When the Music Stops (12 page)

6

C
lasses rolled by smoothly. Lindsay suggested Marta add additional fall classes: two international character dances and drop-in evening exercise classes. The week after Labor Day, when schools resumed, she'd be juggling close to a full schedule if she counted the community theatre jobs she intended to continue.

Marta reached for the calendar, about to tear off August, when the phone rang. When she heard Steve's voice, a warm, buttery feeling spread through her. Marta curled the phone cord around her finger. "It's good to hear your voice again. I've missed you."

"It hasn't been that long, has it? I talked with you last week, Marta."

She laughed. "Actually, it’s been two weeks. You must have been busy with school.”

They talked about his busy schedule at the paper, his projects, and his December graduation from Rocky Mountain College. “I need ten hours fall term, a handful of small projects, and then it’s the big wide world.”

“Are you looking for jobs yet? Do you know where you'd like to work?”

“Honestly, I'll take what I can get," Steve said. "I'd like to go back to San Francisco. Would you consider moving there and getting a job dancing to be close to me? I miss you more than you’ll ever know, Marta.”

Would she? Marta stared out the window, seeing nothing. She'd yet to feel settled at home and discover if she was capable of dancing again. Could she uproot herself and move so soon?

"Marta? Would you consider moving?"

“What about Seattle? Are you interviewing here?”

Steve laughed. “They're on my list. I sent requests for interviews, but neither have replied yet. Would it be okay with you if I moved to Seattle?”

Marta smiled into the phone. “Are you kidding? It would be perfect.”

The phone line hummed with their silence. “Marta? You feel like you're drifting away. Are we still okay? Are you wearing the necklace I gave you last Christmas?"

"Yes, when I'm not dancing." She adjusted the necklace, then slid the pendent back and forth, feeling the chain vibrate against her skin.

"How about the bracelet?"

"Yes, that too." The bracelet demonstrated her promise to not date other guys. "Maybe I should have given you something so you'd have a reminder of me."

Steve laughed. "I don't need a reminder. I think of you every day and wish you had stayed here for your recovery. How's the ankle lately?”

"It's fine.”

"How is it being home again?"

Marta hesitated. How did she feel about being home. Did it matter? "Home's okay; I'm fine."

“It doesn't sound like you're fine. Is something bothering you? You know I want to be with you when things settle down, if you still care about me.” He paused. "Do you, Marta?"

She hesitated again, thinking about her conversation with Dennis after the teen play. “I’ll always care about you, Steve. I dream about you and I wonder what you’re doing. It makes me feel content.”

He laughed. “Good. I tell you what I’m thinking, but I’m never sure about what’s going on in that head of yours. I hate having these miles between us. Right now I need to get back to work. I wish the textbooks provided as much enjoyment as shadowing reporters did last spring. I miss you, Miss Fluff.”

“Miss you too.” The words caught in her throat. She did miss him and the way he brought happiness into her days. “Who could I tease about ballet being fluff news if I didn’t have you?”

He laughed. “I know. I’ve apologized so many times, and I’ll probably need to apologize for years to come. Love you. I’ll call again soon.”

Marta pictured his face watching hers, looking for clues into her thinking, smiling as he did whenever they reminisced about meeting. She’d always treasure that moment, the stunned expression on his face when she confronted him about calling ballet fluff. “I’ll expect you to remember that day, but maybe I can find a new way to torment you. I’ll work on that. Guess I’d better go. I miss you.”

When Steve hung up, Marta stood listening to the dial tone. What
was
going on in her head? She loved talking and joking with Steve, but what did it mean when visions of Dennis kept popping up?

As the afternoon light polarized, turning the grape leaves a brilliant green, Marta stepped into the backyard to sit and think. She plopped into one of the Adirondack chairs her dad made. She slid her hands along the smooth arms remembering the year she’d helped him sand and paint them. “These are my gifts to the yard,” he’d said. “They’ll probably outlast me.” He didn’t realize the truth in those words; he died six months after he finished them.

How did her mom know when she fell in love with her dad? Did she ever doubt that he was “the one,” the person she’d spend her life with? And if she felt that way, how could she now consider loving Robert?

Just then
Marta’s mom drove into the garage, closed the large door, and joined her in the backyard. She collapsed in the chair next to Marta. “What a day! I should know better than to let Robert volunteer me for the shipyard’s back-to-school party. Lots of fun, but I’m so tired I could stay right here all night.”

Marta pushed herself out of her lawn chair. “Stay and relax. It’s nice tonight. I’ll bring out dinner.” As she assembled dinner she continued to wonder about Robert. Her mom obviously enjoyed his company. Did her heart race when she held his hand? Did she have a sinking feeling when they kissed? Were her feelings the same as they’d been with her dad?

After they ate their chef’s salads and discussed the dance studio and the vegetable garden, Marta took the opportunity to shift their conversation. “You really like Robert, don’t you, Mom?”

“I do. He’s a good man; he makes me laugh. We’re planning a short getaway to Kalaloch Lodge next weekend. I want to drive to the ocean before autumn sets in.”

“Good. You need a getaway. Kalaloch would be my choice too. Wish Lynne had come out. I wanted to share the beach with her, but I think she’s finally found a special guy.”

“Really? Lynne? Hm-m. Speaking of someone special, have you heard from Steve lately?”

Marta shrugged. “He called today. Still busy with school. He’s swamped with class work and looking for a job.”

He mom’s face registered a question before she spoke. “You don’t act excited like you use to when you talk about him.”

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen him.”

“Distance makes a relationship harder, honey. Your dad and I never had to worry about that.”

“So you always knew he was the one you wanted to marry?”

“I did. For us it was love at first sight. He was kind, thoughtful, funny, and romantic.”

Marta saw her mother’s face soften as she spoke. “So, did that happen with Robert too?”

“Our relationship started as friends; our love grew over time. True, it’s a different kind of love than I had with your father, but it’s still love.”

Marta nodded as she collected their dinner dishes.

“Give yourself time, honey. You’ll figure out how you feel. Right now I have news that I hope will excite you. Lindsay just learned that the moving company is leaving from the upstairs space. She plans to rent the rest of the building. When she adds more classes, you
could
become a full time instructor, if you’re interested.”

“Did you tell her I’d be interested?”

“No, honey. That’s up to you. I think it would be wonderful, but that’s me being selfish. I enjoy having you here and seeing you at the studio.”

“I enjoy both places. Dancing at Miss Holland’s, I mean Lindsay’s, studio speeds up my recovery. Maybe I’ll talk with her about adding more classes.”

“Great! Lindsay will be thrilled.” Her mom stood and stretched. “Thanks for dinner. Think I’ll water the front yard before I head in.”

Marta washed their dinner dishes and set the nook for breakfast. When her mom came in, she carried a flat package that she handed to Marta. “I found this by the front door. Hope it’s fun mail.”

The package’s return address confirmed it was from Lynne. She’d sent a dozen notes and pictures from the four little girls they’d taught in the spring. Each brought an ache of sadness and a smile to Marta. She missed seeing Tracy, Brenda, Carmen, and Lucy. They started third grade this fall. She wondered how much longer they’d remember her.

Lynne’s attached note promised to keep Marta’s lightened mood intact.

Dear Marta,

The girls and I began lessons last week in your old basement space, much to Carol’s dismay. When she started complaining about how noisy we were, I told her to get a life. She huffed away just like she did when you used the space.

Turns out Mr. Right was Mr. Oh-So-Wrong. The handsome liar’s a married man with two kids. Oh well. I’m too busy working on becoming a soloist anyway.

Mrs. B. sends you her best. As do I.

Lynne

Marta pressed the letter to her chest. She needed to surprise Lynne and write back to her before Lynne had time to call.

That next Monday she found a postcard with a talking fish on the front. The bubbles around the fish read, “Cut out fishing around for a compliment. I think you’re special just the way you are.”

On the back she wrote in tiny script:

Tell those sweet girls thank you. I love each drawing they made. I want them to give you huge hugs from me to replace Mr. Wrong’s. (Sorry he was a jerk.) I’d hoped to see you before fall training, but now it looks like Christmas before we’ll get face to face.

Marta

h

Marta’s life settled into a repeating pattern similar to her recovery time in Billings: exercise, work, bake, sleep, and begin again. It made it easy to move along without thinking too much about Steve or Dennis. But soon she’d be back helping Dennis with sets for the next play. The thought of seeing him excited and frightened her, leaving their relationship in an awkward place.

In mid-September the phone rang, startling her as she played another game of solitaire.

“Marta? This is Dennis. How are you?”

A flush hurried through her. “I’m okay.” She brushed back her hair and felt her lips curve into a smile.

“I have good news and bad. The next play is
Our Town.
It has no sets, but Hal has given us the chore of rounding up furniture for the stage. Are you interested in helping me find what we need?”

“Sure.” She paced to the window and back, pulling the phone cord taut. “When do we need to get started?”

“I thought we could do it Saturday. I have one source of ‘30s furniture, but if you have ideas, bring them along. I’ll pick you up at ten.”

Saturday morning Marta put on her best capris and a summer top. She brushed her hair, put on makeup, and stood watching out the kitchen window for Dennis to drive up. Her thoughts jumped from Dennis to Steve and back to Dennis. Was this a good idea? She paced the living room, then stopped in front of the mirror. She surveyed her outfit, raced to her bedroom, and changed clothes. Back in front of the mirror, she turned her head side to side; a skirt looked best. She removed the necklace and bracelet from Steve and put them in her pocket.

Dennis arrived in an old open-backed truck. The sunshine and the warm day lent itself to wandering on their way to Brownsville to meet his contact. They stopped to explore Illahee State Park’s forest trails, then descended to walk along its beach. The sun glistened on Agate Pass.

Marta pointed across the waterway. “My family used to take the little ferry from Bremerton to that dock on Bainbridge to visit my aunt and uncle’s home. I always remember the day after my birthday when I wore my new Mickey Mouse watch. I let my cousin wear it and between the two of us we over wound it and the stem fell out in the tall grass. That ended my watch.”

Dennis chuckled. “Bet your parents were upset with you. Mine would have tanned my backside.”

“Actually, they didn’t say a word. That was worse than having them get mad. I can still see them shaking their heads.”

They walked in silence until they’d reached the end of the fishing pier. As they turned back, Dennis spoke. “I’m glad you decided to come with me. This is my first break since the teen play. With so much carpentry work lately, I’ll be able to afford a new truck before too long.” He reached for Marta’s hand and held it firmly as they walked backup the trail. “So, how’s Mr. Sorta?”

“He’s fine.”

“Too bad.” He grinned and slid his calloused thumb slowly across her fingers.

Marta felt heat travel up her arm. He didn’t release her hand until they returned to his truck and he opened the door for her to climb inside. She looked away from him, hiding her reaction to his touch until they’d driven out of the park.

At Brownsville the owner of the small furniture shop loaded up two dressers, a floor lamp in need of rewiring, and several framed paintings perfect for
Our Town
’s sparse set. As they pulled back onto Wheaton Way, Dennis turned to Marta. “Are you hungry? Want to grab a burger at the Bay Bowl? We could stay and bowl a few lines if you have the time?”