9

 

Siobhan’s small office brimmed to overflowing. Teams representing three separate factions, gathered to witness her audition. There were reps from Ganneton Productions, Zion’s Peak Records, and of course, her entire Sisters contingent.

“Miss Douglas, first of all, let me hasten to assure we’re investors, not physicians. We’re only here, asking this of you, because the tour being established by Zion’s Peak needs to happen ASAP. Additionally, this venture requires a sizeable influx of capital. I know that might sound crass and unfeeling, but it’s not meant to. Today’s meeting is about the determination of realistic goals and expectations.”

Sure, it was. Siobhan nodded politely at Cameron Franklin, the designated spokesman for Ganneton Productions. She didn’t smile, nor did she cow-tow or overcompensate her position by being too solicitous or inauthentic. This episode defined the word uncomfortable, and everyone in the room understood that fact. Why act phony and pretend everything was normal? In truth, she wanted nothing more than for this interlude to end.

Home court advantage.

AJ’s astute observation from a while back helped strengthen Siobhan’s resolve and still her nerves. The Douglas Dance Academy was just that—her heartbeat, the end result of her passion for dance. Hands neatly folded, she sat behind the desk in her office. Before her were assembled the half dozen or so executives; meanwhile, AJ, Liam, and her friends stood behind her in a straightforward and indisputable display of solidarity and support. Admittedly ruthless about the vantage point of the reps from Zion and Ganneton, Siobhan made sure they faced that impressive canvas of her debut at Carnegie. Prideful, perhaps, but a point needed to be made.

AJ spoke first. “I’m the doctor who oversaw her hospital stay, and I’ve also been actively engaged in her progress through recovery. I can state with complete confidence that Siobhan Douglas will be fit to perform as soon as—”

“Those are the key words, Doctor Cooper. Will be.” Cameron’s cut in was accompanied by a lifted hand and a steely-eyed stare. “Let’s be blunt. While we feel nothing but remorse over the unavoidable set of circumstances that lead to this meeting, we also need to evaluate the upcoming tour based not on emotion, but honesty. Not a single person in this room doubts Ms. Douglas’s ability to recover in full. No one here doubts her ability on stage. What comes into question is her ability to embrace the timing we require.”

The muscles in Siobhan’s shoulders went tight. The point couldn’t be argued.

“We appreciate the strength of your endorsement, Doctor Cooper.” Siobhan’s attention bounced to Dan Ruthenbeck, CEO of Zion’s Peak Records. He was Liam’s boss and the visionary behind the label. “But like Cam indicates, this matter is complex and urgent in nature. We need fresh videos of Siobhan dancing in accompaniment to one of the releases. Additionally, touring is a grueling endeavor under optimum conditions, so we need to discover—”

“I might interject here that recovery and rehab are grueling endeavors as well, sir.” Siobhan shot the words like carefully aimed bullets. In deference to professionalism, her tone remained neutral, but she hoped her eyes sparked with a level of conviction she felt clear to her soul.

“Furthermore, she continues to execute her recovery regimen with wholehearted determination.” Leave it to Liam to edge forward—to protect and defend.

Siobhan’s heart swelled.

“She’s developing as quickly and as strongly as any professional athlete because she is an athlete.”

“I couldn’t agree more with that analogy.” AJ’s statement punched a decisive note of authority into the argument.

“Understood, gentlemen, but allow me to reiterate, this is a multi-million dollar investment.” Cameron Franklin proved relentless. “This is a full-court press. It’s going to be brutal physically. It’s going to be a night in and night out marathon, performing in city after city. Plus, it’s the songs—the vocalization and music people respond to, not so much the dancing. We need to study Siobhan’s case in terms of practicality. Frankly, I don’t think she’s strong enough for that degree of intensity right now, and I have the feeling potential backers will feel the same way. After all, she doesn’t even sing, and other dancers could—”

Struck low, Siobhan wasn’t a bit surprised by the soft gasps that came from Aileen, Kassidy, and Maeve following that belittling series of comments.

“Mr. Franklin, I have a question for you.” Aileen performed a sharp interjection. “What drives the life that lives in our body?” The tour exec shrugged, lost. “The beat of the heart. That’s what Siobhan Douglas brings to our group and our performances. You’re correct when you so blithely observe that she doesn’t sing a note. Siobhan would be the first to admit she can’t carry a tune. But the energy, the vibrant flow of her dance moves warms the stage and guides us. Siobhan provides stunning visuals. She pumps a unique fuel and vibration into each song we sing. Like the beat of a heart, you can’t exist without it. Neither can we. Please, don’t ever downplay the role that any one of us brings to this venture.”

“And with all due respect, allow us to be clear about something else.” This time Kassidy spoke up, resting a hand in strategic support against Siobhan’s shoulder. “We’ve discussed the matter at length and have come to a business decision of our own. We can take or leave this entire offer. Sharing our music and our mission with the type of audience this deal will provide would be fantastic, yes, but God makes roadways regardless of outward circumstance. In other words, mess with one of us and you mess with all of us.”

Maeve concluded the moment with a sparkling, and unabashedly challenging smile to their would-be detractors. “That said, shall we allow ourselves the pleasure of watching Siobhan dance? I, for one, can’t wait to see how far she’s come in what we know will be a full and inspiring recovery.”

 

****

 

AJ swiped a hand against the back of his neck. A slick layer of perspiration met his touch. Round one of this long-dreaded moment was complete. Now, on to round two.

He followed the assembly across the threshold of Siobhan’s office. Seldom had he come away from a meeting so thoroughly impressed. While the boardroom moved to the mirrored dance space he had shared with Siobhan scant weeks ago, he closed his eyes, fighting to remain steady. He prayed for God’s hand and provision.

Dressed in a gauzy pink skirt that was tied at her waist, Siobhan wore a matching leotard and toe shoes. Using the barre for support, she alternated stretches between her left and right legs. Before the exhibition began, Aileen, Maeve, and Kassidy gathered around her in quiet conversation. AJ could only imagine the ways they encouraged and uplifted their friend.

Soon enough, attendees gathered against a far wall and waited while the quartet joined hands and bowed their heads in prayer. Then, poised and in full control, Siobhan glided to the center of the room and faced croise derriere, her right arm curved above her head, her left arm extended backward. Meanwhile, her left leg bore her weight and she pointed her right leg behind. Once Siobhan went still, Aileen started the music. AJ held his breath, waiting.

The piano intro from “Surrender” by Beckah Shae filled the air. From there, he watched along with everyone else. His heart lodged in his throat, and his gaze fastened upon her legs, her fast-moving feet.

Siobhan’s song choice featured a driving, powerful beat and reflected redemption through submission to God. In a word, it was perfect. Siobhan moved flawlessly, like a feather caught in a soft, twirling breeze. She played to her audience—she engaged, smiled, leapt, jumped, and even performed a back and forth series of toe-work—but the entire four-minute episode left him clenching his jaw and caused his stomach to knot tight.

He recognized nuance. What he discovered disturbed him, for very deliberately Siobhan used every opportunity she could to lead with her left leg. Very deliberately she punished herself in an effort to win her way to a dream and prove a point of pride and honor.

The precious, yet utterly misguided little fool. What was she thinking?

The song concluded with a room-length series of pirouettes followed by the low, deep sweep of Siobhan’s entire body. She remained rock-solid and steady, frozen into a perfect backward arc once silence reigned.

Applause rang out from everyone in the room—supporters and skeptics alike.

AJ clapped as well but focused intently on Siobhan. Were it not for his medical background and a carefully honed sense of perception he might have missed the barely noticeable list in her gait, the subtle lines that formed against the corners of her mouth despite a winsome smile and a polished, gracious demeanor.

Engulfed by a cluster of people, Siobhan pressed a hand to her stomach. She smoothly excused herself and retreated from the room. She didn’t run. She wasn’t awkward about leaving, but when she turned, her skin was definitely pale. She wasn’t well.

AJ promptly followed making a quiet exit of his own.

He found her in the hallway just outside her office. She rested her head against the brick wall, breathing shallow, her back to AJ. He stepped behind her, forming a shield. When he touched her arm, she shivered.

“AJ…I don’t feel good.”

Five simple words, spoken in a raspy whisper, became his undoing. Still, a potent shot of anger launched through his system as well. “Come with me, you need to get out of view so you can catch your balance and recover.”

Grasping Siobhan’s hand, AJ tugged her gently into her office. There they could embrace some semblance of privacy. Once he closed the door, she sank against it, eyes closed, her complexion still pallid. She pressed her fingertips to her forehead.

“It was the spins. They’ve made me ill.”

“Given what you went through at the hospital with vertigo, and given the fact that you executed way too many repeat turns at the end of the song, when you were most expended, that development doesn’t surprise me.”

He silently cursed himself for speaking in such a cutting tone of voice, but his reaction stemmed from concern and a genuine fear for her wellbeing.

Siobhan gulped air. “I tried so hard…and…it’s like that wretched sense of dizziness and queasiness worked through me all over again.”

“Because you have to build up tolerance, over time, with practice and consistent rehab.”

“But—”

“There’s no but in this situation, Siobhan. What you did today wasn’t smart. You deliberately over did it. Plus you worked your injured leg as much as you possibly could, didn’t you?”

“I survived.” A fast, deliberate silence built. “I’m fine.”

AJ looked deep into her eyes. “OK. Now, tell me the truth.”

All at once, her chin quivered. Moisture sheened her dark blue gaze. “I want my life back. Why can’t you understand that?”

“I understand that fact all too well, but look at the results. You’re nauseated because you were in such pain you couldn’t focus correctly when you spun, right? Furthermore, I’ll bet you couldn’t do a deep squat right now if I paid you. You’re not ready for the kind of consistent punishment, they’re going to require. They believe you’re back to form and you’re not.”

“Perhaps, but I just might have bought myself some time and support.”

“Maybe yes, maybe no. Judging by the comments I overheard, they’re thrilled. They’re going to go back to their ivory towers now and think nothing of pushing you and pressuring you as soon as possible, and you’re just not ready, Siobhan.”

“Way to stand up for me!”

He ground out a frustrated sound. Stepping into her space, he nearly pinned her to the door, pointing a finger toward her chest. “You’ll find no fiercer, more loyal champion than me once you’re properly healed. You won a battle today, but you’re going to lose the war. You should be fighting for latitude. They want you on board—that much is obvious. Don’t destroy all the strides forward you’ve made. Don’t embrace a world based on desperation rather than faith.”

At least she paused for a few seconds to absorb that statement—still, her eyes sparked. “For now, all I know is this: they’re appeased, and if I’m given the go-ahead, I’m all in. Deal with it. I’m doing what I need to do. That’s the end of this discussion, Doctor Cooper.”

AJ reared back at her biting and dismissive formality. Nodding once, he stared her down in a hot silence. “Fine. Obviously my work here is done. Good luck with the path you’re choosing. I hope you can tolerate it. I don’t want to see you in surgery if that bone breaks again, or if you lose your balance because you’re too dizzy to properly execute a dance move.”

Siobhan’s stricken gasp followed him like a bad dream when he stalked from her office and slammed the door closed.

 

****

 

AJ needed solitude and a chance to regroup, to analyze the emotional waves that continued to engulf him. Never one to lose control or live life in confusion, he had to figure out how to move forward.

He angled toward the glassed entrance of the studio, eying his car not far away. He craved escape; his sedan was parked in a front spot at the municipal lot. Just when AJ’s fingers touched the push-bar of the door, Liam bounded forward and cut off the retreat. Hand extended for a congratulatory shake, Siobhan’s brother wore a broad smile. AJ accepted the gesture, trying hard to act natural—not like some displaced fool for love.

“You were fantastic. Thank you for the reinforcement in there.” Liam jerked a thumb toward the sidewalk outside. “You can’t be thinking of going already. Unacceptable.” He clapped a hand on AJ’s shoulder, returning him to the center of the lobby along with everyone else. “Hang out for a bit. I was looking for you afterward. Where’d you go?”

“Why were you searching? Everything OK?”

Hoping his diversion would work, AJ surrendered all thoughts of leaving. He focused a friendly countenance upon Liam instead.

“Actually, I’ve got a proposition for you. My mom and dad are hosting a family gathering on Sunday. Music, Irish dancing, and way too much food. It’s kind of a tradition—especially after moments like this when we get to cheer one another on.”

Siobhan stepped into AJ’s field of vision. She scowled at her brother, not that Liam could see it from his present angle. A duffle bag was hoisted upon her slim, delicate shoulder. Without a thought AJ slid the strap from her grasp and took custody. She shouldn’t have to haul around—

“So, are you in, Coop? After all, I think it’s high time you met the folks.” Liam focused on his sister. “Wouldn’t you agree, sprite?”

While Siobhan huffed and gaped, AJ shuffled his feet. “Well, actually, I’ve already met them—”

Amusement crinkled into smile lines around Liam’s eyes while his teasing grin spread and a devilish demeanor rose to the surface. “Indeed, but only as her doctor…not as her…well, you know…significant other.”

A blast furnace would have been preferable to the escalation of ruddy heat that coated AJ’s skin, and he couldn’t even begin to hazard a glance in Siobhan’s direction.

“Liam, I swear…”

Siobhan’s hiss of warning went unheeded. Liam’s posture remained unrepentant and ebullient. “Actually, you don’t swear. That’s one of your few redeeming qualities.” He chucked her under the chin. “Let mom know if you’re plus one for dinner this weekend, OK?”

Bewildered, AJ tried to regain some form of ease and equilibrium. Did Siobhan even want him there? He couldn’t tell by looking at her. Her face was kind enough, yet stoic. Unreadable. Most likely, that’s just what she wanted.

There was no graceful way to refuse, and in spite of everything, AJ wanted to spend time with Siobhan in the context of her family and closest friends in a relaxed, informal setting. Doing so just might help him answer some of the questions and turmoil he now faced.

While people brushed past, and the crowd broke off into smaller cliques, Siobhan attempted to wrest the duffle from his hold. Prepared for just such a maneuver, AJ maintained a solid grip, stubbornly refusing to let her disconnect from him.

Maybe dinner with her family wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all.