Chapter Ten

When she turned, the other women were standing in a solid line behind her, looking determined. Or was that her imagination?

Kerrianne whirled back to Maxine. “Why didn’t you tell me it was a dance?” She tried to say the words forcefully, but they emerged in a pathetic whisper.

“Because you wouldn’t have come if I had.” Maxine tone was exasperated. “Come on, trust me. You need this. It’s been okay so far, hasn’t it?”

Kerrianne opened her mouth to protest, but before she could, a man appeared in front of her and asked her to dance. “I, uh, well . . .” When she’d attended dances without a date before her marriage, she’d made a rule never to turn down someone who asked her to dance. But that was before Adam.

This man was definitely not her type. He wore too-tight pants that hadn’t been in style since the 80s, and though he wore no tie, his shirt was buttoned clear to the top. His mouse-colored hair was cut in a bowl shape above his round face, his bangs falling into smallish eyes of indefinable color. He was also at least twenty years older than she was.

“Not yet, Reuben.” Evie pushed her bulk around Kerrianne. “She just got here. Give her a minute to get used to everything. Come on, I’ll dance with you.”

Reuben inclined his head, giving Kerrianne a shy smile. Then he went off with Evie. Kerrianne felt relieved.

“He’s harmless,” Maxine whispered. “He’s not all quite there, if you know what I mean. A child, really. He’ll ask you to dance again in a while. He always asks everyone who’s not with a date.”

“And sometimes even then,” Bernice said with her customary sniff. “I told him that I was taken several times, but he doesn’t listen.”

“Probably having a hard time seeing your husband,” Rosalva said in a too-innocent tone that went right over Bernice’s head.

“It’s an over-thirty dance,” Maxine informed Kerrianne as she guided her to some chairs by the side of the room. “This is the best place to start since you’re thirty. They have other dances where the top age is thirty-five, but I couldn’t take you to one of those since I don’t qualify.”

Rosalva clicked her tongue and made a face. “You don’t want to go to one of those. At least not until you’re ready. Younger men don’t know how to treat a woman. You should hear some of the things they say!”

“That’s what you get for sneaking in,” Bernice said. “You haven’t seen thirty-five in more than five years.”

Rosalva’s eyes narrowed. She opened her mouth to say something, but Tina jumped in brightly. “All the dances I’ve gone to are a lot of fun, though I do agree that the older men know how to make a woman feel special. They always bring flowers.”

Kerrianne was starting to breathe more normally now. I can do this, she thought. Now that the initial shock was over, she was actually anticipating the evening. Dancing was something she and Adam had loved to do together. Of course, they hadn’t gone as much since the children were born, but they’d made it a point to get out every so often. Adam had always sung softly in her ear on the slow dances, serenading her.

Maxine nudged her arm, and Kerrianne was startled to see a handsome older gentleman standing in front of her. He was probably older than her father, though he looked in better shape. “May I have this dance?” he asked.

Kerrianne stood up and let him lead her onto the floor. She was glad he was so much older. It didn’t make her feel nervous at all but rather like a little girl dancing with her daddy.

“First time here?” He moved too slowly for the music, as though he couldn’t quite catch the beat or was perhaps unable to keep up with it.

“It shows?”

He shook his head. “Maxine told me. My name is Harold, by the way. Harold Parry.”

Harold? This was the man Maxine had been dating? Kerrianne looked at him more closely. He was nice-looking, arresting even, with his salt-and-pepper hair, thick gray eyebrows that framed curiously colorless eyes. He was a full foot taller than Kerrianne, which would make him heads above Maxine, and as broad-shouldered as any woman could want. He was wearing a suit that looked new and in style.

“I wore it for Maxine,” he said with a gentle smile. “We older men like to dress up for the ladies.” Not everyone was dressed up, however. Plenty of the men wore jeans, especially the younger ones.

Kerrianne let herself sway into the music, enjoying the beat, the movement, and the casual air of the dancers. When the song ended, she put her hand on Harold’s arm. “Thanks,” she said. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

He placed his hand over hers and patted it in exactly the way her father would have. “The pleasure is all mine.” They walked back to the place where Maxine and Bernice waited. Evie, Tina, and Rosalva were out on the floor dancing.

Harold bowed to Bernice. “Would you like to dance?”

“No, thank you,” she said, her lips pursed in disapproval.

“But if you’re not going to dance, why do you . . .” Maxine trailed off as Bernice glowered at her.

“If you change your mind,” Harold said, “please let me know.” His eyes were twinkling, and Kerrianne had the distinct feeling that he was holding in laughter. She grinned at him, and he winked back. He offered an arm to Maxine. “I think I have enough energy for another one, if you will do me the honor.”

“Okay. But try to keep up, would you?” Her words were light and caused a chuckle from Harold.

Bernice shook her head as they moved away. “Disgraceful,” she muttered.

Kerrianne’s heart began thundering in her chest as a sudden, white-hot anger pulsed through her. What gave Bernice the right to judge? Her fists clenched in her lap.

“I can see why Evie and Rosalva are looking,” Bernice continued. “Their husbands were jerks, so they need to find an eternal partner. And Tina, too, I suppose. But Maxine . . . I just don’t see how—I mean, she was happily married. Just because he’s gone doesn’t mean she should forget him.”

She was talking about Maxine, but the comment jabbed at Kerrianne, as though warning her to not follow the same path. Words of anger and despair boiled inside Kerrianne, and even if she’d wanted, there would have been no way to stop them from spewing forth. “Bernice, don’t you get it? We have the rest of our lives to live without our husbands. For you that may not seem like a long time, but what about someone like me? It’s more than half my whole life! Do you know how incredibly long that seems right now?” Tears threatened to fall, and her voice was choked. “I try to hold onto him, but you know what? He’s not there tucking in my kids at night. He’s not there to help pick up their toys or to worry when they’re sick. He’s not there to take me dancing. He isn’t even around so I can beg him for three days to cut the stupid lawn.” Kerrianne sucked in a deep breath, shaking her head. “How many years am I going to have to cut that lawn all by myself? Or all the other stuff? I tell you what. Right now, seeing it that way—your way—maybe I’d be better off dead.”

Bernice’s eyes widened, and her mouth worked, though no sound emerged. Without waiting for a reply, Kerrianne sprang to her feet and headed to the refreshment table at the back of the gym.

She hated the way Bernice judged Maxine. She hated being at a dance without Adam. But even more she hated feeling guilty. Maxine was right. Kerrianne needed to learn how to live again, to be herself. She needed to learn how to laugh and sing and, yes, dance without Adam.

“Hi, do you want to dance now?” Reuben was at her side now, his expression that of an anxious boy, belying the crow’s feet around his eyes.

“Sure!” Kerrianne drank the rest of the punch she didn’t really want and tossed the cup into the trash. She followed him into the middle of the dancers.

“So, do you like to dance?” Reuben asked after a minute. “I’m Reuben, by the way.” He moved awkwardly, like a teen who’d never quite overcome his self-consciousness. His gaze was mostly on the ground, though he looked up every now and then at a space behind her right ear.

“Hi, Reuben. I’m Kerrianne, and I love to dance. Or used to. My kids keep me pretty busy right now.”

He smiled a strangely beautiful smile. “You have kids?”

“Yes. Three.”

“I don’t have any kids. I’ve never been married.”

“I see.”

“My sister has kids, though. I like them.” He looked up from the ground and actually met her gaze.

“That’s nice.”

“I come to a lot of dances. I like dancing.” He did an ungraceful move with his hands and shoulders that Kerrianne thought he must have copied from a more experienced dancer.

“Well, this is the place for it,” she said.

He nodded, apparently having reached the end of the topics in his repertoire.

Kerrianne used the lull in conversation to glance around at the other dancers. There were a lot of people, some who looked interesting. Again she had the feeling of being transported back in time. In high school, the more popular couples had also danced near the disk jockey and the loud speakers, and nothing seemed to have changed. Evie was in the midst of the current “in group,” as was Rosalva, their faces alive and happy.

When the song came to an end, Reuben glanced up from the floor. “Would you like to dance again?”

Kerrianne was about to say yes—after all, she wanted to dance and Reuben certainly wasn’t threatening—but a man appeared at her elbow. “May I please cut in, Reuben? You know what a hard time I have getting a partner. Not like you. Everyone dances with you.”

Reuben grinned. “Okay.” To Kerrianne, Reuben added, “I’ll find you later.” He glanced around, spied Bernice alone at the side of the room, and made a beeline for her.

“Good luck,” the newcomer said under his breath. He was a handsome man of maybe forty with sand-colored hair that was slightly spiky on top. He wore blue jeans and a matching T-shirt, with a button-up shirt worn open like a jacket.

As they began moving to the music, the man leaned forward and said, “I’m Gunnar.”

“I’m Kerrianne.” His cologne was a bit strong that close, or at least seemed so to Kerrianne, who hadn’t been that near a cologne-wearing man since her dating years. Adam had disdained the stuff.

“I’ve never seen you at any of the dances before.”

“I’ve never been to any.” They both smiled.

Behind him, Kerrianne caught a glimpse of Bernice dancing with Reuben. Apparently, not even she could turn down the childlike man.

After Gunnar, Kerrianne danced with three other men. Two were older, one with white hair who smelled like mint, and the other with graying hair who reeked with an unpleasant smell of body odor. With the vigorous way he danced, Kerrianne wasn’t surprised, and she gave silent thanks that the song was a fast one so she wouldn’t have to be too close. Both of the older men were polite and addressed her with respect. The other man was near her own age and seemed nice, except that he kept telling her how pretty she was, which made her mentally roll her eyes.

Then the blond Gunnar returned for a second dance. Kerrianne was feeling a little breathless and was glad it was a slow song. Gunnar’s cologne was no longer so strong—either that or she’d become accustomed to it. “So, are you having fun?”

“Yes, actually.”

He pulled her slightly closer—or was she imagining it?

“So, what’s your story?” he asked.

“You first.” She didn’t feel like discussing her life with a near stranger.

“I’m divorced. I have four daughters with my ex. They live with her, but I see them every other weekend.”

Kerrianne felt an ache in her heart. In a way, she was lucky. At least she wasn’t forced to watch her children leave every other weekend. Not being with them . . . well, she couldn’t imagine it, though surely there must be some way to muddle through such a situation, as Evie and Rosalva had done.

“Hello?” Gunnar waved a hand in the air by her face. “Is everything okay?”

“Sorry. I was thinking. It must be a challenge sharing custody like that. I have three children.”

“You don’t share custody?” He was holding her too tightly, so she stepped purposefully away.

“No.”She could tell he was curious but had enough control not to probe. Instead, he looked at her expectantly, though she had no intention of elaborating yet. And why was he trying to hold her so close again? Or was it just her? Maybe she couldn’t remember how this slow-dancing thing was supposed to go.

Kerrianne was thinking so hard about this and trying to extricate herself from Gunnar’s grasp that she almost didn’t catch the movement of a solitary figure watching them from the sidelines. He seemed familiar, and yet she couldn’t place him. Then he saw her gaze and smiled.

Ryan, she thought. He’d shaved, and his hair was several inches shorter than the day before, which apparently brought out more of the curl, making it attractively messy. She could imagine that if it were any shorter, the curls might be out of control. No wonder he keeps it that length, she mused. He looked handsome in dark dress pants and a long-sleeve button-up shirt with multicolored vertical stripes. There was a wine color, and black, and two shades of green, and yellow. He wasn’t wearing a tie, and the first button was open, giving a more casual air to the outfit. His smile made her forget all about Gunnar and her worry about dancing too close.

The music ended, but Gunnar kept holding her arm. “How about another one?”

“I think I’m ready for a drink,” she said, still thinking about Ryan. Had he been planning to take her to this dance when he’d asked her out? She wondered if she’d ever know. He was hidden from her sight now. Could he be dancing? Why did that thought bother her?

Gunnar went with her to the refreshment table, offering her a drink of punch and then snagging a couple cookies for himself. They were silent as they watched the dancers. More people had arrived, and the place was beginning to seem almost crowded.

“Are there always so many people?” she asked.

“It really depends on the night and what else is going on.”

“What else is going on? What do you mean?”

“Some nights there are more activities.”

“I see.” It was a whole community, then. One she hadn’t realized existed. Well, at least not for people her age.

“So what’s your last name?” Gunnar asked.

“Price.”

“And you have three children?”

“Yes. A girl and two boys. The oldest is eight. They keep me busy.” She almost hoped that fact would drive him away. The older men had chuckled when she told them about the kids, and she’d had the impression that her lifestyle was not something they were looking to share. She couldn’t blame them; they’d already raised their families.

“I’d like to see you again. Could I call?”

Kerrianne bit her lip. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “Don’t take this wrong, but I didn’t even know I was coming here tonight. Some friends made me. I’m not sure I’m ready for dating.”

“How long has it been?”

Been what? she wondered. Since she’d been divorced? Been dancing? Been in mourning? Should she tell him that four years ago everything in her life had stopped? No, it wouldn’t be true. After all, here she was. And the children were waiting for her at home.

The music ended while she pondered her response. Why did she have to tell him anything? She suddenly felt like a package in a marketplace and Gunnar was checking the contents label to be sure she was to his liking.

Strains of “All Out of Love,” by Air Supply, made Kerrianne freeze. Adam had loved this old song and had often performed it for her with his guitar. She was immediately swept into the past with the music, which feeling only intensified when the words started.

“Are you okay?” Gunnar asked, concern in his voice.

He was faceless to her, as though he didn’t exist. There was only her and the music. And Adam. She thrust her cup unsteadily in his direction. “Excuse me. I have to go.”

She fled toward the upright rectangle of light that marked the entrance. Someone, not Gunnar, called out her name, but she didn’t stop.

The singer crooned on.

Blindly, Kerrianne passed the two women at the entry table and made for the foyer. There were people there, so she turned to the right, trying to open the door to the chapel overflow. It was locked. She went farther down the hall, but all the doors were locked. Finally, she found an open door that led into a tiny, dark room where the boys prepared the sacrament. She went inside, telling herself to breathe, that it was okay. She could still hear the music, though it was much fainter now. Any words that were obscured were immediately filled in by her memory. Almost she felt as if Adam were singing the song to her.

She leaned against the tiny counter and hoped no one would open the door. Was Gunnar still standing by the refreshment table? Wondering, perhaps, why she’d deserted him? And who had called her name? She didn’t think it was Maxine.

The song wound down to the end. Still Kerrianne stayed where she was. Finally, she could breathe normally again. This had happened to her a great many times in the beginning, but not as much now. Probably the fact that she was dancing with other men had triggered this reaction. Did Adam think her unfaithful? No, she couldn’t believe that.

At last she left the room and went outside into the dark night, shivering because her sweater jacket was still hanging near the entrance to the gym. The frosty air made her lungs hurt if she breathed too deeply, but she didn’t mind. It also made her feel alive.

* * *

Ryan watched Kerrianne near the refreshment table with Gunnar, annoyed at the man, though he supposed he had no right to feel that way. Abruptly, she shoved her cup at Gunnar and started across the room, leaving Gunnar with mouth agape. Had the man said something inappropriate?

“Kerrianne!” He called, wanting to help.

She took no notice of him, apparently blind to everything but her destination. Either that or the music drowned out his call. Should he follow her and ask what had happened?

Maxine appeared at his elbow. “Stupid song. And things were going so well.”

“The song?” he asked. Kerrianne had nearly reached the door to the gym.

“Her husband played the guitar. This song is on one of the tapes. She plays it a lot for the children.” Maxine blinked up at him, appearing to notice his face for the first time. “I think I like you better the other way after all. You looked more dashing—dangerous.”

He made a face. “Not a good thing when you’re visiting houses of strangers every day.”

“Nonsense. You have honest eyes.” Her own eyes delved into his.

“What?” he asked.

“Why don’t you go after her?”

Ryan looked longingly at the door. He didn’t want to intrude where he wasn’t wanted. “Maybe she wants to be left alone.”

“She’s been alone enough these past four years.”

Maxine had a point. Ryan started across the room without another word. He emerged from the gym in time to see Kerrianne disappear into a room at the end of the hall. He debated within himself what to do, but there was no real choice. Maxine or no, he didn’t have the right to barge in on a woman seeking solace—he wasn’t close enough to her for that. He had to respect her privacy, knowing only too well that some things needed to be conquered alone. He waited in the hallway, talking with two nice women he’d met at other dances.

At last, from the corner of his eye, he saw Kerrianne leave the room. She didn’t come his way but rather went out the far door. Ryan extricated himself from the women and sprinted after her.

* * *

Kerrianne had circled the church once when a voice stopped her. “Oh, there you are.”

She glanced behind her, expecting to see Maxine or one her friends, but it was Ryan. “Hi,” she said, glad she hadn’t let her tears fall.

“I wondered where you went. Is everything all right?”

She nodded. “Just needed some air.”

“That makes sense.”

“It does?” She looked at him and saw his amused expression.

“Yeah, you were with Gunnar. It’s no wonder you needed space . . . uh, air.”

“He is a little too familiar, but I thought it might be just me.”

“It’s not.”

She shivered. “I think I’m cold now.”

“We’ll have to go to the other door. They keep most of them locked.”

They walked in silence for a space of a few heartbeats, and then Ryan said, “You like to dance, don’t you? I can tell.”

So he’d been watching her. “I love to dance. My . . . husband and I danced a lot.”

Ryan laughed. “Laurie and I did, too, before we were married. We didn’t after, though. Mostly because of me. I regret that now.”

“There’s too much to regret, isn’t there?”

He gave her a wry grin. “Yeah.”

“Adam loved music. He loved to sing.” Kerrianne didn’t know why she said this. Was it to put space between them? Or was it simply because she wanted someone to share the memory with?

“It’s hard hearing a song they liked. Or that you liked with them.” His gray eyes looked black in the darkness.

He knew. She didn’t know how, but he knew why she’d left the dance. Or at least guessed at the cause. He opened the door for her and followed her inside. The music burst in on them, though they were still around the corner from the gym doors.

“Would you like to dance?” His expression was guarded, as though half expecting her to refuse.

Kerrianne smiled. “Yes, I think I would.”