Something was off in Marie-Claude’s dancing. Of the three friends, she’d always danced the most effortlessly. But tonight she exaggerated each step, as if fighting something. She dipped low, lifting her tutu and exposing elastic digging in under her derriere.
Lucie chewed her lip. Klaus’s delicacies could cost Marie-Claude her career.
Paul rested his elbow on his armrest, and his shoulder pressed against hers. “Miss it?” he murmured.
Lucie nodded. Her vision blurred, and she blinked it away.
She didn’t miss the bleeding toes, the rivalries, and the fear of getting cut. But she deeply missed the dancing, the camaraderie, the pageantry, and the joy of guiding younger dancers.
She’d given it up for her friends, for a bookstore she’d soon lose.
Then what? She and Paul were focused on getting safely to the US, but then what? His family lived in the Boston area where he’d have a job. Her family lived in New York where she had nothing. No education, no skills of any worth. At twenty-seven and over a year out of serious practice, she could never dance in an American ballet.
Paul slid his hand over her armrest and under the fan of skirts on the seat, and he tapped his fingers.
She burrowed under layers of chiffon until she found his hand. He gripped firmly, his thumb stroking the back of her glove.
A tear dribbled down her cheek. Almost three months had passed since their evening in the Tuileries. Since then, they’d sneaked three short kisses in the storage room while Josie practiced pliés.
Only under the concealment of full skirts and dim light could she enjoy the intimacy of entwined hands.
Lucie explored the breadth and length of his fingers, the ridges of tendons, each fold in his palm, and he returned the favor. Even though gloved, her hand had never felt so alive.
As the second act came to an end, Lucie folded her hands in her lap, and Paul withdrew to his side of the armrests.
During intermission, Lucie excused herself to the powder room, returning just before the curtains opened.
As the music rose and conversation lowered, Paul leaned closer, his voice low. “When it’s over, follow me out at a distance. I arranged a carriage for you.”
Lucie gave a tiny nod. How thoughtful of him.
When a grand ball opened in the palace on stage, Lucie slid her hand under the fluff of skirts. An invitation Paul accepted. If only they could share a true date, leisurely kisses, and open speech. But it couldn’t be.
In the final act, tragedy unfolded. Siegfried unwittingly betrayed Odette, shattering her last chance to break the curse that kept her a swan by day. The two heartbroken lovers flung themselves into the lake.
Together in death. That was the happiest their ending could be, and Lucie’s heart collapsed. Although she knew the story, now with her own love, her own danger, it felt raw and poignant.
As soon as the ballet concluded, Paul said goodbye and departed. But Lucie paused to absorb every detail of her beloved theater, perhaps for the last time.
Then Lucie made her way out of the box, down the grand escalier, through the glittering opulence of the grand foyer, and into the loggia. With each step, she left the audience behind as they discussed the performance and made sure they were seen.
At the cloakroom Lucie retrieved her opera cape and donned it.
Outside, fog obscured the buildings on the place de la Opéra, and Lucie raised her hood in the near-freezing air.
Carriages and automobiles and vélo-taxis cluttered the plaza. In a minute she spotted Paul standing beside a closed carriage with the driver.
As she neared, Paul strolled away to find his own carriage, giving her the merest nod from a distance. “Good night, my love,” she whispered. He deserved a much better “good night” for such a lovely evening, and her chest ached.
“Bonsoir, mademoiselle.” The driver bowed to her and helped her inside the coach.
A blanket lay on the seat, and she pulled it up to her chin, imagining Paul’s arms around her instead.
The carriage rolled down the street, but with the blackout and the fog, Lucie saw nothing but darkness through the windows.
After the carriage turned a corner, it stopped. The door flew open, and a man hopped in.
Lucie gasped.
