Free Dancer by Emma Clark Page A

gentled.
    Abandoned, the knife thumped against the carpet. He straightened with his back to me and bowed his head into his palms.
    "I'm sorry," he breathed. "I wasn't gonna do it. I swear."
    I shifted to a kneeling position as everything washed over me. All my buried emotions floated to the surface.
    " Allison. " My stomach, head and heart ached, felt heavy, abysmal. I was free-falling, unable to stop this emotional descent.
    "It's okay. Come here." An arm slipped about my waist and I let go of myself; let myself fall into his safe embrace.
    Enemy or not.
    His chest muffled my cries as we clung to each other.
    "Shh." He stroked my hair, kissed the top of my head. "It'll be okay. I'm sorry about Allison. Sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry... for everything."
    I know.
    I was still crying when dawn's lilac glow trickled through the bay window.
    Once Chase and I were enemies. Now what were we?
    Between thoughts of Allison, I wondered: Would it be possible for Chase and me to get along enough to be decent parents?
    I could've laughed even in my misery.
    But anything was possible.
    Wasn't it?

12
    I t stunned me when Chase didn't press charges. No one knew what had happened. He told Sherrie he'd left that week to decide what to do about their relationship. I figured it was closer to the truth than he realized.
    In a mad rush to destroy signs of Chase's presence, I stripped the bed and washed those hideous blood-stained sheets.
    Blood stains were difficult to remove, as I discovered. So I balled up the sheets and tossed them in the outdoor trash, praying someone wouldn't stumble across them in the future.
    Mom and Dad cut short their vacation to return home for Allison's memorial.
    This service took place amidst a floral garden which smothered the rooftop of a conservatory. A skyline view formed the stunning backdrop.
    Dozens of family and friends attended. We watched as Lucy scattered her daughter's ashes over the vast city. A breeze lifted and swirled the ashes until they vanished, freeing Allison's spirit.
    A fitting ceremony. She'd always been free.
    Was I? Was I freed from my pain? No. I'd never get over Allison or what happened. Therapy might help.
    I released a yellow rose. It tumbled below and gradually diminished.
    While turning to leave, I saw him.
    Chase carried a single yellow rose for Allison. Handsomely dressed in an ebony suit and tie, he stopped when he noticed me.
    It was all about forgiveness. Could I forgive him?
    Could he forgive me?
    I met him half-way and he swept me into his arms, held me tightly against him.
    "I'm sorry about your friend," he softly said in my ear. "I swear I am. I swear..."
    "Thank you."
    "Will you meet me sometime?" he asked. "We need to talk."
    We do? "When?"
    "I'm gonna be busy this week, so maybe next Friday night at nine. I'll come to your house."
    "Sure. I suppose."
    "Good." He parted and swaggered away, the rose swinging at his side.
    Feeling like I was trapped in a bewildering dream or nightmare, I trudged in the opposite direction and widened the gap between us.
    All week I stopped myself from dwelling on Chase's upcoming visit. Halted myself from guessing his intentions and biting my nails over his possible motives.
    On Friday, Chase showed at five minutes past nine. I'd been watching the clock with its minute hand that traveled at a nerve-wracking pace.
    As soon as he knocked, I bolted to the door.
    "What's this about?" I asked, half-frantic. He stood on the exterior step, avoided eye contact and fidgeted. 
    Moonlight cast a sheen on his tousled, sandy hair.
    "Can I come in?" he finally asked.
    "Oh yeah." I moved to the side. He passed and turned to face me.
    "I'd still like to help you raise our son," he said. "I want to be a father to him even though I probably don't deserve it."
    "Chase, you deserve it." And I meant it.
    He gave a small smile that didn't warm his troubled eyes.
    "Sam, can we talk in privacy somewhere?" He glanced in the living room where Mom was curled on the couch,