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    Keep Dancing
    Keep Dancing
    Keep Dancing
    Ebook130 pages1 hour

    Keep Dancing

    By Casey Dawes

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Can he love her—no matter what?

    Finally on her own again after her son leaves for college, small-town science teacher Alyssa Norton is ready to leap back into life and romance. Fellow teacher Ben O'Reilly is finally ready to move on from the death of his wife five years before. It should be a perfect match, but …

    Alyssa's finger won't stop twitching. It could be nothing, or it could be worse—perhaps Parkinson's, the same disease that caused Michael J. Fox to leave the career he loved. Will Ben be strong enough to find out what they have together, or will he leave her standing alone on the dance floor?

    Set in small town Montana, Keep Dancing is a sweet romance about the strength of two very human people as they redefine what it means to have a life worth living and a love worth keeping. Fans of clean and wholesome romances with mid-life characters will enjoy this novella.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCasey Dawes
    Release dateJun 5, 2018
    ISBN9781386710059
    Keep Dancing
    Author

    Casey Dawes

    Casey Dawes writes non-steamy contemporary romance and inspirational women’s fiction with romantic elements. She and her husband are traveling the US in a small trailer with the cat who owns them. When not writing or editing, she is exploring national parks, haunting independent bookstores, and lurking in spinning and yarn stores trying not to get caught fondling the fiber! Claim your free collection of short stories! Go to her website, www.CaseyDawes.com, to discover how.

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      Book preview

      Keep Dancing - Casey Dawes

      Keep Dancing

      By

      Casey Dawes

      Mountain Vines Publishing

      Copyright 2018 by Casey Dawes LLC

      All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission except in the case of brief quotations used in articles or reviews.

      Cover design by For the Muse Designs

      Edited by Julie Sturgeon

      Formatted by Concierge Self-Publishing (www.ConciergeSelfPublishing)

      For all of those who live with Parkinson’s Disease every day.

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 1

      DID YOU GET THE EMAIL from Jennifer? a loud male voice asked from the edge of Zoe Norton’s classroom.

      The presence of the history teacher filled the doorway. At almost six feet, Ben O’Reilly dwarfed most of the kids in school ... and her five-foot-two height.

      Got it, didn’t read it. The vice principal had assigned her to another committee, no doubt. So much for her plans for her free time now that her son had gone to college.

      We’ve been assigned to help the kids create their winter formal, he said.

      A dance? Ugh. Her mother had been a competitive dancer with closets full of gowns.

      Zoe hadn’t been able to make it through her own bridal dance.

      And her damn pinky twitched. She stuffed her hand in her pocket.

      C’mon. It’ll be fun, he said, doing a mock jitterbug step.

      We’re going to have to rope in someone else as well. This is not in my wheelhouse.

      Then it’s time you learn, he said.

      We don’t actually have to dance, she said. Just make sure nothing untoward happens.

      Untoward? His forehead wrinkled in a mock frown. "Do people actually say ‘untoward’?"

      Of course they do. She chuckled. Well, I do.

      Sure you aren’t an English teacher masquerading as a science nerd? The grin was back.

      Quite.

      ‘Untoward’ and ‘quite’ in the same conversation, he said. Amazing abilities. He did another dance step. But can you dance?

      I don’t have to dance, she said. All I have to do is corral kids. And that, Mr. O’Reilly, I do well.

      I’m quite sure of that. It will be more fun if we show them some steps, though. He held his arms out in a waltz position and spun around.

      He was a freewheeling teacher, willing to do anything to keep the kids’ attention. His exuberance sent an itch up her spine.

      No dancing, she said firmly.

      Okay. I can only hope you change your mind.

      I don’t know how.

      There’s classes to help you learn to dance, he said. In fact, there’s one starting up at the Firehouse in a few weeks. I was planning on enrolling. You should, too.

      I’ll think about it, she said, although she’d do no such thing. For the first time in decades, she had her life all to herself. Time for peace and quiet, not rock and roll.

      Suit yourself, he said, although his smile dimmed a little. Anyway, we need to get started soon. The fall is always a mess—holidays, football, first quarter ...

      Mid-terms ... she added.

      Yep.

      Well, I guess I don’t have a choice, she said. How do we get started?

      He walked over to where she stood. It’s a dance, he said, not a death sentence. These kids are nervous enough with all those hormones and ‘will she or won’t he dance with me?’ Have you ever been to one of these?

      Not really. She’d avoided these assignments like the plague, finding some other way to do her mandatory extracurricular activities. Her chess teams and science fair projects were legendary.

      Well, it will be an experience.

      How do we start? she repeated.

      May I? He held out his hands.

      I guess.

      He grasped them and pulled her into a classic dance position.

      At his touch, the air seemed to depart her lungs. It had been a long time since she’d had a reaction like this to a man.

      Like this, he said. You always start like this. And then? He shuffled a few steps. You just dance.

      A ball bounced in the hallway.

      She pulled away.

      The kids! she hissed.

      With a smile, he raised his hands in surrender and took a few steps back. Sorry. Got carried away. He leaned against the nearest wall. I have some ideas on kids who would be good committee members. The dance is the second week of December.

      We should set up a schedule, then, she said, striding back to her desk. That damn pinky was twitching again. She stuffed her hand, along with her concern, in her pocket.

      I’ll leave that to you. Once you decide on the first committee meeting, I’ll help you round up the kids.

      Sounds like a plan. She stared at the computer, willing him to leave.

      Uh-huh.

      She looked up at his tone.

      Consider the dance lessons, Ms. Norton. The event will be a lot more fun if you do. He studied her. You look like you could use a little more fun in your life.

      He took a good chunk of the air in the room with him when he left.

      With a sigh, she shut down her laptop, picked up her purse, and walked out into the fall day. Strolling the few blocks from the school to her house, she shrugged off her light fall jacket to enjoy the touch of sun on her shoulders. One of the last few days before the fall chill came in for real. Her three-bedroom house looked shabby against the fall glory.

      It could probably use a paint job in the spring. She could do some planting, spruce up the gardens, bedraggled from their lack of attention since her father had come to live with them a few years back. Maybe Miss Henry, the octogenarian with a green thumb next door, would help.

      Zoe glanced over. Sure enough, the spry woman was digging away, a stack of bulbs next to her.

      Miss Henry looked up. Beautiful day, isn’t it? she called over.

      That it is. What are you planting?

      Tulips. Miss Henry pushed herself to her feet.

      She should be that agile when she was that old.

      Don’t know why, the gardener said. Damn deer chew them out every year. I’m thinking this year I’ll try some of that Irish Spring soap. Some ladies in the gardening club swear it keeps the critters away.

      Are the deer that big a problem? It’s kind of nice to have them wander through the neighborhood.

      Except they think they’re pets and have the right to eat everything that isn’t fenced in. She smiled. But you’re right. I’d miss them if they weren’t here. Do you want some bulbs? I have a few extra.

      That’s okay, Zoe said. I’ve got papers to correct and a committee to plan. And a twitchy pinky to tame.

      You’ll always have those, Miss Henry said. "But you won’t always have a day like today. Old Horace was right, you know. Carpe diem. Seize the day!"

      A retired English teacher, Miss Henry frequently quoted old poets to make a point.

      Thanks, Zoe said. Maybe next fall. I need to spend the spring getting the garden ready for them. And she didn’t need to work just to feed deer. It was too much like washing dishes. No matter what you did, there were always more.

      Would you mind if I put some in for you? Miss Henry asked.

      That’s alright. I’ll take care of it next year. Really. I don’t want to be any bother to you.

      The older woman peered at her for a second. It’s okay to let others do for you now and then, she said.

      I know. It’s just ...

      It’s okay. I understand. Miss Henry’s smile had a trace of pity.

      See you later, then. Zoe waved and went into her house.

      Her empty house.

      BEN O’REILLY WAS A fake. He’d put pressure on Zoe to take a dance class, but he hadn’t signed up himself. But those few seconds he’d had the petite, auburn-haired teacher in his arms earlier that day had been a revelation.

      He was still alive.

      Heaving

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