Not bad for barely two weeks into her new life.
And if the positive trend continued, maybe Martin would have a change of heart and they could find their way back to the earlier, happier days of their marriage when the mill didn’t dominate their lives.
A long shot, perhaps—but miracles did happen, as Lucas’s turnaround after his troubled teenage years proved.
Besides, if you lived in a town named Hope Harbor, how could you not wish for a happy ending?
Aaron had come to rehearsal.
Heart quick-stepping, Devyn paused to scan the Grace Christian fellowship hall as she entered Tuesday evening, dance bag on her shoulder, hair pulled into a ballerina bun.
Ben and Isabel were seated in the group clustered around the piano, listening while Shaun wrapped up the vocal portion of the rehearsal.
Aaron was off to the side, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, intent on his laptop screen.
Had he come to give Isabel moral support—or was it possible he’d wanted to see a certain choreographer dance?
The latter prospect seemed likely, since he hadn’t come to the Sunday evening rehearsal.
And that sent a flutter through her nerve endings.
Which was crazy.
She’d danced in front of thousands of people during her career—discerning ballet aficionados, government officials, celebrities of all stripes, including Hollywood stars. Those were adrenaline-laced performances ... but that adrenaline was fueled by anticipation, not nerves.
Tonight, she was nervous.
As if sensing her scrutiny, Aaron glanced over. Lifted a hand in greeting.
She waved back, then continued toward the front of the room to put on her ballet shoes and give herself a stern talking-to.
Everything would be fine. There was no reason to be jittery. She’d danced the two short pieces she’d planned for later tonight countless times in rehearsal and performance. Her execution might not be flawless after three weeks without any serious dancing, but it was doubtful her small audience tonight would be too critical.
So for the next hour, she’d focus on teaching theOklahomachorus members the simple choreography she’d put together for them and worry about her mini performance afterward.
An excellent plan ... if it had worked.
Trouble was, she found her gaze wandering on a regular basis to a certain lumberman, who was giving the dance rehearsal far more attention than he’d given the singing rehearsal.
Disconcerting, to say the least.
When at last the practice session ended and the cast members wandered out, she returned to her dance bag and pulled out her pointe shoes.
While Ben joined Aaron, Isabel trotted over, excitement dancing in her eyes. “You remembered.”
“Of course I did. I never break a promise.”
“Your shoes are pretty.” Isabel reached out a tentative finger and stroked the pink satin. “Why is the tip flat?”
“To help me balance on my toes.”
“Does it hurt to do that?” She touched the hard platform area.
“No. My toes are used to it by now. But when I dance for longer periods, like in class or performing, I wrap them.”
“With what?”
“Believe it or not, paper towels—but I won’t do that tonight, because I’ll only be on my toes for a few minutes.” She slipped the shoes on and pulled a chiffon rehearsal skirt from her bag.
