Page 6 of Among the Sins of my Father

I nod. “I’m sure you can show your mother without me, Ette.”

“But it’s a duet!” she protests, her bottom lip wobbling.

“Berkley is very tired—”

“It’s fine,” I say cutting Jericho off and pushing past him. “Ette wants to show her mother her dance so that’s what we’ll do.”

Ette reaches for my hand and threads her fingers through mine squeezing tightly. Then she stretches out her other hand to her mother. Hope moves her gaze to meet mine over the top of Ette’s head. We lock eyes for a fraction of a second before she drops her gaze to her daughter, smiles and takes her hand.

chapter three

BERKLEY

It’s a simple dance. We begin kneeling on the floor. We’re supposed to extend our right arm, use it to frame our face then push to the other side, but Ette, in her excitement, starts the wrong way. Instead of moving in unison, we’re mirror images, reflecting each other. It’s okay, we can work with that. Once we’re on our feet, Ette’s three-step turn somehow turns into four, but at least she does it in the same direction as me so we don’t bump into each other. She does the press down dramatically though, her body slumping as though defeated before rising to a lock. Ette has never been one to tamper down the theatrics of dance. She does the motion of ‘wiping the sweat off her brow’ as I explained it to her in practice with determined melodrama. Our routine is unfinished so we end while the music still plays, having just completed our pas de bourrée in perfect unison.

Hope breaks into applause with tears streaming down her face. She stands close to Jericho, her body tilted toward his. Gideon smirks at them from where he’s leaning against the wall. He wiggles his brows at me and a small knot twists in my stomach.

Doing my best to ignore it, I offer Ette a high five, commending her on the way she pointed her toes at all the right moments, something she struggled with while she was learning the routine.

“Did you like it, Hope?” Ette says, eyes shining brightly.

“I sure did,” Hope says exaggeratedly. “I had no idea what a wonderful dancer you are!” She crouches down so she’s eye height with Ette. “You know you can call me Mother, right?”

Ette rolls her eyes. “It’s a little too soon, Hope. I’ll get there one day.” The way she says it makes her sound years older than she is. There’s almost a sadness to her tone, or mistrust, but she’s still allowing the possibility of the term coming to her naturally. One day.

Before I realize what I’m doing, I walk over and scuff the top of her hair.

Hope’s head whips up. “You’re awfully familiar with her for a dance teacher.”

“She’s not just my dance teacher,” Ette replies, lifting her chin a little. “She’s also my best friend and Mr Priest’s best friend.” Her blue eyes twinkle with mischief.

“Hey,” Mrs Bellamy bustles over, feeling the tension from the other side of the room, “I thought I was your best friend?”

Ette rolls her eyes. “You’re also the person who tells me to go to bed every night and brush my teeth and wash my face and eat all my vegetables.”

“You mean all the things which keep you happy and healthy?” Mrs Bellamy wraps her hand around Ette’s. “How about we see if your mother is as good as doing voices as Mr Priest while telling stories?”

Ette turns to Hope and loudly whispers with a laugh, “It won’t be hard.”

Once they leave, I feel the weight of Gideon’s and Jericho’s stares on me. Neither of them says anything so after turning off the music, I head towards the door, citing my earlier excuse of tiredness as a way of escape.

“Berkley, wait,” Jericho says as I pass him.

“I’m tired.” I throw the words over my shoulder, not wanting to look at him. Because I know if I do, I will crumble. I will relent and find myself in his arms again when I know that’s no longer my place.

“Miss Berkley!” he says sharply and grabs my arm. “Please wait.” His demeanor is both threatening and pleading, the two sides of him fighting for dominance just like the dueling swans etched into his skin.

His eyes are so dark it’s hard to see any hint of blue. They’re like the night sky during a storm. You know the blue is there but it’s hidden behind the layer of turbulent clouds and blanketed in darkness.

He stares at me, chest rising and falling with each breath. His fingers tighten as I test his aggression, pulling away ever so slightly.

“You can leave now, Gideon,” Jericho commands, his eyes still locked on mine. The line of his jaw bulges as Gideon chuckles.

“I’m good where I am.”

“Leave. Now,” Jericho orders.

The thunder to his voice rumbles through me and I shudder under a wave of delicious arousal. Neither of us look at Gideon as he pulls himself off the wall and wanders nonchalantly away. It’s not until the door slams shut behind him that Jericho speaks.

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