The Midnight Dancers: A Fairy Tale Retold (12 page)

“Yeah, that sounds fair,” Brittany spoke up. The older girls were a bit silent. Cheryl said, “Who partners with who?”

“The same partners all the time,” Rachel said, forging ahead. “So you have to make sure you stick with your partner, even when you divide up into different boats, okay? You stick with your buddy, and your buddy sticks with you.”

She took a breath. “Cheryl, you and Brittany. Tammy with Liddy, Becca with Taren. Miriam with Linette. Melanie with Debbie. Prisca and me.”

It had taken her two days to come up with the combinations, and she prayed they would accept them without question. She had tried to split up natural rivals, had given the younger kids into the hands of the more sensible sisters, and had taken the most volatile of the group—Prisca—for herself. She didn’t trust anyone else to keep Prisca in line.

“All right,” Tammy said grudgingly, and Miriam said, “I got the best bud,” and high-fived Linette, who perked up immediately. Debbie edged over towards Melanie, who looked relieved.

“Can we use handcuffs?” Becca asked innocently, and Taren yelped.

“Yes, for
you
,” Taren shot back.

“If necessary.” A smile played around Rachel’s lips. “Okay. That’s it. Let’s get going.”

“Alan said he was going to get his neighbor to come on over with his boat,” Prisca announced, wiggling into her dress.

“How old is he? The neighbor?” Taren asked.

“Nineteen. And he’s not a Christian. At least, he doesn’t go to church. But he has a red speedboat,” Prisca boasted. Rachel downed a tiny sigh within herself. No more time with Taylor, she foresaw. Tonight, she would be guard-dogging her younger sister aboard a red speedboat. 

Well, maybe that’s all right.
She resigned herself. Give Cheryl a chance to talk to Taylor. He’s a fairly decent guy. Despite his nighttime rebellion, he was the sort of guy who would straighten out eventually, probably go for baptism to become a full member of the church. The kind of guy who would interest Cheryl.

The neighbor was named Kirk, and he turned out to be a lean, hawk-like sort of guy, not really good-looking, with a fierce haircut and a beady eye. She figured he was a local hick, but decided to tolerate him. 

She and Prisca were alone with him in the speedboat, and Prisca was chattering and flirting outrageously. Rachel only stepped into the conversation to break her sister’s momentum. She was a bit embarrassed for Prisca, but Kirk seemed to find Prisca amusing and not really interesting. Rachel could tell Kirk was more interested in herself.

To pass the time, she kept looking out at the other boats. The buddy system meant that Alan and Keith had full boats—five and six total, respectively, while Cheryl (with Brittany) had Taylor all to herself. It was awfully lopsided. 
What we need
, she thought,
are six boats. If only we had our own boat.

“Whatch you thinking?” Kirk asked her. Prisca had run out of things to say and was sitting breathless, looking out at the water.

Rachel decided to alter her thoughts. “I wish I knew how to drive a boat,” she said, lowering her lashes.

“Want to learn? ‘Seasy. I’ll show you. Move over here.”

Rachel wondered if he was going to use this as an attempt to put his arms around her, but Kirk was apparently not so fast. He sat back and named the parts of the boat—the throttle, the clutch, the steering—she paid attention and started to learn. 

Pretty soon she was cautiously applying pressure on the gas and chugging gently over waves. “That’s it,” Kirk said over the engine. “Give her more power.”

Rachel did, and was enthralled at the response of the engine and the speed. Soon she was slicing through the waves while Prisca yelped and clutched the side. 

“You’re a natural!” Kirk yelled delightedly. When she finally stopped, breathless, she grinned, momentarily breaking her reserve. 

“Thank you,” she said.

“Man, you’re a bit of a wild thing after all, you are,” he said appreciatively. She knew he was right, but chose not to respond, merely smiled. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that Prisca was insanely jealous. Perhaps this partnership was going to be more trouble than it was worth.

CRACK!

As soon as he heard the sound, Paul knew that something bad had happened.  Swiftly catching all the other clubs in his hands, he stared at the one he had dropped and the rock protruding from the ground which had split it from top to bottom.
      Trying to suppress his frustration, he sat down, wiping the sweat from his brow. He picked up the broken club and tried to put the pieces back together. It was damaged, badly.

What made it worse was that these were the hand-carved wooden clubs he had borrowed from a friend, since they fit in with the Colonial period more than his plastic ones. Well, there was nothing to do now except pick up the pieces and try to do what he could to fix them. It was going to take time, and money. And it had to be done before the festival started tomorrow.

Gloomily he got to his feet, stashed the rest of the clubs safely into the tent, wrapped the broken pieces in a cloth and put them into his juggling bag. He was supposed to go teach Debbie and Linette soon, but he would have to get this club fixed first. He slung the bag over his shoulder, and headed into town dejectedly.

I should have been paying more careful attention to my juggling,
he chastised himself as he jogged along.
Guess I have too much on my mind.

While he was making some progress on the logistics of being an invisible bodyguard during the girls’ midnight escapades, he felt he wasn’t making very much progress towards his final goal.  Maybe Debbie and Linette were beginning to trust him, but he was sure that Rachel disliked him and the other girls barely registered his existence when he was at the Durham house during the day. He wasn’t sure that Melanie and Sallie’s other daughters didn’t think he was some kind of pagan.

Eventually, Paul found the hardware store and went inside.

“Can I help you?” a cheerful older blond lady whose nametag read “Dolo” asked as soon as he walked in.

“Uh—sure. I need to repair these,” he said, pulling the clubs out of his bag.

Dolo examined the clubs with a professional eye. “Some wood glue will do the trick,” she said. “And some clamps.  Aisles 2 and 5.”  

The wood glue wasn’t much, but the clamps he needed to fix the club turned out to be expensive. With a sinking heart, he shelled out more of his food money to pay for them.

 As Dolo rang up his bill, she remarked, “Night job getting you down?”

He looked at her, a bit startled. “Sort of,” he said cautiously, fingering his miraculous medal.

She chuckled.  “You just really look tired. If you don’t mind me asking, are you Catholic?”

“Trying to be,” he said.

She grinned back. “Have you been to the church on Plain Street?” she jerked a finger behind her. “It’s not far from here. Sure beats hitchhiking into Baltimore if you’re looking for a daily Mass.”

“Really? I’ll check it out!” Shouldering his juggling clubs, he added, “Thanks!”

“No problem, kid: keep the faith.”

As he exited the hardware store, he checked the clock on the bank and saw he was late for his lessons with Debbie and Linette.
At least I’m becoming friends with them.
He raised his pace to a jog. 
Maybe if I just continue to be open and friendly with them it will influence their older sisters.
To save time getting to the Durhams’ house, he cut through the development off of Plain Street. 

In the meantime, I just have to make sure none of them get hurt,
he thought
. Man, now I feel like I’m juggling those girls on a high-wire.
He suddenly felt cold in his chest remembering the club he had so recently dropped.
What if you drop one of the girls? And there’s no safety net? They could get hurt. Damaged. Permanently.

Paul halted, panting, wondering if he had been foolish to get so involved with this situation.

He realized that he had stopped in front of a large brick building whose pedestrian shape made it look like an office building. But a sign on the front said: OUR LADY SEAT OF WISDOM ROMAN CATHOLIC MISSION. Just where Dolo had said it would be. And the sign said there was a morning Mass here three times a week.

Dropping to his knees, he prayed with more intensity than he usually did.

Help me not to drop them. Any of them.

Then he got to his feet, crossed himself, turned, and started running again.

Apparently God still saw fit to answer some of Rachel’s prayers—if it was God who answered them—because the next night, Pete showed up driving a trim blue boat.  Pete had told Miriam a couple nights ago that he was seriously considering buying a used boat, and it turned out that his parents had helped him buy this one. Pete’s parents seemed to be more laid back than most of the parents in their midnight-outing group.

He had been hanging out with Miriam, having recovered from being slighted by Prisca, and Rachel approved. Anyone could see Miriam was sensible and fun to be with, even if she was on the heavier side.  And Pete, who was a tall, gawky sort of guy, seemed to appreciate her personality.

That night, Rachel and Prisca were in Alan’s boat with Melanie and Debbie. Despite Rachel’s fears that she was going to have to endure Kirk’s attentions, Prisca had turned her short attention span elsewhere.  Now Rich, Alan’s friend, a senior with muscles and short brown hair, was the object of her affection.  And Tammy, surprising everyone, had professed a liking for Kirk’s buzz haircut.  She and Liddy were passengers in Kirk’s red boat that night.  The other girls remained with their usual partners.

Rachel settled herself on the ample seat of Alan’s boat and sighed.  The headache that had been nagging her all day had finally started to dissipate.

“The boat seems really slow tonight,” Debbie said after they got started.

“Yeah? Well, I’m carrying the most weight,” Alan said, looking over at her. “There’s six of us here.”

“Your boat is
always
slow, every time I ride in it,” Debbie complained. “Why do you carry so much stuff around in it?”

Rachel looked around.  It was true that part of Alan’s boat was covered in canvas, and there were always lumpy objects beneath it.

“My parents insist on storing all their junk here,” Alan said, irritated. “That’s why.”

Rachel shot Debbie a warning look. “How’re your juggling lessons going, Debbie?”

“Very good. I like Paul,” Debbie said.

“We all know that,” Prisca said. “You’re the only one who does.”

“I like him too,” Melanie said. “Even if he is a Catholic.”

Rachel leaned back against the side. “You were talking with him a lot the other day,” she observed.

“I was asking him why he prays to Mary. He told me that Christ is like the sun, and Mary is like the moon. Because the sun gives out its own light, and the moon just reflects the sun’s light. So he honors Mary because she reflects God’s glory.”

“So Mary is like the moon,” Prisca repeated, nodding. Suddenly her eyes widened, and she clutched Rachel’s arm, crying in a choked voice. “Like—a moon goddess! It’s Babylonian Mystery Religion! Aaahh!”

Rachel burst out laughing, and then had to explain the joke to the guys. It didn’t seem quite as funny to them.

“But I don’t think it’s pagan at all,” Melanie said. “It looks weird, you know, but once Paul explained it, I could sort of understand, even if I didn’t quite agree. It was kind of a nice idea. He’s very good at explaining things.”

“Proof! Proof! He’s convinced Melanie! He
is
an agent of Satan!” Prisca hissed in Rachel’s ear.

“He knows a
lot
about the Bible,” Debbie said. “He’s read parts of it that I bet even our assistant pastor hasn’t read.”

“More proof!”

“A Bible scholar,” Rich commented, and Rachel smiled at his mock appreciation. “Is he going to be a pastor?”

“You can’t be a pastor if you’re Catholic,” Debbie said. “Not unless you become a priest. Paul said he doesn’t feel called to become a priest.”

“You asked him about that?”