When the Music Stops (17 page)

Marta nodded and whispered, “I heard it was Alicia Markova, but I can’t prove it.”

“Wow. Have you worn any of these?”

“I have. I’ve worn the costumes you’re borrowing. You may borrow these for the recital as well if you wish. Just promise to be extremely careful. We’ll never be able to replace them.”

“I promise,” Paige said as she smiled and wrapped the selected costumes in white tissue.

h

Renting the Corbett Drive house renewed Marta’s belief in good fortune. The Monday before Thanksgiving she signed the rental forms, paid her deposits, and picked up her keys. The owner gave her a six-month rental agreement that ensured her current eighty-five dollar a month rent would remain unchanged until next May.

“And, miss,” the landlord said, “I don’t tolerate any wild parties or them college pranks. I expect your neighbors will let me know if you do.”

Thanksgiving Day Marta packed her things while her mom celebrated turkey day with Robert’s relatives. On Friday she used Robert’s box trailer and, with her mom’s help, loaded up a twin bed, a dresser, a table lamp, the mirror from the garage, her mom’s extra kitchen dishes and supplies, plus her personal belongings.

The drizzly weather didn’t dampen her sunny spirit. In one hour they’d unloaded
her
scant possessions and stowed them in
her
living room in
her
house. Thinking about it brought a smile to her face. Now, for the first time, she’d begin life on her own: cooking all her meals, cleaning, and not worrying about what hours she came and went or played her music. Of course she’d miss her old room and her mother’s company, but she’d ride to the dance studio with mom and stop by often to use the phone. She allowed herself a quick dance from room to room before she got serious about unpacking.

The Corbett house had three rooms: a living area with a kitchen corner, a bedroom, and a bath. The paint throughout was fresh and the wooden floors had been polished to a high sheen. Marta carried her personal items into the bedroom. Her mom helped her assemble the bed and mattress and make up the bed. Marta fluffed up the flowered comforter and pillows and lay a blanket across the bottom of the bed.

Marta stood back and smiled. “Thanks, Mom. I can handle the rest. You go enjoy the rest of the weekend with Robert.”

“Are you sure?” her mom said. “I can stay longer if you want help with the rest of the boxes.”

“No. I’m fine. I’m probably going to be a moving mess, finding the best place for everything. Thank Robert for the loan of the trailer. I’ll see you Monday morning.”

Marta hummed as she finished in her bedroom. Clothes went into drawers and the narrow closet, her frilly lamp went on the bedside table, and the garage mirror hung in the tiny hall between the bathroom and the bedroom.

Kitchen next. Four plates, cups, and bowls on the open shelf. Pots and pans on the shelves under the counter. Silverware and utensils in the drawer. Towels on the swivel rack by the sink. Tea, cereal and sugar bowl in the cupboard. Milk in the fridge for morning. Done. Tomorrow she’d walk to Capps Grocery for further supplies.

The bathroom next. Marta hung her bath towels below the window and put soap and shampoo in the shower and her other supplies in the medicine chest. She tested the wall heater: only enough heat to take the chill out of the walls. Just like at home, she’d need to bathe, dry off quickly, and escape to the warmth of the bedroom to avoid freezing during cold weather.

Before dusk arrived Marta took a break from unpacking to cross the road and sit on a giant driftwood log above the high tide line. This horseshoe-shaped Phinney Bay was situated just a two mile drive from Bremerton, but also a world away from the shipyard and the hubbub of downtown. If she had a speed boat it would take her a good hour to motor to Sinclair Inlet, the main waterway near town. Maybe some day she’d think about a small boat, but it wasn’t a top priority like having her own car.

She buttoned her car coat up to her throat and crossed her arms over her chest to fend off the dampness soaking into her body. Gulls glided back and forth, cawing, snatching stray oysters and dropping them onto the rocks in hopes of opening them to gobble up the juicy bits inside. She inhaled the salty air and closed her eyes, envisioning springtime on this beach with her shoes kicked off, enjoying the warming sunlight. She shuddered from the November cold and returned to the little house to complete her unpacking for her first night in her own place.

In an hour’s time she’d arranged her furniture in the living room. A dresser served as her buffet. Once she had the money, she’d scour the second hand stores in hope of finding a small round table and two chairs. Until then a TV tray and folding chair would do.

She positioned the small rocking chair and the floor lamp on a rag rug her Gran had made and sat down to rock. Back and forth, back and forth. What was missing? A couch. She needed a couch. No, a daybed would be better for overnight company.

Marta took a quick shower, put on her chenille robe, took the blanket from the bottom of her bed, and wrapped up in the rocking chair. She closed her eyes as the quiet enveloped her. Much as she had enjoyed Mrs. B’s boarding house, making her own schedule and having all the space as her own was truly exciting. No wonder Lynne and Bartley liked having their own places.

h

Sunday evening Marta returned to her mom’s house to wait for Steve’s call. Lately he’d sounded more like himself: happy, anxious to share his class information, and closer to being ready to talk with her about their future. After they discussed her move, he asked, “You’re definitely coming to graduation, right?”

“Of course. It’s too important to miss.”

“Good. We’re invited to lots of parties, so you’ll be able to meet my friends. I’ll send you a plane ticket. Can you stay the month?”

“I can’t. Besides, I bought my train ticket last week. I‘ll stay for your graduation and one
Nutcracker
performance, then I need to get back home for the last of the Christmas shows and to be with my mom for the holiday.”

The phone line hummed in the quiet. “Okay. My mom will fix a guest room. We’ll spend time in town, then slip away to the mountains for our talk. I may have a job offer by the time you arrive. I’m hoping so, anyway.”

“That sounds great. It will be good to see you and wander around Montana again like we used to.” She took a deep breath, figuring what to say about their impending talk. The party line clicked. Saved by an incoming call.

“Oops! There’s a call coming in. I need to get it. Talk with you soon.”

“I’ll see you here in Billings in exactly…twelve days. Night, Marta. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Click, Click
. Marta double tapped the phone cradle to connect to the incoming call. “Hello? This is Marta.”

“Hi, Marta. It’s Lindsay.” Her voice sounded quiet, more serious than usual. “I wonder if you and your mother might come in early tomorrow morning, say eight-thirty. I have something to discuss with both of you.”

“Sure, Lindsay. Is something wrong?”

“Not really,” Lindsay said. “It’s complicated. I’ll explain it when I see you.”

Overnight Marta speculated on the news. Perhaps the older students had lost their chance to dance on KING-TV’s winter extravaganza, or the regional Christmas show didn’t invite the Holland Studio dancers to perform. What could be on her mind?

h

Lindsay smiled but looked ashen when Marta and her mom arrived in the morning. “Thanks for coming in early. I wanted to tell you that I’ve been to the doctor and I don’t have the flu. I’m pregnant.” She smiled and looked down at her belly.

“That’s wonderful news,” Marta’s mom said. “When’s the baby due?”

“Middle of June. I’m glad our recital is the end of May so I can make it. But being so close to forty, the doctor says I need to simplify my life.” Lindsay looked to Marta and her mom and pulled her eyebrows together. “I’m sorry to dump this on you, but I’ll need you to take over the Christmas shows and most of the recital.”

“Of course we will, right, Marta?” Her mom answered without a glance toward Marta.

Marta found her stage smile as she visualized her plans in Billings shattering like a mirror. “Of course,” she said but her answer lacked enthusiasm.

Lindsay handed each of them a stack of papers. “I feel I’m deserting you, but you two are the only ones I trust to keep things organized and moving forward. I’ve made up the lists of what needs to be done for the Christmas shows. I’ll handle typing up the master programs and making sure the contacts are up-to-date, and the newspaper writes an article, but, Marta, I’ll need you to rehearse the dancers, fit their costumes, and handle the tapes.”

Marta wiped her hands across her face, then nodded.

“Elle, I’ll need you to work your usual magic arranging for parents to drive the students and check out the facilities to ensure they allow enough space for our dancers to perform.” Lindsay rolled her eyes. “Can’t have another grange hall disaster; it makes us look bad even if it was their fault we only had a small corner for performing.”

“Certainly. How are you feeling about being pregnant?” Marta’s mom asked.

Lindsay rubbed her stomach and straightened her top. “I’m fine knowing Adam is indefinitely stationed here. He’ll be around to help baby-sit when I’m working at the studio. But the rest depends on Marta. If you plan to stay here and teach, I’d like you to think about taking over all of my classes. Is that possible?”

Marta nodded. “I guess.”

“Good. I feel better already. Well, almost. Excuse me.” Lindsay stood and hurried to the bathroom.

Marta stared at the handful of papers she held. “Mom, how long do you think Lindsay expects me to stay and handle her workload?”

“I don’t know. Until she’s ready to return, probably next fall. Why? Is that a problem for you? I’d think you’d be happy to have additional classes.”

“Is there someone she might hire to teach ballet classes?”

“Not that I know about, but she’s talking with Veronica Osborne about starting tap and baton classes in the fall. If you’re not sure you’re staying that long, you’d better tell Lindsay right away.”

“Tell me what?” Lindsay said as she reentered the room, wiping her forehead.

Her mom stared at Marta and pulled in her lips before she answered. “Marta’s not certain….”

“Um, I’m not certain I can handle the classes as well as you do, but I’ll try.” Marta picked up her lists and turned to leave. “Congratulations on your baby. It must be exciting to start a family.”

Lindsay sat down and curled her feet under her body. “It’s exciting and scary. You’ll find out one of these days.”

As Marta backed out of the office, she kept an eye on her mom’s face. Did her mom get the message to keep their conversation to herself? She hoped so. Maybe she should have told Lindsay that her plans to stay in Bremerton were unsettled. Being slammed into a corner and expected to decide her future on a moment’s notice was not something she’d anticipated. Why did everything happen in such a rush? She hadn’t returned home to take on the responsibility of a dance studio, yet here she was.

She’d made promises to Steve and Lynne. Both would be disappointed almost as much as she was to disappoint them. What lousy timing. But that was life, and Lindsay’s taking care of herself when she was expecting outweighed the importance of attending performances and graduations.

h

Marta stood in her mom’s kitchen listening to the phone in her hand ring and ring. Where was Lynne? As she started to hang up, the receiver on the other end lifted. “Hello?” said a breathless Lynne.

“Hi,” Marta said, “I don’t know how to tell you this, but I have bad news.”

“Did someone die or something?”

“Miss Holland—”

“She died? Oh my God!”

“No, Lynne. She’s pregnant and needs my help. I’m taking over the Christmas programs, so I won’t be coming to Billings.”

“Ever?”

“No, but not before Christmas. She needs to take it easy during her pregnancy, so I’ll miss seeing you dance the
Nutcracker
.” Marta waited for Lynne’s response. “Lynne?”

“I’m here.” Lynne’s voice lost its usual animation. “Too bad, Marta. You’ll not only miss me, you’ll miss the little girls. The local kids have the measles, so our young dancers will be in the Billings performances.”

“That’s wonderful news! Are they excited?”

“Yes, and I told them you’d be here. They’ll be so disappointed.”

Marta let the stab of sadness linger inside her. “I know, and I’m sorry, but I need to help Lindsay.”

“Does Steve know you won’t make his graduation?”

“No. I thought I’d build up my courage by telling you first.”

“Did it work?”

“No.” Marta felt the weight of the dance studio situation pushing down on her. “Anyway, tell me how the little girls got invited to dance.”

“It wasn’t a big deal. I told Madame Cosper I understood that three of the young dancers had the measles and that we needed children to fill in for them during the opening scene. I told her our four little girls knew the steps.”