Her Hometown Hero Page 14

  “I heard what you did when you left. What were you thinking earlier? You could have killed Kit. She has nothing to do with what’s between us.” Intensity swirled around Steven.

  From where Nate stood, it was easy to see that the teen was bigger and more muscular than his father.

  “I know. I was wrong.”

  “Did you know she was in an accident in New York in January? Hit by a car running a red light. Did you know that she lost part of her leg and has a prosthetic one?”

  The color drained from Daniel’s face. “No...there’s no excuse...” The man glanced around at all the teens and parents watching the exchange. “We’ll talk at home” finally came out of his mouth, but the words were weak, almost sounding defeated.

  Nate approached the pair. “Let’s take this outside.” He spied Kit coming out from behind the backdrop, Lexie right beside her. Kit homed in on Steven and his dad. Nate hurriedly ushered the pair out the back of the barn, away from the teens and adults helping.

  Daniel pivoted toward Nate, peering beyond him. Nate knew Kit was coming up behind him. When Daniel strode toward her, Nate waved Steven back to keep him from interfering. He’d seen regret on the man’s face.

  Daniel stopped in front of Kit. “Please accept my apology. I never meant you any harm. All I’ve been doing for the past couple of hours is driving around, trying to sort stuff out. Are you sure you’re okay? I was foolish and reckless. Please forgive my behavior.”

  A smile graced Kit’s face, lighting up her features. “Of course I forgive you. But will you do me a favor?”

  “Anything.”

  “You should be careful promising that,” she said with a teasing note in her voice. Then her expression sobered. “Please talk to your son. Really talk to him.”

  As Steven closed the few feet between Daniel and Kit, Nate intercepted Steven before he broke in. Nate moved the teen away a couple of yards. “Anger won’t get the answers you need. When you talk with your father, you want him to listen and hear you. He’ll want the same thing. If Kit can forgive him for his reckless driving, then you need to also. We never know what tomorrow holds. Don’t regret today.”

  Steven inclined his head.

  “Son, we’d better get moving. Your mom has an early supper planned.” Daniel waited for Steven, and then the two walked through the barn and out the front.

  Kit watched them leave. Nate came up behind her and laid his hands on her tense shoulders, then began kneading them.

  She sighed. “I needed that after the day it’s been.”

  “Your revelation was the talk all through the barn. The ones who didn’t overhear you talking to Anna heard it from her. Her admiration for you has only grown.” Nate turned Kit to him. The red patches on her cheeks didn’t surprise him. He caressed the back of his hand across her face, feeling the warmth against his skin. “You never did like the fame part that went with your job, but you need to realize how much she looks up to you. Anna couldn’t believe how calm you were in accepting what happened to you.”

  “I guess that was one of my better performances because there has been nothing calm about my reaction to my circumstances. Still, I’m beginning to see fighting it is only harming me.” She lifted her gaze to his, tenderness in her eyes that stirred up all the feelings he’d once had for her. “Home has a way of doing that to me. That’s why I came back when it wasn’t working out in New York. I couldn’t get past the anger. But I hadn’t planned to say anything to the kids today.”

  “What made you?”

  “It felt right. I knew that Anna would tell the others and everyone would know by the end of today. That’s why I didn’t say to her not to say anything about my prosthetic leg. I can’t run away from my problem anymore.” She tilted her head to the side. “What did you say to Steven at the end?”

  “I suggested if you could forgive his father, Steven could forgive him, too. I hope those two will talk it out tonight.”

  “So do I.”

  He wanted to kiss her, to feel her in his embrace, to forget everything that had happened between them years ago that had sent them their separate ways. He looked long and hard into those expressive blue eyes and felt lost as he had been as a teen. I can’t go there. He backed away a couple of steps, their gazes still bound. His throat burned. He moistened it, but still suppressed emotions jammed it.

  I can’t fall in love again. The memory of the pain flooded him. He dragged his attention to the stage area. With most of the workers gone, the sound of the big fans filled the quiet. The air around him was cool in the shade.

  “You, Steven and your crew did a great job. When are you going to start rehearsal with the dancers and singers together?”

  “Next week, which won’t give us much time. Thankfully the production will only be part of the entertainment or I would be panicking.”

  “You’re a pro. It will work out.”

  In the center of the barn Kit slowly rotated, scanning the beginning stages of the transformation. “This will be a nice place for the party and a good use for the space. When my dad built the new barn closer to the main house, my grandpa wasn’t happy. He told him there was nothing wrong with this one and I have to agree. I think Dad just wanted everything more convenient to his house. My grandparents built and lived in the cabin, which is closer to here. I think that was the only time I saw my father and grandfather have an argument.”

  “It was so sad when your dad died from a heart attack. So young, but Howard did a great job taking over the ranch right after his high school graduation.”

  “Dad had been working with him for years.”

  Nate grabbed at the chance to talk about her parents and grandparents. Anything that would take his mind off the dilemma he faced as his feelings for Kit continued to grow. He learned from his mistakes. He didn’t repeat them, and yet he could see that in Kit’s case, he was in real danger of getting his heart broken again.

  Chapter Eleven

  The sunlight streamed through the dance studio’s east window, making the hardwood floor gleam. Carrie stood in front of the mirror for her private lesson.

  “Back straighter. Chin up,” Kit said from her side, demonstrating the correct posture.

  Her niece did exactly as Kit had said.

  “Point your right toes more. That’s good. Now take your bow.” Kit had Carrie always bow at the end of the lesson.

  Carrie whirled around, losing all the grace she fought to retain during her lesson, her expression lit. “How did I do? I think that was my best so far.”

  “You did great. You and I will have worked together almost four weeks. I promised your mom a demonstration at the end of a month, and I think you’re going to dance beautifully for her.”

  “Yes.” Carrie pumped her arm in the air. She blew Kit a kiss. “Gotta go. I’m going into town with Mom when she takes you to the dance academy.” At the door her niece ran back, squeezed Kit in a tight hug, then darted out of the studio.

  Lexie pranced into the room. She never came in when students were in here, but once they left, she always did.

  “I still have a little time before I have to be at the dance academy. I want you to watch what I’ve been thinking about doing. I keep saying I can’t do ballet steps. What if I can? Not performance level but maybe I can still execute a move well enough that someone could tell what it is.”

  Lexie cocked her head to the side as she listened to Kit.

  “I’m going to try an attitude, then a pirouette. See if I can go from one move to another.”

  Kit faced the mirror to watch herself as she posed on her right leg, lifting her left, curved and at a ninety degree angle, then took two steps and went into a pirouette, twirling in a circle on the ball of her right foot with both arms curved above her head. Halfway around, she teetered and went down, her shoulder slammin
g into the hardwood.

  She pounded her fist into the floor. Frustration flashed through her, hot and quick. She’d done those steps thousands of times. They had been second nature to her. Not anymore. Her mind wanted to do them. Her body didn’t cooperate.

  She hunched over, her forehead against the cool hardwood. She fought the overwhelming desire to bawl. She’d cried enough at what she’d lost. She had to stop giving in to tears. Now. Her palm banged against the floor again and again, pain shooting up her arm.

  “Simple steps. Why can’t I at least do those?”

  A wet nose nudged her cheek. She turned her head and stared into Lexie’s big brown eyes.

  Her poodle whimpered.

  “I’m all right, Lex. I had to try.” She pushed herself to a sitting position and patted her lap.

  Lexie hopped up and snuggled close to Kit.

  “I’m going to try again and again until...” Until what? She gave up? She hurt herself? “Until I can at least go through the proper movements. Not perfectly. I don’t have to be perfect anymore.”

  Lexie barked her agreement.

  * * *

  Later that day after dismissing her students, Kit slipped into Madame Zoe’s class to wait for Anna, who would be instructed by both of them during the week. Kit sat, still not quite up to the energy level she wanted. She’d been teaching for over two weeks and thought by now she wouldn’t be so tired on the days she taught Carrie, her friends and the students at the Summer Dance Academy, and then rehearsed with the teens for the Western shindig—now only nine days away. After all, as a dancer she’d been used to nonstop work. Often her life had revolved around it.

  But exhaustion clung to her, and with a two-hour rehearsal ahead of her, she would have to dig deep to keep herself going.

  “No. No, Anna.” Madame Zoe’s booming voice cut into Kit’s thought. “You aren’t concentrating on the steps enough. You’re getting sloppy. The rest of you are dismissed.”

  The nine students filed out of the studio, a couple of them throwing Kit a relieved look as they passed her. Anna remained in the center of the room, her gaze briefly touching Kit’s before returning to Madame Zoe.

  “I know you’re dancing in that little production for your church and rehearsing after you leave here. Perhaps doing that is taking your mind off what is important. We will be having a performance when the Summer Dance Academy is over, and when you’re here I expect your concentration 100 percent or I’m going to have someone else dance the lead. Now, you’re to do that series of steps until I’m satisfied you’re giving me that 100 percent.”

  Anna dropped her head. “Yes, Madame Zoe.”

  After the tenth run-through, Anna faced Madame Zoe, tears shining in her eyes. “What am I doing wrong?”

  “You tell me. That’s part of being a dancer. You should know when you aren’t performing to your peak potential. Again.”

  “But Kit is waiting—”

  “That’s what I mean,” Madame Zoe said, her words spoken in quiet steel. “Your mind is on leaving, not dancing.”

  Kit glanced at the wall clock and realized Nate would be outside to pick up both of them. She rose. “Anna, don’t worry. I’ll be out in the hall when you’re ready.”

  When Kit left, she heard Madame Zoe repeat the word she used to dread as a student—“Again.” She trudged toward the main exit in front, remembering being there years ago, leaving class feeling a failure and not quite sure how to improve. Over the time since, she’d had teachers like Madame Zoe who drilled relentlessly and others who told her exactly what they expected and how to achieve it. She’d never been afraid of hard work, but after classes with instructors like Madame Zoe she’d often questioned why she wanted to be a ballerina.

  She headed for Nate’s truck parked in front. The smile that lit his whole face at the sight of her warmed her as she neared the vehicle. Howard’s second truck was in the shop, so sometimes when Nate was through with work at the animal hospital early, he’d pick up Anna and her to take them to the ranch. While he helped Howard and a few other teens work on the barn, finishing up the transformation, she’d help the dancers rehearse the performance. Beth worked with the singers. She and her sister-in-law made a good team.

  She opened the passenger door. “Anna has been delayed. Do you mind waiting?”

  “Of course not. I remember waiting for you after some of your classes with Madame Zoe. Is it the same problem?”

  “Yes, Anna isn’t doing the steps the way Madame Zoe wants.”

  “And she isn’t telling her why?”

  “She hasn’t changed over the years. I told Anna I would wait in the hallway.”

  Nate removed the keys from the ignition. “Then I’ll keep you company.”

  But before he rounded the hood of the Silverado, Anna hurried out of the building. She got into the backseat while Kit slipped into the front one.

  She glanced back at the teenage girl whose blurry eyes and quivering bottom lip brought back memories of Kit’s own trials. “I wish I could tell you it gets easier,” Kit said gently. “It doesn’t. Each instructor you have will demand something a little different from your last. In order to survive, you’ll have to toughen yourself. They aren’t criticizing you but your dancing. There’s a difference.”

  “How? I am my dancing,” Anna said in a thick voice as Nate climbed into the cab and started the engine.

  “No, you’re not. Dancing is important, but there’s more to you than that.” As Kit said those words, part of her was surprised because at Anna’s age she hadn’t thought that. Even six months ago she hadn’t believed it. Her accident had forced her to look beyond her career to realize who she was without dancing. “It’s okay to have other interests besides ballet.”

  “Did you?” Anna asked.

  Nate slid a look toward Kit.

  She shifted in her seat, rubbing her hands together. “No, and I’m regretting that now.”

  “Because of what happened?”

  Anna’s question made Kit even more uneasy. She knew some ballerinas who had boyfriends or husbands. Some that enjoyed hobbies in their downtime. Not her. “Yes. I had nothing to fill the hours of inactivity after my accident. Balance is important in a person’s life, even a dancer’s.”

  “I used to play the guitar, but lately I’ve stopped.”

  Kit peered over her shoulder at Anna. “Do you enjoy it?”

  “Yes.”

  “You know we could use you to play something at the fund-raiser. Do you know any country-western songs?”

  Anna’s eyes brightened. “That’s usually what I played. I haven’t picked up my guitar in a year. Let me think about it.”

  “Sure.”

  Nate drove through the gates of the Soaring S Ranch and minutes later parked next to Kit’s cabin. A few of the other performers were waiting on the porch. Anna hurried from the back.

  As Kit placed her hand on the handle, Nate stopped her. “I got a call about our fund-raiser from the local television station. They wanted to do a spot about our Western shindig, especially after they heard you were involved. In fact, they want to interview you and film some of the rehearsal, then do a follow-up the night of the fund-raiser.”

  “When do they want to schedule the interview?” Kit managed to ask while the muscles in her stomach twisted and knotted.

  “As soon as possible.”

  “How do they know about the shindig?”

  “Pastor Johnson’s neighbor is the evening news anchor.”

  “Do they know about my leg?”

  “They didn’t say anything about it.”

  Her fingers clutched the handle, her knuckles white. “How did they know about me?”

  “When they asked about the shindig, I explained what we were doing. Your name came up in connection to the en
tertainment.”

  She stiffened. “Do they think I’ll be dancing?”

  He clasped her left hand. “I made it clear this was driven by the youth group. Their fund-raiser for their mission trip. If you choose to meet with the reporter, it’ll be your decision what you want to say. You’ve been fine when someone at church says something to you about your accident or your leg. Is this any different?”

  It was one thing to talk about her prosthetic leg with people she knew, but totally different when strangers became involved. Her throat closed, she nodded, then shoved open the door and descended to the ground.

  She heard Nate slam his door and then his footsteps behind her. When he caught up with her, she stopped and said to the group of six teens, “You all go inside and start warming up. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  When the kids disappeared from view, she faced Nate. “We have a lot to do, especially if one of our rehearsals is going to be filmed for the evening news.”

  “It doesn’t have to be. It’s your call.”

  “But it would be great publicity for the fund-raiser.”

  “Yes,” Nate admitted.

  “Then I have no choice. I’ve gotten to know these teens and I want to help them help others. If we can raise more than needed for the Honduras trip, I’ve heard a few talk about some shorter trips, ones within Oklahoma. I like that. It makes me wish I had done some volunteering of my own at their age.” She attempted to reassure Nate with a smile, but from his worried expression she didn’t think it had worked. “I’ll be fine. Now, I’ve got work to do. We’ll be up at the barn later to block the dances on the stage.”

  He took her hands, holding them up between them as he edged closer. “Thank you. When I asked you last month about helping, I didn’t think you would but I’m so glad you did. The group sees you working hard on this fund-raiser with what happened to you, and it spurs them to do as much as they can.”