Authors: Ruth Logan Herne
“Because it could be my last chance to fix what's wrong with me.”
That was the root of the problem, he understood. Her obsession with perfection had bothered him in the past, but never more than in this moment. Because he'd always been aware of his own failings, he couldn't comprehend her perspective on what it meant to be flawless. But he did understand that in the past she'd been just that, and she longed to reclaim as much of it as she could.
That didn't mean he couldn't try to change her mind, though.
“There's nothing wrong with you,” he insisted, crossing the stage to hunker down in front of her. “You're perfect just the way you are.”
Her wistful gaze communicated more than any words could possibly say. “That's sweet of you, but we both know it isn't true.”
Taking her hand, he met those sorrow-filled blue eyes with every ounce of compassion he had in him. “I believe it is, with all my heart.”
“Please don't take this the wrong way,” she begged in a tearful voice. “But that doesn't really matter. What matters is what
I
believe.”
Since he shared that particular conviction with her, he had no choice but to give her that one. Thankfully, another argument floated into his mind. “Okay, so what'll you do if the surgery goes wrong and you're paralyzed? It's hard to teach dance when you can't show the kids the steps.”
“I'll find another job somewhere.”
He could tell she was trying desperately to appear confident, but the shadow of doubt in her expressive eyes gave her away. The only thing she'd ever wanted to do was dance, or teach dance, so he was fairly certain she'd never learned how to do anything else. It was mean of him, but he forged ahead in what he suspected would be a last-ditch attempt to make her see reason. “Doing what?”
“I don't know, something,” she retorted defiantly. “Rachel's not exactly a rocket scientist. If she can find a job, so can I.”
The uncalled-for attack on his ex made Jason's temper flare, and he wrestled it under control to keep this from getting personal. He couldn't accomplish anything if he lost his cool and started yelling. “We're not talking about her right now. We're talking about you. What's really bothering you?”
At first, Amy just glowered at him, which worked in his favor because it gave him a chance to rein his own emotions back into line. She meant a lot to him, and he wanted nothing more than for her to be happy. This just didn't seem to him like the smartest way to go about it, but Granddad had taught him that the best way to resolve a disagreement was to listen to the other side all the way through. And since this was such a huge decision for Amy, Jason figured he owed her that much.
“This is very important to me,” she finally said, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and disappointment. “I thought you'd be more supportive thanâ”
She cut off abruptly, but it didn't take a genius to fill in that blank.
“Devon?” This time, he didn't bother hiding his frustration and stood to his full height. As he folded his arms in his most intimidating pose, it was his turn to scowl. “You're seriously gonna compare me to that snake?”
“He always told me what I should do,” she argued, “how I should handle my career. You're doing the same thing now, trying to talk me out of having this surgery.”
“Because it could ruin your life!”
“It's my life, and I have no intention of letting someone else talk me into anything.”
She tilted her chin rebelliously, and he recognized that he was treading on extremely thin ice with her. She was a grown woman, and ordinarily he'd honor her right to choose the option she felt was best for her. But what she was contemplating made absolutely no sense to him. Beyond that, she'd come so far in making a new career here in Barrett's Mill. Whatever the outcome of her surgery, he feared she'd eventually regret leaving the studio for the slim possibility of reviving her performing career.
“What about your students?” he demanded. “I thought you liked working with them.”
“I love it,” she affirmed in a wistful tone. “But there's no way for me to have that and my own career besides.”
Sensing that she was wavering, he took a single step forward into the space he normally kept between them. The urge to hold her was so overwhelming, it took some serious willpower to keep his hands at his sides. Very quietly, he said, “That's a tough choice to make.”
“I know.”
She looked up at him with such longing, he almost couldn't stand it. Part of him wanted to jump in and offer to go with her, even if only until her surgery was complete and she knew the outcome. Once the holidays were over, things would slow down at the mill enough to allow him to take some time off. Then logic reasserted itself to remind him he was a country boy who'd be completely lost in the big city.
It killed him to admit that, but he couldn't deceive her. Or himself. He might give that life a shot to please her, but he'd visited enough busy places to know that in the long run he'd never last. They were too crowded, and the hectic lifestyle made him long for wide-open spaces where he could breathe. Amy fit nicely into Barrett's Mill, but he couldn't envision himself doing the same in a bustling place like New York.
Because of that, if they were going to remain together, she was the one who had to compromise. Which meant he had to come up with a way to convince her to stay. “What happens to the studio if you leave?”
“Aunt Helen will finish out this block of classes and then close it down. That was her plan before I came here, anyway.”
“It's a shame to disappoint all those kids,” he ventured, hoping to appeal to her affection for the children she'd come to like so much.
“There's a good teacher over in Cambridge. I'm sure she'll be happy to take them on.”
“She's not you.”
In so many ways,
he added silently.
“I don't expect you to understand,” she said, backing away from him in an unmistakable effort to put some distance between them. “But this could be my last chance at being the way I used to be. I have to take it.”
He'd tried every trick in his book, knowing all the while how it would end. When Amy set her mind on something, there was simply no budging her. Grudgingly, he gave in. “Like you said, it's your life.”
“Yes, it is.” Glancing around, she came back to him with the same detached look in her eyes he'd seen the first day he met her. “I think the sets are far enough along that Uncle Fred and I can finish them up. Thank you so much for all your help, Jason.”
Offering her hand, she stared at him with an unreadable expression. Now that he'd voiced an opinion that differed from hers, apparently he'd slid down the list from good friend to hired hand. Must be some kind of record, he groused as he politely shook her hand. There were so many things he wanted to tell her, but he knew they'd sound either lame or pathetic or both, so he kept them to himself. “You're welcome.”
Since there was really nothing more to say, he picked up his toolbox and headed for the door. The bells jingled, a cheerful sound at odds with the heaviness weighing him down as he left. He knew he should just keep going, but he couldn't help looking back. What he saw just about broke his heart.
Standing alone in the middle of the ballroom, framed in the halo of a spotlight, Amy was staring up at the star on top of the lighted tree. The scene brought to mind their evening at the Starlight Festival, when they'd confided in each other and started building something that had become much more than friendship for him. The little ballerina he'd admired as a child had grown into an exquisite, aggravating woman who had an uncanny ability to challenge him one moment and charm him the next. Watching her now, he wished there was something more he could do to persuade her to rethink her decision and stay. Since there wasn't, he turned and headed for home.
On his way, he passed by the Morgan house. The lights were on in Fred's garage workshop, and Jason impulsively switched direction. As he approached, he could hear smooth jazz music, and he grinned when he heard Fred mimicking a soulful high-range trumpet solo with considerable gusto.
Outside the partially open door, he knocked to get the mechanic's attention. Fred appeared surprised to see him, but waved him in. When his eyes locked on Jason's toolbox, he scowled. “Those sets aren't near done yet. What happened?”
“Amy fired me.”
Heaving a long-suffering male sigh, Fred pulled up a couple of apple crates and motioned for Jason to take one. Once they were seated, he fixed Jason with a woebegone look. “The women in this family can drive a man right off a cliff.”
“Got that right,” Jason growled back.
Amy's uncle listened patiently to the entire sad story, nodding and frowning in all the right places.
“I've never been booted in the middle of a job before,” Jason said. “She'd rather have you help her finish things up before the show next week.”
“No can do.” Holding his lower back, Fred winked. “I think I tweaked my lumbar again.”
They both laughed, and Jason appreciated the conniving support. “Whattaya think I should do?”
“Ignore her and finish what you started.” Taking out his key ring, he slid one off and handed it to Jason. “This way, she doesn't have to let you in.”
“Thanks.” Pocketing the key, he added, “Now, about the other thing.”
Scratching a thumb over his stubbly chin, the older man chewed on that one for a few seconds. “Well, now, that depends on what you're really after.”
“I'm not following you.”
“Women are complicated.”
Jason snorted his agreement. “Tell me about it.”
“What I mean is it's best to pick one thing and go full bore instead of spreading yourself too thin.” Jason didn't respond, and he continued, “Do you want her to stay here so you can see where things go with her, or pass on the surgery 'cause you think it's a mistake?”
“Both.”
Chuckling, Fred shook his head. “You're not listening, son. To you and me, those two things are one and the same. To Amy, they're completely different.”
At first, that made no sense to him. Then he reconsidered it from her perspective, and the pieces clicked into place. “Because one's professional and the other's personal. If you don't mind me asking, where do you and Helen stand on this experimental procedure?”
“Against, one thousand percent. But Amy and that headstrong baby sister of mine have got other ideas. I guess Connie sees it different than we do, 'cause when she was younger, she was planning to be a big-time ballerina herself.”
“Then she had Amy,” Jason guessed, getting a nod in reply. “That explains why Amy's dead set on getting back to it. Her mom missed out, so Amy's trying to make up for what she lost.”
“Don't get me wrong. From the time she could walk, Amy danced the way most of us breathe, and that car crash was a tragedy in more ways than one. It wasn't easy for her to dust herself off the way she's done, but she's making the most of the gifts God gave her.”
“I thought she felt that way, too,” Jason confided glumly. “Now I'm not so sure. She seems to love teaching those kids, but now she's ready to give all that up for something even the doctors are warning her might not work.”
“You're not seeing it from her angle. If you'd fallen out of a tree in Oregon a couple years ago and were done with logging, what would you have done?”
“Come back here and make furniture at the mill.” That got him a wise look, but he didn't understand the significance of his answer. Eventually, it dawned on him. “I get it. I chose that even when I didn't have to. Amy took over the studio because that was the only way she could still be involved in dancing.”
“Now you've got it.” With a suddenly somber look, Fred asked, “And what about the other thing?”
Jason blanked, then caught on and grinned. “Are you asking about my intentions toward your niece?”
“Yes, I am.”
Since there were all manner of tools only an arm's length away, Jason straightened up and looked him directly in the eye the way he'd been taught. “She's the most incredible woman I've ever met, and I'd love to get to know her better.”
Fred seemed to appreciate that, and he nodded his approval. “From what I see, you're a good influence on our girl. She's a mite serious for someone her age, and you lighten her up. She smiles a lot more these days, and I like that.”
“That's good to hear.”
“But.” Brandishing a heavy wrench that looked as if it had seen plenty of action, he warned, “If that ever changes, you and I are gonna have a problem. Understand?”
Jason nodded soberly. “Yes, sir.”
“Good boy. Now, get outta here so I can finish up before Helen starts yelling for me to come inside already.”
Figuring it was best to get while the getting was good, Jason retrieved his toolbox and made a quick exit. While he mulled over Fred's advice, he had to admit he was having a tough time letting Amy go the way she wanted him to. He'd never had trouble doing that before, so his newfound reluctance puzzled him. Even with Rachel, once he'd gotten over the initial shock of her bolting like that, he'd counted his blessings that she'd skated before they'd walked down the aisle. Afterward would've been a lot tougher for him to recover from.
Amy was a different story.
She always had been, he realized with a start. As a boy, he'd been awed by her, and when they reconnected as adults, he just picked up where he'd left off. He didn't recall many things from that time in his life, but he'd never forgotten the spritely ballerina with the sparkling eyes and dazzling smile.
Had she remained in his memory all these years for a reason? He'd always believed that God created a match for everyone, and he couldn't deny it was possible Amy was meant to be his. The kicker was, if a relationship between them was ever going to work, one of them would have to do some pretzel-style bending of a fairly strong will.