Teri Wilson - Alaskan Homecoming

Half a dozen years had passed, and her friends could still read her like a book. “It’s not like that. I’m happy to be back. If I can’t dance, there’s no place I’d rather be.”

She wiggled her toes in her cast just the slightest bit. Pain shot from her foot all the way up her shin.

Please, God. Please let me be able to dance again.

“Then what’s wrong? Because you seem less than thrilled.” Anya covered Posy’s hand with her own. “Are you worried about your foot? It’s the same one, isn’t it?”

Yes, it was the same one. And yes, she was worried. But Posy didn’t think that was what Anya really wanted to know. “I’m taking care of it. I promise.”

“You’re not still dancing, are you?” Zoey asked.

“No.” She laughed and motioned toward the cast. “It’s a little difficult with this ball and chain.”

Unlike last time, there was no hiding the fact that she was injured. The cast guaranteed that much, as had her spectacular fall in the middle of Cinderella . She was walking around with her heart visible for the entire world to see.

The other time had been different. The break hadn’t occurred with the drama of a sickening crack, but over time. A stress fracture. At first, Posy had thought she’d just been overdoing it. It was audition season. High school graduation was right around the corner. She’d been traveling on weekends, trying out for spots in various dance companies up and down the West Coast. Of course, her dream was to dance in Seattle or even Anchorage. Somewhere close to home. Close to Liam.

She’d felt so torn between the two of them—Liam and ballet. She’d loved dance for as long as she could remember. Her parents told stories of how she’d bounced to the beat of push-button toys in the church nursery when she was only two years old.

Somewhere deep down she possessed an unquenchable need to move in the presence of music. She didn’t just hear music. She felt it, down to her core. And her ability to move to it, to dance, was God-given. She’d known that since before she could fully articulate it.

Then Liam had come along. And for the first time, she’d felt the same way about a person that she’d felt about ballet. It was bewildering. It was exhilarating. It was love. But they were young. And why should she have to choose? Being a dancer didn’t mean she couldn’t be in love.

After two weeks of icing her throbbing foot at night under the covers of her bed so her parents wouldn’t see, Posy had known something was seriously wrong. She couldn’t walk without limping. And when she danced, she had to bite the inside of her lip to keep from crying out in pain. She should have told someone then. She didn’t. She didn’t breathe a word about it to anyone, not even Liam.

She should have said something. She should have gone straight to the doctor instead of doing her best to wish it away as she danced on, from one audition to the next, for fear of missing out on her big chance at becoming a professional ballerina.

She should have done a lot of things differently.

“I’m not taking any pills, if that’s what you’re wondering. Not even Advil,” Posy said.

It was humiliating to have to give these kinds of assurances. Humiliating, but necessary. She might as well get used to it. Anya and Zoey had both been wondering. She could see it on their faces, just as she’d seen it in Liam’s eyes as they’d sat next to one another in the pastor’s office.

“Good.” Anya gave her hand a squeeze before letting go.

“Seriously. It’s not the foot that’s bothering me so much as something else.” Or someone else.

Zoey frowned. “What’s wrong, then?”

Posy looked up, and her gazed fixed on the stuffed grizzly bear that stood in the corner behind the coffee bar. Like she needed an enormous furry reminder of the stellar afternoon she’d had. “Liam Blake. That’s what’s wrong. Liam and his gigantic dog.”

Anya’s eyebrows rose. “You’ve already seen Liam?”

“Not only have I seen him, but I’m apparently working for him. He’s my boss.” Posy stared into her empty coffee cup, willing it to refill itself. She was going to need more caffeine to process the specifics of her new life, however temporary. Massive amounts of caffeine.

Anya asked the barista for refills all around.

Zoey shook her head. “Wait. Are you working at the church now, or...?”

“The church, yes.” Posy sighed. It was difficult to fathom that only two hours ago, she’d been so excited about the prospect of teaching ballet that she’d headed straight to the church once her plane had landed. The fact that the route from the airport to church allowed her to avoid Aurora’s town square and the big evergreen tree that stood at its center was merely convenient. “I’m teaching ballet in the after-school program.”

Anya choked on her coffee. “Ballet? At the church? Does Liam know?”

Posy nodded. “He does now. And needless to say, he’s less than thrilled.”

Even after she’d gotten over the initial shock of realizing that Liam was the youth pastor, she’d thought that maybe, just maybe, his feelings about ballet had changed. A lot of time had passed. She’d hoped it would have been enough time for him to realize it wasn’t ballet that had hurt her. Dancing might have been the cause of her stress fracture, but dancing hadn’t made her hide her injury. Ballet hadn’t shoved those pills down her throat. She’d done those things herself.

She’d been afraid. Afraid of losing her chance at becoming a ballerina. Afraid to find out just what was wrong with her body. God had created her to be a ballet dancer. If she could no longer dance, she no longer knew who she was.

And that had been the irony of the whole ordeal, hadn’t it? She’d never questioned the fact that God had given her the ability to dance, but once the pain came, she’d lost her faith. It had left her so swiftly, she’d never realized it was gone.

The mess had been one of her own making.

“I didn’t even know Liam worked there.” Posy added another dash of sugar to her fresh cup of coffee. “How long has he been the youth pastor, anyway?”

Anya and Zoey grew very quiet. Finally, Anya answered the question.

“A long time. Four years,” she said.

Four years? Liam had been a pastor for four years, and she hadn’t heard a thing about it? How was that possible? “You’re kidding.”

Anya shook her head. “No, I’m not kidding. I’m dead serious. Lou McNeil came to Aurora from Anchorage to take over as the head pastor, and he hired Liam straightaway. It seems Pastor McNeil knows Liam’s dad.”

“So Liam’s dad is still preaching?” Posy asked.

“Yes, although I have no idea where.” Anya reached for the half-and-half and added a dollop to her coffee. “No one can keep up with Liam’s parents. Once they sold their house here, they stopped coming back to Aurora altogether. Not that they ever spent much time here to begin with.”

So the house had sold.

Posy’s last memory of Liam’s childhood home had been the day his dad had driven the post of the for-sale sign into the nearly frozen yard. A stake through Liam’s heart.

“You mean your mom never told you that Liam is a pastor now?” Zoey asked.

“No. She didn’t.” Posy set down her coffee cup. Suddenly, she was no longer thirsty.

Surely her mom didn’t want her to work at the church so Liam could keep an eye on her. That couldn’t be possible. Her parents couldn’t actually expect her old boyfriend to make sure she handled her injury better than she had last time. Because that would be mortifying beyond words. And wrong. Just plain wrong.

“You know, all of this awkwardness could have been avoided if you’d come back to visit. Even once,” Zoey said, her tone not at all judgmental, but wistful.