Wild at Heart by Patricia Gaffney

Author:Patricia Gaffney [Gaffney, Patricia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, General, Large Type Books, Wild Men, Children of Anthropologists
ISBN: 9780786247028
Google: eGksPwAACAAJ
Amazon: B000H2N7CE
Publisher: Thorndike Press
Published: 1997-01-02T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

“This is sissy. I don't see why I have to learn this."

Sydney got a better grip on Sam's stiff, stubborn little body and maneuvered him into another box step, roughly in time with the waltz tune playing on the gramophone. "You have to learn this because you're a gentleman. Gentlemen dance."

"I'm not dancing with anybody. Ick, I hate girls."

"Even me? Who's going to rescue me from all those buffalo-footed men Saturday night? You're the only one I want to dance with." She smiled over his shoulder at Michael, who was lounging against the terrace wall, watching them.

"Hmpf," said Sam. He didn't really believe her, but he liked the idea.

"Besides," she added, playing her ace, "isn't this better than lessons at Mrs. Waring's?" Mrs Waring taught cotillion dancing for the children of Chicago's rich and privileged. Sam had gone to her class one time, and vowed afterward never to return.

"Yeah, I guess," he grumbled with a little inward shudder.

"Then pay attention. The sooner you learn this, the sooner you can go out and play."

If only he would go out and play. In truth, she was taking time out of an incredibly busy day to teach Sam the waltz for the express purpose of keeping him out of everybody else's hair. "I can't even turn around becausehe's always underfoot," the cook complained, and the maids said the same thing more politely. The house was in chaos. Hired caterers had taken over the kitchen; maids were attacking the house as if it had never been cleaned before; extra gardeners were at work on last-minute landscaping to accommodate an orchestra platform in the yard. All the confusion had disrupted Sam's routine; he had grown overexcited and hard to control. Or... not quite as sweet-natured and easygoing as usual, Sydney amended fondly.

"Now here's a wholesome family scene."

Sam tried to pull out of her arms, embarrassed for Philip to see him in such a "sissy" attitude, but Sydney held on tight. "Michael's next," he said defensively. "He can't dance, either."

"No? I'd better teach him, then." Laughing, Philip pulled Michael to his feet. "I'll be the lady," he declared, and to Sam's delight, the two of them began to box-step around the terrace in ungainly circles.

Sydney laughed with them—Philip's example was good for Sam. But even more, she was happy to see him so lighthearted, not quite the same cynical, morose loner he had been all summer—sarcastic observations about wholesome family scenes notwithstanding. She wasn't sure when his foul mood had begun to lift, but she was glad for it.

The music stopped; Sam slipped out of her grasp like a wet fish. "I learned it. I can do it, Syd. I was doing it perfect, wasn't I?"

"Perfectly. You were better, but—"

"Perfectly! You said so! Now I can go help the workmen put up the tent."

"Sam—" Too late; he had already skipped off down the path toward the lake. "Oh, Philip," she wailed. "He'll drive them crazy."

"I'll get him," he said, chuckling. "I'll take him for a walk.

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