mean, it isn't like we had the chance to use our classical training much any other time...."
She found herself stretching as she spoke. Falling into her old patterns automatically, almost feeling as if Rosebud were with her, right now in that old gym with the smelly locker room, their cheap boom box plugged into a wall socket, sitting on the floor. A handful of boys usually waiting for the room to free up so they could shoot hoops, heckling them.
She and Rosebud giving it right back. Then dancing until those mouthy punks were just gaping, awestruck.
And then she was dancing. It came to her as naturally as breathing. She let herself forget everything that had happened. For a brief time, she was back there in that smelly gym around the corner. And Rosebud was with her, dancing in perfect synch. Closing her eyes, Jasmine gave herself over to the music, let it bend and move her body with its notes and rhythms. Moving her arms in graceful arcs. Dancing was her sweetest release—her haven where no hurt could get in. She lost herself completely to the music, to the dance, forgetting her audience of one woman and one baby. Forgetting the violence she had come here to escape. Forgetting everything, she danced.
* * *
LUKE AND BEN WALKED UP to the front door of the dojo and heard music. "Guess they got bored waiting for us," Ben said.
Luke smiled at him, glancing down at the boy attached to the small hand that had been nestled inside his larger one for most of the afternoon now. He liked that feeling a little bit too much. He knew he shouldn't let himself get as fond of Baxter as this, feel as protective of him as he did. He shouldn't get a little soft spot in his chest every time those round wire-rimmed glasses slid down the kid's nose. It was not a good idea to get this attached to a child like Bax, with a mother like Jasmine. She wouldn't like it She would probably rebel violently against it. He knew that instinctively. Moms like Jasmine didn't like other people getting close to their sons.
But that thought—along with every other coherent thought he might have had—abandoned his brain when he stepped into the dojo and saw her. At first he didn't fully comprehend. Had Ben finally hired a professional dance instructor for that class Penny wanted to add to the selection here? But what would a dancer this good be doing in a backwater town like Quinn?
And then he realized what his gut had known from the first glance. That dancer was Jasmine. She swirled and dipped, and when her arms moved, they were liquid. Her hair flew when she whirled, and she moved faster and faster until she was only a blur in his eyes. And finally she stopped, ending bent low, almost hugging herself, her breaths rushing in and out in short shallow puffs and her skin damp and glowing.
For some reason, Garrett's words floated into his mind, "You're doomed, cuz." And he thought maybe he was. That was it for him—the moment when he walked in and saw her dancing. He didn't want it to be. But he saw now that he'd never had much choice in the matter. Otherwise, what was the heavy object that nailed him in the chest like a two-by-four just now?
Luke heard clapping. He blinked out of the stupor her dance had evoked in him and looked around. Ben was there, clapping slowly along with Penny. On the floor, wide-eyed, little Zachary grinned and copied them, smacking his tiny hands together repeatedly. Baxter clapped, too, louder and harder than anyone else.
Jasmine lifted her head, eyes wide in surprise. Her eyes seemed to find Luke's as if by radar, and then she lowered her gaze. Her face was already flushed with heat and exertion, but Luke thought it got even redder. Was she blushing? And how much sense did that make? She danced half-naked for men for a living. How could dancing this way, in front of him, fully clothed, make her blush?
"I told you my mom was the best dancer in the world!" Baxter said, his little chest puffing out.
"You sure did, Bax," Luke
She found herself stretching as she spoke. Falling into her old patterns automatically, almost feeling as if Rosebud were with her, right now in that old gym with the smelly locker room, their cheap boom box plugged into a wall socket, sitting on the floor. A handful of boys usually waiting for the room to free up so they could shoot hoops, heckling them.
She and Rosebud giving it right back. Then dancing until those mouthy punks were just gaping, awestruck.
And then she was dancing. It came to her as naturally as breathing. She let herself forget everything that had happened. For a brief time, she was back there in that smelly gym around the corner. And Rosebud was with her, dancing in perfect synch. Closing her eyes, Jasmine gave herself over to the music, let it bend and move her body with its notes and rhythms. Moving her arms in graceful arcs. Dancing was her sweetest release—her haven where no hurt could get in. She lost herself completely to the music, to the dance, forgetting her audience of one woman and one baby. Forgetting the violence she had come here to escape. Forgetting everything, she danced.
* * *
LUKE AND BEN WALKED UP to the front door of the dojo and heard music. "Guess they got bored waiting for us," Ben said.
Luke smiled at him, glancing down at the boy attached to the small hand that had been nestled inside his larger one for most of the afternoon now. He liked that feeling a little bit too much. He knew he shouldn't let himself get as fond of Baxter as this, feel as protective of him as he did. He shouldn't get a little soft spot in his chest every time those round wire-rimmed glasses slid down the kid's nose. It was not a good idea to get this attached to a child like Bax, with a mother like Jasmine. She wouldn't like it She would probably rebel violently against it. He knew that instinctively. Moms like Jasmine didn't like other people getting close to their sons.
But that thought—along with every other coherent thought he might have had—abandoned his brain when he stepped into the dojo and saw her. At first he didn't fully comprehend. Had Ben finally hired a professional dance instructor for that class Penny wanted to add to the selection here? But what would a dancer this good be doing in a backwater town like Quinn?
And then he realized what his gut had known from the first glance. That dancer was Jasmine. She swirled and dipped, and when her arms moved, they were liquid. Her hair flew when she whirled, and she moved faster and faster until she was only a blur in his eyes. And finally she stopped, ending bent low, almost hugging herself, her breaths rushing in and out in short shallow puffs and her skin damp and glowing.
For some reason, Garrett's words floated into his mind, "You're doomed, cuz." And he thought maybe he was. That was it for him—the moment when he walked in and saw her dancing. He didn't want it to be. But he saw now that he'd never had much choice in the matter. Otherwise, what was the heavy object that nailed him in the chest like a two-by-four just now?
Luke heard clapping. He blinked out of the stupor her dance had evoked in him and looked around. Ben was there, clapping slowly along with Penny. On the floor, wide-eyed, little Zachary grinned and copied them, smacking his tiny hands together repeatedly. Baxter clapped, too, louder and harder than anyone else.
Jasmine lifted her head, eyes wide in surprise. Her eyes seemed to find Luke's as if by radar, and then she lowered her gaze. Her face was already flushed with heat and exertion, but Luke thought it got even redder. Was she blushing? And how much sense did that make? She danced half-naked for men for a living. How could dancing this way, in front of him, fully clothed, make her blush?
"I told you my mom was the best dancer in the world!" Baxter said, his little chest puffing out.
"You sure did, Bax," Luke
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