Page 16 of You're the Reason

“That was what you told me when I was young.” Grace lifted her own leg in battement.

“Not dancing—although you are. I was talking about teaching. You could come home and open this studio back up.” Ms. Margret tapped at her chin, as if making mental plans. “Susie and many girls like her would be over the moon.”

Grace dropped her arm and leg and turned away from the mirror. “I’m not really a kid person.”

Ms. Margret pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and laid it on the dusty barre before resting her hand on it. “I think Susie would say differently.”

Grace shook her head as she pulled her coat back on and then stepped toward the door. “Besides, I’m not a teacher. I’m a dancer.”

“One does not exclude the other. You’re a dancer. But the last few minutes proves you’re a teacher as well.” The older woman studied her for a moment, then followed her out the way they came in. “When you were helping her, I saw a bit of your joy return. That has to mean something.”

Grace secured the door, then dropped the key back in Ms. Margret’s hand. “It means that ballet at age seven was easier.”

“Or that a season of teaching might help you remember why you love it.” The woman held out the key as if it were hers to give.

Grace shook her head, and the woman tucked the key back in her pocket. The two started walking across the square toward where she’d left her car, Grace making sure to match Ms. Margret’s pace. “I have to decide if I am going to dance or heal. Teaching isn’t on the list.”

Ms. Margret slipped her hand in Grace’s arm again. “Sometimes life makes you choose, but sometimes you can do both.”

“Both.” The word hit her in the chest as a new idea formed. “That’s it. I need to both dance Myrtha and do therapy at the same time. It would be a full schedule, but I can do it.”

Ms. Margret’s face twisted into a frown. “Myrtha is a full-time role. I meant both teach and do therapy. Take the summer to heal and find your joy. I could find several girls to make a class for you. Just say the word.”

Grace just shook her head and walked on.

“And where would I live? You know my parents.” She motioned in the direction of her house. “You think that would work?”

They had just reached Grace’s car when the woman’s soft hand landed on hers, eyes calculating. “You could be my roommate for the summer. I have two rooms that I don’t even use.”

“Why would you offer all that?”

“Because you think your problem is here”—she touched Grace’s knee—“but I think your problem is here.” She moved her hand over Grace’s heart.

Grace took a step back as she shook her head. “Thank you for the tea and visit, but I think it’s time for me to go back to Chicago.”

Ms. Margret sighed and nodded. “I’ll pray that God leads you through this.”

What was there to say to that? She and God hadn’t been on speaking terms for years. She’d heard people say that God was love. But all love came with high expectations and conditions, and she didn’t need more of that in her life.

She walked Ms. Margret to her porch, then Grace jumped into her car and checked the time. If she hit traffic, she’d be late to practice, and she still didn’t have any solid answers. Her only hope was that Madame Laurent would approve her doing both therapy and Myrtha at the same time.

As she pulled from the curb, movement on the porch of the house next door snagged her attention. Susie, with her back to the road, bent in a grand plié then rose. Much better. Grace had taught her that. The little girl must have been pleased with her own efforts because she did a little jump and clapped her hands. Grace couldn’t hold back her own laugh. Maybe next time she visited home she would stop by and see how Susie was doing. Because Grace had once loved ballet that much, and no doubt more time with Susie would help her remember why.

three

This had to work...rehab and downgrading her role. Now to convince her director.

Grace slipped her toe into her pointe shoe and tied off the elastic ribbons at her ankle in record time. She rose on relevé and down. She hurried out onto the stage and did her best to blend into the warm-ups without missing a beat.

To her left, Mallory did a double take and nearly stumbled out of her arabesque. “You’re back. I didn’t think you were going to make it in time.”

“I did.” Grace lifted into an arabesque. With a smile in place, she spoke softly through her teeth. “Sort of.”

“So, which did you choose? Therapy or Myrtha?” Mallory wasn’t nearly as cautious with hiding their conversation.

“Both.” Grace moved to the side of the stage with the other dancers and lined up.

“How will you do both?”

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