PIROUETTE

by Linda S Barth

Author’s Note: This story is a much expanded and revised blending of two “plot bunny” stories I wrote for the Winterfest Online 2023 and 2024 Plot Bunny Challenge. As those bunnies so often do, these two inspired a complete story that grew – a lot – from two very short vignettes.

Also, please know that I’ve decided in my BatB universe, Winslow did not die, so don’t be surprised when you find him in my stories.

In ballet, pirouette means to make a complete turn, or series of turns, moving either inward or outward. The dancer balances on one foot, while their body remains centered over their supporting leg. As their body spins, the dancer’s head turns quickly, but their eyes are kept focused on a fixed point.

* * * * *

Finally!

Vincent scanned the library loft and felt his entire body relax. Somehow, at last, he was alone. Since dawn, his day had been consumed by unexpected events tacked onto his always demanding schedule, but he couldn’t refuse a single one. Last minute subbing for Father’s map-skills class. Settling a heated dispute over breakfast options waged between Cullen and William. Helping Jamie re-string her crossbow. Joining Zach and Marcus trundling an unplanned delivery of three produce-laden carts from a Helper’s warehouse. Retrieving Luke, who’d scaled the highest bookcase in Father’s study, while gleefully ignoring his mother’s pleas to descend.

And all before the noon lunch break.

Somehow, in addition to the planned tasks on his agenda – teaching the primary writing class, shoring up retaining walls with Winslow’s work crew, carrying a recently repaired chest of drawers to the nursery — he’d managed to make a quick sprint to Mouse’s chamber to offer an opinion on the young man’s latest water filtration gizmo. Luckily, it had taken only ten minutes to dissuade him from prematurely flooding several chambers.

Now, in the few minutes left before conducting a seminar on the Lake Poets for the secondary level students, presumably his last duty of the day, he’d miraculously managed to secure a sliver of peace and quiet all to himself. He didn’t just want this respite – he needed it. For tucked in the pocket of his shirt, close to his heart, was a note from Catherine. Even though he’d already memorized every word, he longed to see her graceful handwriting, imagine he could hear her sweet voice, inhale the faint flowery scent of her perfume drifting from the blush pink paper.

He leaned against the wrought-iron railing, his hand pressed against his chest as if to contain the letter’s magic within his being. There were only three more days until Saowen, the time when walls between worlds would grow thin. When differences would transform to delights, when he…they…would be free to transcend all boundaries, if only for one night. Catherine had written of her plans for their celebration, plans that might – that could – come true. He’d savored every word of her note and could not wait a moment longer to do so again.

He strode toward a nook at the far end of the loft. But before he could settle onto a pile of worn, velvet-covered cushions, he heard something, a smothered sound coming from somewhere not far away. Although indistinct, it seemed to speak to him of loss and despair.

Pivoting, he peered around the corner of an over-filled bookcase. There, huddled on the tiled floor, quietly, desperately sobbing, was Samantha. He called her name, and when she looked up at him, he felt a pang of reflected pain. More than once in his lifetime, his eyes, too, had pleaded for help that he felt might never come.

He dropped to the floor next to the girl and enfolded her in his arms, rocking her gently, waiting out her tears. Long moments passed until the storm began to lessen.

“Will you tell me what’s troubling you? I want to help.”

He felt her nod against his chest, heard her single sniffled word. “Okay.”

As she pulled away, he offered a soft linen handkerchief. She wiped her eyes, then clenched the fabric into a wrinkled rag. “But you can’t tell anyone else!”

“I would never betray your trust, Samantha.”

She gazed at him, and again the torment in her eyes hurt his heart. “It’s about the Halloween party.” She took a quivering breath, blinking back fresh tears. “My costume.”

When she bit her lip and fell silent, he prompted, “Are you having trouble deciding who you will dress up as? Do you need help making your costume?”

Her lips trembled. “No!”

“Then, what has hurt you so?”

“It’s Kipper!” The trickling tears burst into full-fledged sobs, and she covered her face, muffling her words.

He eased her hands from her tear-stained face and held them in his gentle grasp. “Tell me.”

For a few moments, she clung to him, then slowly, reluctantly pulled away from the lifeline he’d offered. Another deep quavering breath. Another swipe of the handkerchief. “You know the theme for our costumes – the one Father gave us?”

“I do. All the children are to dress up as someone they admire, someone who represents their goals for the future.”

She nodded slowly. “Yes, and…”  She seemed to be searching for words, or perhaps trying to find a way to say aloud the ones she had already found.

“Has it been difficult to decide on the person you admire, someone you wish to emulate? I would imagine the assignment has given all of you much to think about.”

She shook her head hard. “I didn’t have to think about it at all! I knew right away who I was going to choose. But when I told Kipper, he laughed at me.”

“That was unkind of him. What was your reply?”

Tears began to yield to a more familiar flare of self-assurance. “I told him I don’t care what he thinks, and I’m going to do it anyway!”

“And then?”

“And then,” her voice dropped to a whisper, “he said all the ballet shoes and fancy costumes in the world couldn’t ever make someone like me into a ballerina, no matter what she’d told me. He said I could never be like her, not in a million years.”

A ballerina…like her. The words evoked a deeply disturbing memory, one that still had the power to inflict pain. No, he insisted silently, she does not mean Lisa. It can’t be true.

He searched for ways to convince himself he’d made the wrong assumption. It must be some other dancer who had captured the girl’s heart, one who deserved to be admired and respected by an innocent, vulnerable child. Someone whose example would inspire goodness instead of malice, offer glimmers of a future buoyed by promise, not drowned in deceit.

He knew she awaited his response, longed for his reassurance. He would not fail her.

“Kipper had no right to say such things. If there is a dancer you admire, someone you wish to consider as a role model, then it’s your choice, and no one is entitled to question it.”

The smallest hint of a smile began to light her face. “Really?”

He nodded solemnly. “Really.”

“Then, you don’t think I have to pick someone else instead?”

“I think you must make the choice you feel is best for you. You know what’s in your own heart. There is no need to listen to anyone else, especially someone who does not respect your dreams.”

Her smile grew brighter as she listened intently. “Then, that’s what I’m going to do! I’m going to ignore Kipper and only remember what Lisa said!”

His heart constricted. The last hope that perhaps the child would mention Maria Tallchief or Gelsey Kirkland vanished, their light consumed by the darkness of another dancer. This could not be. He would not let misplaced love for Lisa Campbell hurt anyone else, especially not another enchanted, trusting child.

“So, it is Lisa you wish to portray at the party?”

“Yes! She’s such a wonderful ballerina! I couldn’t believe how graceful and – and – elegant she was when she danced for us! She was amazing! I want to be just like her.”

You are nothing like her. You will never be. Those were words he could not say aloud, but there were others that he could. “Samantha, the visit from Lisa was well over a year ago, and she was only with us for a few days. Yes, she is a talented performer, but you didn’t have enough time to truly get to know her.”

“I do know her! She listened when I told her I wanted to be a ballerina. She told me things I need to learn. She even said growing up right here in the tunnels helped her become a famous dancer. Isn’t that amazing! And I bet I could do it, too!”

“You can do anything you want, but just be certain…” He faltered, searching for the best way to protect her. “Be certain you make the right choices, that you listen to people who truly care about you.”

Doubt began to shadow the girl’s face. “Lisa cares about me. She’s going to come back someday and teach me more ballet steps. She promised.”

How can I tell her promises mean less than nothing to someone like Lisa?

“She said I had potential, that I could do anything if I tried.” Her dark eyes widened as she gazed up at him. “You don’t think she’s wrong and Kipper’s right, do you?”

He had no other choice, save to hope the child before him would not suffer as had the child he’d once been. “Of course, Lisa is right. You can do anything you choose to do, be whoever you wish to be, not just at Halloween but every day of your life. You will follow your heart, and no one can take your dreams away from you.”

Her smile glowed, banishing all shadows, embracing only light. She threw herself into his arms and hugged him tightly, then bounded to her feet. “Thank you, Vincent! Thank you!”

She raced toward the staircase leading to the study, then turned back. “You’re the best!”

He stayed where he was, listening to the decrescendo of her footsteps, until all was silent once again. He sighed softly. He knew he hadn’t been completely honest with the child. Dreams could be stolen…abandoned…lost forever. The fate of her tarnished idol was proof of that, as were the remains of his own dreams as they’d played out in a secluded, candlelit chamber so many years ago.

He sighed harshly. He could not protect Samantha from learning such painful truths. He only prayed it would not happen too soon. And for now, he would not be the one to tear even the slightest bit of belief from the young girl’s heart.

He rose to his feet and headed toward the passageway and his duties to the community. He’d lost his longed-for respite but felt no regret. He’d helped another soul gain so much more.

As he paced through the tunnels on the way to the classroom chamber, he felt a sense of replenished hope. Its warmth stayed with him as he paused in the entryway and patted the place over his heart where Catherine’s note was safely sheltered. It was an inescapable truth that not all dreams were destined to come true. But others almost certainly would.

* * *

His heart resonated with her presence long before he watched her enter his chamber.

“You look so beautiful.”

She felt his words caress her as she waltzed into his outstretched arms, entwining the flounces of her satin gown with his suede-clad legs. The tiara atop her head glittered in the candlelight, a whimsical echo of her incandescent smile. She leaned back just enough to look up at his beloved face.

“It’s not all too over the top, then?”

He tilted his head. “I’m not certain. Perhaps a closer look…”

“As you wish, Sire.” She stepped back and dipped into a deep, perfect curtsey before rising slowly to allow for full appreciation of her costume, especially the rose-embroidered corset cinching her waist and framing a very…festive…decolletage. She turned in a slow circle before him. “So, do I meet with your approval?”

He immediately nodded his head, nearly dislodging his matching crown. “Yes, Your Highness. You are enchanting. In fact, I would say you are a perfect princess.” He grinned at the eye-rolling look she gave him.

“Well, I’m not sure anyone else would agree with you as far as perfection goes, but if you think so, then I’m very happy.” She mirrored the inquisitive look he’d given her. “Now don’t you think it’s only fair I have a chance to appreciate your costume as well?”

As he stood before her in the hazy light, he imagined he could feel the heat of her gaze slowly sweeping the length of his body, lingering at the ruffled, linen-clad expanse of his chest, fluttering over the leather bootstraps wound around his thighs, blinking perhaps a heartbeat too long for comfort at the suede-cinched hem of his tunic.

While he could not deny the truth sizzling through their bond and glowing on her face, still he grew apprehensive at her prolonged silence… until a smoky smile and a dreamy sigh told him so much more than words ever could.

She linked her arm in his and at last found her voice as they strolled toward the dining chamber. “You know, you really are an exemplary prince. I can’t imagine another one more…charming…than you.”

He sputtered a laugh. “Well, I’m not sure anyone else would agree with you either, but I don’t care.” He spun her around and drew her close for a kiss. “I only care what my princess thinks. Nothing else matters.”

After more than a few enchanted moments, they reluctantly continued on their way, hands clasped, fingers entwined.

“The children must be very excited about the party. You don’t think they’ll mind too much when we leave early, do you?”

“I’m sure they’ll be far too involved in all the activities to even notice we’ve gone.” He rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand. “I only wish…”

She squeezed his hand gently. “I know. I feel the same way, but it won’t be long now. If we leave by seven, we won’t be late.”

He nodded. “The children would be very disappointed if we didn’t attend their celebration at least for an hour or so. We can’t disappoint them.”

“Of course, we can’t. And I’m really looking forward to seeing the costumes they’ve created.” She frowned slightly. “I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, so I hope I can figure out who each child has chosen as their role model. I’m depending on you to give me a few subtle hints if I need them.”

His silence rippled through their bond.

“Vincent, what is it? What’s wrong?”

He sighed and led her to a bench carved from an alcove in the rocky wall. “There’s something I need to tell you before we join the others.”

As he spoke of his encounter with Samantha, he watched the light in Catherine’s eyes darken, and he sensed the pain she felt for the child and for him.

“It was difficult to find the right words to show I believe in her dreams while not revealing my true feelings about Lisa…and my concern that she continues to be fascinated by her, that she thinks Lisa is someone to emulate. I wanted to tell her she was wrong, but her trust, her belief is so deep.”

Catherine’s lips tightened as if to keep from spitting out the words. “Lisa’s an expert at what she does, and her talents run far beyond ballet skills. It’s no wonder a child can be so completely fooled by her.”

He didn’t couldn’t hide the lingering bitterness in his voice. “I know…”

She immediately clutched his hands in hers and brought them to her lips in a poignant echo of a long-ago night. “That’s not what I meant! It was never your fault and it wasn’t Samantha’s!”

“Wasn’t it? We both saw only what we wanted to see.”

“No! You both saw only what Lisa allowed you to see. She knew your hopes, your dreams, and she took advantage of what you offered her. Her need to be admired, applauded…desired…meant more to her than anyone else’s feelings. And clearly they still do.”

His breath released in a harsh sigh. “Yes. But how do we explain this to Samantha? How can we protect her?”

She slowly let go of his hands so she might frame his face with her gentle strength. “We can’t. As much as we wish we could, she must come to realize this for herself. And when she does, we will be there for her.”

He turned his head to brush a kiss against the palm of her hand, then pulled her into his embrace. “As you are for me.”

“Always.” She rested her head against his chest, and they shared the sensation of their hearts beating as if one, feeling the hush of his breath in a shared sigh. For long moments, they drifted on unspoken wishes and beliefs. Then, all too soon their reverie was broken by remembered responsibilities and the sound of approaching voices.

“Geez, Kipper, watch it with that bow! You’re going to put someone’s eye out.”

“Sorry, Cullen! I’ll try to be more careful – I promise!”

“Well, try harder. I’ve already repaired it twice. The way you’re still manhandling it, it won’t last half an hour at the party.”

The pair rounded the bend in the passageway and slowed to a stop as they spotted the couple just rising to their feet.

“Hope we’re not interrupting anything.” Cullen’s grin left no doubt about the meaning of his comment.

“You’re not. Catherine and I just had a few things to discuss before the party.” Vincent kept his tone nonchalant, but the smile he saw on Catherine’s face told Cullen his assumption had been correct.

She turned a more innocent smile to Kipper. “Let me guess – Robin Hood?”

His feathered bycocket flew from his head as he struck what he felt was an appropriately heroic pose. “Right! And Cullen made this bow for me. Isn’t it cool?! And look at these arrows he made, too!”

Again, Cullen dodged the boy’s enthusiasm, rolling his eyes at a second, “Sorry!”

“Tell me why you chose Robin Hood as your role model.” Catherine retrieved the hat and settled it on the boy’s head as they continued toward the dining chamber. “What do you admire about him?”

“Well, I know no one’s a hundred percent sure if he was a real person or not. But it doesn’t matter. It’s more important what he stood for – to help other people when they were poor and hungry and no one else would take care of them. Like we do in our community.” The boy looked at his teacher and waited for his nod of approval.

“Yes, that was Robin Hood’s greatest attribute, but you must remember as well that his methods of helping were not always in keeping with the law. He often walked a fine line between what was right for the individual and wrong in the eyes of some parts of society.”

Kipper frowned, considering Vincent’s words, then his face brightened. “Like Mouse! He’s even better at this stuff than Robin Hood. Hey, I could dress up like Mouse next year!”

The adults exchanged raised-eyebrow looks as the boy scampered ahead to disappear among the revelers. Cullen barked a laugh. “And I thought Robin Hood was kind of an iffy choice.”

Vincent clapped a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. By this time next year, he’ll have found at least three or four other heroes.”

“I guess you’re right.” Cullen made his way into the swirling crowd, then threw one last comment over his shoulder. “And that’s what I’m afraid of!”

“Hey, you two look great!” Winslow grinned as the couple entered the festive chamber. “Next year, everyone should dress up like we used to do, not just the kids.”

“It would be fun,” Catherine agreed. “Right now, I feel a bit silly with us being the only adults in costume.”

Winslow shook his head. “Nah, don’t worry about it. Like I said, you both look great, and besides, we all know you’re not staying long at this shindig. So, what are your plans for when you –”

His question was cut short by that of another. “Winslow, will you please do me a favor and help with these?” Huffing a bit with exertion, Father dumped a pile of books into the man’s outstretched arms. “I had intended to fetch them earlier, but something came up, and I didn’t have time to attend to them until now.”

Catherine helped steady the unwieldy stack. “Are those for the stories you’ll read tonight, Father?”

The older man quickly surveyed his son’s appearance before turning the same inspection on her. “Yes, those books contain the traditional selections, as well as a few new stories for everyone to enjoy. Pity you’ll miss them.”

“Yes, it is,” Vincent agreed, not entirely successful in smothering a smirk. “But, of course, there’s always next year.”

Catherine’s eyes widened and she pressed her lips together for a moment to quash an appreciative grin. “It will be something to look forward to.”

Winslow shifted the pile of books. “And you’ve got something else to look forward to. Shouldn’t you get going?”

“We’ll be leaving soon, but we want to see the children’s costumes first.” Vincent kept his voice firm and even. “We don’t wish to disappoint them.”

Father opened his mouth to reply, and then – for once – seemed to think better of it. “Yes, of course. Have a…lovely evening.”

Winslow shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard, yet they all knew it was highly likely the tunnel leader might revert to character within a few seconds. “Show me where you want these books, Father. They aren’t getting any lighter the longer we stand here.”

As the older man led the way through the throng, Vincent and Catherine shared another smile, then turned in the opposite direction. “Well, that was amazing! Remind me to find a way to thank Winslow.”

Vincent grinned his agreement. “I was just thinking the same thing. Now, let’s make the rounds and then –”

“Make our escape!”

“As soon as we can.” He ducked his head for a moment. “We are doing the right thing by not staying at the party, I’m certain of that, but I hope…”

She raised a tender hand to tilt his face toward hers. “I’m certain, too, and I think everyone else – well, almost everyone else – would agree. Even the children know this is a special night for us, an opportunity we can’t give up, and they wouldn’t want us to.”

He gazed into her eyes and felt the tension tightening his face melt away. “And I must remember that sometimes we shouldn’t be afraid to want something for ourselves…”

She blinked back a glistening of happy tears. Then, hand in hand, they joined the partygoers, keeping their promises to the children and to each other.

* * *

“Don’t you look lovely!” Mary smiled at the young dancer. “Just like a true ballerina!”

“Oh, Mary, do you really think so?” As Samantha twirled, the diaphanous layers of her costume floated around her. “But is it okay if I don’t have real ballet shoes?”

Together they glanced toward the child’s feet, shod in worn sneakers dyed to match the   blush pink of her dress. “Elizabeth helped me get the color right, but they’re not what I should be wearing, are they?”

Mary shook her head. “They’re fine. I’m sure ballerinas don’t wear toe shoes all the time, so there’s no need to worry about it.”

The girl offered her a grateful smile. “I really tried hard to look like those pictures of her performances she showed us, you know, the ones she had when she came to stay with us.”

A shadow flickered across Mary’s face, but she managed to smile. “Do you mean photos of Lisa?”

The pink satin ribbon tying back the child’s long hair seemed to dance in time with the rapid nodding of her head. “Yes! She’s who I’m supposed to look like, who I want to be like.” She bit her lip as she gazed at the older woman. “Didn’t I get it right? Did I do something wrong?”

As much as Mary wished she could answer, Yes, you did something wrong in wanting to be like Lisa, she could not spoil the child’s evening – or her dreams – with the bittersweet reality she herself had been forced to face during the visit from that lost tunnel daughter.

“I just thought maybe you had chosen one of the famous ballerinas from that book of yours, the birthday gift from Catherine you’ve just about memorized. Someone like Natalia Makarova or maybe Lupe Serrano. Did I ever tell you I saw Serrano dance once? She was a wonderful Giselle! And you even look a bit like her – the same big brown eyes and long dark hair.”

Samantha’s eyes widened. “I do? I’m going to have to find out more about her! There are a lot of beautiful dancers in the book, but I wanted to choose Lisa. And when she comes back again, I’ll tell her all about it. I hope she’ll be proud of me!”

The child’s pledge nearly broke Mary’s heart, and she could no longer refrain from trying to offer her much-needed protection. “Dear, remember Lisa is very busy, and she might not be able to –”

“Hey, Sam, come over here!” Jasmine’s voice carried across the chamber “We’re going to start decorating the pumpkin cookies!”

Samantha whirled in her best friend’s direction. At the girl’s side, Geoffrey waved his kite in the air to make sure he caught her attention. “You better hurry up before Eric eats all of them!”

“He’s right!” Samantha began to make her way through the crowded room, then looked back at Mary. “I’ll decorate a cookie for you!”

Turning, the older woman let the smile fade from her face and nearly bumped into Father who had approached unnoticed. She shook her head. “Did you hear any of that?”

“Only a bit, but the look on your face has told me the rest.” His gaze traced the path the young girl had taken. “It is concerning, but we must try not to worry too much. Samantha’s future isn’t set in stone. She’s still so very young and will likely change her mind a dozen times or more.”

Mary sighed softly. “Yes, Jacob, you’re right. Still, I can’t help wishing she’d chosen someone more exemplary like the other children did. Just look at Geoffrey, all dressed up as Ben Franklin, and Jasmine. She certainly was impressed by your lesson on Ida Wells-Barnett. She hasn’t put down her notebook and pen since. She even sleeps with them!”

“True, she did choose a wonderful role model.” He smiled in approval. “And with that child’s penchant for observation and tenacity, she might truly become a ground-breaking investigative journalist, just like her current heroine.”

“You mean how she doesn’t miss a thing and always asks plenty of questions until she wears you down for an answer?”

“That, too.” His smile faded a bit. “But try not to worry about Samantha. There is nothing in her heart that resembles Lisa. She will never be like her. This is just a passing fancy, nothing more.”

As they strolled toward the refreshments table and mugs of William’s spiced apple cider, both hoped he had spoken the truth.

* * *

“I see Samantha over by the games tables. Should we talk with her now?”

Vincent followed Catherine’s gaze to alight on the costumed ballerina. For a moment, his heart clenched at the memory of another young dancer, one whose life had pivoted in a direction he vowed Samantha’s would never take. “Yes…although I’m still not sure I know what more I should say to her.”

“Vincent, you’ll know what to say when the time comes. And we’ll be here for her tonight and for all her tomorrows.”

What a wonderful mother she would be… His heart faltered at the thought, at once poignant and painful, yet somehow threaded with undeniable hope. Maybe somehow… someday…  

She looked up at him. “It might take time, but it will all work out. I promise.”

He held her hand tighter as they approached the children. “I think perhaps you’re right…”

* * *

“Eric, I don’t think that’s a real word.” Samantha tapped the four tiles the boy had arranged on the Scrabble board. “X-y-s-t. What does it mean?”

“Yeah, Sam’s right.” Geoffrey scrunched up his face. “How do you even pronounce it? Ex-ee-stuh?”

Eric grinned at his friends. “No, you say it like this — zist. And it’s worth 42 points ‘cause the x is on a triple word square. So, I win!”

“Did you say zits?” Jasmine snickered. “That’s kind of disgusting, and it’s not how you spell it anyway, so you don’t get any points at all.”

“And that means you didn’t win. I’m still ahead!” Kipper reached for the bag of tiles. “It’s my turn.”

“I did, too, win! It’s not zits spelled wrong, and it really is a real word.” Eric reached for the dictionary. “I can prove it!”

A larger hand beat him to it. “No need to check. Eric is correct.”

The boy grinned up at his teacher. “I told ‘em, Vincent, but they wouldn’t believe me!”

“Perhaps they should have.” Vincent’s gaze swept the upturned faces, many still showing glimmers of doubt. He handed the dictionary to Kipper. “But just to put everyone’s mind at ease, why don’t you read the definition to us?”

The boy paged through the book and ran his finger down columns of words. “Oh…it is a real word. It means a long portico or covered walkway used for athletics in Ancient Greece. And, you know, it does sound kinda familiar.”  He placed the book back on the table. “Sorry, Eric, you won fair and square.”

The younger boy’s grin stretched across his face as he acknowledged similar comments from his friends.

“How did you know that word?” Geoffrey’s voice reflected a hint of awe. “I never heard it before.”

Eric shot a warning glance toward Vincent. “I’ll tell you later. Let’s go get some candy or something!”

Nearly all the other children eagerly abandoned the debate at the games table for more delicious delights.

“Sam, are you coming?” Jasmine paused in mid-flight. “Don’t forget William made candy apples for us!”

“You go ahead. I’ll be there in a minute, okay? I need to talk to Vincent and Catherine first.”

Making sure none of the other children remained in earshot, she turned to the couple. “I know why Eric didn’t want to say how he knew about the word. He didn’t want to get Geoffrey – or the rest of us — in trouble.”

Vincent smiled at her. “I’m sure I can forgive Geoffrey – and the rest of you — for not paying attention in class… just this once.”

She looked down at her feet. “I didn’t remember it until Kipper read the definition. You told us about it, but I guess it didn’t stay in my head too long.”

Catherine patted her on the shoulder. “I bet you’ll never forget it again.”

“I won’t! And it made sense Eric thought of it. It went with his costume and all, so that really should have given the rest of us a clue.”

“And now you have to give me a clue because I have no idea who his costume represents, although I guess it must be one of the Ancient Greek Olympians.” Catherine looked expectantly at the girl. “The toga he was wearing over his sweatshirt and jeans didn’t help much. There are just too many possibilities to choose from, so who is it?”

Catherine watched Samantha and Vincent exchange amused looks. “What? His toga could represent Julius Caesar or Mark Antony, neither of whom were Greek.”

Vincent tilted his head toward Samantha. “Do you want to tell her or should I?”

The girl’s giggles were answer enough. “Catherine, didn’t you see Eric’s feet?” She waited as Catherine shook her head. “He glued feathers to his sneakers.”

“Oh! I never noticed. Now it all makes sense. But how did he come up with that idea?”

“We were having races in the park a few weeks ago, and even though he’s one of the youngest, he’s the fastest.” Samantha’s voice indicated the surprise and respect she had for the boy’s abilities. “And it was also around the time we were studying some of the Greek myths and ancient history in class.”

“Once he decided on Hermes, there was no persuading him otherwise,” Vincent added, “especially when Kipper chose Robin Hood. It was then Father realized he hadn’t specified that the children’s role models had to be real people.”

Samantha nodded. “Eric could have picked Phidippides or Leonidas of Rhodes, but I guess Hermes sounded like more fun, being a god and all.”

Vincent smiled at her approvingly. “I see someone certainly was paying attention in class.”

A rosy blush covered Samantha’s face. “I just like learning new things. It’s fun to find out facts you never knew before.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Catherine reached for Vincent’s hand as she continued to smile at the young girl. “So, tell me a little about your costume. You look beautiful! I know how you love ballet, but I’d like to learn more about your choice. Which ballerina do you admire most?”

“Well, I almost picked one from the beautiful book you gave me, but there were so many, I couldn’t decide. Then, I had a great idea. I picked Lisa! She’s the only real ballerina I’ve ever met, and she told me she’s sure I can become a great dancer, too, just like her. And she gave me my first lesson, so she’s the one I chose.”

The hopeful look on the girl’s face could not be ignored. “That all makes sense,” Catherine began. “It’s always a good idea to base a decision on what you already know and then go on from there.”

“That’s what I thought, too! Plus, I really do admire Lisa a lot!” A sudden frown tightened her face. “But I almost changed my mind because of what somebody else said. And then I talked to Vincent about it.” The light returned to her eyes as she gazed up at her hero. “And he made me understand I shouldn’t listen if someone says something mean. I should follow my heart and not let anyone take away my dreams.”

His gaze flickered to Catherine’s soft smile and then back to the glowing face of the young girl. “I’m glad, Samantha. It’s an important lesson, but it’s one some of us don’t learn until we’re much older.”

“Well, I think Kipper is learning it, too, because he finally apologized to me. He still didn’t actually say he was wrong.” She shrugged her shoulders and sighed. “But at least he said he was sorry.”

“And that’s a start. It shows he regrets having hurt you, and perhaps he does know he was wrong but is not yet ready to admit it. Don’t give up on him, Samantha. Kipper is your friend, no matter what. But it often takes some people longer to realize the truth than it does others.”

Samantha and Catherine shared a knowing grin and a single word. “Boys!”

Clearly not wanting Vincent to feel insulted, the girl quickly changed the subject. “I love your costumes! You look like a beautiful painting in a fairytale book!”

“Thank you — that’s exactly what we were going for.” Catherine gently pulled her hand from Vincent’s grasp, then reached to readjust the tilt of his crown. “I’m glad you think we were successful.”

“Oh, definitely! I could tell immediately you’re supposed to be a storybook prince and princess!” She waved to Jasmine who was bounding through the crowd to rejoin them. “Don’t Vincent and Catherine look wonderful!”

“Yeah, you guys really look amazing! I heard you’re going Above for Halloween. So, what are you going to do up there?”

“An old family friend is on the Board of Directors at Lincoln Center. They’re having an invitational benefit tonight for the Metropolitan Opera, and since it’s Halloween and tonight’s selection is Cendrillon, everyone invited was asked to dress like fairy tale characters.”

“Sohn-dree-what?” Jasmine frowned. “Is that a real fairytale? If it is, I don’t think I’ve ever read it.”

“It’s French for Cinderella,” Vincent explained. “And after the performance there will be a reception with a menu of French foods and Champagne.” His voice held a shimmer of awe. “And an orchestra for dancing.”

“Well, the party sounds nice, but an opera?” The girl shrugged. “Well, I guess it could be kind of fun in a way. Maybe.”

Samantha nudged her friend. “Of course, it’s fun! It’s fun for grown-ups. Maybe we’ll even want to see one someday. I’m sure I would!”

“Yeah, maybe, but right now I want to listen to Father read ghost stories!”

“Me, too!”

They watched the girls dart toward the gathering of tunnel dwellers about to enjoy Father’s traditional offering, along with some sweet treats from William’s kitchen.

“I think we lost them as soon as they heard the word opera.”

Vincent laughed softly. “We did.” He watched her glance at the delicate gold watch encircling her wrist. “Is it time to leave?”

“Yes. Peter’s expecting us at his brownstone in about twenty minutes. Did I tell you he’s arranged for a limo for us along with his date and him?” They made their way to the chamber entrance, enjoying good wishes from their friends en route. “But he didn’t say a word about their costumes. Do you know what they chose?”

Vincent hesitated for a moment. “I’m not entirely certain, but when he was here a few nights ago, he did mention something about Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf.”

Catherine laughed as they entered the passageway and headed toward the threshold under Peter’s building. “When you meet his latest fling, those costume choices will make perfect sense. But I wonder which one of them is going as the Wolf?”

A faint blush deepened beneath the golden stubble on his face. “I’d just assumed that would be Peter, but… well, finding out should be…interesting.”

“To say the least.” She linked her arm in his. “But before we get there, let’s talk about Samantha. Are you all right with what just happened?”

“I will be. Nothing was resolved, but perhaps this was not the right time to discuss it further.”

“I agree. Let her enjoy the evening, and we’ll wait and see what becomes of all this.” She looked up at him. “Maybe her fascination with Lisa will fade in time.”

“And if it doesn’t, then we will help her cross that bridge when the time comes.”

“We will.” She squeezed his arm. “And, Lisa aside, nothing should squash her obvious interest in ballet.” She hesitated for a moment. “I have an idea. What do you think about my taking Samantha to see one? New York City Ballet will begin performances of The Nutcracker next month.”

“I think it’s a wonderful idea, Catherine. It will be something she will never forget.”

“But do you think Father will approve?”

He shrugged. “It could go either way. But maybe if we approach him together about this, we can soothe any doubts he might have. I suspect he would be happy to see Samantha’s devotion to ballet expand beyond her misplaced belief in Lisa.”

She smiled at him. “That’s a very good point. And I agree it would be much more effective if we did this together, kind of as a unified front.”

Those fleeting images flickered through his heart again. Someday…maybe someday…

He smiled back at her. “I think he will find it more difficult to say no directly to you, Catherine. He’s had many more years of practice when it comes to me.”

“I’ll have to use my most persuasive arguments, call on all my on-the-job training. But there is something else to consider. What about the other children? I don’t want to exclude them, even though this should be a special event for Samantha.”

“Maybe…we…can think of something else for them another time.”

He knew she longed to say more, but understood when she simply replied, “Yes, although I think Jasmine might like to be included this time.”

He smiled at her upturned, hopeful face. “As long as you assure her it’s not an opera.”

Her laugh floated in the air around them. “Good idea!”

* * *

“Olivia!” Samantha dodged William as he wove through the crowd, bearing another tray laden with pumpkin, spice, and chocolate cupcakes. “Olivia, could you please help me?”

“Of course, Samantha.” She cast an apologetic look toward the cook, effectively silencing his about-to-be roar at the near miss. “What do you need?”

She held out a pink satin ribbon. “It fell out of my hair. I guess I didn’t tie it tight enough. Can you fix it, please?”

Olivia took the ribbon from her. “Turn around – and try to hold still.”  She wove the ribbon’s length through the girl’s hair and tied it securely in a bow. “There – all set.”

Samantha spun back to face her. “Thanks!”

“The color matches your dress perfectly.” Rebecca smiled at the exuberant child. “Where did you find it? Was it in that bag of donations from Nanette’s fabric shop?”

The ribbon fluttered as Samantha shook her head. “No, I’ve had it for a long time. I got almost all the material for my costume from Nanette, but Lisa gave me the ribbon when she visited.” She reached a hand toward her hair and slid the ribbon through her fingers, giving it a pat before continuing. “It was from one of her ballet shoes – you know, the pointed ones – and it used to be longer, but I had to cut a piece off ‘cause I needed it for something else. But I’m going to save the rest of it forever!”

“Well, it’s still long enough, and Olivia did a great job twining it through your hair.” Rebecca ruffled her puff of blonde curls. “I wish someone could do something half as nice with my hair!”

Samantha bit her lip. “Maybe I could give you part of my ribbon. I probably don’t need all of it.”

“It’s very sweet of you, but I don’t think even a very special ribbon like that could help this mop!”

Olivia tilted her head, considering her friend’s words. “I don’t know, Becca, maybe with some really strong hairspray, a couple of clips, some nice sharp scissors…”

“Don’t you dare!” Rebecca shuddered in mock horror. “I’ve changed my mind. It’s fine the way it is!”

Olivia grinned at her friend. “Oh? Have you gotten compliments lately from a certain person who shall –“ she looked pointedly at Samantha who was following their every word with great interest “– remain nameless for now?”

Rebecca’s blush was all the answer Samantha needed. “Who, Rebecca? I won’t tell. I promise!”

“Olivia’s just being funny.” Rebecca shot a glare at her friend. “She knows I’m sensitive about my hair – that’s all she meant.”

Clearly unconvinced, Samantha tried to think of a way to get further information on such an intriguing topic. But before she could formulate a plan, she heard her name being called and turned to see Mary and Jasmine heading her way.

“Samantha, will you help Jasmine and me bring the little ones to the nursery chamber? It’s way past their bedtime.” Mary held a squirming Gemma by the hand as several other youngsters scampered around her. “Father’s on a tea break to rest his voice for a few minutes, so you’ll be back in time to hear the other stories.”

“The scary ones?” Jasmine asked eagerly. “Sure, we can help, but let’s hurry because I don’t want to miss them!”

“I don’t want to hear scary stories!” Nathaniel grabbed at Jasmine’s jacket. “I don’t want no bad dreams!”

“That’s why you’re going to bed now,” the girl assured him. “You won’t hear any more stories, and you can have all the happy dreams you want. There’s nothing to be afraid of here!”

Trusting her promise, he let Jasmine lead him away, as Samantha corralled the twins to herd them in the same direction. “Did you like the party?”

“I loved it!” Leah bounced on her toes. “See? I’m still being Tigger!”

Her twin patted his yellow, fleece-covered tummy. “Me, too! I’m still being Pooh Bear!”

Samantha grasped their hands as they walked on either side of her. “You both look really cute. But why do you want to be like Tigger and Winnie the Pooh when you grow up?”

Leah looked at her as only an exasperated four-year-old can. “Because they’re bestest friends.”

“Yeah, like us – bestest friends forever and ever!”

Samantha smiled as she led them into the nursery chamber toward Mary, Lena, and Brooke who waited with pajamas and soft toys. “Now I get it. You two will always be best friends, just like Jasmine and me.”

The two girls quickly headed back toward the chamber entrance, only to be stopped by a loud wail. “My bunny!”

“What about your bunny, dear?” Mary’s gentle voice had no effect whatsoever on the youngster’s cries. “Is he lost?”

“I don’t know!” Gemma’s voice rose to a shriek. “He’s gone!”

Brooke settled Nathaniel in his bed. “She had it with her when Father was reading. I’ll go look for it.”

“No! Don’t go!” Nathaniel’s quivering voice promised the next round of tears. “You said you were gonna stay here ‘til I fall asleep!”

Brooke exchanged glances with Lena and Mary, each dealing with other over-tired toddlers. “Nathaniel, it’s okay. I’ll be right back –”

“No!!”

“I can look for Gemma’s bunny,” Samantha offered. “I remember where she was sitting during the stories. I’m sure I can find it.”

Brooke sighed gratefully. “Thanks, Sam. That would be really helpful.”

“I’ll be back in a few minutes!” With Jasmine right behind her, Samantha fled toward the dining chamber. “You go on in and save me a seat.”

“Are you sure? I can help you look. You don’t want to miss the scary stories either. I remember you said so before.”

“I’m sure. This won’t take long, and I’ll be right back.”

Minutes later, having retrieved a bedraggled corduroy bunny from under a table and depositing it snuggly in the arms of its whimpering owner, Samantha hurried back to the party. She paused in the doorway and shivered at the change in the chamber’s atmosphere. Several wall torches had been extinguished, leaving only candles scattered on surfaces around the room. At the far end, the flickering light cast a somewhat eerie glow over Father as his evocative voice began to read the first lines of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.

“In the bosom of one of those spacious coves which indent the eastern shore of the Hudson…”

She shivered, even while knowing what was to come, admiring the way those innocent-sounding opening lines could be made so foreboding by Father’s reading talent. It made her want to improve her own skills for reading aloud to the little ones at bedtime. Maybe Father would give her some tips, maybe even help her practice.

Lost in thought as she carefully made her way through the enthralled audience, intent on claiming her saved spot next to Jasmine, she felt a cough tickle her throat. She hurriedly pivoted toward the kitchen to grab a glass of water, but before she could dart inside, she heard hushed voices from within the room. Peeking past the doorway, she spotted Olivia and Rebecca, turned in the opposite direction, their heads close in quiet conversation.

Samantha knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but it was so tempting. Maybe she would discover who had been giving Rebecca compliments. Maybe there was a secret romance going on! She hesitated as her conscience worked to dissuade her; then, as she was about to turn away, a name was spoken — her own. The word froze her in place. Hoping to remain unnoticed in the shadows, she made the only possible choice. She listened.

“Poor Samantha.” Olivia sighed heavily. “She has no idea what a mistake she made tonight.”

“I know.” Rebecca’s voice was laced with pity. “Imagine choosing Lisa as a role model. She really couldn’t have made a worse choice.”

“But it’s easy to see how it happened. Lisa strolled in here out of nowhere, like she’s some kind of celebrity – all full of exciting stories –”

“You mean lies!”

Samantha struggled to suppress a gasp. What lies? Lisa didn’t lie to me! She’d never do anything like that!

Olivia sighed again. “True. And she’s such a convincing liar, there’s no way Samantha could have guessed the truth. No one ever talks about that in front of the children.”

“Maybe someone should have!” Anger flared in Rebecca’s voice. “The whole time Lisa was here, we all let them think she was some special little angel, flitting around enchanting everyone with not an evil bone in her body.”

Olivia’s voice took on a hardened edge. “And that makes us liars, almost as bad as she is!”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far, but maybe it seemed like it was okay to not say anything and just let it go. After all, we all know Lisa is never coming back here again.”

Samantha held her breath to keep from crying out. Never coming back? They can’t be right! Lisa said so. She promised!

“I think you’re right, Bec. I suppose we all thought that once she was gone, everyone would forget about her again, like last time. Who would have imagined someone as sweet as Samantha would become so enthralled with her and believe what she said? I don’t know how Lisa can still be so cruel.”

Rebecca sounded close to tears. “She hasn’t changed a bit. Lisa has never in her whole life made a promise she had any intention of keeping.”

Olivia huffed. “That’s for sure! I know I shouldn’t say this, but I wish Father had never let her come here to live back when we were kids. Too bad that Helper couldn’t keep her anymore.”

Samantha felt as if she might faint. They can’t be talking about my Lisa! They must mean someone else – anyone else!

“I’ve always wondered what the real story was on that, but I guess we’ll never find out.” Rebecca’s tone clearly conveyed her suspicions. “But I agree with you. If she’d never been allowed to stay with us for those few years, she never would have had the chance to torture Vincent and break his heart!”

A shudder echoed through Olivia’s reply. “If he hadn’t recovered, I never would have forgiven her!”

“Me either! I would have gone Above myself and hunted her down!”

Whatever the women said for the next several seconds was lost to Samantha. It was as if she were trapped in a nightmare world where nothing made sense. Lisa, the beautiful, amazing woman she idolized, had once hurt Vincent, maybe almost killed him? It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. She didn’t want to listen anymore, but she had to.

“It was a happy day when Father sent her away.” Olivia’s voice rang with satisfaction. “And thank heavens Vincent recovered.”

“But don’t forget the effect Lisa had on him. Look at all those years afterwards when he thought no one could ever love him. Vincent, of all people – who couldn’t love him?”

Olivia snorted loudly. “We know the answer to that. Someone who can only love herself!”

“What a blessing he met Catherine.” A smile sounded in Rebecca’s voice. “Now, there’s someone to truly admire. She would be a wonderful role model for any child. Well, for some adults, too, right?”

“Absolutely. And what a shame Samantha didn’t choose her to emulate instead of that self-centered liar. When that child realizes Lisa is never going to come back again, it’s going to break her heart.”

That word again – never – it just couldn’t be true…could it?

“Well, if what Father told us is true, and I’m sure it is, Lisa is living the high life in South America after she wormed her way out of any criminal charges. She can’t risk coming back to New York. We’ll never see her again.”

“And it’s fine with me! I don’t want her anywhere around Luke or any of the other children now or ever!”

From the darkened dining chamber, loud gasps and a few screams were followed by waves of self-conscious laughter and applause from Father’s appreciative audience.

“Bec, we should go join the others. We’re missing all the best parts!”

Rebecca laughed. “Which we’ve heard how many times since we were kids?”

“Yes, I know, but it’s still fun!”

At the sound of the women’s approaching footsteps, Samantha melted into the shadowy darkness, then fled toward her own chamber. She had no need to be terrified by scary Halloween stories. The one she had just heard would haunt her forever.

* * *

The days passed, flowing from one to the next as the tunnel community resumed their everyday existence. Chores and classes continued; problems and dilemmas were dealt with; dreams of the future were set aside for the reality of the present. Life went on as it always had, as it always would.

Except for the life of one broken-hearted girl.

Samantha had hated lying to her best friend, telling her she’d hadn’t felt well and had gone to bed early instead of returning to the party. She never told lies, and she shuddered just thinking about having done such a thing. Maybe she was more like Lisa than she’d imagined she could be. Maybe she was nothing but a liar, too.

She huddled on a rocky ledge above the Great Falls, hoping no one would think to look for her there. Maybe no one would even want to.

What a fool she’d made of herself, wanting to be like Lisa when everyone knew what a horrible person her idol really was. She’d tried to forget every word of the conversation she’d overheard, but it was impossible, nor could she justify and explain them away. She’d told herself the other women were jealous of Lisa, of her beauty and success. She’d tried to convince herself that no one understood Lisa like she did; no one else had ever had the special connection they shared. And it had almost worked.

Except for what they’d said about Vincent. Lisa had hurt him, tortured him, broken his heart. She flinched at the remembered words. That was something no one, not even a deluded, starstruck child, could ignore or wish away…or forgive.

Shame flared on her tear-stained cheeks. How had she failed to see even the tiniest hint of what the woman truly was? And why hadn’t anyone told her the truth? A surge of anger flared within her. No one had said a word. They’d all let her go on believing in a horrible lie. No one had really tried to help her. Even Vincent’s attempts hadn’t been enough.

But she knew that wasn’t entirely true. She had heard the hints in the others’ voices, seen the worried looks in their eyes, suspected there were secrets she ought to know. Still, she had ignored it all, the veiled suggestions, the subtle warnings, all the allusions no one had explained because they hadn’t wanted to hurt her feelings or destroy her dreams. Yet by protecting her, they’d hurt her even more.

That realization was almost as painful as forcing herself to accept the truth about the woman who had symbolized everything she had longed to become. It had all been an illusion, as devoid of reality as any staged performance or retouched photograph.

She reached into her pocket for a handkerchief to wipe away her tears, but instead of worn linen, her fingers grasped a length of soft satin. She’d thought about throwing it into the Abyss but could not imagine letting it go. Her dreams of becoming a ballerina like Lisa were ending, slowly, painfully, inevitably, yet she could not give up the last tangible thread that had once entwined her fantasies with possibilities.

She thought again of Vincent, how he’d been so terribly hurt by Lisa, almost destroyed in ways she could not understand, nor did she wish to. He’d known all too well the person Lisa truly was. Why hadn’t he told her, warned her, turned her away from the deceit and destruction hidden in an image of superficial grace and beauty?

His words echoed in her memory. He had tried to tell her, but she hadn’t listened. She hadn’t known how…but now she did. It was as if he were there beside her again, telling her she could do anything she wished to do, be anyone she wished to be. He had urged her to make the right choices, to listen to people who truly cared about her.

Her lips quivered as she fought back further tears. She had thought Lisa was one such person, but now she knew the woman cared only about herself.

She wondered for a moment why Lisa had made such terrible decisions, what had driven her to choose the path she’d taken. Had no one ever told Lisa the words Vincent had spoken to her? Or, the child shuddered, maybe Lisa truly had followed her heart, a heart that had no goodness in it.

She thought of the promise she’d made to Vincent and how she had kept it. She’d followed her heart when she believed in Lisa, but now she knew she’d made a terrible mistake. Still, it was not too late to choose another direction, to travel a better path. She breathed a ragged sigh. All she could do was try.

But she couldn’t do it on her own. Her friends and her family loved her, but she needed something they couldn’t give. She needed someone else, someone she could trust, who wouldn’t betray her in any way. A tear trickled along her cheek. Did that person even exist?

In a twinkling, the answer seemed to float before her. There was someone. Someone who was light to Lisa’s darkness, unbreakable hope instead of shattered dreams. Someone who would never offer a flood of falsehoods but instead would help her find her own world of truths.

For long moments, she wavered, wondering if this was just another fantasy, one she should force herself to forget. But she couldn’t bring herself to sacrifice her one final bit of hope. It had to be possible. This was her last chance. And even if it, too, ended in heartbreak and broken dreams, at least she would have tried. And she would have kept her promise.

* * *

Samantha shifted her weight from one foot to the other, back and forth, back and forth, as she peered through the translucent curtain of hazy light marking the threshold between Catherine’s world and her own. It felt as if she’d been waiting for hours, days, her whole life.

At last! Forcing herself to keep from hopping up and down like a child, she smoothed her hair and folded her hands, while shaping her feet into proper third position. Just like the pictures in her treasured book, she became a classic image of control and serenity, save for the rapid beating of her heart.

“Hi, Catherine!”

“Samantha!” She smiled but Samantha saw her quick glance toward the empty tunnel beyond them. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

“Vincent said I could walk you to his chamber.”  Maybe this was the wrong way to begin. She’d probably already disappointed her friend by taking time away from the moments she treasured with Vincent. Maybe this was a mistake after all, and she should give up the dreams, the plans, the hopes that had brought her to this point.

But the smile Catherine gave her was warm and welcoming. “It will be so nice to have time to talk, just the two of us.” Catherine began walking toward the home chambers, then paused when she realized her young friend seemed frozen in place. “Samantha, is anything wrong?”

She shook her head. “Not really, but can I please talk to you about something? It’s – it’s personal, and I don’t want anyone else to hear.” She bit her lip as if to keep her secrets from tumbling out too soon.

“Of course, you can.” There was a gentleness in Catherine’s voice and eyes. “I’ve been wanting to talk with you, too. And whatever we say can stay just between the two of us.”

It was exactly what Samantha had hoped for. But despite countless rehearsals to prepare for this moment, her thoughts began to leap and twirl, resisting the discipline required by words. I can’t – I have to – but it’s too much to ask – she’ll say no – but this is my last chance…she’s my only hope…

The girl took a deep breath, filling her lungs with air and expanding her rib cage, just as she was taught to do during the single lesson she’d cherished in a brief, never-to-be-repeated encounter.

“I know I’m not supposed to ask for things like this — but I can’t stop thinking about it — I even dream about it!” Her words sprang and scattered like startled swans in a crossbow’s sights. “I’ve tried and tried, and my book has really helped, but I need to learn more. And I thought I would.” She tried to blink away tears. “Lisa promised to teach me – she promised! But now I know she’s a terrible person, a liar who likes to hurt people. And I’m glad she isn’t coming back!”

She took deep shuddering breaths, trying her best to keep herself from shattering. “But she was the one who was going to help me learn to be a dancer…and now I know it’ll never happen. It can’t. But I still wish – I still want…”

She longed to ignore the painful truth in her own words, but she could not deny their reality, even though for a while she’d convinced herself she could. I want – I wish. Everyone wanted something. That didn’t mean they were going to get it. And wishes were only for foolish children.

She blinked back useless tears. I need to remember what’s real. I can’t ask for things like this…some dreams won’t ever come true.

She shuddered, then stiffened her spine. “I’m sorry, Catherine. It doesn’t matter. It was just a stupid dream. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Catherine gathered the girl into her arms. “Of course, you should have. And I’m honored you want to share with me something that’s clearly so important to you.” She smoothed the child’s hair with a tender hand. “I think I can guess what it might be, but will you tell me more? I’d like to help.”

For long moments, the girl clung to Catherine and to remnants of hope, allowing herself what might be one final glimpse of a shimmering fantasy before surrendering it forever to stark reality. With a sigh, she pulled away and again reached for strength that until now she hadn’t realized she possessed.

She brushed a trembling hand across her tear-dampened, downcast eyes. She still wasn’t certain she had the courage to reveal her secrets or to accept the pity she might see on Catherine’s face. But she had to take one last chance.

Yet where were the words she’d planned to say? Suddenly she felt as if she were spinning in one direction and then another and another, as if she were losing herself again. She could not let that happen, and yet she could not move.

When a gentle hand supported her chin, she raised her head to see something wondrous waiting in her friend’s eyes. There was no pity, no judgment. Instead, she saw only kindness and compassion.

“Samantha, everyone should have a cherished dream. And every dream should have a chance to come true.”

She felt a fluttering in her heart. Could it be – after all? No, it can’t…but maybe… maybe?

As she continued to gaze at Catherine, she realized an undeniable truth. This was not someone who would lie to her, who would deceive and destroy her. This was someone who meant every word she said, who would give wings to dreams, light to darkness. This time, she knew she’d made the right choice.

“So, will you tell me more? I really would like to help.”

It all tumbled from her – longing and loss, promise and pain, dreams and denial – a pas de bourree, a glissade, an adagio of words – until the girl was left breathless but buoyed by newfound hope.

Catherine’s smile banished the last of the shadows. “Remember the family friend I mentioned, the one who’s involved with Lincoln Center? His daughter was a very successful ballerina, and now she’s a wonderful teacher. She loves to work with promising young people.”

“Oh, Catherine, do you really think…”

She nodded. “Now, I can’t make any promises yet, but I’ll talk with my friend, and then together you and I can speak with Father. I have a feeling he’ll say yes.”

Samantha trembled, then her limbs strengthened as if she could take flight, soaring into a world that no longer existed only as a lost illusion. “Thank you, Catherine! Thank you!”

“And I thought you and I – and Jasmine if you’d like to invite her to join us – might go to see a production of The Nutcracker in a week or two. I’ve already talked about it with Father – well, Vincent helped – and he said it would be all right.”

It was as if the words she heard were those of a magic spell, weaving a wonderful new reality from the fantasies of a fairytale.

Their clasped hands swung rhythmically back and forth as they walked onward, talking of studio barres and white satin pointe shoes, arabesques and jetes, enchanted princes and courageous heroines.

Behind them a frayed pink satin ribbon drifted on a cool tunnel breeze, then dropped to the dusty floor, no longer tying a young girl’s heart to broken promises.