands.” The delicate lines between her brows deepened. “C'mon. Give me your hands.” Reluctantly she joined him, and reached out. The scowl eased, but didn't disappear. AJ paid her outlook no mind. She was in the midst of a pain rush that had precious little to do with physicality. So, he took tight hold and held her steady. “Try again. Go en pointe, but use me for balance.”

Her fingertips trembled. She bit her lips together and looked down, focused on her feet. In slow, careful degrees she lifted. Perfectly straight and poised she seemed to float into space…

But then her pained exclamation sent shattering cracks into the moment, and she crumbled.

“Enough! Obviously, I'm not ready for toe work. I'll work on my leaps.”

How, AJ wondered, could such thundering sound, such powerful energy, emanate from so diminutive a being? “Oh, no you won't. You're not ready for leaps yet. Maybe in a few weeks—”

“I don't have a few weeks! I have a
couple
—at
most
!”

Growling, she thumped onto a chair and yanked away the wide, snug ankle laces of her toe shoes. She swept them off her feet and promptly chucked them against the far wall. AJ flinched. She had nice arm strength, too. She never looked left or right, never paid him a moment's heed. Super focused, she slipped on a pair of pink leather ballet flats and lifted somewhat stiffly, stalking to the center of the room. All at once, her shoulders sagged then began to shake. Though her back was to him, the way she covered her face, the sobs he heard, spoke of a woman clearly overwhelmed.

Wasting no time, he stationed himself behind her in quiet support. “Let me share with you a thought I had when I first saw you in the hospital.” AJ rested his hands on her shoulders. “Seeing you in tears is like watching an angel weep. It's just…
wrong
. It burns a hole inside me. I'd do just about anything to keep you from pain.”

“But you can't.”

Mournful, luminous eyes touched his. The soft resignation in her voice undid him further. “OK then, think of it as part of my job to push you through that pain so you can stand on your own again.”

Siobhan seemed to absorb his words, but the end note caused him to pause and search her deep. Caught in a moment of truth, he realized they couldn't hang on to one another forever once her recovery was complete. When full restoration occurred, would they remain together? What would happen if she toured and the group took off as everyone expected?

She leaned against him. “It seems you always catch me at the worst possible moments. How can I convince you of the fact that I'm not some kind of weak, weepy diva?”

The question made him laugh. “The words weak, weepy, and diva aren't even close to my vocabulary when it comes to you.”

She puffed out her cheeks and expelled a breath. “I hate this. I really, really hate this. I feel like I'm never going to be the same. Like I'll never have the joy and freedom I once knew as a dancer. My body—which I've always been able to count on—is betraying me. I'm trying so hard, but I'm failing, and it makes me sick!”

“Siobhan, you've got to give yourself time. You're an athlete. You're going to recover. It doesn't feel that way right now because you're just starting to find your feet again. Literally. Believe me, the power and grace and fluidity will return.” AJ didn't wait on a reply. Instead, he led her to the small table where a docking station held Siobhan's smart phone and provided her musical selections. “Pick out a song and jump back into it.”

Once she did, AJ stood against the wall by the player, arms crossed against this chest while he studied her. “Try an eight-step gallop, changing feet at the four-count. If you want a prelude to leaps, you can push from the floor with the balls of your feet and extend, but take it easy. Lead the first round with your right leg, the next with your injured leg.”

Siobhan's eyes widened with shock. “And what's after that, a set of pliés?”

AJ inched his shoulder into an insolent shrug. “Sure, if you feel up to it, but not without the barre.” His playful challenge was met with a glower. “By the way I think you're going to need a pain reliever after this session.”

She assumed first position in the far corner of the studio. “Gallops. Four counts. Extensions. You seem comfortable with the terms of the dance world.”

Indeed he was, but AJ masked mystery with a grin. “Stay tuned for more surprises. By the way, I'm waiting.”

Siobhan's lips twitched and she dipped her head in exaggerated acquiescence. Perfectly timed to the upbeat number that played, she opened her arms and launched across the floor with footsteps so light she hardly seemed to touch the ground. The exercise wasn't much more than a glorified run, but it would test the stability of her leg. AJ paid close attention, tracking how her body reacted to the slight spring and release of her motions. She wasn't quite as steady on her left leg, but that would come in time—with continued strengthening.