Dancing in Lake Mistletoe (Lake Mistletoe #4)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Mindi

T he lights are warm on my skin, almost too hot as they beam down from above, but I don’t mind. Anticipation is humming around me like electricity. I can feel it crackling up from the seats of the theater.

It’s the same every opening night. The weeks and weeks of rehearsals can never fully prepare you for the experience of performing for a live audience. I bounce on my feet as I watch the young dancers waiting for my turn on the stage as the curtain rises on Act II, Scene 1, and Clara and the Nutcracker Prince arrive in the Land of Sweets.

At the director’s cue, I make my grand entrance. A hush falls over the crowd as I step into view. It’s finally time for the Sugar Plum Fairy to greet her guests.

I feel weightless, spinning on my toes, each delicate step and swirling a part of the music. The tinkling notes of the celesta carry me across the stage, each chord rising and falling in perfect unison with my movements.

I’m the Sugar Plum Fairy, and for the next few minutes, there is nothing else—just me, the music, and the story I’m telling with my body.

The costume clings to me, shimmering under the stage lights, every bead and bit of tulle catching the gleam. I can feel the pull of my tutu as it swishes with every turn. My arms glide softly through the air, as if I were riding the melody.

I know the steps by heart after rehearsing them until my feet ached and my muscles burned, and now, they’re second nature. As I leap, my body feels suspended in the air, as if time pauses, allowing me to linger there for just a moment longer than should be possible. My heart pounds—not from exhaustion, but from exhilaration. This is what I live for. This moment. This feeling. As I float above the stage, all of it is worth it.

The audience is out there somewhere, in the black void just beyond the stage, though I can’t see them. The bright lights have blurred them into shadows, but I know they’re watching, waiting for every movement, for every extension of my leg, every perfect pirouette.

I spot my partner, the cavalier, just offstage, waiting for his cue. But this moment is mine. My feet glide effortlessly into the next position. I spring across the stage. It feels like I’m soaring, my body becoming light, free like I’m light as a feather.

A familiar twinge in my ankle pulls at my awareness for just a second, but I push it away. Not now. There’s no room for pain or distraction. Every ounce of focus is dedicated to this performance, to being the Sugar Plum Fairy. It demands everything of me, and I give it my all.

As the final sequence approaches, I can feel my muscles tighten in anticipation. The crescendo of the music swells, filling every corner of the theater and lifting me higher as I prepare for my final turn. My heart flutters. I land, perfectly poised, my arms raised high, a smile stretched across my face. And relief floods my body.

The final note rings out, and for a second, everything is still. My chest heaves, but the euphoria overshadows it. I feel the audience come alive, their applause rushing toward me like a wave.

I bow gracefully, lowering my head, my body trembling with the aftershock of the performance.

For just a few minutes, I was magic. A part of the story being told. And that is the power of dance.

I move offstage and stand with Ellen. We watch the rest of the story take place as we wait for the final curtain call. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, exhaustion is setting in, and I can’t wait to get back to the inn to soak in a hot bath.

“Mindi!” Josie’s voice rings through the crowd as I make my way out of the theater.

She is standing in the lobby with Cobie, Dutch, and Isaac, a bouquet of red roses in her arms. She rushes forward as I wave. When she stops in front of me, she raises the flowers.

“These are for you,” she bellows, her face beaming.

“They are?”

She nods, and I bend to a knee. I take the flowers from her, bring them to my nose, and inhale.

“They’re beautiful. Thank you!”

Dutch comes up behind her. I look up and smile.

“You were so pretty up there,” Josie sings.

I stand, and she grabs my hand.

“I’m glad you had fun,” I say as she skips toward Cobie and Isaac.

“The most fun, and look, Daddy and Isaac bought us dollies,” she says, pointing to Cobie, who is holding two plush dolls.

“Very cool.”

“When I get big, Daddy said I can dance in The Nutcracker , just like you. And I’m going to be a prima ballerina, and I’ll have a tiara and tutus in every color, and my boyfriend will be my prince.”

“Whoa, wait a minute. You never said anything about a boyfriend. I didn’t agree to that,” Dutch says.

And she covers her mouth and giggles.

We make it to Isaac, and he envelops me in a hug. “Good job, Mindi.”

Cobie wraps her arms around my legs.

“Come on, girls. Let’s get you two buckled in,” Isaac says.

The girls tell me good-bye, and he leads them out the glass doors.

Dutch stands in front of me, and I step into his arms.

“Thank you for the flowers.”

He drops his head and kisses the top of mine. “You’re welcome.” He rubs his hands up and down my arms. “I bet you’re tired.”

I plant my face into his chest. “Exhausted.”

“Ellen’s taking you home, right?”

I nod into his shirt. Inhaling deeply.

“Get some rest. You have to do this all again tomorrow.”

I groan, and he chuckles.

I glance up. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

“Probably. I’ll be on tech duty.”

“Okay.”

He feeds a finger under my chin and lifts my face to his. He brings his mouth to mine for a brief kiss.

“Sweet dreams, baby.”

Ellen and Benny find us, and Dutch waits as I follow them out the back door to the staff parking. If I wasn’t so tired, I’d turn back around and throw myself into his arms.

God, I really, really like him.