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“Remember, class, your feet should be in first position. Alice? Alice! That means our heels should be kissing and toes pointing out. Heels kissing Alice.”
Waverly’s voice strained to be heard over the soft whine of violins and the airy whistle of flutes streaming from an old-fashioned boombox in the corner of the large, rectangular space in what had formerly been an abandoned one room schoolhouse, but had, a few decades ago, been converted into a dance studio. The original wooden floors had been sanded and refinished. Two of the four walls were lined with large panels of glass. A barre had been attached to the farthest wall. But, even with all the changes that had been made, the space still held on tightly to its past. The floors creaked and the air smelled musty and old. The energies of hundreds of teachers and students who had filled the room year after year still cling to its bones.
While many called the place haunted or creepy, Waverly found it oddly comforting. She never felt alone here, though she often was, dancing across the complaining floorboards with only the ghosts to applaud her.
“Keep your arms nice and round like you’re holding a beach ball,” she gently, but insistently, reminded nearly a dozen children between the ages of four and six years old who stood in two straight lines from one end of the room to the other. “A beach ball, Alice, not a bowling ball.”
A stifled giggle from a tiny body in the back row set off an echo of similar sounds from the children around her. Alice’s arms hung low between her bent knees, shoulders hunched as if she were cradling a fifty pound baby. “My beach ball is heavy, Auntie Waverly! It’s full of…of…chocolate milk!”
The laughter grew louder and a handful of students began to mimic Waverly’s niece's performance.
Waverly smiled indulgently. Alice was every ounce her mother’s daughter, with piercing blue eyes, wild, dark brown curls that stretched to her lower back, and a dimpled smile that could melt the frostiest of hearts. Alice was small for her age, short, with scrawny limbs and knobby knees, but, what she lacked in size, she more than made up for in personality. Her mother’s feisty, headstrong, independent spirit swirled around her like the photosphere of the sun, emitting bursts of energy, sparks of joy, or eruptions of anger. The tiny spitfire never felt anything in a small way.
Waverly had told Wynonna that ballet might not be the best fit for someone as free spirited as Alice, but Alice, herself, had insisted.
“I want to be a beautiful dancer, just like you, Auntie Waverly!” her niece had said in that adorably high pitched voice of hers.
With those round, pleading eyes and tiny hands balled together in front of her chest like a prayer, how could Waverly say no?
So, as the formerly uniform rows of children began to wobble with hysterics, Waverly had no one to blame but herself.
“Alight, alright class, settle down. Everyone, take a look at Alice’s form.”
Ten sets of eyes turned to face the small girl with the messy bun and grape jelly on the knee of her tights, who, in turn, grinned brilliantly under their attention.
“See how her heels are kissing, toes are pointed out, but her knees are bent? Who knows what that movement is called?”
Three hands shot into the air.
“Penelope?”
“Plié?”
“Yes!” Waverly praised. Penelope, the daughter of Waverly’s close friend Chrissy and her husband Perry, was the youngest student in her class at four years old. Four and three quarters according to the little girl. “That’s exactly right. Plié. There is a demi plié, which is just a little bend. And, what Alice is doing now, is called a grand plié. Grand means big! Let’s all pretend our beach balls are filled with chocolate milk and bend our knees into a grand plié. Good! Now, back up. Perfect! Keep those backs straight and tall!”
“Auntie Waverly?!” Alice shouted.
Waverly turned her attention back to her niece. “Yes?”
“Will there be gran plays in the Nutcracker?”
Doing her best to hide the sink in her shoulders, Waverly forced a smile. It had been eight years since she’d begun teaching beginner’s ballet and every year ended the same way: with a humble, little performance of the Nutcracker held in the auditorium at Purgatory High. The townspeople loved it. For Waverly, however, it marked the end of another year.
Another year of the same.
Another year alone.
While the feminist in her balked at the idea that she needed a partner to give her life meaning, Waverly couldn’t ignore her growing loneliness. She loved her job, loved living on the homestead with her sister, brother-in-law, and niece, but still, every night she went to bed alone.
She’d watched as her friends and family got married and had kids. It hadn’t bothered her much at first, but as those children grew, visual representations of the passage of time, Waverly’s heart began to sink under the sand of her own hourglass. She didn’t need to get married or even have kids, per se, but Waverly did want love. To be the little spoon on a cold night. To have more than just dance to fill her soul.
“Yes, Alice. There will be pliés in the Nutcracker. As well as sautés and jetés and lots of other things we still have to learn. So let’s keep practicing! Everyone to the right side of the room.”
The brush of tiny slippered feet sliding across the floor nearly muffled the rapping of knuckles against wood. At the unexpected sound, Waverly paused the music on the boombox. The weathered front door creaked open.
“Hi! Can I help you?” Waverly greeted.
A tall woman in a sheriff’s uniform leaned into the room. She removed her Stetson and held it to her chest, revealing a mop of short, copper hair. “Hi! My name’s Nicole. Nicole Haught. I called last week about enrolling my son in your class?”
For just a moment, Waverly stared, lips parted, at the beautiful woman hovering in the doorway. She knew the woman had spoken, she’d seen the movement of her lips, but the words took longer than they should have to filter into her brain.
As she stood in awed silence, the children fidgeting and eyeing the interaction curiously, Nicole’s friendly smile twitched into a hint of a smirk. “Miss Earp?”
At the sound of her name, Waverly shook her head, clearing the fog. “Right! Yes! Haught. The new sheriff. I’m so sorry it slipped my mind. Welcome!”
Nicole shuffled into the room, her movement restricted by two small arms wrapped around her legs.
For the first time, Waverly noticed a child hiding behind the sheriff. She cocked her head to the side and smiled, slowly approaching the timid boy. When she was about three feet away, Waverly crouched down to his level. “You must be Xavier.”
Deep brown eyes peeked around the sheriff’s pleated, polyester pants.
“I’m Waverly. I’m really excited to have you in my class. I hear you love to dance.”
Xavier stepped out a little further, revealing a full head of thick, dark curls, pulled back into a bun. A handful of unruly spirals framed his round face, bouncing ever so slightly as he nodded in the affirmative.
“Well then, we all have something in common. Do you think you could join us for a bit?” Waverly pointed at an open space beside Alice.
“Okay,” Xavier responded, his voice barely a whisper.
Waverly looked up at Nicole, finding a warmth in the woman’s features as she observed their interaction. “Class is over in about half an hour. Are you okay to come back then?”
Nicole nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
Reaching out a hand, Waverly led the boy to the line of children.
“Hi! I’m Alice!” Alice greeted immediately.
“Hey.”
“Don’t worry, you’re gonna have fun here. My Auntie Waverly is the best teacher, and I’m an awesome dancer, so I can teach you anything you need to know. I’m basically an expert by now. And we always get stickers at the end of class and sometimes Auntie Waverly let’s us freestyle which is the most fun, and-”
“Alice, thank you for introducing yourself,” Waverly interrupted as kindly as possible. “How about we go around the room and everyone can do the same.”
As each child began rattling off their names, one at a time, Waverly watched the sheriff exit the building, admiring the confidence in her shoulders, the slight swagger in her walk, and the way she placed her Stetson, one handed, back atop her head before gripping the handle of the door. A flush of heat flooded Waverly’s body and she resisted the urge to fan herself.
“Okay! One, two, three, all eyes on me!” Waverly sang, getting the kids’ attention. “One last lesson for today and then some freestyle!”
The class erupted in whoops and cheers.
“Yes, yes, I’m excited too. But first, grand jeté. Grand jeté means a long horizontal jump from one foot to the other. Basically, a big leap. Your front leg shoots straight out in front and the back leg is fully extended behind you. Your arms are open wide, following the direction of your legs.”
She stared out into a crowd of shrugged shoulders and furrowed brows.
“Here, I’ll demonstrate.”
Waverly stood alongside her students, gave herself a small running start, and then leapt into the air, legs in a perfectly straight line, toes pointed, landing with the softest of thuds.
Alice beamed with pride. “Can I go first?!”
“Sure. Everyone form a line behind Alice.”
One by one, the children ran and jumped, clumsily making their way from one end of the room to the other, laughing at their own awkward attempts to copy their teacher. Everyone, except Xavier, whose grand jeté was nearly as perfect as Waverly’s.
“Well done, everyone! I’m so proud of all your hard work. You have more than earned a dance party!”
Turning on some upbeat music, Waverly smiled at the jumping, flailing, giggling bodies that flitted around the classroom like birds in a puddle.
When the clock struck noon, Waverly praised each student and doled out stickers into eagerly waiting hands.
As parents filed in to collect their children and Waverly turned to gather her own things, she felt a tap on her shoulder, spinning to find herself face to gorgeous face with Nicole Haught.
“I just wanted to thank you for being so wonderful with X today,” the sheriff said with a smile.
“Oh! It was my pleasure, really. He’s such a sweetheart.”
“He was really nervous about joining a new class. He’d had so many friends in the big city and it was hard to leave.”
“I’m sure it was. How long has he been dancing? He’s really very talented.”
“Since before he could walk,” Nicole answered with a laugh.
“I was the same way. I never feel more myself than when I’m dancing.”
A silence passed between them and Waverly felt as if Nicole wanted to say something. A question flashed behind warm, cinnamon eyes and Waverly unconsciously leaned forward a bit, waiting for it to spill from the woman’s lips.
But Nicole just shook her head and blinked. “Uh…well, I’ll see you next week. Thanks again.”
Waverly watched her walk away, biting her bottom lip between her teeth. Next week.
-
“So how was class?” Nicole asked her son as he buckled himself into his booster seat.
He smiled at his mother’s reflection in the rearview mirror. “It was great! Miss Waverly said I did an amazing grand jeté!”
“Oh, yeah? And that’s French for…”
“A big leap!”
Nicole put the car in gear and began the short drive to the diner for lunch. “Miss Waverly seems really nice.”
And beautiful.
“She is! I like her, Mommy.”
Me too.
Nicole thought of the petite woman’s kind, hazel eyes that crinkled when she smiled. Stop it, Haught. You’ve barely been divorced a year and she’s your son’s teacher, for crying out loud. It doesn’t matter how gorgeous, or sweet, or wonderful she is with X. You cannot ask her out. You’re here to start a new life and a new job. Stay focused.
Pulling up in front of the diner, Nicole turned to Xavier. “Grilled cheese for lunch?”
His dark eyes sparked mischievously. “Only if they cut it vertically.”
Nicole feigned a gasp. “Xavier Pressman-Haught! No son of mine will eat a vertically cut grilled cheese! Diagonal only!”
Doubled over in a fit of laughter, Xavier practically fell out of his seat.
Nicole grinned at the sound. This was the most important thing. Her son. His happiness. His stability. Dating anyone would have to wait.
-
With each passing week, Nicole piled more and more layers of clothes on her son as they went about their daily lives, acclimating to their new routines. Light jackets gave way to heavy winter coats, thick gloves, wool scarves, and knit beanies.
Even that didn’t quite feel like enough as she shuffled X from the warmth of their car, through calf-deep snow, into the old schoolhouse, ten minutes early. They kicked their boots against the doorframe before stepping inside.
“What do you mean the frame won’t hold?” A slightly panicked voice carried across the hollow space. “We’ve been using that same one for years. It’s never given us any trouble. Rats?? What about the backdrops? The play is in a month! How are we going to replace almost all of the props? Okay, I understand. I’ll call Doc and see what he can do. Talk to you later.”
Waverly hung up the phone and ran a hand through her long, wavy hair, sighing heavily.
Nicole stared at the frazzled woman as she peeled the layers of winter gear off her son’s body, trying not to notice how Waverly’s tiny spandex shorts hugged her hips or how her flowy top had slipped off one shoulder. She cleared her throat.
Waverly turned toward the sound. “Oh! Sheriff Haught. Hi! I didn’t hear you two come in. Hi, Xavier.”
Xavier waved at his teacher.
“Why don’t you head to your mark and get warmed up. We’re going to start practicing for the Nutcracker today!”
“Yes!!” The little boy shouted, launching himself out of his mother’s grasp.
Nicole laughed. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but…is everything okay?”
Waverly wandered closer and Nicole fought to steady her breath.
“Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be fine. My friend, Jeremy, just went to get our sets and props for the Nutcracker out of storage and apparently rats had gotten in and destroyed most of it. We might not have time to fix it all.”
“I’d love to help,” Nicole offered instinctively.
Waverly grinned. “You’d do that for me?”
“I’d do a lot of things to you,” Nicole breathed, the words spilling, unfiltered, from her brain.
Waverly blinked. “For…for me.”
“That too,” Nicole corrected lamely. Jesus, Haught. Get it together! “Uh…it’s the least I can do. You’ve been so good with X,” she tried to recover.
Biting her lip between her teeth, Waverly only hesitated a moment before clapping her hands together and bouncing slightly on her toes. “Yes! Actually that would be really great. Thank you.”
Nicole absolutely melted at the adorableness of it all. She held Waverly’s gaze, neither able to stop smiling at the other.
“Auntie Waverly!!”
A tiny blur flashed past out of nowhere and barreled into Waverly, arms wrapping around her midsection.
Nicole blinked and released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “I…I should go.” With a wave to Xavier, she turned and headed toward the door, shimmying past a brunette in a leather jacket. “Excuse me.”
The brunette gave her a knowing smirk and moved out of the way.
-
An hour later, Nicole arrived back at the schoolhouse and stepped inside amongst the other parents, who watched as Waverly crouched down to hand each child a sticker, along with a smile and a few words of encouragement.
Nicole couldn’t fight the curl in her lips at the sight.
All of the children bounced like rubber balls around the room while their parents wrestled their wiggly bodies into coats.
“Mommy, Mommy! I’m going to be the Nutcracker!” X exclaimed as he squeezed both Nicole’s legs like the trunk of a tree. “And Alice is going to be the Mouse King and Penelope is Clara!”
Nicole picked up the ecstatic child, spinning him in a circle. “That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you!”
-
“Mommy? What’s ‘big gay crush’ mean?”
The question was posed after minutes of pause-less rambling about the play. Nicole’s eyes snapped to the rearview mirror. “What? Where did you hear that?”
“From Alice. She said that her mom said that Miss Waverly has a big gay crush on the hot sheriff.”
“Uh…I, um…well…we can talk about it later, okay?” Nicole stumbled.
“Okay. Anyway, I think Alice is going to be the best Mouse King. I wonder if the costume will have lots of heads? I think that would be creepy, but kind of cool. And Penelope said…”
Nicole nodded absently at her son’s continued ponderings, but her mind was very much stuck on Waverly’s supposed big gay crush. Had Waverly really been talking about her?
As they entered the house, Xavier was still chattering and Nicole was forced to finally cut him off. “I am so excited for you, buddy, but right now I need you to wash up for lunch, okay?”
“Okay!” he exclaimed, racing upstairs.
Exhaling deeply, Nicole hung her son’s backpack on the hook near the front door and kicked off her shoes. She set her keys in a bowl on a small table against the wall. Beside it sat an 8x10 portrait of her best friend, his dog tags hanging loosely from the edge of the frame.
“What do you think, Xavier?” Nicole asked the inscrutable eyes staring back at her from behind the glass. “It’s too soon, isn't it? X is getting shuffled back and forth every other weekend to the city and Waverly’s his teacher. It would be a terrible idea to ask her out. Right? Man, I wish you were here.”
“I think you should go for it.”
Nicole jumped at the unexpected response. “X?”
“I like Miss Waverly,” her son announced from the top of the stairwell. “She always smells like flowers.”
-
The play was only a week away and the sets still weren’t ready.
Waverly frantically barked instructions to Doc in the most chipper voice she could manage, an octave so high it was practically shrill. “Nicole will be here any minute. Let me know when you’re finished with the snowflakes so I can paint them. They should be about three feet tall each.”
“Don’t you worry, darlin’. We’ll get it done,” Doc reassured her in his thick, comforting drawl.
But Waverly was worried. She still had to finish painting the ornaments on the tree and the entire winter scene.
She dragged a step-ladder over to where the first of the two backdrops hung from their newly built frame. Grabbing a can of red paint, she climbed the four steps, balancing precariously on top with the can in one hand and a brush in the other. Waverly dipped the brush into the paint and leaned forward to begin adding color to the dozens of empty circles on the tree.
“Did you say you wanted five or six snowflakes?” Doc called from across the stage.
Waverly turned quickly to answer, but lost her footing on the tiny surface. Paint and brush falling from her grasp, Waverly screamed as she toppled backwards off the ladder. She squeezed her eyes shut and braced for impact, but it never came.
When Waverly opened her eyes, she found herself cradled in strong arms.
“Don’t worry. I gotcha.”
“Sheriff Haught?” Waverly's wrapped her arms around the sheriff’s shoulders while she got her bearings.
Nicole slowly lowered Waverly’s feet to the floor. “Please…call me Nicole. Are you alright?”
Feet firmly planted under her, Waverly dropped her arms as well as her gaze, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Unintentionally, she took in the woman’s attire. A royal blue tank top, loose fitting jeans, and an honest-to-god toolbelt.
Jesus.
“Yeah…yeah, I’m fine...Nicole. Thank you,” Waverly choked out, her mouth suddenly dry.
“It was my pleasure,” Nicole whispered, a flush in her own cheeks.
Out of the corner of Waverly’s eye, she spotted Doc, arms crossed, a crooked grin on his face as he took in the sight of the two of them, mere inches apart, both nearly as red as the paint splattered on the floor.
-
The night of the big production, Waverly ran about frantically, pinning costumes and adjusting props. They’d just barely finished everything and it had only been possible thanks to the assistance of the multitalented sheriff and her obscenely sexy toolbelt.
As the familiar music played, the children clumsily pranced around the stage while their families watched with misted eyes and full hearts. She beamed with pride as Penelope and Xavier danced with one another and as Alice wielded a wooden sword like it was her destiny to do so. Every child, no matter their role, shined with confidence and joy under the spotlights, chest's puffed as if their little performance were a Broadway show.
Coated in a thin sheen of sweat, Waverly joined them on stage as the final song ended and they all joined hands. Together, they took a bow and the audience erupted in applause.
One, by one, parents collected their children, hugging and taking photos. Waverly watched with her hands over her heart.
Another year had ended.
When the last families had filed out, Waverly walked back on stage to begin the task of breaking down the set for next year.
“Hi, Miss Waverly!” A cheerful voice trilled.
Waverly looked to stage left and there stood Xavier. And beside him, Nicole.
“What are you two still doing here?” she asked with a smile that seemed to manifest on her face every time she found herself in the sheriff’s presence.
Nicole approached her and Waverly noticed a bouquet of wildflowers in the sheriff's hands.
Her breath caught at the sight.
“I just wanted to give you these. You’re an incredible teacher. Thank you…for everything.”
Waverly blushed as she accepted the flowers. “Thank you. These are beautiful, Nicole.”
“I’ve been wanting to ask you something for a while now…but…well, X and I have had a lot of loss these past few years and…honestly, I was scared. But I’m ready now. To take the grand jeté. To ask…Waverly Earp, can I take you out on a date?”
Waverly blinked slowly, peeking up from under her lashes to meet expectant brown eyes, as she answered, “Nicole Haught, I’d love to go on a date with you.”
“Woohoo!”
Waverly and Nicole’s heads whipped around to find not only Xavier, but Doc with Alice on his shoulders, their smiles so warm, they could have wilted her flowers.
“I came to help with the sets, but I think we’ll give you two a moment alone, instead,” Doc explained as he took Xavier’s hand and wandered away. “Who here wants to have an old-fashioned duel?”
“Me, me!!” Alice shouted.
“I don’t think that’s a very safe idea,” Xavier worried.
Waverly and Nicole just laughed and shook their heads, before turning their attention back to one another.
“So this date?” Waverly began, a hint of flirtation seeping into her tone.
“Yes?”
“Would it be weird if I asked you to wear your toolbelt?”
Nicole laughed, deep from her belly. The most beautiful sound Waverly had ever heard.
“Only if you wear those spandex shorts.”
“Deal,” Waverly agreed with a wink.
“Happy New Year, by the way,” Nicole declared.
Waverly smiled. “It really is.”