“Or ‘Wonderwall,’” Ronnie added with a grimace.
Carlos looked particularly offended by that one, but after a moment, he smiled and started to play.
The age gap between Teddy and Finn didn’t feel as apparent when Carlos strummed his way into a lovely rendition of “Patience” by Guns N’ Roses.
Sometimes he still worried he’d screw things up with Finn, but he knew Finn had similar fears, and that made it easier to believe they could overcome whatever hurdles lay in their future.
Epilogue
Teddycouldseethesadness on Frankie’s face that today would be her last scheduled physical therapy session, something he never would have expected she’d pout over all those months ago when they met.
“You’ll still need to come back for checkups,” Finn said. “Or if anything’s ever bothering you. Seriously, any time, you can always—”
“You remember you are literally riding with us to the studio?” Teddy broke in. It wasn’t as if they wouldn’t still see each other several times a week.
“I know.” She scowled at Teddy. “But that’s with the whole class.”
Meaning she was losing her one-on-one time with them, not that she minded being able to move almost as fluidly as she used to before the accident.
Frankie was Teddy’s star pupil in the mixed dance class he’d started in conjunction with the health center and the local—andadmittedly tiny—ballet studio. The class catered to anyone from preteen to adult but was specific to those with mobility issues. Finn’s original idea, though seeingDon Quixotehad inspired Teddy too, as well as learning about Erina’s ballerina friend with a prosthetic leg.
Mona was coming into town next week as a favor to guest teach before their midseason performance. Frankie was beside herself with excitement—not that she looked it now.
“If you get cast in my play during next week’s auditions, you won’t believe how sick of me you’ll get,” Teddy said, “but don’t expect any special treatment.”
“I won’t need special treatment.”
“Then stop being a baby.”
“Teddy!” Finn scolded.
“Otherwise,” Teddy continued leadingly, “how can we possibly let you have any of the cake we brought to celebrate you being rid of this place?”
“Cake?” Frankie’s mouth had opened in protest until she caught up to what he’d said. Now she looked around the room in suspicion, pout successfully smoothed. “Really?”
“And it says: Congrats on starting off on the rightfoot.”
“It does not.”
“I never joke about a good pun. It’s in the break room fridge right now, but you’re not getting any until you show me you can perform the routine without a single wobble. Deal?”
Teddy’s dance class consisted of six students, all from Finn’s calisthenics class, including Frankie with her prosthetic leg, a teenager with meromelia in both feet, Finn’s needy seventy-five-year-old patient recovering from back surgery, a young man in his twenties with spina bifida on two hand-crutches, a middle-aged gentleman with MS in a wheelchair, and a young vet who’d sustained a brain injury and had chronic trouble with her balance.
They were an odd mix, which forced Teddy to think outside the box not only for what was possible for each of them, but how they could dance together. He’d focused more on modern dance than ballet, a medley of vignettes for their upcoming performance combining suggestions from everyone in the class.
Frankie was the center point of the final section: an adaptation from Teddy’s favorite scene inThe Nutcracker, per her request.
The battle of the Mouse King.
Frankie was meant to go into a spin at the end using her prosthetic, which was difficult to come out of without falling, so she needed to purposely let herself fall—right into the arms of the Mouse King himself, played by the boy with meromelia. The feint was a ruse to catch the Mouse King off guard for the killing blow, which Frankie had said:
“Isn’t very heroic.”
“Heroes don’t have to be pushovers; they just have to remember three things: mercy, kindness, and forgiveness. Now quit wasting my time and try again.”
Teddy ordered Frankie around the same way today, him being the stand-in for the Mouse King.
Frankie squared herself for the opening moves, a natural dancer, artificial leg or not. Teddy understood why she loved it so much, because when she lost herself in the motion, she got that look that reminded him of why he loved teaching—when his students were manageable and respected his methods.
