Moonlight Dancer (8 page)

Her room was a comfortable sanctuary with the bedside light casting a soft pink glow over the old quilt. She prepared for bed and slipped between the sheets, reaching out to turn off the bedside light. The moon was now higher in the sky, its pale, thin light bleaching the colour from familiar items, painting them in tones of grey and silver. She rarely noticed the moon at home. As a matter of fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually looked at it, let alone thought about it. But then a lot of things were looking different since she’d met Jason. She stared at the ceiling but didn’t see the shifting shadows cast by the moon. She saw long, muscled legs encased in faded blue jeans. She saw strong, confident hands on a steering wheel and generous lips turned up at the corner in a heart-stopping smile. She saw hair the colour of ripe wheat falling over eyes as blue as the prairie skies on a clear summer day.

Headlights illuminated the room and moments later a vehicle pulled up behind the house. Charlie turned her light back on, hoping her aunt would stop in for a quick visit. About a minute later, Janelle poked her head around the door.

“Are you still up?” She came into the room and sat on the foot of the bed. “Of course you’re still up or I wouldn’t be sitting here, would I?” She removed the ribbon and a band from her braid and started to loosen her hair, running her fingers through it and groaning with pleasure. “So tell me, did you have a good time? What do you think of The Trip?” Her hair billowed out around her shoulders. “You and Jason seemed to be getting along better. Did he ask you out?”

“Yes, for next Saturday.” Charlie sat up. “I hope your friend can teach me not to be such a klutz.”

“I’m sure he can. I saw him after you left and he’s agreed to meet you at The Trip on Tuesday morning. He says he’ll work with you right up to the weekend, but he thinks it probably won’t be necessary.”

“Why would he do this for me? He doesn’t even know me.”

Janelle gave her an odd look. “No, but he’s a friend of Matt’s and mine, and around here people help out their friends.”

“I guess I’m not quite used to that.” She changed the subject. “Did you have a good time tonight?”

“Yes, I did, but Jack scolded me for not introducing you.” She toyed with the ribbon she’d removed from her braid. “We’ve been going out for a few months, but I still feel guilty, as though I’m not being true to Matt’s memory.”

“Jason says Jack is a nice guy.”

Janelle smiled. “He is. Matt knew him, of course. He liked him, too.”

“Well then.” Charlie smoothed her hand over the quilt, choosing her words carefully. “It sounds like Uncle Matt would have approved,”

“You know something? You’re right. It’s time I stopped beating myself up for being human. I have a lot of years left.” Janelle looked at her steadily. “What about you? I hope you’re not going to let your experience with the former boyfriend influence your future relationships.”

“Maybe at first.” She felt a blush creep into her cheeks. “But not now.”

“Good.” Janelle picked up her crutches. “Let’s have breakfast together, okay? I bought a waffle iron because you were coming and I’m dying to try it out.”

“I saw some strawberries in the fridge.” Charlie slid down in the bed. “I can taste them already.”

Janelle leaned over and stroked her hair. “Goodnight, kid.”

* * *

“I can’t believe I’m having seconds.” Janelle dusted powdered sugar over the waffles and spooned strawberries on top. “But these are good.”

“I learned how to make waffles one year at camp. I was assigned to help out in the kitchen.” Charlie slid her plate into the sink and sat back down opposite her aunt. “I hope you’ll let me know what needs doing beyond the regular cooking or housework.”

Janelle licked powdered sugar from her lips. “I will, but the dance lessons come first. She shoved her plate aside and took a sip of her coffee, cradling the mug in both hands. “By the way, how did you make out in the attic yesterday? I forgot to ask you.”

A tingling sensation crept down the back of Charlie’s neck. For some reason, she wasn’t quite ready to discuss what she’d discovered. She picked up her aunt’s plate and walked to the sink. “It was interesting. There’s a great spot to read up there, did you know?”

Janelle gave a vague wave of her hand. “I haven’t been up there in ages. The attic’s not my favourite place.”

“You were right about the books. There’s a good selection and a comfy chair and lamp. And oh, yes, that sweet little teapot that was on the table here the night I arrived.”

Janelle frowned. “Here?”

Charlie tapped the center of the table. “Yes, right here. It had lavender in it.”

A shadow crossed Janelle’s face and she shook her head. “No, you must be mistaken. I know the teapot you mean, but I haven’t seen it for years.” She smiled brightly. “I’ll bet you remember it from your visit here when you were small.”

“But…” Charlie looked at the spot where the teapot had been. She hadn’t imagined it, she was certain of that. Her thoughts raced. There was nothing to be gained from arguing with her aunt. Besides, she wanted to learn more. She shrugged. “That must be it. It’s really pretty. Is the lid around somewhere?”

Janelle sat back, tapping her fingernails on the side of her coffee cup. “There’s never been one. Not in my lifetime, anyway.” She fingered her braid. “There’s a story about that little teapot. Mom told me when I was about your age. At the time I thought it was terribly romantic. Now that I’m older, I’m not so sure.”

Charlie leaned forward eagerly.

“It belonged to your namesake.” Janelle’s gaze wandered around the kitchen, as though viewing it from a great distance. “Her name was Charlotte Freeman. She would be your great, great aunt. Your great-grandmother’s sister.”

Charlie’s pulse started to race. “Did she live here?”

“Yes. According to family history, she fell in love with a cowboy from Montana.” She brightened. “As a matter of fact, they met at the dance hall. Anyway, he arrived the summer of her eighteenth birthday and worked at a couple of the big ranches in the valley. Then he went off to earn money in the rodeos. He was thrown from a horse and killed.”

Charlie gasped aloud, but Janelle didn’t seem to hear.

“The story goes that when they told her about the accident, she was holding the teapot. She didn’t say a word, but started to tremble all over and dropped the lid. She went up to the attic and they couldn’t get her to come down for days.”

Charlie was beginning to understand. “It’s romantic and sad at the same time.”

“That’s not all.” Janelle shook her head. “She and the cowboy had wanted to get married, but her mother and father refused. On the very day she got the news about his death, they had planned to meet at the dance hall and elope. And get this: there was a full moon; they’d planned it that way so they could travel at night and get as far away as possible.” Janelle’s eyes filled with tears. “She went back to the dance hall every time there was a full moon. That is, until she finally died of a broken heart.”

“And she never married.”

“No.” Janelle was silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on Charlie’s face. “You know, you look quite a bit like her.”

“I do?” Charlie’s heart started to beat faster.

“Quite a lot, actually. That’s her picture in the upstairs hallway.”

“That young woman? She’s beautiful.”

Janelle cocked her head to one side and studied Charlie as though she were a chunk of granite she was about to sculpt. “If you pulled back your hair, you’d resemble her even more.” She jumped up and rummaged in a drawer. “I have a hairbrush in here somewhere. Oh, here it is.” She stopped, brush in hand. “Do you mind?”

Charlie was uneasy, but curiosity won. “Okay.”

With a few quick strokes Janelle pulled back Charlie’s hair and gathered it into a twist at the nape of her neck. “It’s a bit on the curly side but here, have a look and you’ll get the idea.” Janelle handed her a mirror.

Charlie examined the image in the mirror. The hairstyle changed her looks completely. Her face appeared longer, more elegant, and the upswept hair emphasized her long neck.

“I guess I do look a bit like her.” She eventually tore her eyes away from the mirror. “Those are her trunks in the attic, aren’t they?”

Janelle nodded slowly. “I’d almost forgotten about those. I’ll admit that when I first heard the story I thought it must have been exaggerated over time, but seeing those trunks all packed and ready go to, I believe it. She really must have loved him.”

“How in the world would she have got out of here with those big things?”

“The story goes that after they met at the dance hall, they planned to come here, collect her trunks and head for Montana.”

“But what about her parents?” She gave a delicate shudder at the thought of the cold, unfeeling faces in the portrait.

“Apparently they were away at an agricultural fair.”

“Wouldn’t they have gone after her, forced her to come back?”

Janelle frowned. “I don’t think so. Things were pretty strict back then. My guess would be that once she’d run off, the family probably would have disowned her. Or perhaps they would have made up a story about why she’d gone away, but then we’ll never know, will we?” She tapped the hairbrush against her cheek, deep in thought. “I can’t imagine what her life was like after she learned that he’d died.” She raised an eyebrow. “Can you?”

Charlie shuddered. “I’d rather not, especially assuming that those are her parents in the portrait across from her.”

Janelle nodded.

“They look nasty. I’ll bet they made her life miserable.” She picked up the mirror again and studied her reflection. “I wonder if I’d have had the nerve.” She glanced over at her aunt. “You know…if it had been me?”

“I think you would have.” Janelle’s eyes grew misty. “Love is such a powerful emotion.” Her voice was so soft Charlie had to lean forward to her the words. “They say it lasts forever.”

Charlie believed her. Everything she’d learned about her ancestor confirmed it. Since arriving at Clearwater Springs, she had somehow tapped into Charlotte Freeman’s soul, with all its joy and sorrow. She knew without a doubt that the young woman with the haunted eyes loved as strongly today as she had all those years ago.

Charlie found her aunt quietly drinking coffee on the porch the next morning. “I’d like something to do. I’ve decided I’m going to take some time away from writing.”

Janelle looked at her fondly. “If I didn’t have this cast, I’d be working in the garden. Are you up for picking some lavender and lemon balm?”

The ringing of the telephone cut off Charlie’s reply and she ran into the kitchen.

“Hello?”

“Uh…hello.” The woman’s voice was hesitant. “Is Janelle there?”

“Sure.” Charlie passed the handset to her aunt.

“Hello?” Janelle listened for several minutes, her face reflecting growing dismay. “Please Laurel, don’t worry about The Trip. I can do it myself. More importantly, is there anything I can do to help you?” She listened for another minute. “Well, if you change your mind, be sure to let me know.” She nodded, as if reassuring the person on the other end of the line. “Really, we’ll be fine. You just take care of your mom and call me later in the week, okay?”

She disconnected and turned to Charlie. “That was Laurel. She cleans the dance hall. Her mother fell and broke her hip. She’s only recently been widowed, and Laurel is the only family in the area.” She pushed herself up and made her way to the window. “Life sucks sometimes, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. Will she be all right, do you think?”

“I think so. I’ll give her a couple of days to get settled and then I’ll stop by to see if there is anything I can do.” She looked down at her foot. “At least I get my walking cast tomorrow. I can hardly wait.”