Dancing in the Dark

She smiled, too, a little sadly. “I’d like that, but we already tried, remember? It didn’t work.”

He looked at her mouth, then into her eyes. “That’s because we didn’t seal it.”

“With a handshake?”

His eyes grew dark. “With a kiss,” he murmured, and when he took her in his arms and covered her mouth with his, Wendy sighed his name and kissed him and kissed him, while the sky and the snow and the planet spun wildly through space.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

AFTER THREE DAYS, peace returned to the Monroe household.

Wendy was very glad it did.

Tiptoeing around your parents when you were ten or eleven and they’d quarreled was uncomfortable. When you were twenty-seven, it was unbearable—especially when they’d quarreled over you. Not that her parents had shouted or snarled or even exchanged harsh words after her mother’s outburst.

Wendy pulled on an ivory wool sweater, lifted her hair free of the turtleneck collar and picked up her hairbrush.

Actually, a little shouting might have been better than the formality with which they’d treated each other afterward. Everything was very civilized. ‘Please,’ ‘thank you’ and ‘you’re welcome’ were the only words exchanged, hanging in the air like dust motes on a sunny day. Somehow, that had only made the tension more noticeable, perhaps because Wendy couldn’t remember her folks arguing over her when she was growing up.

Well, yes. She could. She paused in front of the mirror in her bedroom, the brush in her hand forgotten. She could recall hearing the hum of their voices leaching through the bedroom wall long after she was supposed to be asleep, Gina saying that Wendy should be permitted to spend a few days in Boston with a friend and her parents, and Howard disagreeing because she’d lose vital practice time.

Amazing that she’d forgotten that low-pitched discussion, or others like it. Was it because remembering was too upsetting? Maybe they weren’t real memories at all. Children’s recollections could be fickle, couldn’t they?

No. They were real memories, all right; she could even recall the mornings that came after them, how her father would explain that she could spend time with her friends later, when practice wasn’t so important.

Once she reached middle school, she didn’t need those pep talks. She didn’t want to do anything but ski.

And then, in high school, she met Seth.

Wendy sighed, returned to brushing her hair with even more vigor.

Seth. A smile curved her lips as she thought about him. Their truce was holding. Better than holding. They’d spent the past three evenings together at Twin Oaks, and even when he was with the twins and she was busy with guests, she was always aware of his presence. Sometimes, she’d look up and see him watching her. She’d smile, and he’d smile....

That walk in the snow had changed everything.

They didn’t argue anymore or talk about the past. They just enjoyed being together. Seth hung around the B and B after Randi and Robin went to bed. He waited for her to finish up, and they’d drive to a little diner on the road to Lenox or to the Burger Barn, order something to eat and then let the food get cold because all they really wanted to do was look at each other and talk.

“You’re not tiring yourself out, are you, baby?” Gina had said just this morning.

It was her subtle way of letting Wendy know she was aware of how late she came home nights, lots later than the job at Twin Oaks necessitated. Wendy had looked up from her oatmeal, considered telling her that she was seeing Seth, and then thought no, she wouldn’t. Her mother was too sentimental. Too old-fashioned. She’d leap to conclusions about forever after, and forever after wasn’t part of the equation.

There were still too many questions. Not about Wendy’s feelings for Seth. She loved him; she knew that. And even though he hadn’t said it, she sensed he still loved her. But where did that take them? Where did they go from here? She knew what Seth would want. Marriage. A life in Cooper’s Corner. Children. Children, she thought again, and felt the old despair creeping up to envelop her.

And then there was the operation. Seth was opposed to it. He thought she wanted the surgery for the wrong reasons, but how could he judge what was right for her? How could he possibly understand how important it was for her to reclaim at least part of herself, when he didn’t know how much of herself she’d actually lost?

Wendy put down the hairbrush, took a pair of small gold hoops from the top of the dresser and inserted them in her earlobes.

Pommier had to come back to town soon. He just had to.

She looked at her reflection again.

And she had to get to work. She was due at Twin Oaks in less than ten minutes.

* * *

TWO TOWHEADED LITTLE BOYS, a girl with dark-brown braids and a boy about the twins’ age all sat cross-legged at Wendy’s feet in the gathering room. Randi and Robin were curled against her on the love seat.

All six pairs of eyes were fixed on Wendy’s face.

“...and,” she said softly, “when Janie heard the wolf’s long, lonely howls echoing through the starry night, she wrapped her arms around Akela and planted a kiss on his silky muzzle, just between his sad eyes.

“‘Is the wolf your friend?’” Janie asked. “‘Do you feel sorry for him? Please, Akela, don’t go away. I love you.’

“Akela licked Janie’s face. Then he looked up, up, up at the moon. What should he do? Follow the cry of the wolf or stay with the little girl he loved? It was a terribly difficult choice to make, but he knew he had to make it, and soon.”

Wendy fell silent. The only sounds in the gathering room were the crackle and pop of the logs blazing on the hearth and the soft tinkle of keys as Beth Young, the village librarian, coaxed lush, old-fashioned melodies from the Twin Oaks piano.

At last the children gave long sighs.

“That’s a wonderful story,” Randi said.

“Akela should stay with Janie,” Robin said gravely. “’Cause he loves her and she loves him.”

“Yeah, but that old wolf out there in the forest is so lonely,” one of the towheaded little boys said, just as seriously. “Wendy? What’s Akela gonna do?”

“My question, exactly,” Seth said. He was sitting behind the kids in an old wing chair. “What’s Akela going to do?”

Wendy smiled at him. “You’ll just have to wait until tomorrow night to find out.”

“But we won’t be here t’morrow night,” a small voice said. “We’ll never know what happens to Akela.”

Wendy looked at the little girl with the dark braids. Her bottom lip was trembling.

“Oh, honey.” Wendy drew the child onto her lap. “When are you leaving?”

“In the morning,” a woman said softly. She gave Wendy a quick smile. “Hi. I’m Amy’s mom. I want you to know that she’s loved every minute of Storytime.”

Storytime. That was what Clint had taken to calling her nightly sessions with the twins and any other children present at Twin Oaks. He’d even listed it on the chalkboard, after checking with Wendy. She’d been happy to agree to tell stories each evening, though at first she’d thought “Storytime” sounded too formal for what she did.

Now she felt a rush of pleasure whenever someone said the word.

“Well, we can’t let your daughter go home without knowing what Akela decides, can we, Amy?”

Amy shook her head. “No. We sure can’t

.”

Wendy smiled and tugged gently at one of the child’s braids. “Tell you what. Suppose I meet you right here tomorrow morning at...” she looked at the mother “...eight o’clock? Will that work for you?”

“Oh, yes. That would be great.”

“Eight o’clock, then.” Wendy lowered her voice to a whisper. “And I’ll tell you what Akela decides to do.”

A happy grin spread across the girl’s face. “Thank you!”

“You’re very welcome.” She hugged her, and the child scrambled off her lap and ran to her mother. “And before anybody asks,” Wendy said, her stern tone offset by her smile, “all the rest of you will just have to wait until tomorrow evening.”

There were a couple of halfhearted groans, including one from Seth as he came toward her. She grinned as he clasped her outstretched hands.

“You’re not gonna make me wait, too,” he said, “are you?”

“Yes, she is,” Robin declared. “Aren’t you, Aunt Wendy?”

Wendy kissed Robin, then Randi, and got to her feet. “Darned right I am. Uncle Seth will have to wait, just like you guys.”

“Good!”

“What’s good?” Clint asked as he joined them and scooped the twins into his arms. “Surely not the terrors. They’re never good.”

“We’re always good,” Randi said decisively. “Right, Uncle Seth?”

“Absolutely! Especially when you go to bed without complaining.”

“Brilliant,” Clint said with a grin. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

Wendy gave each child a hug and a kiss. “Good night, princesses.”

“G’night,” the girls replied sleepily.

“Hold down the fort, okay, while I deliver these angels to their mother?”

“Sure.”

“Be down in five...and Wendy? You’re terrific at this.”

“Mr. Cooper’s right.”