Variation: A Novel

Dancegrl6701: Oh how the crown has fallen. Sorry, RousseauSisters4, but you’re a wreck. Time to step aside.

My heart thundered as Hudson cut through the water like a knife, swimming faster than I’d ever seen.

“If you’re up there, she could use some help,” I whispered to Lina.

Hudson’s head rose, and then he disappeared beneath the surface around the same place that Juniper had.

I wrapped my arms around my waist, like that could stop my stomach from sinking lower with every second he was underwater. He did this every day. He did this in twenty- and thirty-foot seas. If he found that captain who’d jumped off the boat in the middle of the ocean, he could find Juniper in a lake. He had to.

Dirt skidded down the steep path to my left, and Gavin flew past me, racing into the water. Caroline stumbled down the trail and stopped at my side.

“She’s wearing bright orange,” she whispered, lifting her hands to her chin. “Hudson always said she needed to swim in bright colors in case . . .”

I sidestepped and wrapped my arm around her trembling shoulders. “Three hundred and fifty,” I reminded her. “There are only three hundred and fifty people in the country as good as he is. He’ll find her.” I treated the panic like I did pain, shoving it into a mental box.

There wasn’t a world where Hudson would let his niece—our niece—drown. He simply wouldn’t allow it.

“How long has it been?”

“She can hold her breath for a really long time.” I rubbed her shoulder, my eyes locked on the surface. “I’ve seen her do it for over a minute at my house when she’s swimming with Hudson.”

This wasn’t happening. Not again.

“A minute.” She started full-on shaking. “Has it been a minute?”

“I don’t think so.” It was a tiny lie, only because I wasn’t certain. “Hudson hasn’t come up for a breath, so that’s a good sign,” I babbled. How long could he hold his breath?

I didn’t know. I’d been too focused on keeping him at arm’s length to ask those kinds of questions, or even see his house. He’d put maximum effort into whatever this was, and I’d pushed him away at every turn unless it involved Juniper.

And now Juniper was—

Don’t think like that. My heart pounded in my ears and my stomach twisted as my mind ran amok. Juniper would never be able to meet Lina because I hadn’t been able to save her, and now Hudson was her best chance to keep her here where she belonged, and not with Lina.

Gavin was almost there.

“Please, please, please,” Caroline whispered over and over, my thoughts echoing her plea.

Hudson broke the surface, facing the opposite direction, and my heart lurched into my throat. “Got her!” he shouted, then started swimming in a sidestroke toward us, Gavin at his side.

“Oh, God!” Caroline ran into the water.

“She’s breathing!” Gavin called out.

I heard Juniper cough, and my knees gave out, hitting the sand instantly. “Thank you,” I whispered up at Lina. “Thank you. Thank you.”

Hudson lifted her into his arms once he was able to touch the bottom, then carried her out of the lake as she coughed again.

“Juniper!” Caroline got out of Hudson’s way, then quickly followed him back to shore, her clothes soaked to midchest.

“She’s all right,” Hudson assured his sister, looking down at Juniper before glancing over at me. “She’s all right.”

Juniper coughed again as Hudson sat her down on the sand a couple feet to my left, then crouched in front of her. “How you feeling, June-Bug?” He picked up her foot.

Caroline knelt next to Juniper and stroked her head as Gavin walked out of the water, dropping down on Hudson’s other side.

“I’m okay.” Juniper took deep, ragged breaths, and glanced at her mom. “I went so deep that my foot got tangled in a branch or something. I couldn’t see. I tried, but I couldn’t pull it free.” Her breaths started to slow. “Uncle Hudson got it, though.”

My chest clenched.

“Okay.” Caroline pressed a kiss to Juniper’s forehead. “Thank you, Hudson.”

He nodded. “It’s a decent scrape.” He peered down at the raw patch on the top of her right foot. “But I think you’ll live. You suck in any water down there?”

Juniper shook her head. “I held my breath the whole time.”

“I’m proud of you.” He smiled at her, the curve falling as he looked over at his trembling sister. “Hey. She’s okay. The orange made it way easier for her to spot. You did everything you were supposed to. We were all here. She’s okay,” he repeated.

She swallowed and nodded.

“You were not supposed to swing without an adult still in the water,” Hudson lectured, then rose to his feet and helped Juniper to hers, Caroline and Gavin quickly following.

“I figured you were close enough,” she muttered as Caroline pulled her into a bear hug, locking her arms around Juniper. “And in my defense, you were. But I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful next time.”

Caroline tensed, and I saw the words in her eyes that there wouldn’t be a next time, but to her credit, she just nodded. “I love you.”

I wasn’t sure I could have done the same.

“I love you too.” Juniper sagged against Caroline.

“We need to watch her for coughing, fever, lethargy, any of the signs that she’s got water in her lungs, but barring that, I think she’s fine,” Hudson told Caroline. “Why don’t you take her up and get the scrape cleaned out?” He nodded up the trail.

“Can you walk it?” Caroline asked Juniper.

“I think so.” The two started up the steep trail, Gavin walking close enough behind to catch Juniper if she fell.

I watched them until Hudson stepped into my line of sight.

“Allie?” He offered a hand and I took it on reflex, rocking back onto my feet and standing with his help. “Hey. You okay? You’re shaking.”

Was I? “I love her,” I whispered, my eyes stinging.

“I know.” He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against his chest.

“I didn’t want to. I just thought I’d help her, and that would somehow make up for me living and not Lina, but I love her, Hudson.” My voice broke.

“She’s okay.” His hand swept up and down my back.

“Are you okay?” I asked through rattling teeth.

“Scared the shit out of me for a second before I saw her, but I’m more concerned about you at the moment.” He rested his chin on the top of my head. “Just give it a second, the adrenaline will work its way out of your system.”

God, I was leaning on him.

“I’m all right.” I moved to push out of his arms.

“Will you just let me hold you for once?” His arms tightened. “You don’t have to handle everything on your own, Allie. You can be scared, and you can love Juniper even if it’s messy. Messy is good, love. Messy is where the best parts of life happen. You don’t have to be in control at all times. It’s okay if you fall apart. I promise I will be right here to put you back together if you just let me.”

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt if I gave in, even if only for a moment.

I relaxed against his chest, my ear to his slow, steady heart. Juniper’s incident might have scared him, but it didn’t shake him. I was starting to think nothing did. “Thank you for saving her.”

“It’s what I do,” he said into my hair. “Plus, I’ll admit I have a vested interest.”

A half smile curved my mouth and the tremors lessened, but he didn’t let go. This is what he did, but I barely knew more than that about his real life. “Where do you live?”

“On Warren Street, about four blocks from your house. It’s the dark-blue one with the white door. Why?”

“I’ve never asked.” But I knew which house it was. I’d walked by it every summer when we headed to his parents’—Caroline’s—café.

“Hmm.” His strokes down my spine slowed. “Want to see it when we get back?”

It was a step in a direction that didn’t involve Juniper . . . or the deal we’d made. I closed my eyes and let the rhythm of his heart slow mine, and God love him, he didn’t push or press me to answer quickly. It made it easier when I finally nodded. “Yes. I’d like that.”

The rest of the day passed without anyone else nearly dying. We hiked, played cards in the pavilion until the wind picked up, and cooked dinner amid a chorus of laughter and chaos that I was beginning to adore—especially since Caroline wasn’t just being civil, she was . . . nice.

And really funny when she wasn’t hell bent on picking at me.

As the campfire died, Hudson’s aunts and uncles filed off to bed around the same time his parents headed to their cabin, leaving Caroline and me sitting on a log around the embers. I watched Hudson spin Juniper on a tire swing about twenty feet away, near the edge of the lake.

“He’s really good with kids,” she mentioned not so casually. “He’ll be a great dad. You know, if you want kids.”

Kids?

“I . . .” My mouth opened and shut a few times as I imagined Hudson holding a baby—our baby—and I clutched my Hydro Flask. What was that feeling hovering just below the immediate nausea that accompanied her comment? Was that interest?

“You look like you might vomit.” She chuckled. “It’s okay to not want kids. I was just saying Hudson is really good with them.”

“You don’t have to sell me on his qualities, I promise.” I sighed. “Having kids isn’t something I’ve really thought about. Most everyone I know waits until we retire. That’s actually what stopped Mom. She got pregnant with Lina and married our father.”

“Ahh.” She leaned forward and poked the embers. “Makes a little more sense as to why she seemed to drive you four relentlessly.”

I nodded. “Juniper is phenomenal,” I said to change the subject. “She’s headstrong, and witty, and smart. You’ve done a good job with her.”

Caroline sat back and stared down at Juniper swinging. “She’s reckless like Hudson,” she muttered. “Sean was like that, too, always jumping before he looked, but yeah, she’s more stubborn than I could ever dream of being and gives me a run for my money every day. Tenacity must run in her genes. Guess we’ll find out when she’s eighteen. She’ll probably march her butt down to the lawyers and ask for her file on her birthday.”

My throat tightened, and I took a quick drink. “Do you want her to wait that long? Aren’t you ever worried about stuff like medical history?”

“A little.” She nodded. “It will be good for her to have access to that information, or at least where to go to start asking the questions, but the adoption was closed for a reason. I don’t know her birth parents, or what they’d do if she . . .” She tensed. “Waiting until she’s eighteen protects Juniper, and it protects their privacy too.”

Lina was dead, but what about Juniper’s father?

Caroline sighed. “I know everyone thinks I’m horrid when I won’t let her run out searching for her birth family—”

“No one thinks you’re horrid,” I promised.

She scoffed. “They do. But no adult throwing their two cents in has lost their husband, watched the father of their child die in their arms because his body just couldn’t fight anymore. That pain belongs to me, and to Juniper.” A sad smile curved her mouth as Hudson spun Juniper on the swing. “I don’t think I could breathe through another loss like that, and the idea of anything happening to her makes me want to surround her in bubble pack. I can’t risk losing her, not when I’ve already lost Sean, and watching her grieve—” She took a shuddering breath. “Sean and I made promises, and I’m the only one left to keep them, to make sure she grows up safe and loved. Call me overprotective, but she’s only ten, and for right now, I’m okay with being horrid if it keeps her from feeling that kind of pain, that heartbreak again, and that includes ballet. Can you really tell me that dancing has never broken your heart?” She looked over at me. “Or your body?”

I pulled the sleeves of Hudson’s sweatshirt down over my hands. “It’s not without its challenges,” I admitted, finally starting to see Caroline clearly. She wasn’t horrid—she was still grieving, still scared.

“Right.” She nodded. “I know you lost a sister. People who have suffered like us know that there’s no such thing as having everything, and when it comes to the unknown, there are prices I’m unwilling to let Juniper pay. So for now, I’ll make the tough choices. I’ll be the bad guy.”

“I get it.” I cleared my throat and decided not to push my luck by asking anything else. “I’m going to walk down to them.”

She nodded. “Tell Juniper I’m waiting for her, would you? I want to be sure the fire’s out.”

“Sure thing.” I stood, and Hudson’s hoodie fell to my thighs as I walked around the campfire, then down to the shore. Thankfully the moon was out and full, lighting the way and allowing me to dodge the roots and rocks that could have twisted my ankle.

Juniper laughed as Hudson spun her again, and my heart clenched. She might not be here if Hudson wasn’t so good at what he did. I’d figured we’d have time for me to tell her more about Lina, time for her to know us, but if today had shown me anything, it was that time wasn’t a given.

“Hey,” Hudson said, smiling at me as Juniper wound down from her last whirl, giggling.

“Hey.” I glanced back at the campfire quickly. “Please do me a favor and go keep Caroline busy for a second?”

His smile faded, but he nodded, then headed up to the campfire.

Juniper recovered from her laughing fit with a sigh, hugging the top of the tire swing, and I crouched down in front of her.

“You feeling okay after today?” I asked softly.

Her expression sobered. “For a second, before Uncle Hudson found me, I thought I might die . . . like my mother.”

My heart seized. “But you didn’t.”

“No.” Her forehead puckered. “But all day I was thinking that my last words would have been watch this, to Melody. And then I thought that at least I’d have last words, but no one remembers my mother’s,” she finished in a whisper. “It’s weird, I know. But I wish somebody remembered them.”

“Me too.” I nodded. “Would it help if I told you what I do remember?”

“Not if it hurts you.”

“Let’s see how far I can get.” I forced a smile. “A lot of why it hurts so much is because what I remember doesn’t match all the evidence, so I wasn’t allowed to talk about it.” Not until I’d hired my own therapist a few years ago.

“Okay,” Juniper said slowly. “I’d like to know.”

I breathed in and fought to steady my heartbeat. “I don’t remember anything solid after the Classic. I remember winning, and the contract offers, and seeing your uncle. We made plans to meet up that night, but—” I swallowed. Obviously I hadn’t shown, which had probably contributed to him walking away. “Anyway, I was told we were on the road home from the Company reception. I remember listening to Coldplay, and Lina laughing as we took the curve—she was always laughing, always the first with a joke. I think out of the four of us, she was always the most . . . alive, the most certain of herself. Like you.”

“Like me,” Juniper whispered.

“Yeah. There’s a lot of her in you. Your smile, and your laugh, and your grace in the studio . . . that’s Lina.” I glanced over her shoulder and noted that Hudson was pouring water onto the fire. “Basically, I remember the feelings from that night, even if the events are kind of spliced together out of order in my mind like a bunch of messed-up film.”

She leaned forward, resting her chin on the tire.

I chose my next words very carefully.

“My memory says that she told me that she loved me, and to follow my heart.” My throat didn’t tighten like it usually did when I denied the memory. “And she tucked her ring into my front pocket and asked me to take care of what she’d left behind.” I squeezed her hand. “I used to think she meant Anne and Eva, but now I wonder if she meant you.”

She squeezed back, her wide eyes locked on mine. “She left you a ring?”

“Yep.” I looked over her shoulder and saw Hudson and Caroline walking this way, a definite apology lining Hudson’s face. Time was up. “It’s an heirloom from our great-grandmother. Your great-great-grandmother. My father gave it to my mom as a promise ring, and she gave it to Lina when she won the Classic her year. Guess it was more like a promise to marry our dreams instead of a guy. Lina wore it every day. Only took it off for rehearsal.” I sighed.

“And then you won the Classic and she gave it to you,” Juniper guessed.

“I think so. When I woke up a few days later in the hospital, the nurse gave me a bag of the belongings I’d had when the ambulance brought me in, and the ring was there. So, I know that part is true, but head wounds are weird.” She didn’t need to know the rest, the bits and pieces that came screaming back in my dreams, or whenever a song played on the radio.

“Did you show them as proof?” She wiggled on the swing.

I shook my head. “No one but you knows I have it.” I’d been too afraid that Mom would take it back and I’d have nothing left of Lina. “Point is, I choose to believe that her last words were asking me to look after the people she loved, and I think it’s okay if you choose to believe that too.”

She nodded.

“Getting late, don’t you think?” Caroline called out as they came closer. “What are you two talking about?”

Juniper blinked twice. “I was asking Allie about how she tore her Achilles when she was performing.”

She even lied like a Rousseau. Impressive.

I stood as Caroline reached us, her mouth hanging slightly agape.

“Juniper, that’s not something you just ask someone,” she chastised.

Juniper shrugged and climbed out of the swing. “It’s not like it’s not on the internet. Do you think it was overuse?”

“Umm. Yes.” I nodded, and the four of us started up to the trail. “I knew I should have rested it, and made the bad choice to dance instead.”

“And it just . . . went?” Juniper asked.

“Allie, I’m so sorry,” Caroline apologized, shooting a look at her daughter. “You’ve been more than kind with what you’ve already shared.”

“It’s okay. I got a little distracted, lost my spot during the piqué turns, and that probably didn’t help.” I shrugged, and Hudson stiffened at my side. “But I don’t remember falling out or anything that would have caused it. It just tore. And had it not torn at the end of the variation, it would have in act two.” We reached the trail. “When you don’t give your body time to heal, it will take the time from you.”

Juniper nodded.

“And on that note, we’re headed to bed.” Caroline put her hand on Juniper’s back. “See you two tomorrow.”

We said our good nights and started back toward our cabin, stopping at the outhouse before going the rest of the way.

“I don’t think we should tell Caroline,” I blurted in a whisper as we walked back to the main trail.

“What?” Hudson paused, and I turned to face him.

“She’s scared for Juniper on so many levels after losing Sean. I think we can’t just tell her that we’re not a threat, or tell her that Juniper has a gift. Caroline is a lot like Lina, in a way. She needs the evidence, she needs to be shown. So we prove it to her. We let her see just how talented Juniper is for herself, at the Classic. With how stubborn Caroline is, it might be the only way Juniper ever gets to show her.”

Hudson lowered his head, his eyes shifting in thought. “It could work, and I can handle the fallout, but there’s every chance Caroline will go right back to hating you for the deception, even if she realizes you aren’t coming to steal Juniper away.”

I nod, my stomach hollowing. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take. This should be about Juniper, not me. Not Anne. Being cut out for eight years is worth it if it means Juniper’s happy.” And I’d be able to sleep knowing I did what I could, which was the least of what I owed Lina.

“Okay.” Hudson nodded, and we started back up the trail to our cabin. “You got distracted?” he asked as we picked our way through the moonlight. “During the Giselle performance?”

Heat stung my cheeks. “Yeah.”

“But you don’t think that had anything to do with the tear?” His brow furrowed.

“No.” I shook my head. “I did at first, but I was just looking for something to blame. I faltered a little bit, but nothing that would have caused the tear.” A wry chuckle worked its way up my throat. “Funny thing, and I’ve never told anyone this, and I don’t even want you to respond because it’s so embarrassing, but . . .”

He glanced my way.

“I thought I saw you.” I shoved my hands into the front pocket of his hoodie and definitely did not look over to see the way he gawked at me. “I thought I saw you in the back row, and when I looked again, you weren’t there, of course. It was just my brain playing tricks on me, probably because you’d been there the only other time I’d performed the variation for an audience.”

He kept staring, and I wished I could go back about thirty seconds and undo that confession. What was wrong with me? Just because he said I didn’t have to be in control all the time didn’t mean I needed to jump from zero to Mach one on the oversharing train.

“Did you know that I didn’t think about training today? Not once.” I blurted out the first thing that came to mind to change the subject.

“Allie—” He reached for my arm, but I sped up.

Foolish didn’t begin to cover how I was feeling. “Not once. I didn’t feel guilty about not working out, or not spending all day in the studio. It’s the most fun I’ve had in . . .” I laughed. “Probably since you used to drag me out and make me do fun things. I stopped doing fun things after you . . . it was just dancing after that, but hey, I’m a principal, so it worked out.”

“You can balance it, you know,” Hudson said, catching up as we reached the steps of our cabin. “You can be at the top of your game and still have a life. Still have days like this. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing.”

“I don’t know how to do it any other way. But it’s a beautiful thought, balance.” It really was. I walked in ahead of him and immediately fumbled in the dark.

“Don’t move. I don’t want you to trip,” Hudson said, his hand skimming my lower back as he walked around me to his side of the bed. A couple clicks later, the lantern turned on. “There we go.” He turned and came straight back to me, his jaw ticking as he curved the brim of his hat.

What the heck did he have to be nervous about?

“I know you said you didn’t want me to respond—”

Kill me now. “Please don’t.”

“But I have to.” He cupped my face.

“You really don’t.” I glanced at the door, the wall, the ceiling, anywhere but at him.

“Look at me.” His thumbs stroked my cheeks. “Please, love.”

I somehow climbed out of a pit of mortification to meet his gaze.

“It was me.” He took a breath, and I held mine. “It was me, Allie. I was there.”