one thing Alaska had in abundance, it was snow. Free for the taking.
What he needed to do most of all was get a handle on the apparent feud between Ronnie and Melody. The two teens couldn’t stand one another. Lately, their disagreements had begun to spill over and affect the rest of the kids in youth group. And that was a problem—a problem he could deal with, however, unlike ballet. Ballet was an enemy he no longer had the will to fight. He’d been on the losing end of that battle too many times before.
“There’s nothing wrong with ballet,” Posy said quietly. But she didn’t meet his gaze.
There was plenty wrong with ballet. Was she really going to make him rehash everything, right here in front of his boss?
No. He couldn’t go there. Something about it felt wrong. “Forgive me for pointing out the obvious, but you’re on crutches. How are you going to teach dance?”
If his words wounded her, she gave no indication. She smiled sweetly at Lou and ignored Liam altogether. “My foot won’t be a problem. The girls are beginners, right? Demonstrating the most basic steps won’t be a strain. Besides, I’ll be off the crutches and in a soft walking cast in no time.”
Pastor McNeil—Lou—smiled, as if a dance teacher with a five-pound weight attached to her foot and a pair of wobbly crutches was the most ordinary thing in the world. Were they that desperate for help in the youth department?
Yes. Yes, they were. The job posting had been circulating for months. Posy was the only remotely qualified applicant in all that time.
“That sounds promising, Miss Sutton. Certainly promising enough to give it a try.” Lou aimed a pointed glance at Liam. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
Liam didn’t agree. Not at all. But he was running out of objections he was willing to discuss. And Lou was already looking at him as if he were borderline nuts.
“Liam, you’ll work with the boys. Miss Sutton will work with the girls. I fail to see how this is a problem. Unless there’s something you’re not telling me?”
Now was the time to speak up. But what could he possibly say that wouldn’t make him sound like a lovesick teenager?
I loved her. But she loved ballet more, even though it took everything from her.
He glanced at Posy for the briefest of moments, and in her eyes he saw all the words he couldn’t bring himself to say. She’d walked away from him so easily back then that he’d sometimes wondered if she ever fully understood what had happened. Did she not see how badly she’d hurt herself, and in doing so, how badly she’d hurt him? He would have walked through fire for the girl she’d been. What they’d ended up walking through together had been far worse.
Looking at her now, he could see those moments shining back at him in her eyes. She hadn’t forgotten after all.
He aimed his gaze back at his boss. “No, nothing.”
“All right, then.” Pastor McNeil stood, a sure sign the discussion was over. “Tomorrow afternoon, the fellowship hall will become Miss Sutton’s ballet studio.”
A ballet studio. Liam’s head was on the verge of exploding.
What have I done?
Whoever invented circular revolving doors had obviously never been on crutches.
Posy felt like a newborn moose wobbling around on unfamiliar, gangly legs as she spun her way inside the Northern Lights Inn. Then, just as the instrument of torture spilled her out, the tip of her left crutch got stuck between one of the glass panels of the door and its frame. She jerked on the crutch as hard as she could, but it didn’t budge. The revolving door ceased revolving altogether, trapping two men wearing fur-trimmed parkas and unhappy scowls inside.
Pilots, in all likelihood. The Northern Lights Inn overlooked a lake that remained frozen for at least nine months out of the year and served as the local municipal airport. Snow planes took off and landed on skis, making regular runs into Anchorage for supplies, or out into the Bush—the parts of Alaska inaccessible by roads, which was the overwhelming majority of the state. At all hours of the day and night, the hotel’s coffee bar was a gathering place for local charter pilots, along with the severely under-caffeinated looking for relief.
Now that Posy got a better look at the two men she’d trapped in the revolving door, she suspected they fell into the latter category. They looked as though they could each use a cup of coffee. Or three.
Sorry she mouthed at them from the other side of the glass, yanking again on the crutch. All at once it came dislodged, and Posy nearly fell on her backside for the second time in less than an hour. So much for balletic grace and poise.
One of the two men helped her get resituated on her crutches before making a beeline for the coffee bar.
Posy paused for a second before heading that direction herself. She hated this. Absolutely hated not having perfect control over her movements. Ballet was all about control. When she lifted her leg in an attitude position, her knee raised at the exact same angle every time. That was what all those hours of barre work and practice were for—making sure every pointed toe, every classically arched arm and every graceful step were absolutely perfect. She felt out of sorts, as if she were walking around in a strange body.
She looked around the dark wood-paneled walls of the Northern Lights Inn and the sweeping views of the Chugach Mountain Range afforded by the coffee bar’s big picture window, expecting at least a tiny wave of nostalgia to wash over her. It didn’t. Being back in Alaska was even stranger than she’d expected. It no longer felt like home.
Strange body. Strange town.
Somewhere in her head she heard Liam’s voice again.
You’ve been gone a long time.
Her throat grew tight for some odd reason, and she suddenly felt like crying. Which was patently ridiculous. So she had a broken bone in her foot. It would heal. In a matter of six weeks it would heal, and she’d be back in San Francisco doing what she loved most: dancing. Her foot would repair itself, good as new. Just as it had before.
It had to.
Everything was going to be fine. She was rattled, that was all. It might be home, but Alaska was the polar opposite of San Francisco. A sea change. And she’d had her feet on the snowy ground for only two hours. Anyone would be disoriented. What she needed right now was coffee. And her girlfriends.
“Posy! You’re really here. I can’t believe it.” Zoey Wynne, her oldest childhood friend, hopped off one of the bar stools at the coffee bar and wrapped her in a tight embrace.
“I’m here, all right.” Posy kept a grip on her wayward crutches and let herself be hugged.
The moment Zoey let her go, Posy found herself in the arms of Anya Parker, another close friend from the days of skating at the pond and trekking through the woods on snowshoes after school. It was nice being hugged. Dancers hugged one another all the time on performance nights—good-luck hugs in the dressing rooms, congratulatory hugs in the wings. But it had been a while since she’d been embraced
