Chances (Mystic Nights #1) (13 page)

“So as you can see,” she concluded, “a facility of this type will appeal to our youth, both boys and girls. It will strengthen the community, infuse our youth with new ways to acquire and learn skills pertinent to our culture and heritage, and provide a healthy outlet for their feelings and emotions. Studies show from similar activities, and similar dance studios in low socio-economic areas have proven that positive culturally sensitive activities benefit the community as a whole by decreasing dropout rates and crime. All around, this will be a good thing.”

She glanced at the council members. Myrtle was smiling broadly. Peter gave her a wink. And the two other faces peering down at her looked pleased as well.

“Shall we vote?” Myrtle was the first to speak.

There was slight pause before anyone else spoke. “Shouldn’t we discuss it first?” Aliya’s head snapped towards the voice of the person speaking. It was the first hint of dissent she had heard all afternoon. It came from Josephine Milea.

All eyes turned towards the newest council member. “If you would like,” Myrtle conceded. “But let me go on the record by saying I love the idea. I am all for bringing a dance studio to our reservation. Cultural activities like this will enrich the youth of our people.”

Josephine interjected softly. “I agree. But for now, space is pressing. We really could use a clinic for drug addiction. You know this is a growing problem.” And it was. Aliya could admit that. There had been several incidents involving drugs on the reserve. There had even been an accidental overdose last fall. It was tragic.

But on the other hand, her studies showed that drug problems diminished when kids had healthier recreational choices. She wanted to speak up. Address that issue. She had forgotten to mention it in her report. But her slotted speaking time was up. She felt her Mom pat her affectionately on the arm. Luckily she didn’t have to say anything. Myrtle was already jumping to her defense. “I know Miss Chance did not mention it, but in her report on page 38 she mentions the positive effect of dance on the younger generation. It serves the need for a healthy activity, and alternative recreational activities keep children occupied and prevents the problem before it starts.”

“I understand that. But treatment places are needed for those already addicted.” Josephine’s smile twisted.

Myrtle went on. “It’s preventative. A treatment facility wouldn’t be needed . . .”

“Again, Myrtle. No offense, but addiction is a serious issue here. Not only among the younger generation. I’m just thinking of the benefit to the larger group,” she stated shrewdly. “And I’m not saying no, I just want us to examine all options.”

Myrtle contemplated the younger council member’s concerns. Aliya glanced at the other council members who had yet to speak up. Myrtle also looked to the other two council members. They remained mute and she did not look happy about it. She spoke. “Are there any other concerns, you, Josephine, or any other of the council members have?” Jason Paralta shook his head. Myrtle looked at Peter who looked pensive.

Josephine spoke once more. “Again, it’s not that I’m against this . . . this . . . dance studio. It’s just that we have this small hall. I think for now, the reservation has more pressing needs. Our kids are already addicted to these drugs. Adults too. Prescription pills, and the other new chemical concoctions they are making in the streets these days. I think we need to look into using the space for that. Perhaps when we begin receiving funds from the casino, then we can look into building a cultural center, something on a grander scale, and house Aliya’s studio there. Something that is more than just dance too. Crafts, language classes, cooking,” she suggested.

Aliya couldn’t fault that idea. It was a good one. But she felt her dream slipping. A cultural center with dance, music, art, could benefit more than just the youth. But it wouldn’t be hers alone.

“That is a great idea,” Myrtle nodded. Aliya felt the noose getting tighter. “But, to start a clinic in that space would also require outside sources of funding. We have not looked into the cost of hiring a staff, doctors.”

“I’m just saying let’s take the time to do it right.” Josephine’s appeal to the other members was beginning to sway the crowd. She heard the murmurs of approval. Jason gazed at Myrtle looking for her direction. She shook her head sadly. “The idea for a clinic is a good one. We do need a clinic, but our funds are tight for now. This studio could happen quickly.” Myrtle was fighting a good fight, making a last pitch for her. For that Aliya was grateful.

Peter interrupted. It was the first time he spoke up. “I agree, Myrtle. How about instead of voting, we allow Josephine a month to do the research on the clinic. What the expenses might be. I would hate for us to use the space too soon and later realize we had made a mistake.”

“I hate for the space to go to waste,” Myrtle returned.

Peter cut her off. “I believe Miss Chance would be amenable to delaying a vote. She is under contract with the casino anyhow. She wouldn’t be turning the hall into a studio anytime soon. She has time. We have time.” Aliya cast her eyes downward and nodded when Myrtle silently inquired if that were true. It was. Her face fell.

Aliya groaned inwardly. She was losing the battle. Peter was siding with Josephine. Yes, a clinic would be great in that spot, but it would take a year to accomplish a successful program and getting the funds to equip and run it properly could take longer. True, she had a contract, but she had been planning on fixing up the studio in her down time. Having some friends help. Getting a small loan for the equipment she would need. She knew two girls she was planning on training to be the other instructors. She could have the place open within a matter of months. She’d submitted her final papers online only yesterday for her business license. She’d have that license by mid-April.

Her father reached around her mother and gave her shoulder a squeeze sensing her disappointment. “All is not lost,” her mother murmured softly. “It’s just a month.”

Myrtle was looking her way. She met the older woman’s eyes. She winked, then cut over to Josephine. “One month. Find out the costs of an endeavor like the one you are talking about. I think a studio in that location would serve our community more quickly and reduce problems we have now. But . . .” she paused for emphasis, “let’s table the issue until next months meeting as Peter has suggested, meanwhile we’ll discuss the clinic idea in committee.” All the members nodded their agreement and the meeting was then brought to a conclusion.

The people began to file out. Many gave Aliya a sympathetic glance as they passed her. That made her feel better. She could see she still had some support in her community. It meant a lot.

She too turned to leave.

*

After her Mom
and Dad left her in the parking lot at the tribal council hall, Aliya lie in wait for Peter. She understood Josephine’s point of view. A clinic would be helpful, but could take years in the making, whereas her studio could alleviate some of the stress on the community now. She wanted to reiterate that point, make it clear so when the council met in committee Peter had that thought at the forefront of his mind. He had been supportive before, and she hoped he would continue to be so.

Her mother and father invited her over for dinner later, and she promised them to do that next weekend. She didn’t mention Jonathan. It was too soon yet. Her mother had been hounding her for some time to give love another try. But for a decade she had sworn off entanglements. Love hurt. It made you do things you never thought you would. So she had focused on her career instead. It helped to block out the pain of her youthful choices.

But she couldn’t blame her Mom for the recent pressure. She was an only child, and her parents, she was sure, wanted grandchildren. That brought a whole new wave of pain. Her abortion, all those years ago. She had immediately regretted it. It had been rash and stupid. But she had been so young, so terrified. Her fiancée was being terrorized by a serial killer. He had killed eight women already and he was threatening her. Andreas Marino, her former fiancé, had been a New York City police officer, a detective. He had tried to keep it a secret from her, had claimed he didn’t tell her about the threats so she wouldn’t be afraid. But instead, she had freaked out. She was barely twenty at the time. And instead of listening to him, she had blown up after she found several notes threatening her in his files one night. He’d left his briefcase on the desk, and when she had bumped into it, the contents spilled out and she panicked. She ended their engagement and fled to Nevada. Only a few weeks later she found herself pregnant. Telling Andreas at that point had been out of the question. He would have come and gotten her. Then she and the baby both would have been at risk. Plus, she wasn’t in the right state of mind for having a baby then. She’d been too raw, and terrified. The serial killer mutilated his victims, raped them, and then killed them.

She was twenty at that point, and without counsel from her parents who’d already moved back to Lantern Hill after she finished school at the dance academy she’d attended, she’d made a rash decision. And without even telling Andreas, she had gone to have the abortion. But the guilt ate at her.

Just days later, drunk, she had called Andreas and confessed everything. He had taken it remarkably well, though she heard the undercurrent of disappointment in his tone. She hated herself for a long time for that decision. He had every right to know, be a part of the decision. It had been his child too.

It had been a time of grieving and loss. But she grew up. Without the guidance of her parents, and Andreas to help make her way, she had been on her own for the first time in her life. She contemplated going back, but couldn’t. Then just months later, both of his parents were murdered by the same killer. His parents had been remarkable people. She grieved for them alone. She sent flowers to the funeral; it was all she could do. Knowing the man was still out there caused her to have many a nightmare in the next few years. Just recently, a decade later, he’d finally been caught. She heard it on the news just last month. And again it was Andreas who pursued and captured him. A decade, the man had hunted his parents murderer. She felt bad for all he had been through alone. She was glad he’d finally found someone strong enough to to stand by his side.

She spent six years in Vegas. Maturing. Perfecting her craft. But a dancer’s career in Vegas didn’t last forever. It was one of the reasons she had come back four years ago. It was time to let go of the pain, time to heal. It was one of the reasons she wanted to open a studio that would embrace her culture and heritage. She wanted to be that support for some other confused girl or boy. Help them through the tough times, but in a healthy way.

She saw Peter coming out of the hall and quickly got out of her car. He saw her right away and headed in her direction. Plastering a smile on her face, she held out her hand. He took it and pulled her in for a quick embrace. He was so touchy. She shook it off. “Sorry,” he started, “I know that didn’t go the way you wanted. But, it’s not a lost cause.” His voice sounded reassuring.

“I understand that Peter. And the clinic is something we need.”

“I’m glad you understand.” His smile was conciliatory.

“Believe me. I do. But I just wanted to talk to you for a moment. During my proposal I was so nervous I forgot to mention a few things, and I was hoping when you all met in committee, you could bring those things up.” She hoped he would hear her out.

“Of course, anything I can do. Shall we have dinner tonight?” he suggested.

Aliya shook her head. “I’m sorry. I am meeting with my parents tonight,” she lied knowing Jonathan wouldn’t understand. “I really just wanted to stress that my studio, although not a clinic, will benefit the community almost immediately. It would be a positive, healthy environment that would keep kids off the streets away from bad influences, like drugs, gangs, and sex.”

He nodded knowingly. “Yes, teenage pregnancy is quite an epidemic on the reserve.” He reached over to her, plucked a strand of her hair, and tugged on it playfully. Aliya moved her head back out of his reach. She hoped he would have respected that she was involved, but his invading her personal space told her he had no qualms about that. Jonathan was right about him. She cringed inwardly, but held her ground not wanting to insult the man.

Aliya also dismissed what seemed like a loaded comment. She didn’t know if he knew about her past, but let it slide. “Well, I hope I still have your support,” she remarked. She watched Peter’s eyes carefully. His glance shifted to her stomach, and it was then that she knew he did, in fact, know about what she had done all those years ago. She had confessed to her parents what she had done, and a few friends. She now knew the rumors had spread here.

“Oh, you have my support. And anytime you need someone to talk to, mull your ideas over, just give me a call.” His tone was suggestive. The man had no sense of decency. He just didn’t give up.

“Thank you Peter,” she replied smoothly taking a step back, and tried to keep the sarcasm and disappointment from her voice. “I know you will be fair. If I can’t get the space on the reserve, I guess I will just have to look elsewhere, open a studio nearby, off the reservation.” She began to turn, but Peter called after her.