Dance Me a Dream (Wishful 7)

After a moment’s hesitation, she stepped into the light, feeling her pulse trip as she picked up the box. Her hands shook as she tore the paper and slid her finger under the tape.

“Here, let me help.” Jace held the box so she could open the top.

Nestled in the tissue paper were her pointe shoes, the pale pink satin gleaming in the spotlight. Beneath them, some of her

dance clothes were neatly folded. “You’ve been in my closet.” It was the only thing she could think to say.

“More properly Ginny has been in your closet. It was a necessary evil for the rest.”

“Jace, what’s going on?”

“You never got to take the stage as the Sugar Plum Fairy. Now you can.” He lifted his free arm. “The stage is yours. For today, anyway.”

“You—” Her throat locked up so she swallowed and tried again. “You’re giving me the gift of performing.”

“I am. If you want it. If it upsets you or brings back too many painful memories—”

Tara stopped his apology with a kiss, crushing the box between them. Never in her life had anyone done anything for her with so much care and thought. Her heart felt full to bursting.

Dimly, she heard cheering and remembered they had an audience. But Jace was the one blushing as she pulled back.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it.” She looked around the stage, then back at him. “It’s perfect.”

“Then will you dance for us?”

“I’d be honored.”

~*~

“Nicely done, little brother,” Livia said, as Tara disappeared to the dressing room to change.

“I’m not through yet,” he said, catching sight of their last guest coming through the doors of the auditorium. He hurried to greet her. “Thank you for coming.”

“I admit, you’ve intrigued me, Mr. Applewhite.”

“Come on down toward the front so you’ll have a good view.” Jace escorted her himself, seeing her comfortably seated on the second row as Leo changed up the lighting scheme to something blue and wintery.

“You’re a genius,” Livia whispered when he took his seat.

“We’ll see.” He wouldn’t agree with her and jinx it.

Tara stepped out onto the stage, her long blonde hair bundled neatly into a bun. The black leotard had a short, flowy, semi-translucent skirt that drifted around her long, lean legs as she moved out to take center-stage. Maybe it wasn’t the perfect costume for the Sugar Plum Fairy, but none of that detracted from the picture she made as she took her position.

God, she was so beautiful.

The familiar plucked string opening of “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy” poured out of the sound system. On the stage, Tara began to dance, her movements as light and airy as the chimes from the celesta. And Jace forgot about his sister, forgot about his parents, forgot about everything but Tara.

She sucked him into the story, and even though the flocked trees had been decorated with another show in mind, they might as well have been a fairy wood made just for her. She barely touched the stage, her arms extended as if they held her aloft. And through it all, her face radiated joy.

The music shifted, sped up, and she launched into a series of those impossible spins, circling the stage, faster and faster, balancing on the points of her toes, until she snapped out in a regal bow as the music crescendoed to its finale.

Jace was on his feet in an instant, clapping hard enough for a dozen people. The rest of their tiny audience cheered and applauded. Austin even managed a two-fingered whistle.

Tara’s smile was bright enough to light the auditorium all the way to the back row. He’d been right. It was killer. She stepped to center stage and took her graceful bow.

“Well done, Miss Honeycutt.” From the row behind him, Jace’s guest rose and edged out into the aisle.