Emma, Mr. Knightley, And Chili-Slaw Dogs Part 12

"You see, when the dance begins and the couples face off, the scene for romance is set." She swept her arm across the barn. "Men on one side, women on the other. It's like waving a red flag at a bull. Excitement, antic.i.p.ation, danger!"

Danger of having one's toes smashed, maybe. Brooks squinted, trying to envision the scene.

"The music leads and the bodies follow. You're giving up control, meeting your partner again and again, weaving through the obstacles just to find them. And at the end, the sweetest moment, the union of hearts." She looked dreamily across the s.p.a.ce.

He coughed. "Until you get partnered with Frenchy D'Auberg and he pinches your bottom. Not so romantic then."

She c.o.c.ked an eyebrow. "For you or me? I wouldn't mind a little pinching. I'm a lonely old lady. When your grandfather was alive, we had such a thriving-"

"Oh, no." Brooks pretended to plug his ears. "Remember I'm one of those innocent young people."

"Ha! I said young, not innocent." She paused. "How come you never bring anyone home to meet me?"

"Never found anybody I really liked, Grandma." He stuffed his hands in his pockets. Truthfully, the girl he really liked already lived here, bringing her home wasn't an option.

"I just want you to know, that whatever kind of lifestyle you live, I'll still love you."

He rolled his eyes. "So, because I'm not living with a woman, I'm gay?"

"Well, there must be some reason. A handsome boy like you must have loads of girls chasing him."

"Right. Loads."

"What about that nice-"

"Before we go down the whole list of candidates, let me just say that being a nerdy professor and the heir to Badewood isn't as attractive as you think."

"Why ever not?"

"It's hard to explain, but sometimes I think it would be better to be poor and homeless, Then I'd know if a woman loved me for who I am, and not for my house."

She paused, as if choosing her words wisely. Her bright orange lipstick feathered into the wrinkles when she pursed her lips. "If that's your fear, then you'd better choose someone who has a home as nice as ours."

He laughed, a sharp sound that echoed in the enormous cavern of a barn. "There's nothing like Badewood around here. The only people who aren't awed by the old place are the ones who've practically grown up in it with me, like-"

She waited for the rest of his sentence. "Yes? Like?"

Like Caroline, obviously. Every thought led right back to her, every time, like some kind of cursed boomerang. "Let's move on to some other topic. Finding Brooks a wife seems to be at the top of everyone's list lately. I'm almost glad we're having this crazy party. Maybe it will take some of the heat off me."

"If you think G.o.d wants you to stay single, that's perfectly fine with me."

Brooks sighed. "There's a lot of talk about what G.o.d wants, isn't there? Always speculation, never facts."

She stopped on her way across the stage. "What does that mean? We're supposed to ferret out G.o.d's will for our lives."

"Okay, true, but I also hear a lot of speculation on what G.o.d wants everyone else to do."

"Is this a sensitive topic? You look ready to have a duck fit. "

He shrugged. Kicking the toe of his old running shoes into the dust of the stage, he felt irritable, exhausted, twitchy.

"Your grandma has had quite a few more experiences than you have." She smiled at him. "Just letting you know that, in case you'd ever like to bounce anything off my many years of living."

"There's nothing you can do about it."

"Maybe. But sometimes it helps to share the burden." She walked to him, her white hair frizzed around her head, eyes bright. She barely reached his chest but she never seemed small. Larger than life, louder than doubts.

He thought of Manning and Debbie Mae. They had suffered for a whole year without leaning on anyone else. But sharing his unrequited love wasn't something he was really aching to do.

A dove took flight from one of the rafters and they both turned to watch it circle the barn. It flew overhead and dropped its load with a splat, right on his shoulder. He grimaced.

"Now I'm afraid you're dyin' of a terrible disease. Bird p.o.o.p should register more emotion than that." His grandma was searching through her small f.a.n.n.y pack for some tissues.

It should, but it didn't because it was just one more irritation in a week filled with irritations. He hated being at war with Caroline. Hated it more than anything he'd ever hated before. It was a dull ache that never lessened.

His grandma wiped off the mess as best she could, saying something about how a summer at home would make him happier. He wasn't really listening. He felt so tired, so weary of holding on with an iron grip to something he knew was slipping away.

"You can't make someone love you," he said.

Her hand stilled for a moment, the dirty tissue between her fingers. "True," she agreed.

"Even if you love them so much you'd do anything, anything for them." The truth of his words sunk in. Speaking about it wasn't helping. It felt worse, like probing an open wound.

"Even if," she said, nodding.

"Sometimes they pick another person to love, when you've been right in front of them the whole time."

"It does happen." Her voice was soft.

"And then there's nothing left but to keep going as you were, pretending you never felt anything more than..."

"Friendship?" Her eyes met his and there was the faintest glimmer of tears.

"But I don't think I can have even that, anymore." His throat constricted at the thought. They hadn't really spoken since the argument over Lexi's scholarship.

"Why not?"

"I wish I was a better man, but seeing her with someone else makes me crazy. Especially since the guy is a jerk."

"Maybe it will run its course and you'll have your chance."

He laughed, the bitterness in his voice loud to his own ears. "Grandma, don't you see? If she didn't choose me the first time around, she won't choose me the second time."

A sudden breeze blew open the barn door, gusting clouds of dust into the air. She patted his arm. "Sometimes a girl's got to kiss a few frogs before she finds her prince."

The thought of Caroline kissing Frank dragged a groan out of him. "Thanks, Grandma. Just what I needed."

"Like you've never kissed anybody?"

"Well, of course I have, but-"

"Then you don't have any right to begrudge her a few kisses on her way to finding out you're the best man for her." She flashed a big smile, as if everything was all fixed.

He nodded, more to end the conversation than anything else. He didn't know if he could stand watching Caroline date someone like Frank. He didn't know if he could watch her date anyone, really. The usual hugging and kissing and public displays of affection were annoying, but when you were in love with one of the partic.i.p.ants, it was torture.

He was a tough guy. He'd lived through the tenure process, after all. Gossip, back-biting, and close-quarters verbal sniping didn't make him blink. He'd handled that slow burn of dislike for Frank. But the idea of Caroline being touched by Frank made him skip from calm logic to blowing an emotional fuse.

He had to get a grip on his emotions. The argument over Lexi was probably the biggest disagreement they'd ever had and he had a terrible suspicion that his jealousy played the biggest part in it.

"It's such a happiness when good people get together."

Chapter Sixteen.

Brooks c.o.c.ked his head at the sound of a truck motor. "Must be the band."

He helped his grandmother down from the stage and she went to the door, waving excitedly. Three African American men and an elderly woman exited the eighties extended cab truck. The pale blue paint had oxidized around the hood and one headlight was cracked. Absalom took an immediate interest in the tires, sniffing his way along in a full circuit.

"Brooks, this is Gideon West, our fiddler. John Asbury plays the banjo." The first man tipped an old straw hat and gave a long, slow smile. The second nodded, holding up his instrument.

"Rufus Warren here plays the concertina and Jennie Purdy is our caller." Rufus seemed held out a hand to Brooks and gripped hard. Brooks wondered if concertina players had bigger finger muscles than regular folks.

Jennie whispered something so softly he leaned down to hear. Her shoulders were stooped and one thick-soled shoe was higher than the other to make up for unequal lengths of her legs. "I'm glad we're getting some new blood in here. All these old men can't dance the jigs no more."

Brooks blinked. "A jig? I'm not a dancer, ma'am. I'm just here to help out."

"It's not hard. Six/eight time. You can count to six, can't you?"

"Even in my sleep, I reckon."

"Good. n.o.body comes to the dance and sits in the corner. It's real bad manners." Her brows lowered until they almost blocked her sight. Brooks sensed a whole lot of dancing in his near future.

"I'm not sure how everyone can come in without knowing any of the dances and it will work out. Don't we all have to practice?" he asked.

"No, sir." Rufus smiled that slow smile again. "We start with a melody, plain and simple. Show 'em, Gideon."

The older man tucked the fiddle under his chin and played a clear, lilting tune. While he was playing, Jenny spoke over him. "He keeps a-going on it. Then we gots to have some rhythm." He pointed to Rufus, who unclasped what looked like a miniature accordion and joined in, lending a powerful rhythm to the same tune.

John waited a few bars then jumped in, the frantic strumming of the banjo actually pulling the instruments together. Jennie shuffled her feet a bit, weaving to the beat. "This one is Trippin' Up the Stairs. It's my favorite." She held out her hand and Brooks took it, not sure what she mean for him to do.

"We be the top set and be walking through the hall." She moved gracefully forward, singing phrases like 'circle left' and 'hey for four'. Her feet moved faster than he could catch and he felt clumsy and awkward.

"You have a sweetheart?" she asked as the band played on.

"I- I don't... I'm not sure..." he stammered, trying not to step on her toes. Breaking the elderly dance caller was not on his list of things to do.

"I's understandin' that as a yes." She smiled at him. "You let me know when she's your partner. I'll call you some gypsies and a few court'sy turns."

"Gypsies?"

She held out her thin arms, nodding for him to copy her. He held out his arms and the circled each other. "Look me in the eye, I know I'm a short one, but it's all in the eyes."

He tried his best to stare into her eyes, willing himself not to grin. If Manning could see him now, he'd fall over laughing.

"And the turn." She took his left in hers, then motioned for him to put an arm around her waist, gripping her right hand. "Now we turn real slow."

"Slow is good." The music was fast, but the moves weren't as frantic as the notes. He must be more than a foot taller than Jennie and he looked over her head to see his grandma smiling hugely.

She waved her hand and the players finished the last bar. "And we bow to each other."

"Jennie, I'm so glad you all can help us out." Blanche rushed forward, hands outstretched. "These young folk don't know how to woo a woman. This will be the loveliest dance we've had in years."

They held hands for a moment, nodding at each other. His grandma was a plotter and usually finagled her own way, no matter what the obstacles were. The usual constraints of time, place, and manner didn't apply to her. And now there seemed to be two of her. Brooks wondered if the universe could withstand two little old ladies bound and determined to wreak romantic havoc on Th.o.r.n.y Hollow.

"I hear you, Miss Blanche. My granddaughter Stephanie never takes those silly plugs out of her ears long enough to hear the real music we got. These reels come straight down from my great-great- grand pappy but she more interested in some kid with diamonds stuck in his teeth." She shook her head. "The music don't have a bit of tune, either. Just noise."

"You've got to bring her! Tell her to wear something long, like she's from a hundred years ago."

Jennie shrugged. "I'll do my best. Most of the time she wears shorts that don't hardly cover her hind end. Lord have mercy, I despair over these children."

Brooks couldn't imagine this modern teenager putting on a Regency costume and coming to dance with a bunch of Th.o.r.n.y Hollow professionals. But stranger things had happened. This moment in time, for instance.

"Well, I better get Brooks home so he can finish his project. We'll spit polish this old place and have it all decorated. I can't thank you enough for giving us your time."

"It's our pleasure, ma'am." Gideon looked around the old barn. "We're aiming to revive our music and bing the young people back to the traditions of this place."

Brooks followed them out, feeling a lifting in his chest for the first time in over a week. The combination of tradition, music, and folks with long memories made him haul in a deep breath. There were still treasures in the world and moments to savor. An image of Caroline's sweet smile flashed through his mind and he struggled to push it away. He would survive the summer if he concentrated on one thing at a time, and right now, the contra dance was that one thing.

The other problems in his life would just have to take a ticket and stand in line. One disaster at a time was his new theory.

"With all dear Emma's little faults, she is an excellent creature...where Emma errs once, she is in the right a hundred times."-Mrs. Weston

Chapter Fifteen.

"I think we need to upload the pictures to a zip file." Caroline stood over Lexi's shoulder and pointed to an area on the screen. The mildly uncomfortable work position at the laptop on her old desk had now turned into a back-aching ch.o.r.e. It was never meant for two people cramped together, staring at a glowing screen.

"I didn't understand a word you just said." Lexi was laughing but there was a serious undertone to her words.