Man of the Hour: Night Of Love

She went rigid. In that length of time, only a miracle would mend her ankle. But she hesitated. She didn’t want to admit the slow progress she was making. Deep inside she knew she’d never be able to dance that soon. She couldn’t force the words out. Dance was all she had. Steve had made his rejection of Meg very blatant. Any hope in that area was gone forever.

Her dream of a school of ballet for little girls was slowly growing, but it would have to be opened in Wichita. Could she really bear having to see Steven all the time? His friendship with David would mean having him at the house constantly. No. She had to get her ankle well. She had to dance. It was the only escape she had now! Steven’s latest cruelty only punctuated the fact that she had no place in his life anymore.

Fighting down panic, she forced herself to laugh. “Can I ever be ready in a week!” she exclaimed. “I’ll be there with my toe shoes on!”

“Good girl! I’ll tell Henrietta you’ll want your old room back. Ankle doing okay?”

“Just fine,” she lied.

“Then I’ll see you next week.”

He hung up. So did Meg. Then she stood looking down at the receiver for a long time before she could bring herself to move. One lie led to another, but how could she lie when she was up on toe shoes trying to interpret ballet?

She pushed the pessimistic thought out of her mind and went back to the practice bar. If she concentrated, there was every hope that she could accomplish what she had to.

David paused in the doorway to watch her Friday afternoon when he came home from work. He was frowning, and when she stopped to rest, she couldn’t help but notice the concern in his eyes, quickly concealed.

“How’s it going?” he asked.

She grinned at him, determined not to show her own misgivings. “Slow but steady,” she told him.

He pursed his lips. “What does the physical therapist say?”

Her eyes became shuttered and she avoided looking directly at him. “Oh, that it will take time.”

“You’re supposed to start rehearsing in a month,” he persisted. “Will you actually be ready by then?”

“It’s in a week, actually,” she said tautly, and told him about the telephone call. He protested violently. “David, for heaven’s sake, I’ll be fine!” she burst out, exasperated to hear her own fears coming from his lips.

He stuck his hands into his pockets with a long sigh. “Okay. I’ll stop. Ahmed’s going to be here at six.”

“Yes, I remember. And you don’t have to look so worried. I know that he invited Steve and Daphne, too.”

His shoulders rose and fell heavily. He knew what was going on, but he couldn’t tell Meg. She looked haunted and he felt terrible. “I’m sorry.”

She forced down the memories of her last meeting with Steven, the painful things he’d said. “Why?” she asked with studied nonchalance. She dabbed at her face with the towel around her neck. “I don’t mind.”

“Right.”

She lifted her eyes to his. “What if I did mind, David, what good would it do? I ran, four years ago,” she said quietly. “I could have stayed here and faced him, faced her. I let myself be manipulated and I threw it all away, don’t you understand? I never realized how much it would hurt him….” She turned, trying to control her tears. “Anyway, he’s made his choice now, and I wish him well. I’m sure Daphne will do her best to make him happy. She’s cared about him for a long time.”

“She’s cared about him, yes,” he agreed. “But he doesn’t love her. He never did. If he had, he’d have married her like a shot.”

“Maybe so. But he might have changed his feelings toward her.”

He gave her a wry glance. “If you could see the way he treats her at the office, you wouldn’t believe that. It’s strictly business. Not even a flirtatious glance between them.”

“Yes, but you said that it all came to a head when she quit.”

He grimaced. “So it did.”

Her heart felt as heavy as lead. She turned away toward the staircase. “Anyway, I’m going back to New York soon.”

“Sis,” he said softly. She paused with her back to him. “Can I help?”

She shook her head. “But, thanks.” She choked. “Thanks a lot, David.”

“I thought you might get over him, in time.”

She studied her hand on the banister. “I’ve tried, you know,” she said a little unsteadily. She drew in a small breath. “I do have my dancing, David. It will compensate.”

He watched her go up the staircase with a terrible certainty that ballet wouldn’t compensate for a life without Steve. Her very posture was pained. Her ankle wasn’t getting any better. She had to know it. But she must know, too, that Steve wasn’t going to give in to whatever he felt for her; not when he’d been hurt so badly before. David shook his head and went upstairs to his own room to dress.