84 Ribbons (18 page)

She smiled and patted Marta’s back. “Welcome back. You’ve been missed. How was the tour?”

“Fine. But I’m glad to be home.” Yes, she thought, this is home.

The front door opened, followed by the tromp of feet upstairs, then down stairs and down to the basement. The noisy tromps approached the kitchen.

Carol walked toward Marta. “Did you take down my clothes?”

“I did. They felt dry and—“

“Don’t touch my clothes.”

“Carol, I needed the lines.”

Carol crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “You should have waited.”

“I did. For several extra hours. I thought you’d appreciate their being folded for you.”

“I was taking a test. You’d not know about things like that since you don’t go to school.”

Marta’s body tightened at Carol’s rebuke. “At least I have manners. Why didn’t you tell me all those evenings when Steve called?”

Carol’s eyes widened; she looked away. “I must have forgotten. You were out some place with friends.”

“No, I wasn’t. I was in my room with ice on my ankle every evening.” Marta crossed her arms and lifted her chin.

“Ladies, please.” Mrs. B. stepped between them. “Carol, you know the rules better than Marta. If you take a call for someone, leave them a note or talk to them as soon as possible. And as for the clothes, it was kind of Marta to fold your things.”

Marta smiled.

“I also know I don’t like to have others touch my clothes,” Mrs. B. said. “I’ll string more lines to prevent future problems.”

This time it was Carol’s turn to smile before she flounced away.

Marta retreated to her room. Except for encounters with Carol, the  boarding house presented a welcome change from the frantic days of the tour. Perhaps Carol would travel home for the holidays and give the boarding house a rest from her grumpy demeanor.

She crossed off the tour days on the December page of her calendar. The Billings performances started in three days. Hopefully the snow wouldn’t limit audience turnout. After all, this was Billings, and they were used to long weeks of snow-covered roads.

Her thoughts shifted to Steve. Should she wait a couple of days to see if he called, or should she call him? Girls did call guys these days. She walked to the phone in the alcove. As she reached for the receiver, the phone rang.

15

D
isappointment. The call she answered was for Carol. Marta took a message after she checked and discovered Carol wasn’t in the house. She taped it to Carol’s door and headed to the bathroom scale.

The dial swung back and forth, then settled on one hundred pounds. Bartley didn’t lie; she’d not gained an ounce nor felt hungry since starting the diet pills. In fact, she’d lost a few pounds.

It was the next afternoon before Steve called, asking her to join him on a drive to Lake Josephine. Their early attempts at conversation faltered. Now they sat in the car at the lake, watching the snow fall around them.

“Steve? I was about to call you. I, ah...”

“Wait, Marta. Let me start. I should never have forced you to step into that icy water. Can you forgive me?”

“It wasn’t your fault. I loved the trip, but I’m suppose to be professional and take care of myself. I could have walked away, but I wanted to take your challenge. Unfortunately, I paid a price for my silliness.”

“But, Marta. How can you have any fun if you’re always worried about taking care of yourself. You got bruised, but you didn’t break any bones.”

“You didn’t have to deal with Madame.”

“That woman. Her demands are enough to drive a sane person crazy!”

“No. In a way I understand why she got angry. She’s protecting her investment in me. She can’t find a replacement this time of year and get her prepared to perform on short notice.”

“And who can replace you?  I certainly can’t.” Steve pulled her close and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Plus, we have another article to write. Maybe New Year’s weekend we can slip away and work on it.”

She laughed. “So, all you care about is the article? I should have guessed as much.”

“No, I... You’re teasing me aren’t you? Come on. Let’s take a walk.”

Snow crunched beneath their boots. He put his arm over her shoulder and pulled her closer. “You know I’ve missed you, right?”

“Yes.”

His arm hugged her even closer against his body. He released her and stared. “Marta, have you lost weight?” He held her gaze and reached to interlock his fingers with hers. “Your face looks thinner.”

“I’ve been on tour for two weeks, sleeping in strange beds, living out of a suitcase, and eating at odd hours. It’s been crazy. Now, let’s go for a walk, okay?”

Steve pulled her along the snow-covered trail. “I care about you. A lot. You’re thinner, that’s all. I don’t want you to get sick. I worry that you’re working too hard.”

“I’m fine.” She broke free and walked ahead toward the cat tails that glistened like icy sheaths.

“Let’s start this conversation over.”  He hurried to catch up to her and made a sweeping bow. “My dear Miss Fluff, you look ravishing today. May I walk with you and hold your hand?”

“Yes, as long as we avoid icy streams or talk about my health.”

Steve bowed. “Whatever it takes. You’re a successful ballerina and I am a lowly newspaperman. I want to be with you wherever and whenever possible.”

She sauntered away, then began dancing toward the pond. When she heard no sound behind her, she stopped and turned. Steve leaned against a picnic table watching the lake. “Hey, ink boy! Why did you stop?”

His taut face surprised her. “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself. I always want you to be safe and happy, and have time left over for me.”

“I promise.”  A smile curved the edges of her mouth as she watched Steve’s face. Absentmindedly, she rubbed the shivers from her shoulders.

“Are you cold?” he said.

“A little. I didn’t know Billings would get so frigid.”

“I can fix that.” He led her back to his car and bowed. “Your chariot, fair maiden.”

In town he parked in front of Dalton’s Department Store. He turned off the ignition and started to get out of the car.

“What are you doing?”

“Shopping for a Montana winter coat for you.” He climbed out, rounded the car, and opened her door.

“Steve, I can’t. I don’t get paid until next week.”

He took her hands and pulled her out of the car. “You need a coat. It can be a gift or a loan. When’s your birthday?”

“December first, while we were on tour.”

He stopped her on the sidewalk. “What? Why didn’t you tell me? We could have celebrated.”

“On tour, remember? Besides, you don’t need to buy things for me. I can take care of myself, thank you.”

“Can’t tell that from what you’re wearing today.” He took her elbow and steered her toward the store. “Consider this a late birthday present and an early Christmas gift. Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas, Miss Fluff.”

Inside, the saleswoman persuaded her to try on a variety of coats. Marta liked a red coat as well as a pale blue one, but Steve turned them away saying they weren’t warm enough.

Next, Marta tried on a long, soft gray coat. She stroked the sleeves and traced the large fabric-covered buttons and the sleek front panels.

“We’ll take this one,” Steve said. “We also need warm gloves or mittens, a hat, and.…” He scanned the tables. “Add a scarf.”

He stood back as Marta selected gray mittens, a gray slouch hat, and a red plaid scarf with fringe. He wrapped the scarf around her neck and kissed her nose. “We’ll take these, and she’ll wear them home.”

The clerk rang up the sale. Steve wrote a check and grinned at Marta as she opened her new coat and fanned herself. “I’m melting!”

“Good. Now you’ll be ready to go to the mountains for my New Year’s party.” He grabbed her old coat off the counter as they headed out.

At the boarding house curb, they stood against his car, Steve sheltering her from the cold December afternoon. She buried her face against his coat.

“I love my new coat. It’s perfect.”

“No, you’re perfect.”

“Hardly. I, ah, I have to tell you something. I hope you won’t be mad.”

“I could never be mad at you.”

“The reason I got so freaky when I fell into the water, is, ah, I can’t swim.”

Steve pushed her back to arm’s length. “What? Oh my God. Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Oh, Marta, I am so sorry. You must have been frightened to death.”

She nodded.

Steve drew her into a long, tight hug. Neither spoke.

“Are you mad at me?”

“Marta, how can I be mad? I felt bad when it happened, but now.... You should have told me sooner.”

“I felt embarrassed. Most people around Puget Sound learn to swim when they are in school. I left early those days to go to dance class, so I missed out.”

“This summer I’ll teach you. It will be fun.” He kissed her forehead. “But right now it’s freezing and time for you to get inside.” He pulled her along the sidewalk and up the steps and into the boarding house.

Suddenly she didn’t want Steve to leave. “Can you stay for dinner?”

He shook his head. “Company tonight at my house. I’ll call you later.” He hugged her and kissed her forehead again.

The empty boarding house ensured Marta of a few hours of quiet. Perhaps a nap or at least time to sit and begin embroidering a silk scarf. The next three weeks of rehearsals and performances promised little time for relaxation. The long New Year’s weekend at the cabin felt a lifetime away.

The preparations for their hometown performances progressed smoothly. Marta and the rest of the corps knew the dances by memory and danced almost without thinking about the choreography or their assigned positions on the stage. Marta performed the role of Mother Ginger, stilts and all, without losing her balance. Plus, the local children didn’t pinch or push while hiding under the gigantic hoop skirt.

The fact that Madame complimented soloists but didn’t speak to Marta no longer bothered her. Madame only spoke to one corps dancer, Marguerite, her pet. Dancing well held a personal importance far beyond pleasing Madame. Marta performed the choreography with few errors, took Madame’s and Damien’s critiques with a smile, and left it at that.

After Thursday’s final rehearsal before performances began, she stood inside the front entry waiting for Steve and watching Karl, the janitor, work. Karl kept his head down as he moved his mop back and forth, creeping closer to her feet. She moved out of his way when he approached.

He stopped and leaned on the mop. “You can’t stay here much longer, Miss Marta. I need to lock up at five.”

“I know. My ride’s coming any minute.” She re-crossed the entry to keep out of his way. “How long have you worked here, Karl?”

“Who wants to know?”

“I do.”

He leaned on his mop again. “Started here in nineteen forty-seven; about ten years. Why?”

“Just wondered. Have you always lived in Billings?”

“Yep. Now, enough with the questions. I need to finish up.” Karl began whistling as he disappeared down the side hallway.

Marta stepped outside. When Steve drove up and slid to a stop at the curb, she hopped in. “Here,” he said as he handed her a nosegay of blue pansies and an open newspaper. “The ballet review. Hot off the presses.”

“Have you read it?”

“Yeah. It’s good,” He put his arm around her shoulder and pointed to the bottom of the article. “Listen to this: ‘This year’s Intermountain Ballet Company presents the
Nutcracker
with exquisite beauty and energy. The audiences will applaud the colorful costumes and the extraordinary talent of the guest artists, the principals, the corps, and the children.’ Great, huh?”

Marta started to speak, but Steve took back the paper and scanned the article. “Wait. Down here it says, ‘Every person who enjoys a night of music will find something to cheer about in the
Nutcracker,
from the soldiers to Mother Ginger and the dances from Arabia to the waltzing flowers.’ You were mentioned, Marta. That’s great, isn’t it?”

“Do you know your eyebrows wiggle when you’re excited?” Marta took the paper from his hands. “May I read it now?”

Steve grabbed her hands, crushing the paper. “Susan Zane enjoyed the dress rehearsal. Now, can you get me tickets for all the performances?”

“All of them? Isn’t that excessive for a guy who thinks ballet is fluff?”

“I‘ve apologized for that twenty times since September. Anyway, my friends want to see you in action, I mean, dancing. I’ll stay around and drive you home afterward.”

Marta straightened the paper and handed it back to Steve. “You can get tickets at the ticket booth.”

“No, I can’t; that’s the point. The performances are sold out, and Dad forgot he’d promised me the newspaper’s tickets and gave them to one of his major advertisers and his wife.”

“I promised my tickets to the boarders and Mrs. B.’s friends.”

“Can Lynne give me hers or sell them to me?”

“Steve! Take a breath! Lynne’s using hers, but Bartley might have spares.”

“Great. Make her promise to save one for me. I’ll keep checking with the box office. Maybe single tickets will show up.” He smiled as he started the car and pulled away from the curb.

Days before Christmas, Marta rushed up the boarding house steps with her plaid scarf flowing behind her. She removed her boots and brushed the snow off her coat and left both in the entry to avoid being late for dinner.

A tall pine tree in the common room glowed with multi-colored bubble lights, sparkly glass ornaments, and tinsel, like back home. The laughter decorating the tree two days ago as well as hearing Perry Como sing holiday songs each evening eased her holiday loneliness and the distance from her mom. With a Christmas Eve
Nutcracker
performance, going home to Bremerton remained impossible, so a phone call would have to do.

Marta dried the last of the dinner dishes and turned to Mrs. B. “I thought I’d bake Jul Kaga for Christmas. It’s a Swedish bread with candied fruit.”

“That would be wonderful. I’ll pick up the ingredients, but do you have time?”

“I’ll make the time. Jul Kaga is a family tradition I love. I’ll mix it up Christmas Eve after our performance, then finish it Christmas morning.”