The Midnight Dancers: A Fairy Tale Retold (2 page)

At last Paul spotted a medic humvee coming towards them and breathed a sigh of relief. Paul’s squad sergeant was hurrying over to him.

“You okay?”

The colonel didn’t answer, but Paul answered for him, “A broken arm, but I think he’s okay otherwise.”

“I meant you, corporal.”

Paul blinked and looked down. There was blood spreading over his pants leg, and he was suddenly aware of a throbbing pain in his thigh. His adrenaline rush must have masked it. “Uh, yeah, I guess I’ll need some treatment.”

“Where’s your flute, corporal?”

Paul, who had been dozing in his hospital bed, woke up with a start to find the colonel staring down at him, grinning, his arm in a sling. He returned the smile a bit faintly.

“I’m not sure, actually. I think my squad leader got my stuff,” Paul said, trying to sit up.

“At ease, soldier. I just wanted to come by and see the medic who helped get me through that close call. God bless you,” he shook his head. “They said you took some shrapnel to the leg.”

“Yeah, but they think I’ll be all right.” Paul said. “Lucky it missed the joint. If I can rest through the spring, I’ll be fine by the summer.”

“They sending you back stateside?”

“Yes sir. My tour of duty was almost up. And you?”

“I’m thinking it’s time for me to take the early retirement option.” The colonel laughed and sat down in the chair by Paul’s bed. “So where’d you learn to play the flute?”

“Oh, in college. A few friends and I had a juggling group. We used to go to festivals to juggle, and I learned so that I had something to play along in the background.”

“Sounds like a fun job.”

“It was, actually. If I recoup all right, I’m going to do some more of that this summer.”

“Now,” the colonel said in a fatherly tone, “I hope the army’s preparing you to do more than just juggle.”

“Well, I do acrobatics and aikido as well.” Paul couldn’t help saying. He grinned. “Sorry, that was a joke. No, juggling’s just a hobby. Actually, the Army’s paying for me to go to medical school. I’ll start in the fall.”

“Oh, really? Good for you. But if you’re pre-med, I’m surprised they didn’t place you in a medical core.”

“Well, I sort of liked being in a squad, you know? A bit more action. Plus my specialty is emergency medicine.”

“I can say you did a good job there. By the way, what was that you were doing in my ear that stopped the pain?”

“Acupressure points. I’ve been interested in acupuncture and Eastern medicine since high school. I’d like to get training in Eastern and Western medicine and use both in my practice.”

“Some would say there are profound differences between the two systems that make them incompatible,” the man said cautiously.

Paul shrugged. “I just don’t buy the whole Eastern versus Western divide. Human beings live in both places, and they all need healing.”

“Hmph,” the colonel said, “Well, that’s an interesting take on things. I wish you well in your recovery. Hope your folks weren’t too worried about you when they heard about your injury.”

“They’re glad I’m all right. And your family, sir?”

“Sallie thinks it’s God intervening on her behalf to get me back home to Maryland. I’ve been saying for the last couple years that I needed to stay stateside for a while. Our girls are mostly teenagers by now, and it’s probably better if I’m there to help out with the parenting.” He looked a bit gloomy.

“Sounds like a big job, handling a dozen teenagers,” Paul said, since the man had fallen silent.

“It is. You know, teenaged girls. Typical.” He changed the subject. “So, are you going to juggle at any festivals this summer?”

“Yes, actually,” Paul said. “My friends are all trying to hold down real jobs now, so I’m the only one left who can still do it. And the organizers at the Bayside Colonial Festival in Maryland wanted me to come back. So that’s where I’ll be going.”

“Bayside, Maryland?” The colonel looked surprised. “That’s our town!”

“Really?” Paul said. “Great little town. Right on the Chesapeake Bay, too.”

The colonel beamed as he stood up. “It
is
a great town,” he said, pulling a card out of his wallet. “Look us up when you get there and come visit.”

“Thanks! I’ll look forward to it.” Paul took the card.

one

"Rachel!"

Rachel Durham heard the voice distantly, but it was still far enough away to ignore. She had time. Chances were that Sallie would find another sister to help before thinking to call her oldest stepdaughter again.

So Rachel continued to lean out of the kitchen door and look down the lawn over the trees sloping to the bay. Soon the night would come. The wind was making flurries of ripples on the water, and the summer sunset was simmering off in the west, leaving a streak of pink like a road that seemed to be beckoning her to follow.

If only I could run away right now
, she thought. The breeze was alluring, refreshing, and inside the house was stale and stifling, even in the air conditioning. She wanted to run through the woods and go down to the water, just to sit on a rock out in the bay. Just a taste of freedom…

“RACHEL!”

She whirled around. “What?”

The kitchen door slapped shut behind her, trapping her back in the light and noise and routine of the household. “Look at Jabez!” The sound of Sallie’s voice cut through her senses as Rachel’s eyes adjusted to the brightness of the kitchen. Her stepmother, thin blond hair falling out of a ponytail, was pointing into the pantry with one hand like a condemning Old Testament prophet. Her other hand was clutching a basket full of laundry.

Rolling her eyes, Rachel looked into the pantry, and then grimaced. Eighteen-month old Jabez was sitting on the floor, with one chubby hand poked shoulder deep into a container of bread flour.  Hearing his name, he raised his eyes, puckered over with brown stubs of eyebrow. His baby mouth was a round O.  “Am I not supposed to be doing this?” his gaze clearly said.

“
Please
get him cleaned up!” Sallie said brusquely. “And finish the kitchen.”

“The kitchen
is
finished!” Rachel said incredulously, looking around at the enormous room with its historical stone fireplace and newly-installed cabinets and appliances. The dishes were drip-drying on the countertop, while her sisters busied themselves with a few final chores.

“Why weren’t you girls watching Jabez?” Sallie retorted, instead of apologizing.

“Maybe because we were too busy doing the kitchen,” Rachel muttered, throwing down her towel and leaning down to get her baby brother. Sallie exited the kitchen, calling for the twins to come and get the laundry.

“Bad baby,” Rachel pronounced, prying Jabez’s hands gently off the flour container and tucking him under her arm like a sack. The pantry was a mess, but, she decided, that wasn’t her problem. She was the oldest sister in the house: she could delegate.

Since seventeen-year-old Miriam, the second-in-command, was drying dishes, and Liddy and Becca were sweeping the floors, Rachel made up her mind that cleaning up the pantry was Prisca’s job. But the fifteen-year old sister was nowhere to be seen.
Prisca’s goofing off, as usual.

Gritting her teeth, Rachel tried to diffuse her irritation by talking to Jabez. “Bad boy, bad boy,” she chanted as she dusted him off, and he chuckled at her. She pressed a small kiss on his head, and he gleefully shoved both fists into her face, exuberantly careless in his affection. She sighed, appreciating his small-scale male energy in a house with so many girls.

“Got to put you to bed,” Rachel said, putting him under her arm again. “And find the slacker.”

She caught sight of herself in the mirror over the sideboard and half-smiled. She had skin with a touch of olive, mahogany hair and bright blue-green eyes she was quite proud of. Rachel Durham was attractive, and she knew it.

Whooshing a laughing Jabez along in her arms, she turned a corner to look into the side parlor. Her youngest sister Debbie was vacuuming, but no sign of Prisca. She turned another corner to go check the library. Sometimes Rachel was happy to be living in a rambling historical house, but at times like this, she wished there were less nooks and crannies where siblings skipping chores could hide.

 Jabez was getting heavy, and he was about to start whining. Looking around for someone to take him, Rachel spotted Cheryl in the downstairs bathroom, leaning against the side of the shower wall, almost hidden by the curtain.

Her oldest stepsister was supposed to be cleaning, but Rachel guessed, from the bend of her head and the light glinting off her glasses, that she was reading a book. Cheryl was six months younger, and very different from Rachel: a nervous, insecure, dreamy type who was chronically disorganized.

Rachel’s policy was to use a soft touch when it came to Sallie’s daughters. In their blended family, there were enough problems without looking for more. Keeping her mouth shut, Rachel walked past the bathroom, getting more and more irritated with Prisca every moment.

Moving Jabez onto her shoulders, Rachel hurried up the steps to the girls’ bedroom on the top floor. “Pris—CA!” she bellowed.

Her fifteen-year-old sister was crouched over on the lower bunk of her bed, reading a magazine, which she immediately rolled over to hide. “What?” Prisca said defensively.

“The kitchen floor’s not mopped,” Rachel said.

“I did it!”

Rachel shrugged. “Could have fooled me. Anyway, you’ll have to do the pantry over. Jabez got into the flour.”

Prisca swore, stuffed the magazine under her pillow and stormed downstairs, still spitting out profanity.

Rachel followed her out and down the steps. “You better not let Dad hear you talking like that.”

“Oh, shut up!” Prisca said, her voice rising piercingly as she hurried downstairs. Prisca had always been a tad temperamental, but lately she had been even more so. Not wanting to exacerbate the situation further, Rachel decided to give Prisca some space for the moment.

She met Brittany, one of the more easy-going Fendelman girls, coming out of the boys’ bedroom with the vacuum cleaner. “Want to get him ready for bed?” Rachel said, indicating Jabez. “He had a flour adventure. I’ll take the vacuum downstairs.” Over Brittany’s pompom ponytail, Rachel saw that the room was cleaned and straightened. “Hey, good job.”

Instead of answering, Brittany shrugged, and then puffed out her cheeks in a goofy face for Jabez, who burst into riotous giggles. Brittany whisked him out of Rachel’s arms and around the bedroom in some basketball moves.

Having gotten rid of her toddler burden, Rachel walked downstairs with the vacuum, rubbing her shoulder. She needed to make sure that Prisca had actually gotten to the kitchen.

She stowed the vacuum, and found Prisca in the pantry, sweeping up flour with quick angry strokes. The dish rack was empty and the girls were scattered. There was scum in the sink, and she picked a sponge and wiped it off, then looked around.

Done for the night. It had been a long day. Trucking her siblings to swimming lessons in the morning, grocery shopping in the afternoon, weeding the garden, picking raspberries from their bushes, making supper, and cleaning up—
man, summer is supposed to be a vacation,
she thought.
And I’ve barely done anything except work.