Fancy Footwork by Jessica Eissfeldt

Author:Jessica Eissfeldt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, 1940s, Jazz
ISBN: 9780993689857
Publisher: J&J publishing
Published: 2017-10-28T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Four

“Ready to practice?” Mr. Parker asked, closing the door to her dance studio behind him as he entered. “The show’s only a week away now.”

Violet turned and watched him approach, her mind running back through the time they’d danced in the park. She could have been a bit more civil. Maybe they didn’t need to be enemies… She adjusted her hair barrette.

He came closer, and a floorboard creaked. She flinched. Here he was treading across her floorboards, taking up space in her studio. The same studio he wanted to take away from her. And all for what? To store some dusty old records? Her shoulders stiffened.

Why couldn’t he be ugly? She felt a flicker of annoyance. A man was made of more than his looks, as Gran used to say. Still, it’d be easier to dislike him if he weren’t so good-looking. And nice.

But she let Henry take her right hand in his left. Violet let the warmth of his fingers close around hers with strength and firmness. She resisted the urge to pull her hand out because it was too late. The music had already begun. At least, that’s what she told herself. And as inevitable as time itself, the beats tripped after themselves. One by one by one, until she felt as dizzy as that time in the back orchard under the cherry trees when she’d spun too much…

Violet found she couldn’t lift her eyes to Henry’s, could only look straight ahead at the tiny spot where his gray dress shirt was unbuttoned, and a small piece of skin showed.

She felt him pull her forward even as he stepped backward. She came closer to him and rested her left arm on top of his right. But she continued only to be able to look at that tiny patch of skin in which she could now see the pulse beating in his throat. At the point where his collarbone disappeared under his crisp cotton shirt.

Violet couldn’t breathe, couldn’t focus, couldn’t do anything except obey the push and pull through every turn and whirl, the steps getting faster and faster and faster until she no longer remembered to feel dizzy; only free.

Sweat beaded on her forehead, her upper lip, and under the patch of skin where Henry’s palm rested on her back. The heat from his hand seeped through the thin rayon of her flowered dress; his touch light, his hand strong yet guiding and gentle at the same time. She suddenly wished there were no barriers between them at all, wished that she could somehow, finally, be brave enough to face things squarely.

And then she tripped on her hair barrette, which had somehow worked its way free of her hair and fallen onto the floor.

“Steady there,” Henry said, bringing his other hand down so that both his hands spanned her waist. She felt her throat tighten.

She remained frozen in place, staring up into Henry’s blue eyes. Neither she nor he blinked.

The singer on the phonograph, though, continued to wail about eating potato chips for lunch.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.