“I get it,” he said. “They asked me to dance in this recital thing too.”
Amelia’s face brightened as she sat up straighter.
He met her eyes and slowly, her lips spread into a smile.
“Are you laughing at me?” he teased.
She covered her mouth with her hands and giggled. “I want to see you dance, Uncle Cole.”
“You want to see me make a fool of myself, that’s what you’re saying.” He gave her shoulder a little nudge with his own.
She nodded, still grinning. Probably the first time he’d seen her smile since she found out about her mom. Her smile quickly faded. “I always do a dance with Daddy.”
“Yeah, I remember that,” he said.
Her eyes turned glassy as she bit back tears.
“Have you asked him to do it this year?” he asked quietly.
She shook her head. “He won’t.”
Cole knew she was probably right. Connor wasn’t in good shape, especially not to do something that would so clearly remind him of Julianna.
And that’s when he got the dumbest idea he’d ever had in his life. “What if you had a stand-in?” He could see out of the corner of his eye that he had her attention. He drew in a breath—he couldn’t believe he was about to say what he was about to say. But at some point, his life had to stop being about him and his pain.
It had to be about helping the people he loved.
And if it would make Amelia smile, Cole would make a fool of himself a hundred times over.
“I’ll do it if you do it.” Cole faced her. Her eyes were lit up like a night sky on a cloudless night. And she almost looked happy.
Cole knew this was what his sister would’ve wanted. She talked about Amelia’s love of dance all the time. If her death stole that love away from her daughter, it would devastate Jules. He couldn’t let that happen.
“Really?”
He nodded. “Really.”
She looked away, and he could see the moment she changed her mind. “I don’t want to dance.”
Cole leaned back against the wall of the treehouse. “Yeah, me neither.”
Her eyes seemed to scold.
“You love to dance,” Cole said, realizing it wasn’t the time for jokes. “What’s going on?”
She shrugged. He wouldn’t make her say it. Dancing reminded her of Julianna. It was the thing they shared—a love, a passion for dance. Of course she didn’t want to do it.
If Jules knew, that would break her heart too.
“You know, kiddo,” Cole said. “I think watching you dance was one of your mom’s favorite things to do.”
She was back to hugging her knees.
“She talked about it a lot. I think it made her so happy because she knew it made you happy. And you worked so hard in class all year.” Cole reached over and put an arm around her. She leaned in, resting her head on his chest. The seconds ticked by, and she broke the silence with her sniffles. He squeezed her, wishing he could take away this pain from such an innocent little girl.
“I’ll tell you what,” he said. “The deal is on the table. You can think it over, and I’ll get to work, and then you’ll let me know later if we’re doing it or not.”
Her head, under his chin, moved in affirmation.
“Yeah?”
She nodded again, then sat up and looked at him. “I’ll try, Uncle Cole. But I don’t want to go today.”
“No problem,” he said. “No pressure.”
She hugged him, and his throat tightened. Why had God taken Julianna from them? Didn’t He know how much they all still needed her here?
“I love you, kiddo,” he said quietly.
She stifled a sob but squeezed him a little harder.
And that sealed the deal. He would make it his goal to get his niece back on the stage, even if that meant getting on the stage himself.
She was worth it.
23
Charlotte had been stewing since her impromptu visit to the football field a few days before.
One of these days she would learn it was a bad idea to show up anywhere Cole Turner was, donuts or no.
She looked at the Harbor Pointe Gazette, which she’d laid out on the counter in the kitchen, and ran a hand over the front page. A photo of Julianna stared back at her. Lucy had written an article about the dance recital, and specifically how Charlotte had come on board to celebrate the life of the studio’s owner and beloved dance teacher.
Brinley was quoted, singing very high praises of the Chicago City Ballet veteran and “old friend of Mrs. Ford.”
“Miss Page is one of the most elite ballerinas in the country, and for her to step foot on our stage at the Harbor Pointe Playhouse is the kind of rare cultural treat we should all make sure to see. I can promise you her performance will be one to remember.”
Charlotte had never been a part of something like this. She’d never been a part of something that was so much about someone other than herself. And sure, she wanted to make a good impression on the town because she was hoping to run the dance studio, but that’s really not what the recital was about.
It was about Julianna and these young dancers. It was about being rooted in something other than her own praise. It was about finding a place to belong.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard a silent prayer—a plea, really—Are you proud of me yet? The thought surprised her. She wasn’t intentionally trying to make anyone proud.
And yet, she wanted to be better. She’d been striving to earn her place for as long as she could remember. Was she worthy yet?
Her eyes fell to the image of Julianna. Happiness radiated from her friend’s eyes. Julianna had figured something out, a secret of sorts, one that Charlotte wanted to uncover for herself.
Was it this town or the dance studio or her little family? Or was it simply that Jules had decided to live an unselfish life? Charlotte knew nothing about that. And frankly, she had no reason not to be satisfied. But there was this low thrumming down deep in her soul, echoing in a rhythm. You were made for more than this.
But without the applause, the approval, who was Charlotte Page?
How did she find out?
And how did she prove herself if performing wasn’t in the equation? Without that, what else was she? Charlotte was a performer, even when she wasn’t on the stage. It exhausted her to think of all the ways she was putting on a show.
She just wanted to be accepted as Charlotte. But she had no idea what that looked like or who that was. And if she couldn’t accept herself without striving for an ideal, how could she expect anyone else to?
Day had faded to night, and the house had grown dark without her realizing it. Lucy was covering a city council meeting and had told Charlotte she’d be home late.
“Don’t wait up for me,” she’d joked on her way out the door. “These meetings get wild. Sometimes they go all night.”
Charlotte had grown to love the familiar banter between her and Lucy. Her roommate had become a friend, and she was in desperate need of one of those. Never mind that she held back—a lot. Lucy didn’t know her innermost thoughts. Nobody besides Jules ever had.
She walked into the kitchen and turned a circle. This was the first night since she arrived in Harbor Pointe that she’d been on her own for dinner.