Dancing for the Lord: The Academy (24 page)

He just turned and strode out of the room.

She couldn’t let him go off like that—couldn’t leave him alone while he struggled with whatever emotions those words had brought up.  “Excuse me.”  She didn’t look at anyone as she jumped to her feet and hurried after him. 

It didn’t take her long to find him. Nick was standing outside, breathing hard as he shoved his hands into his pockets and stared up at the star-filled sky. 

She skidded to a stop, not sure whether or not he would be welcome.  Looking up like that…she was sure that he had taken his pain to God, and God was far better equipped to deal with it than she. 

Speak to him.
  The voice of God resounded gently in her heart—and Danni made a practice of never ignoring that still, small voice. 

“Nick?” she said quietly.

He looked over at her.  There were no tears in his eyes, no trace of them on his face; but for just an instant, she felt every one of them nonetheless.  “It’s nothing new, Danni,” he told her tiredly.  “Just the same bile he’s been spewing all my life.”

“It’s cruel,” she said flatly.

“It’s reality.”  Nick’s correction was very gentle.  “He wanted a son who did manly things—and he’s convinced that if I’m not interested in those things, then of course there must be something wrong with me.”

“But there’s nothing wrong with you.”  She reached out to him, but let her hand fall away before she actually touched him.  “You just happen to be very good at something that most men aren’t good at, that’s all.” 

He chuckled hoarsely.  “Don’t you wish it were that easy?”

“Yes.”  Her voice was small.  “I wish your father could see it that way.” 

He was silent for several seconds; there was a faint hint of jealousy in his voice as he asked, “Did Michael have this problem?”

Danni hesitated.  Michael’s struggles with his father were private; since he would be joining her at the Academy next year, it didn’t seem fair to air his dirty laundry to someone else. On the other hand…. 

“Yeah,” she said softly.  If it would help Nick to realize that he wasn’t the only one who had to deal with this kind of nonsense, she would give him at least a little peek at Michael’s story—no matter how difficult it might be.  “Yeah, Michael’s dad…he didn’t like that his son was a dancer.” 

“Didn’t.”  Nick picked up on the key word immediately.

“Didn’t,” she agreed. 

“What changed?”

She hesitated, but finally admitted, “He realized that he was in danger of losing the son he had if he didn’t accept him for who he was.”

All of the hope faded from Nick’s eyes.  “Mine doesn’t care.”

There was nothing that Danni could say to that—no words that even stood a chance of making it better.  This was an old wound, she realized, and one that Nick had dealt with time and again over his years as a dancer.

It seemed a heavy price to pay—and in his place, Danni wasn’t sure she would have been able to handle it.  She had always known that she had her father’s support and his love.

Nick had never known the support and love of his father.

All she could do was tuck her hand in his again and lead him quietly back to his house.  She had intended to go in with him; but when they reached it, Nick pulled back and simply shook his head.  “I need some time alone, Danni,” he admitted tiredly.

She started to protest.  He didn’t need to be alone—not in that much pain. The look in his eyes, however, stopped her.  He needed to be with the one who could comfort him more than anyone else in the world—the one who understood everything that had ever happened between him and his father, and who had been there for him through all of it.  “All right,” she said at last.  “Just…make sure you ice that shoulder before you go to bed, all right?”

“I will.”  He squeezed her hand gratefully.  “I won’t let you down tomorrow, Danni—I promise.”

“I’m not worried about that.”  She stared straight into his eyes, wishing that she could impress him with the force of her caring.  “I’m worried about you.”

Nick felt tension draining out him at that—tension that he hadn’t thought he would ever be able to lose.  “Thanks, Danni,” he said huskily.

“Hey.”  She caught his hand for a last moment before releasing him once and for all.  “I’ll have my phone on me.  Call if you need me.”

“I will.”  He did his best to smile for her, knew that it fell flat. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“Come hide out in my room,” she encouraged.  “Allie won’t be able to corner you that way.” 

Nick agreed, albeit reluctantly.  What he really wanted to do was spend the bulk of the day sulking. 

But that’s not what you want, is it, Lord?
He prayed tiredly. 
You want me to set this aside and forgive him.

Again.

Nick felt as though he had done it a hundred times already, setting aside all of the hurtful things his father had said to him and refusing to let them impact him anymore.  It wasn’t getting better with time. 

Tonight, all of those wounds felt as though they were fresh and screaming.  Alone in his room, Nick found himself pacing, unable to even sit down long enough to ice his shoulder.

Lord, why?  Why did he even come tonight if he was just going to make me feel like crap about it?
  That was his reaction at first. 
It isn’t like he cares about seeing me dance.  Did he come just to yell at me?

There was no answer—not that Nick had expected one.  How many times over the years had he asked these painful questions?  How many times had he pushed himself to come up with answers where there were none, to figure out how to handle a situation that had no delicate solution?  He loved to dance—had felt called to it since he was just a child.  His father felt that his decision to dance instead of joining some more traditionally masculine sport made him less of a man.

There was no compromise.  Oh, Nick had tried for one.  He’d played basketball for awhile in middle school, and even played football for a little while—but there was no thrill in it.  He didn’t do competition well—not the kind of team competition that traditional sports turned into.  Besides, they couldn’t even compare to the true exhilaration of pushing his body, of knowing that he was getting stronger and better, and that he was creating something beautiful for his God. 

No compromise.  No way out.  In so many ways, coming to the Academy had been a blessing; and one of the most important of those was the fact that he wouldn’t have to look at his father’s disapproval over the breakfast table every morning. 

Lord, Lord….
Nick cried out in his heart; and if not for the fact that his tears had already turned to stone, he would have been weeping outright. 
When is he going to accept me for who I am?

There was no peace to be had—no comfort.  Sometime in the long hours of the night, Nick finally fell asleep, but it was not a peaceful, healing sleep.  Instead, he dreamed a hundred dreams, relived a dozen different fights with a man who would never be able to accept him for who he was.

It felt as though his heart was bleeding.  

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To Nick’s relief, Danni said nothing about the confrontation with his father when he slipped into her room the next morning.  She was sitting in the floor, her legs extended in a near-perfect straddle split as she read from one of her textbooks; and while she looked up as he came in, her eyes were still oddly unfocused, her attention clearly elsewhere.  “Hey,” she said absently. 

“Hey.”  He crouched down beside her, where he could see the textbook she had open on the floor.  “You haven’t been working ahead without me, have you?”

She didn’t reply for several seconds; when she did look up, it took her several seconds to focus on his face.  “Not really,” she admitted tiredly.  “I’m not sure I’ve actually absorbed anything I’ve read this morning, honestly.” 

He raised an eyebrow.  “What are you doing, then?” he asked curiously.

“Praying.”  Danni sighed, giving up and shutting the book once and for all.  “Unfortunately, if I look like I’m sitting here doing nothing, people tend to interrupt.”

“Thus the prop.”  Nick made a face.  Since he had encountered similar problems, he understood that the Bible was not considered occupation enough—thus the reason that Danni had a schoolbook open in front of her instead. 

“Thus the prop,” she agreed grimly. 

“Praying about anything in particular?” he wanted to know.

She glanced up at him, and he could feel her waffling back and forth on whether or not she was going to tell him.  Finally, she admitted, “You.”

“Me?”  He couldn’t have been more stunned.  “But—I mean—“ 

“You were having a hard time last night,” she said perceptively. 

Nick nodded.

“Especially after I left.”

He stared at her.  How did she
know
—and then it hit him.  “God’s been convicting you in that direction, huh?” he asked tiredly.

She nodded.  “Nick…I have the feeling this thing with your dad goes deeper than you want to admit.” 

It did.  It went so deep that it had left scars on his heart—scars that had begun in childhood and had not lost any potency over the years.  He sighed.  “I’m handling it, Danni,” he promised her. 

“Just remember that your heavenly father appreciates everything that you are.  He made you that way.” Her eyes sparkled.  “And he made you to be my partner for this particular, very difficult dance for a good reason.”

“I agree.”  Nick joined her in the floor then, stretching out his legs until she could prop her feet at his ankles.  “I have to admit, we’ve made a pretty good team, Danni.”  He hesitated.  “I—we’ve joked about it before, but I know…that is, it’s…pretty obvious…that you’ve been waiting for Michael.” 

She blinked.

He sighed.  “I—the two of you had a pretty good thing going for a long time,” he said slowly. “And I don’t want to get in the middle of it—so if I am, tell me.”

“Nick—“ she began.

He held up a hand, stopping her.  “It’s okay if you don’t want me, you know.  I mean, I’ll understand.  You and Michael have been together for years.  He’s your best friend.  And I’ll—I’ll stick around through the spring recital, if that’s what you want.  Just—it would be nice to know where I stand.”

“Nick.”  There was nothing but gentleness in Danni’s eyes as she leaned forward and took his hand—an impressive move for a normal person, but perfectly natural for a ballerina.  “I would be delighted to be your dance partner for just as long as you’ll have me.”

“You mean it?”  Warmth overflowed.  He hadn’t even dreamed, before this moment, that it was possible for her to respond that way.  He had hoped—but he hadn’t really believed it.

“I mean it.”  She sighed.  “Michael is a good friend, and he’s been a good partner for a long time—but when you and I dance together, I can tell that we’re meant to be something special.”

“I feel it, too,” Nick confessed.  “I just wasn’t sure—I mean, sometimes—“

“Sometimes one person feels something intense, but the other person doesn’t even hear a whisper.”  Danni smiled.  “I hear it, Nick,” she said quietly.  “And I know that we’re supposed to dance together for a long time.  I can’t promise forever; but I can promise for now.”

“That’s all I’m asking for.” 

They spent that morning together, as they had spent so many others together in the past couple of weeks; and that night, when they danced their pas de deux—correctly this time, with none of Danni’s changes—it was even more spectacular than ever before.  God had brought them together for this time, for this purpose.

He had brought them together to dance for Him.