Page 82 of Barre Fight
A warm xylophone sounded from speakers in the ceiling, indicating that the performance would begin in ten minutes. The crowd began to drift towards the theatre doors, and the people at the back of the concession queues gave up and peeled off.
Justin was excited about all these paying spectators, but the audience members he was most eager to perform for were thekids from the evacuation center, the ones who’d taken their first ever ballet class using folding chairs in the middle of a crisis. Those kids, along with Miss Mary and any other Hillstone child who’d expressed interest and gotten their parents to sign a permission slip, had arrived at the Opera House on a chartered bus a few hours ago. Justin and Ivy had been waiting to greet them as they tumbled out of the bus, eager to see the huge white sails of the iconic building in person, most of them for the first time.
Last to get off the bus was Miss Mary, who’d climbed down the stairs with a careful grace that revealed her ballet training and a stiffness in her joints borne both of age and a lifetime of dancing. She was slight and sinewy, with wiry grey hair swept back into a French twist above her long, elegant neck, and she was wearing a long ochre-coloured linen shift dress that had wrinkled somewhat on the drive. Her face split into a delighted grin as soon as her eyes found Justin, and she held her arms out to him in a gesture that was half greeting, half request for a hug.
“Our hero,” she said, approaching him.
Justin shrugged, even as he smiled back at her. “Hardly,” he said. “Just doing what I can to help.”
“And you’ve done it beautifully,” she beamed. “We’re so grateful.” Justin’s cheeks had turned pink, and he ducked his head as he gave her a brief hug, curling his upper body so he could properly embrace her.
“Everyone,” Miss Mary called to the kids who were milling around, “this is Mr. Winters, who arranged for us all to be here today. He grew up in Hillstone, too. He used to be a student of mine, and now he’s a professional ballet dancer who gets paid to dance all day and travel the world performing.”
Some of the kids looked up at Justin with obvious awe on their faces. Others were playing with their phones or fidgeting with their backpacks.
“Hi.”Justin waved, clearly somewhat uneasy with all that praise. Even though it wasn’t anything but the truth, Ivy thought.
“We’re all very excited to be here,” Miss Mary said to him in a loud, didactic voice that was intended for the kids rather than for him. “And we’re going to be on our best behaviour all day. Isn’t that right?” She looked around at the kids, and the ones who’d been playing with their phones stuffed them back in their pockets and backpacks.
Justin’s face twisted into a sardonic smile and he spoke to her in a low voice. “As if they’d dare misbehave for you, Miss Mary.”
Her eyes twinkled with amusement, though the rest of her face retained its teacherly seriousness. “Not all these kids are as devoted to ballet as you were. Most of them just learned last week what a tendu is. But they’ve all been through something hard in the last few weeks. And I know you know a few things about dancing through the hard stuff. I’m very proud to introduce them to you.” She smiled at him, pride and affection all but radiating off her, and Ivy felt her heart ache for Justin—for the boy he’d been when Miss Mary first met him, for the man he was now. She felt that same pride and affection, and, if she had to guess, a fierce protectiveness that Miss Mary also shared. Ivy couldn’t do anything about what he’d been through as a kid. She hadn’t known him then. But she knew the man he was now. And she could love that man, and hold him as he healed at last and?—
Oh.Oh. Ivy pulled in a sharp, sudden breath, and Justin glanced over his shoulder at her, eyebrows raised in question. She shook her head and gave him a bland, reassuring smile, wondering if her face conveyed any of what she was really feeling.
The word had flitted into her mind as she watchedhim and his former teacher, and she’d welcomed it inside without question, like holding the door open for a friend dashing in from the rain.
She was falling in love with Justin Winters. If she kept watching him, learning him, holding him, she would love him. She could feel it happening, could see its inevitable arrival like the predictable progression from first position to second to fourth. He was so utterly loveable, with his kindness and his pride and his sly sense of humour. The way he listened to all the things she said and didn’t say. She was falling, and she didn’t want to stop.
Miss Mary looked at her then, and Ivy had the uncanny feeling the woman was assessing her, taking her in from head to toe, from her sleeveless black dress to her low-heeled mules. She’d bought them the other day, especially for this afternoon, and had been stunned by how comfortable she felt when she wasn’t teetering around on the balls of her feet all day. Now she pulled her shoulders down and, almost unconsciously, pulled her neck and spine long, just as she had hundreds of times when ballet teachers turned their gazes on her.
“You must be Ivy. The elbow grease behind this operation,” Miss Mary said. “And a former dancer, I see.”
Ivy smiled and nodded in confirmation. Her traps would never keep that secret. Now, though, she found she didn’t mind. She had been a dancer, once, and then a journalist and stiletto enthusiast. Then a PR person, though hopefully not for long. What came next, she didn’t know. But she knew that she’d find a way to succeed at it—or she wouldn’t, and she’d still be alright. Her parents would still love her, her brothers would still call her golden and tease her about her love life. And Justin would be there.
He was here now, explaining to Miss Mary that Ivy had helped entice a TV crew to film some of the kids’ visittoday, which he was hoping would result in yet more donations to the rebuilding effort. God, he was a good man. A complicated one, with stuff to work out. But he was good, and always trying to be better.
Miss Mary clapped her hands together in delighted anticipation. “Let’s get started.”
She gathered the kids into a tight clump, and they set off. Justin walked them around the building, telling them about what it was like to perform here and making sure none of them hurled themselves over the railings into the harbour. After a backstage tour of the theater and a Q&A with a few of the dancers, they’d been treated to lunch at the casual restaurant downstairs, and were now installed in prime orchestra seats that during the normal season went for over $200 a pop.
Because Justin wanted them to be there. Justin wanted them to see that this is what ballet could be, and what ballet could do for them. He wanted ballet to open the world up into something vast and full of possibility—instead of making it claustrophobic and full of fear, like Hillstone had felt for him.
The five-minute xylophone tone sounded. Ivy tucked the clipboard under her arm and made her way to the door closest to her reserved seat. An usher handed her a program—Connie had done a great job designing it in the space of one frantic day—and she thanked him. For a moment, she hovered at the door, taking in the stage and the orchestra pit, the humming anticipation that filled the house. In a few minutes, the lights would dim and the dancers would claim their places on stage. Then the music would unfold itself from the pit and the dancers would begin to move, transporting the audience beyond this place and time.
She would miss this part of the job, watching Justin and his exquisite colleagues perform, knowing how much work went into every stunning movement and every still moment on stage. Whatever job she did next, it wouldn’t come with free ballettickets. Then again, company members could secure seats for the friends and loved ones when they were performing, so she’d still get to watch Justin dance. And unlike now, she could meet him at the stage door and congratulate him with a kiss without worrying who saw her or what they thought of her. The idea of it made her heart race with hope, and a sparkling happiness fizzed in her chest.
Ivy walked to her seat, feeling as though she were floating, and not only because she was finally wearing comfortable shoes. She waved at Connie and Oliver, who were already seated at the end of her row. Oliver gave her a thumbs up and mouthed,We did it!The house manager began to turn the lights down slowly. Ivy slipped into her seat, silenced her phone, and sat back, ready for the curtain to rise on what she and Justin had built together.
Chapter Twenty-Four
In the end, they shattered their fundraising goal. There was enough not just to rebuild the church hall, but to install fire windows, as well as heating and cooling so Miss Mary’s students could dance comfortably all year round. And if there was any other damn thing she wanted, Justin would make sure she had it. He would make sure those kids had it.
“If this is how PR felt all the time, maybe I’d stick with it,” Ivy said, with a satisfied grin.
They were on her couch, a few hours after the performance ended. It had gone off without a hitch, even the part of “If Love” that he and Heather hadn’t had quite enough time to rehearse. She was out of breath at the end of the pas de deux, still not back to pre-pregnancy conditioning, but she glowed with joy as they took their bows together. She’d missed being on that stage as much as the audience had missed seeing her on it. When the curtain had come down she’d jogged into the wings, where Marcus was waiting with Caroline in his arms, wiggling her chubby arms and legs in delight as her mother approached and scooped her up.
And the rest of his colleagues had been brilliant. Kat andher girlfriend had debuted a pas de deux they’d created together, and the audience had loved it. The guest artists had looked great, too. Even Justin’s speech had gone well, despite his nerves. His hand had shaken slightly around the microphone, and his mouth had felt dry as he’d started to speak, so he did what he did when his legs felt shaky with nerves at the start of a ballet. He took a deep breath and reminded himself he was out on this stage because hewantedto be. Because it was where he belonged.
