Awakening (Book One of The Geis) (26 page)

I could feel Josh slipping away from me. If I didn’t catch his attention right now, he would never know how I felt. The music surged onward, pulsing in my blood.

I prepped for a front click and landed, not in front of the judge, but with my back to her, my body facing Josh. He faltered, but recovered. His eyes finally locked with mine. The intensity of his gaze fanned the spark deep inside, and heat spread through me like a wildfire. My feet flew.

And suddenly, all the emotion I had for Josh and more broke loose in a tidal wave of adrenaline that filled my body, spilling out through the expression on my face.

Josh’s eyes widened with a question. He searched my face, seeking out what I knew he would find there. The muscles in his jaw relaxed as the realization came to him. His eyes were clear, and I could see through them to the joy he felt dancing with me.

Forgotten were the hundreds of eyes on me. Gone were my hesitance and the wall that had kept us apart. Josh and I were finally in sync. He took both of my hands, and we spun around, our fingers locked together for stability.

Josh circled around me, his steps deliberate and sure. I mirrored his movements. His hand went to my waist, and I gasped as he pulled me to him. I pressed my hands against his chest. He looked down at me and a rush of emotions crashed into my own, like two ocean waves clapping together in a stormy sea. My legs felt weak, and I let Josh spin me. He linked my arm with his and we leapt in unison, facing the crowd and matching each other’s rhythm as if we were one.

I wanted to dance like this forever, with Josh at my side.

The music wound toward the end, but we just increased the intensity. Side by side, we danced steps that were simple but precise, pulling us into a crescendo that accelerated toward the finish.

Josh held his hand out, directing the audience to focus on me. I prepared, and leaped. And Josh’s strong hands were there to catch me. I hung, suspended in the air, before he pulled me to him and spun, lowering me to the ground in front of the judge just as the music’s final notes rang out.

Our chests heaved, but Josh’s smile was so infectious I couldn’t help but grin back. I didn’t need to see the wonder on his face to know how he felt. I felt it for both of us. The crowd clapped and hooted. We straightened and bowed to the judge before exiting through the curtain.

My body shook with adrenaline, and I panted from the combined exertion of communicating with my gift and dancing full-out. Josh put his hand on the small of my back and led me to a chair backstage.

He turned me to face him, his hands on my shoulders. “What was that? I thought—I don’t know what to think.”

I stopped him, putting a finger to his lips. I couldn’t help the smile that grew again as I watched him study my face.

Rourke and Leah came around the curtain.

“You were wonderful!” Leah crushed me to her while Rourke shook Josh’s hand. When Rourke turned to me he hesitated, but I threw my arms around his neck.

“Thank you,” I whispered against his jacket. He patted me on the back.

Well done,
he signed to us both.
A little love goes a long way.
He attempted to cover up the pride he felt for us, but I could tell he was pleased.

I glanced at Josh, suddenly shy about my display of emotions. He smiled down at me and squeezed my hand in his. Electricity tingled from my fingers, up and down my arm.

“Don’t change out of your shoes yet,” Leah told us before they went back to the bleachers. “They will announce the winners right away.”

I bounced up and down on my toes. Josh smiled at my anticipation. “McKayla McCleery, I do believe that you are nervous.” The announcer prompted all of the dancers who participated in specials to come back out. Josh led me back through the curtain and onto the dance floor.

A podium had been placed onstage. We stood next to the other dancers across the back. The combined nervousness of the group settled like a lump in my stomach.

“Two-hand results,” The announcer began. Fourth place was called and the girls in the black dresses followed each other onto the podium. In third was the Tweedledum pair, who jumped up to accept their trophies to the sound of applause.

It came down to two couples—us, and the kitty pair.

I looked at Josh. He was already focused on me. I squeezed his hand.

The announcer spoke loudly. “Second place goes to Michelle Jefferies and Victoria Lambourne.”

We won. The surprise in Josh’s face matched the shock I felt. The other dancers made way for us as our names were called out. We stepped up onto the podium, and the adjudicator presented us each with a trophy. It felt heavy in my hands, and I hugged it to my chest. The crowd cheered and hooted. Josh focused on me, ignoring the flashes from the cameras that recorded this moment, this pause in time when at last he knew of my feelings for him.

When we stepped off the podium, I was attacked from behind. Zoey wrapped her arms around me. “You got a trophy!” she squealed. I found my parents in the audience. Dad had his arm around Mom. He gave me a thumbs-up. Aunt Avril was on her feet, clapping, to the dismay of those sitting behind her on the bleachers. The excitement in the room was tangible, and I couldn’t remember when I’d felt so happy.

Only when I looked for Rourke did I notice that not everyone in the room was as ecstatic as myself.

Leah stood by the door, her hands on her hips, her face drawn and upset. Rourke signed to her so quickly that I couldn’t understand what he was saying. She shook her head and left the gym. Josh saw her leave, and I could sense that he shared my apprehension about the days to come. What would Leah do when Rourke was gone?

I changed into my street clothes, glad to get out of my hot costume. Only a few of us were left in the gym now, gathering our things, along with a few weary-looking people wearing official feis t-shirts who were busy breaking down the stages.

Josh sat next to my dress bag on the bleachers, leaning back with one arm stretched out on the bench next to him. His hair was mussed and his eyes were closed. He looked completely exhausted. My heart skipped a beat, and I fought down a squeal. The newness of my feelings for him had me walking on a cloud.

When I climbed to the bleachers to meet him, Josh opened his eyes.

“Where did everyone go?” I asked.

“I told your dad they didn’t have to wait, and that I would bring you home. Zoey looked pretty tuckered out.”

I grinned, looking forward to spending time with Josh.

Shouldering my dance bag, Josh reached for my hand. I curled my fingers around his, waiting for him to stand next to me. He gave my arm a playful tug, and I fell into his lap. I yelped, hyperaware of the warmth of his body and the nearness of his face.

I looked around the gym, but no one was paying attention to the stragglers on the bleachers. Josh put his hands on either side of my waist. His emotions were strong—a mixture of happiness and wonder that knotted with my own until I couldn’t tell where his feelings ended and mine began.

“This isn’t some trick is it?” Josh leaned his forehead against mine. “You didn’t dance that way just to get a good performance out of me?”

“Of course not.” My arms were in the way. I raised them and linked my hands behind his head, my fingers brushing the curls at the nape of his neck.

“You look like a princess.”

“A princess?” That was a little sappy, even for me.

Josh traced his fingers along the edge of my tiara. I had forgotten to take it off. I reached up to unpin it from my hair.

“No, leave it.” Josh lifted my chin with his fingers, his thumb rubbing against my cheek. “I like it even better than one of Christa’s ‘milk maid’ creations.”

I laughed, releasing all of the emotion I had been keeping inside. Keeping for him.

Josh stroked my cheek, and tipped my chin. When our lips met, I melted into his embrace. His kiss was warm, caressing away all of the worry I’d kept inside. All of the emotion I’d danced for Josh, in front of everyone in the gym, couldn’t compare to the euphoria of that moment. My insides ignited, spreading warmth up my spine and out until my fingers and toes tingled.

Leah walked next to Rourke on the sidewalk in town, the unspoken words between them as glaring to her as the sun glinting off of the new-fallen snow.

When David had died, Leah had taken all of the unraveled ends of herself and tucked them safely away, hiding her emotions in an attempt to cope with the loss. Life wasn’t supposed to turn out that way—her dreams of having a family and starting a dance school ripped out from underneath her when she had barely begun to build them.

Rourke had walked into her studio that first day, opening the door to that place in her heart that lay dormant. Over these last weeks, she’d learned to understand his quirks, his mysterious conversations, and his unpredictable moods. Though he came off as rough and unapproachable, Leah could now see through the mask he had made for himself. And when Rourke danced—Leah caught glimpses of the person inside. He danced with such abandon and emotion that Leah experienced the story of his dance right along with him.

Leah risked a glance at Rourke now. His black wool coat was buttoned tight against the cold, and his hands were tucked into his jean pockets, cutting off any means of communication. He stared straight ahead, lost in his own thoughts.

Asking Rourke to go for a walk had been impulsive. In holding on to Rourke, Leah knew she might be grasping at something that was already gone. He didn’t seem to want to talk about it, but she needed to let him know that she wasn’t afraid of whatever it was that he faced.

She squeezed her eyes shut. What if Rourke had a terminal illness? For days she had worried it out in her mind. Could she go through another illness like David’s, only to sit empty-handed again on the other end? Yes, she decided, she had to try. That’s what love was all about.

A side road veered off to the fairgrounds and Rourke followed it. Snow crunched beneath their boots. The cold air and silent streets amplified the crisp, squeaky sound. Leah wanted to reach out to Rourke, to put her arm in his and make him look at her. Instead, she rubbed her hands together.

When they reached the fairgrounds, Leah followed Rourke into a rodeo arena. Leah’s foot slid on the newly fallen snow, and Rourke grasped her arm as she threw it out to catch herself. Their eyes met, and Leah’s chest tightened at the warmth of his touch, even through her coat. Rourke nudged the snow under his boot, revealing a sheet of ice as smooth as glass.

“It’s an ice skating rink,” Leah said in surprise. For two years she had lived right next-door to the fairgrounds, and never knew that the rodeo arena was transformed into an ice skating rink in winter. Snow lay like a blanket, smooth and untouched on top of the ice. Leah slid carefully, one foot at a time. Rourke walked away from her again.

Leah cleared her throat. “I looked through your notes on the final scene. There are only a few things I’ll need your help with.”

Rourke nodded, but kept walking away from Leah, each footstep in the pristine snow lengthening the distance between them.

“Don’t pull away from me Rourke,” Leah’s voice came out sounding small. “You don’t have to leave. Stay and let me help you with—with whatever it is you are dealing with.”

Rourke pulled his hands from his pockets.
Don’t ask me to stay.

“Why? Shouldn’t I want you to stay?”

It’s complicated.

“I’ve been there, Rourke. I know complicated.”

Don’t make this harder on yourself, Leah.

“What is it? Why won’t you confide in me? Are you afraid that I won’t be able to handle it?”

It’s not that at all.

“Whatever you are going through, I want to help you, to be with you.” Tightness crept into her throat, making her voice strained. Rourke wasn’t like anyone she had ever met. He had said things, done things that made her wonder about his past. But she had still hoped they might have a future together. “Are you sick? Is it terminal?”

The question hung in the air between them. Rourke regarded her with solemn eyes before answering with a single hand stroke.

No.

Relief flooded through Leah. She closed the space between them, stepping in Rourke’s tracks. She took one of his hands in hers. “Let me in.”

Rourke’s eyes softened, and Leah saw hope reflected there before the hard determination crept back in, transforming his face back to a wall of stone. He dropped her hand to speak.

I’m leaving in a few days. The distance is far, and the sacrifice too great for anyone but myself.

“Why won’t you tell me?”

You would think I am insane, like everyone else in the valley.

Rourke leaned toward her. She could feel the heat of his body. The air displaced by the signs his hands formed caressed her face. She put a hand to her cheek.

“I already think you are insane.”

A mixture of emotions flashed across Rourke’s face.
If I told you a fantastic story of far-off places and forgotten times—of banishment, and love, and loss—would you believe it?

“I’ll believe what you want me to believe.”

Rays of sunlight streamed from behind Leah through a break in the clouds, glinting off of the specks in Rourke’s eyes like ice crystals in the snow. He smiled, a rare expression that transformed his face, giving him a boyish appearance.

Rourke grasped Leah’s shoulders.
Close your eyes,
he said.

Leah closed them, realizing after she did so that Rourke could not possibly have communicated the words to her while his hands were resting on her shoulders. Rourke’s hands were warm, and he gripped her firmly, his hands moving in a circular pattern over her shoulders, like a massage. She lifted her head toward him, hoping to feel his kiss on her lips.

An image flashed in her mind.

A walled city nestled in the crease of two mountains. Green fields, so green they seemed to glow, stretched away from the city on every side. Leah couldn’t recall seeing that image before.

Leah’s eyes flew open, and she gasped as heat from Rourke’s touch radiated up her shoulders and into the base of her neck. Rourke’s eyes were closed. He appeared to be deep in concentration.

Leah closed her eyes. The image appeared again—this time her view was closer, centered on the courtyard of a castle she had seen from afar. People of all ages crisscrossed the courtyard. Musicians played instruments, some she didn’t recognize, and their music had a peculiar effect on those around them. From the song of a flute-like device, flowers bloomed in a thriving garden. A guitarist strummed water from a rock where a line of people stood to fill clay jars and leather flasks. A woman sat with her back against a tree, singing a song that settled like mist on a feverish baby in her arms, cooling and soothing him.

The scene was a marketplace of music, Leah realized. Instead of selling wares, the peddlers were selling songs that could heal, replenish, and create. With all of the music going on, Leah was surprised at how it blended together, creating a harmonious sound that filled the air and mingled with the conversations.

A rhythmic noise caught her attention, and Leah looked toward the courtyard gate. Near the entrance to the marketplace, a group of people gathered in a circle around a raised platform. A young man danced in the midst of them, his hard-soled shoes slapping the cobblestone dais. There was something familiar about the man and his dance. He was performing a hornpipe—not one that Leah had ever learned, but the meter and rhythm were the same as the basic dance form.

Around the young man, people stood in groups or sat on mats. Creases of worry faded as he tapped out the rhythm. Prone listeners stretched their worn and weary muscles. Smiles of relief and happiness spread through the crowd. One woman clutched a young boy to her as he opened his eyes and smiled at her tears.

There was only one other time that Leah had seen healing through motion, and suddenly she knew the young man. He was younger here, in this vision, with a face scrubbed clean of any worry or care. But Leah would know his black hair and penetrating eyes anywhere. The young man was Rourke.

The image faded, but the fathomless eyes remained. Rourke kept his hands on her shoulders, his eyebrows raised in question.

Leah shuddered. “That was you, wasn’t it?” She didn’t need to hear his answer. “I saw you. You were there in—in a village of some kind. And you were dancing, healing with your dancing.”

Rourke dropped his hands from Leah’s shoulders. She wished he wouldn’t. She wanted to feel the warmth of them around her. She wanted to believe him—she needed to.

Rourke’s hands weaved a tale, difficult for Leah to comprehend, but familiar.

I came here centuries ago, banished to your world by the hands of a crafty and sinister witch, a woman whom I had trusted as a second mother. She placed a geis on me, a promised curse that bound us both and put into motion events that affect me still.

I was angry at the injustice of her betrayal. I lashed out in pain and frustration, unaware of the discord I spread on the island I had fallen to. My magic was still there inside of me, but I couldn’t express it, inhibited by the geis and its terms.

Before long, I realized that though time marched on in your world, I remained attached to mine. People I met grew old and died, and yet I remained youthful, aging little. I learned that I could express magic, not through dance or song, but through the motion of my hands.

“That’s why I can understand your sign language,” Leah realized.

Rourke nodded, looking pleased with her reaction.
When I realized the damage I had done to this new land through my discord, I sought to reconcile the injury. Void of dance and song, the island I had come to sat in darkness. Teaching dance and music to the people brought joy and gladness to my aching heart.

“Ireland.” Leah shook her head, trying to process everything that Rourke said. “Are you saying that you brought music and dance to Ireland?”

Yes. The dancing you love came from my own land, the ‘land of youth.’

Heart racing, Leah grabbed onto Rourke’s arm, steadying herself. “How is that possible? Dancing in Ireland dates back to the fifteenth century.”

Rourke’s expression was guarded, and though he did not pull away, he did not respond to her touch.
Now you can see why things won’t work between us.
His eyes lowered to where her hand held his arm.
I’ve loved here before, Leah. My selfishness caused pain and death to those whom I took for my own.

Leah stepped back. She shook her head, rubbing her arms for warmth. “I want to believe you,” she said. “It’s all so fantastic.”

It is my hope that your knowledge of what I’ve told you will ease the pain of our parting.

“Are you going home, then?”

When the moon is new, I must return home.

“Take me with you.” Her voice was a whisper. She couldn’t let him leave without her. She never wanted to be left behind again.

Rourke stared at her—his eyes were black pools of intensity. Leah straightened, looking back at him with all the courage she could gather.

He clenched and unclenched his fingers.
I can’t take you with me,
Rourke signed, dropping his hands to his sides.

Leah reached out to touch his arm slowly, as if he were a deer that would startle if she moved too suddenly. She carefully placed one hand on his cheek. “Why?”

His eyes searched hers, and he placed his rough hand over her wrist.
Time is not the same here. You would have to give up everything and everyone you’ve ever known.

Leah could feel the heat from his body, so close to hers but connecting only where her hand touched his face. If what he said were true, would she really be able to leave behind what remained of her family, and the life she knew? Her voice faltered. “It could work.”

I know what it’s like Leah. I can’t bear to think of you that way.
Rourke stared at the snow-covered mountains
. There are very dangerous people who will not hesitate to hurt those I love. I can’t risk harm coming to you.

He loved her. That was all Leah needed to hear. She rubbed her thumb along his jawline, wishing she could erase the despair from his face. And then he was kissing her, his lips seeking, pushing against hers as if by so doing he could make the pain go away. She met him, relishing in the freedom of this communication without words, in the ability to hold onto Rourke and to be touched by him.

And then he was gone. He left her standing on the ice, her footing unstable. She stifled a sob. It was a long time before she picked her way back through the snow to her empty house.