Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 24

When was there ever a time she didn’t move forward through pain?

That night, Theodore didn’t come home.

Emma hadn’t planned to wait for him anyway. She went about her evening with quiet efficiency, finishing her tasks before bed. Just as she was settling in for the night, her phone buzzed with a message from Ms. Brown, inviting her to see a show together the next evening.

A few days ago, if someone had asked her to go out, she might have found it intrusive. But not anymore.

She accepted at once, arranging to meet Ms: Brown for dinner first, then head to the ballet.

Tomorrow was shaping up to be a day worth looking forward to. Tonight, she told herself, she’d get a good night’s rest.

But how could anyone sleep soundly when they were this excited?

She woke up countless times throughout the night, her restless anticipation carrying her all the way into the next afternoon.

She knew her exam results wouldn’t be released until after two, but she couldn’t help herself–checking her email every few minutes, refreshing the website over and over.

Finally, in the afternoon, the notification arrived. Her heart pounding, she logged into the site, hardly daring to believe her eyes when a score of seven flashed across the

screen.

She’d known she’d done well, but she’d tried not to hope. She’d kept telling herself, if she could just get a 6.5, that would be enough. For the arts, a 6.5 was sufficient. Her last exam, six months ago, was only a six…

Clutching her phone, she collapsed onto the bed, tears spilling down her cheeks in an

instant.

This time, the tears weren’t for Theodore, nor for her marriage, but for the giant step she’d taken toward her own dreams.

After a restless night, and with her results finally in, a sense of calm washed over her. She took a much–needed nap, then got up in the evening, feeling refreshed and ready to go out and meet her teacher.

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11:50

Chapter 24

As she left her room and stepped into the living room, she caught the stunned look in Fallon’s eyes.

Tonight, she was wearing a long dress and had even put on makeup.

In the past five years, she’d rarely worn dresses, and makeup was almost unheard of.

A damaged leg had kept her from walking properly, but it had also chained up her sense of beauty–something she’d convinced herself she no longer deserved.

“You look beautiful, ma’am,” Fallon said, his amazement impossible to hide. “Are you going somewhere special?”

“I’m going to the theater with my teacher,” Emma answered, nerves fluttering in her stomach. The dress reached almost to her ankles, and she’d worn tights, so no one could see the scars on her leg.

She politely refused Fallon’s offer to accompany her, and stepped out the door, feeling like a shy fawn venturing out of the forest into the world–excited and anxious all at

once.

Dinner with her teacher was simple local fare, light and comforting–just what she

liked.

Afterward, they made their way to the theater.

Tonight’s performance was by the Cresthaven Performing Arts Troupe, a classic piece Emma had danced countless times back in her school days.

As the music began, something deep inside her stirred–the dancer’s spirit that had never truly left.

Even though she sat in the audience, even though she might never set foot on stage again, her toes couldn’t help but tap along to the rhythm, her body remembering every

nuance.

When the final curtain fell, and the thunderous applause rang out, she watched as audience members lined up to present flowers to the dancers. Once again, she found herself in tears.

Not from sadness, not from pain, and certainly not from despair.

But from the resonance between the art of dance and her own soul.

It had once been her greatest love.

And somehow, she had let herself forget it for five whole years.

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