Find all the parts of this story here.
Chapter 2: Let’s Dance
Part 1: Sophie
Friday night brought with it a sense of the exhale – walking out of work knowing she had made good progress, her fridge was bare but cleaned in anticipation of Saturday morning’s shopping, and best of all, it was dance night.
Sophie could barely suppress her grin as she bid her coworkers farewell, climbed into her well-loved little Ford Focus, and drove not towards home, but to the warehouse she had secured for this week’s rehearsal. It sat just a mile from her apartment building. She had scouted the place, and then found the owners in the city records. The process made her feel like an investigative journalist. The man who owned the warehouse only used about half of it to store product for his wife’s online home goods store. He’d had no problem unofficially subletting some space to her for the evening. After tonight, she’d decide if she wanted it again.
She parked in the back lot, noticing a lack of lighting that made her a little nervous. A few deep breaths carried her across the lot to the back door. Mr. Edbridge, the owner, had given her a code to the back door and told her how to turn the lights on. Thankfully that included an exterior light next to the door – although that still meant she’d have to turn the light out to walk to her car. She shivered a little at the thought, then pushed it aside with a reminder of the presence of her pepper spray.
The door creaked ominously – of course – and the lights buzzed while they slowly came to life. 1987 called and they want their creepy warehouse back, Sophie thought. She set her speaker in the corner and turned it on, then changed out of her work clothes and into black leggings and a soft black oversized t-shirt in the little corner restroom. Flexible, thin-soled dance shoes and a ponytail completed her look.
A glance at her phone told her she still had two hours before the posted rehearsal start time. She had a plan for every one of those 120 minutes, just like she had a plan for every minute of their rehearsal.
Step one: food. An apple and peanut butter, whole wheat crackers, and a few cubes of her favorite expensive cheddar (who knew Wisconsin had such amazing cheese?! This warm-blooded Arizona girl had definitely been missing out.) filled her belly for the night to come.
Step two: call Dad while warming up, also known as pacing clockwise circles around the warehouse.
“Hey, sweetie-pie. How was your week?” her dad’s comforting voice rumbled easily over 1,600 miles of distance to warm her heart.
“Hi, Dad,” she breathed. “I miss you.” The words escaped before she was ready for them, and a few tears made a sneaky showing.
“Oh, sweetie-pie, I miss you, too,” he crooned. Not helping, Dad! More traitorous tears snaked down her cheeks, and she swiped at them angrily.
“Do you get a spring break?” her dad asked with an edge of laughter in his voice.
“Aww, man, I wish,” she answered with a smile. Thank you, Lord, for Dad’s good humor to lighten the situation.
“Dance class tonight?” he asked to redirect her yet again. Now she swallowed back guilt.
“Yup,” was all she could answer.
“I’m so glad you’re keeping up with your dancing, sweetie-pie,” he commented. “Anything good at work this week?”
A certain golden-haired young police officer’s face drifted into her mind, and she felt the blush warming her cheeks.
“Uh, yeah, actually. Remember me telling you about the project to revamp Williamson’s marketing?”
“Sure do! A big project. It’ll be good for your career, right?”
God bless her dad, ever trying to be part of and understand his kid’s lives. Pete Lane was a blue-collar plumber, but also a small business owner. His understanding of marketing extended only as far as the check he wrote – yes, physical check – to the lady from church who did some social media ads for him on occasion. Her dad avoided computers like the plague, and only caved to a cell phone when Sophie’s older brother Jonathan had moved out of state. No texting, though – phone calls only.
“It will, yes. I’m only doing part of the project. Almost everyone at my firm has a piece of the pie. My boss asked me and one of my coworkers to focus on the emergency services in town. This week, I got to do a ride-along with a police officer,” Sophie explained, feeling a bit like a kindergartener telling her daddy about a field trip.
Okay, so maybe her dad was as far removed from her ripe age of 23 as she was from kindergarten… Would she ever actually feel like an adult?
“Wow, sweetie-pie,” Dad replied, and she sensed a strange tone. He paused before continuing. “Was that safe?”
Aha. Oh, Dad. Nope, she definitely did not feel like an adult, and she was doubly thankful her family would never see the apartment she lived in before her lease was up.
“Yes, Dad.” She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes by turning around and pacing in counter-clockwise circles. “The nature of a ride-along is that there was an officer there at all times. I was probably safer than normal.”
“Hmm,” was all Dad would say.
“Besides, his only two calls were for a broken window and a stalled vehicle. Nothing nefarious, I promise.”
“If you say so. How was that supposed to help your project?”
“I got to interview him while he worked, and see our police force in action. It gave me ideas for how to present our police force to both our current citizens and to people who might visit or even move here. I know you’re not a computer person, Dad, but a lot of other folks are. The city’s current website does a terrible job of promoting emergency services. If I was moving to Williamson again, I’d be much happier with the new website options we’re developing. It gives people a better idea of the presence of the police as a community service, as part of the fabric of the town instead of a random auxiliary group that only shows up when things are really bad. It was enlightening and surprisingly enjoyable.”
Her dad didn’t say anything for several moments, leaving Sophie fighting not to hold her breath as she paced. She forced herself to sit on the floor and do some light stretching.
“I’m glad it was a productive day for you,” he finally said. “Maybe I’ll have Mom show me when it’s done.”
Warmth spread from the smile on her face into her torso and all the way to her toes.
“I’d like that, Dad,” she replied.
“Well,” he said somewhat gruffly, clearly choked up a little by her emotion. “Gotta keep tabs on you. Now, this officer…”
“Dad,” she warned, dragging his name out to several syllables.
“Sophie,” Dad replied in kind, making her laugh.
“Fine. Yes, he is handsome. He actually recommended a church to me,” she offered.
“Not some modern, spineless stuff, I hope?”
Sophie couldn’t help laughing. “Not at all. You know I haven’t enjoyed Mt. Olive.” Her dad gave an indistinct grumble of agreement. They had talked at length about the practices and preaching at Mt. Olive, never finding anything doctrinally wrong, exactly, but also never feeling entirely comfortable with it. “He goes to a more traditional Lutheran church in the next town over. Same synod.”
“Really.” Dad sounded surprised and, maybe, a little impressed?
“Really,” Sophie concurred. “I’m going to visit this weekend, see if I like it. They have two services, even, so I can go to late church like I always wanted to.”
“There’s my sweetie-pie, sleeping until noon,” Dad teased.
“Yup!” Sophie agreed cheerfully.
“You’ll call Sunday afternoon?” Dad requested. “Tell Mom and I all about it?”
“Of course. You’ll be the first to know.”
“Thanks, sweetie-pie. Have fun at dance tonight.”
She winced a little at the deception. “I will, Dad. I love you.”
“I love you too, sweetie-pie.”