The Ballerina's Stand (10 page)

Tina shook her head and hugged the phone like it was a lifeline. “She ruined it all,” she whispered.

As soon as Tina opened the gate, Rhonda came flying out of the house.

“Get in the car, Tina. Lock the door behind you.” He turned and faced Rhonda. “Stay right there,” he ordered.

The woman froze, her eyes wide, likely not as much from fear as shock. He doubted many people stood up to her. She recovered fast. “Tina, you get in the house.”

“No.
You
get back in the house, Mrs. Hancock.” Jason stood his ground, his shoulders wide, his arms loose. Ready for anything. He took a step toward her as he heard the car door slam and the locks thunk into place.

“I'm callin' her caseworker right now.” She tried to sound threatening. But if she was so concerned, why hadn't she already called the police?

“You do that. If you don't, I will. I'll expect a call soon.” He took another step toward her. “Call every official you can think of. I'm sure they'd love to hear where Tina spent last night.”

She stepped back, seeming to realize he was someone to be reckoned with.

“Pack all their things. Carefully, and if anything's missing or damaged, I'll hold you personally, legally and financially responsible.” He figured that last bit got her attention. “I'll send a courier to pick it up.”

His anger grew as scenarios of all the things she'd probably done to Tina flashed in his mind. And maybe Dylan. And how many other kids? He needed to get out of here before he lost control. He stalked over to the driver's door, and watched the woman scurry into the house. He had to consciously uncurl his fisted hands before climbing in and facing Tina again.

The girl had put on her seat belt, but simply sat there staring at the phone.

“What's the matter?” Jason started the car and carefully pulled away from the curb, wishing he could floor the accelerator and peel away to expend some of his anger.

“I— She destroyed my phone.” Tina hiccuped a sob that cracked through the last of his anger. “I only know Dylan's number from my speed dial.”

Poor kid. “He's with Lauren. Text her. She's in my contacts.”

The bright, tear-soaked smile that blossomed on her face shot straight through him. Made him feel as if he'd done something good. Her fingers flew over the keys.

His phone dinged a few seconds later indicating a text had come in. “She gave him her phone. He's glad I'm okay.”

Jason drove out of the neighborhood and breathed a sigh of relief.

“I don't know how to explain to him,” she whispered.

Jason stopped at the light and faced her. “Don't text. I'll bring you to the studio. You can talk then.”

“Okay.”

Then the phone rang and they both jumped. The phone landed with a thud on the floor. It rang again and she reached down to pick it up. After she handed it to him, he saw Wyatt's number on the screen and groaned. He'd half expected it to be the caseworker. “Hello.”

“Hey, little brother. We've landed.”

“Great.” Jason tried to sound enthusiastic. “I'm on my way.” How long would it take them to get their luggage? Did he have time to stop by the studio first? He glanced at the dash clock. Hell no. “Still good for me to pick you up at arrivals?”

“Sounds great to us. Looking forward to this, Jason.” Wyatt hung up, and Jason handed the phone back to Tina.

“I have to pick up my brother and sister-in-law at the airport. Are you up for a ride out to LAX before we head to the studio?”

She smiled. “That'd be fun. I ain't never been there. What do I tell Dylan?”

“Just let them know we'll be there as soon as possible.” He had no idea how long this would take.

They drove in silence for a while, there being no quick way to get to the airport. Jason wouldn't push, but he needed to know more from Tina. “Do you want to tell me what happened last night?”

She shrugged, her grip tightening on the phone.

“I won't get upset with you, if that's what you're worried about.”

“That's what Rhonda says.”

“What do you mean?”

“That if I tell her the truth, she won't be mad. But then when I do, she...”

“Locks you in the closet?”

Tina nodded, slowly, sadly. Dear God. Talk about a violation of trust. “You do know that's wrong, very wrong of her, right? Nothing you could do justifies that kind of treatment. Nothing.” His anger rose again, and he had to take a deep breath. Last thing he wanted to do was scare her.

Trust was one of the things Jason valued most. “You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to.”

They left it at that and the silence grew. He thought of Lauren, wondering how she'd react to this. He suddenly missed her blaring his stereo. He occasionally glanced at Tina, who stared out the side window. He had no idea how he would explain all this. To anyone, not just to Wyatt and Emily. But he knew he'd done the right thing getting the girl out of there.

He felt for her, and Dylan. The boy wasn't going to take this well. Jason had seen Dylan's devotion to his sister, and he understood it. If something like this had happened to any of his sisters... Hell, his brother DJ had decked Lane after learning Lane was the father of Mandy's child. And Lane had been loving to Mandy.

“I... I only snuck out that one time,” Tina whispered. “I didn't do it again after Dylan got in trouble. I swear.”

“I believe you.” And he did. “Does Dylan know that?”

Again the silence stretched out. “Dylan couldn't hear any of it.” Tina continued to stare outside. “Even when I cried, he couldn't hear me.”

Damn.
“Did you try to tell anyone else?” he asked softly. Was there someone who could have helped before? The idea of her so alone did not sit well with him.

Tina shook her head. “Rhonda said if I ever told anyone, she'd make it so Dylan couldn't dance anymore. He loves to dance.” And she loved her brother—that came through loud and clear.

Hell.
What was he supposed to say to that? Words were his best tool, and he found himself at a total loss.

They reached the airport turnoff, and he was thankful he was forced to concentrate on the heavy traffic.

Only Wyatt would wear his best Stetson in the heat of LA. But there he was. Emily stood close to him, a stack of luggage behind them.

Emily was a judge back home in the family court. He'd thought to pick her legal brain this visit, but it looked like he would have to do more than that now.

“Should I get in back?” Tina looked so uncertain, so small.

“Nah, stay there. They're newlyweds. They like being close to each other.”

Jason climbed out and hurried around to greet them. Emily hugged him, and Wyatt did that usual handshake shoulder-bump. Jason was glad to see them both.

Jason loved his big gregarious family, and glancing at Tina's small face staring at them through the passenger window, he appreciated them more than ever before.

“Who's with you?” Emily looked back and forth between Jason and Tina.

“Climb in and I'll make the introductions.”

This ought to be interesting.

 

CHAPTER TEN

L
AUREN
STOOD
IN
the studio doorway, watching, fascinated, proud, as Dylan went through his routine yet again. His movements were fluid, and Lauren knew she'd done the right thing asking Maxine to coach him. The master needed to be the one to help him master his gift.

How she envied him. At fifteen, he still had ten, maybe fifteen, prime years on the stage. The possibilities he had ahead of him... Oh, she was still in demand, but that time was growing short. Her feet were the only part of her that looked forward to the day she'd hang up her toe shoes. Her heart hurt just thinking about it.

Shaking her head to dismiss her dismal thoughts, she turned away from watching him. Jason would be here soon with Tina. Why did her heart skip at the thought of seeing him? She didn't let that train of thought continue, either.

Once they got here, Dylan would have to stop dancing, stop hiding in the movement. She wasn't sure what they were facing. Tina was too volatile and unpredictable.

The siblings' devotion to each other interfered with his training...and yet Lauren would never ask him to give it up. They were all each other had.

Which was more than she'd ever had. Still, being that alone had forced her to stand on her own two feet. She had never depended on anyone, and she intended to keep it that way.

That's part of why Maxine was barely speaking to her after tea the other day. She'd
had
to draw the line. So, why did it bother Lauren that the older woman had pulled back? Why did it hurt? Lauren didn't need her.

Did she?
No.
She couldn't.

What had Jason thought about their interaction? He hadn't intervened, but she'd seen the speculative spark in his eye. What was he thinking now? How could she explain? She looked at her phone. Maybe she could text something. Or write an email. No, too impersonal.

But he didn't know sign well enough for them to have a real conversation. He tried so hard, but she couldn't make him learn any faster. If he'd been born deaf, like her and Dylan, they could have a conversation, no problem. But he hadn't.

For the first time, the barriers between them seemed insurmountable. Her eyes burned, and she refused to acknowledge why.

Her phone flashed, and she thumbed the screen on. Maxine's complete, proper sentences, with perfect grammar and punctuation, appeared in the little bubble. Maxine would never give in and use emoticons or shorthand speech. Lauren fought the smile, and breathed a sigh of relief, pleased that her foster mother had finally reached out. Even if it was about Dylan.

Is Dylan still there? He's not answering my texts, and he needs to rest tonight. Only one more day of rehearsals.

As if Lauren didn't know when the show was?
He's here. Still practicing.
She didn't dare tell Maxine they were waiting for Jason and Tina. The woman would lose it.

Send him home.

As soon as he finishes this.
She didn't explain what
this
was.

Thank you.

Dylan came over then, peering at her phone. “Was that Jason and Tina?” he signed.

Lauren shook her head. “Maxine. She says you need to go home and rest.”

The boy smiled. Dylan liked Maxine, respected her—he'd told Lauren that earlier. He gathered his things and was halfway to the locker room before he turned around and walked back, a puzzled look on his face. “Can I ask you a question?” he surprised Lauren by asking.

“Of course.”

“How do you—” He paused. “How do you make yourself not care?”

“I don't think that's possible.”

“You do it.”

Lauren stared at him. “I care. About you. Maxine. Even Tina.” Where did Jason fit into that equation?

Dylan shook his head. “You.” He pointed at her almost harshly. “You turn off your emotions. How do you do that? I want to learn.”

No, he didn't. She thought of the love between him and his sister that she'd been analyzing earlier. And envying.

The thing he was asking to learn was the same thing she was most afraid of in herself. It was what stood between her and Maxine. It would stand between her and any relationship.

Was that why she couldn't write the email or the text to Jason? Not because it was so impersonal, or she couldn't put it into words he could understand, but because she was afraid to show him her greatest flaw? Afraid he'd do what so many others had done—leave?

She looked at Dylan for a long minute. He still wore his practice clothes, as did she. “I care,” she signed slowly. “But you're right. It hurts too much sometimes. Let me show you a trick.” She waved for him to follow her. “This helps lower my stress. How I turn off.”

She pointed to the center of the now-empty studio. “Stand there.” He frowned, obviously confused. She simply grinned as she headed toward the stereo.

When she found what she wanted, she cranked up the volume and hit play, then hurried to the center of the floor to face Dylan. “Don't you dare tell Maxine I do this,” she teased.

When the hard rocking beat vibrated the floor, Dylan physically jumped. His eyes became wide, but as he watched Lauren move, his smile grew.

Everything shook with the rhythm of the music—the walls, floor, and every inch of her body. She couldn't help but move, swaying and jumping to the hard beat. She hadn't realized how tense she was.

“This helps you?” Dylan signed.

She nodded and kept moving. She laughed at Dylan as he tried to do some of his ballet moves. Shaking her head, she faced him. “Relax,” she signed. “Move to the beat. Do not try to match movements or steps to it.”

She snapped her fingers to the rhythm, waved her arms. Closing her eyes, she gave herself up to it, hoping he'd watch and learn. Hoping he'd understand that sometimes escape was how she “turned it off.”

When she opened her eyes a few minutes later, she saw him, several feet away, his eyes closed as well, his movement loose and abandoned. Yeah, he was getting it.

Lauren had never heard music. Born deaf, she'd never understood her friends' obsession with singers and musicians. Oh, they were good-looking all right. But not being able to hear them sing took away some of their allure.

She remembered sitting on Becky Harold's bed at one of their sleepovers. Becky and Lisa Davis had jumped up on the bed, holding their hairbrushes like microphones, singing, while Lauren read their lips.

Both girls were hearing impaired, not fully deaf, so hearing aids gave them sound. Gave them the ability to speak normally. Gave them a world Lauren couldn't even imagine.

And then, two weeks later, Becky had gotten tickets to a rock concert for her birthday. Lauren hadn't known a thing about the band, and even now she couldn't remember their name, but Becky had been in heaven.

Lauren hadn't really wanted to go, but she'd yearned to be a part of the group, to fit in with her friends. By the end of that night, she'd been in awe, but for very different reasons than the other girls.

The live music had vibrated the entire arena, under her feet, everything.

The amplifiers sat right on the edge of the stage, flinging all that amazing vibration over them. For the first time, she'd understood. And she'd danced. Her feet couldn't resist moving. She didn't sleep a wink that night. She'd ached to experience this new world of feeling sound again.

Two days later, walking home from school, she stopped at a dance studio she'd seen, and until then, ignored.

She'd had no idea what she was doing, what she wanted.

Maxine had been so much younger then. So beautiful. Lauren had snuck in through a side door and watched. Staring as the girls, some of them years younger than she, others her age, moved in sync with each other, and apparently, with the music. She'd been fascinated and yet disappointed. She knew the music was there, but she couldn't hear it—or feel it.

She hadn't thought about talking to anyone or letting them know she was there. She'd just wanted to “feel” the sound, and had expected it here. But eagle-eyed Maxine had seen her and confronted her. Or tried to. She'd been talking, and while Lauren read lips well, no one before or since had talked that fast to her.

Thank heavens one of the dancers went to Lauren's school and knew she was deaf. She'd rushed over to explain to Maxine. Lauren had left as soon as she could, slinking home, disappointed. Not only had she not gotten to feel the music, but her foster mother had grounded her—again—for getting home late.

When she'd been summoned to the principal's office the next day, she gulped back her fears, lifted her chin and marched down the empty hall. Her heart sank when she saw the woman from the dance studio—Maxine—sitting with the principal.

Life had never been the same since. Two weeks later, Hudson had parked in front of her foster home and climbed out of the big Crown Victoria to put her measly two suitcases in the giant trunk. They looked smaller than the spare tire.

Her then foster mother hadn't even bothered to help. She stood there on the porch, leaning against the rail. “Be good for them, kid,” she'd signed. “This is your chance.” Lauren knew she was leaving out the usual “don't screw it up.”

The backseat of the Crown Victoria had seemed huge. Lauren hadn't felt that alone, that lost, in a long time. She'd been through a lot of moves. What was this one? Her sixth? Seventh move to a new foster home? She didn't count that first one. That hadn't been going
to
anything. That had been leaving herself, her life, her mother's loss, behind. That was a tearful journey
away
from her life and nothing more.

Fifteen years had passed since she'd gone to live with Maxine. Maxine had given her so much. Music. Dance. A career. A home. Structure in a life of constant change.

Was she a bad person for not appreciating Maxine enough? Was there something wrong with her that she craved her independence so much? Too much?

She shoved her thoughts aside, letting the music take over. Doing exactly what she was teaching Dylan. Escaping.

* * *

J
ASON
NEARLY
DROPPED
his phone when he reached the doorway of the practice studio. The caseworker's voicemail told him to leave a message, but for the life of him he didn't know if what he said was coherent as he hung up.

Because Lauren was dancing. Dancing in the way that made Jason's blood burn. Dear God, she was beautiful, so fluid, alive.

If Tina hadn't been standing beside him, and Dylan there on the dance floor with Lauren, Jason wasn't sure what he'd have done.

Dylan stopped first. Seeing his sister, he rushed over. Lauren stopped and Jason smiled, wishing she would keep dancing forever. She went to the stereo, and the sudden silence wrapped around them.

The siblings hugged, and Dylan bent down to peer closer at Tina's face. As he touched her cheek, her tears began anew. Dylan looked up at Jason, his face wreathed in confusion and growing anger. “What happened?” he asked them both.

“Let me tell him.” Tina stepped back from her brother, lifting her chin, making Jason proud of her. This wasn't going to be easy. For any of them.

“Do you want to talk with Lauren now or later?” Jason asked.

“I don't know.” Tina shrugged.

Lauren came to stand with them. “What's going on?” she signed.

“Maybe one telling is enough,” Jason said, encouraging Tina. “Let's find someplace private.” Although there wasn't anyone around, Jason didn't want to be inadvertently interrupted.

Lauren nodded and led them to a cozy office. The desk had a chair and there were two smaller chairs facing it. Jason perched on the corner of the desk, making sure the others were seated.

“You're in charge,” he told Tina. “But I'm here if you need help, okay?”

Tina nodded, clasping and unclasping her hands. Finally, she told everything, in words and once she got started, she seemed to recall to sign. Luckily, both Lauren and Dylan were proficient at lip reading.

“I only snuck out a couple of times,” she reiterated.

“Where were you the other times?” Dylan asked.

Tina looked up at Jason and he nodded, reassuring and encouraging her. Tears filled her eyes. “Rhonda.” She hiccuped. “She locked me in the basement closet.” Tina looked down, her head bowed.

Dylan jumped to his feet, hands fisted at his sides before he signed and spoke. “What?” He looked over at Jason, who nodded in confirmation. “Why didn't you tell me?” He stared at Tina, hurt, angry.

Lauren stood, too, though she instead moved to pull Tina into her arms. Tina let her, but soon pulled away just enough to look at her brother.

Jason stood and took a step to stand between the siblings. Dylan looked ready to kill someone, and while Jason understood the urge, the anger wouldn't help any of them. “Rhonda threatened to take all this away from you.” He gestured around at the studio.

That took most of the wind out of Dylan's sails. He sank back into his seat. Lauren signed one-handed, keeping Tina close with the other. Jason couldn't even begin to read it.

“She says, now what? We can't go back there,” Dylan translated.

Jason wasn't sure if the last was Dylan's or Lauren's words. “No, you definitely are not,” he said, his own anger bubbling to the surface again.

Tina pulled away from Lauren slightly. “Jason told her off good,” she said, smiling through the tears.

Thank heaven she hadn't heard what he'd really wanted to say to the woman. “I made it clear I'll hold her responsible. For everything. I told her to pack up your stuff. We'll have everything picked up and taken to my office.” He looked at Lauren. “But I—”

Lauren did the one-handed thing, and Jason's frustration returned. He wanted to understand.