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“Luke really is attractive, isn’t he?” she asked, closely watching Kate.
The other woman nodded eagerly. “It surprises me that he’s not married. There are plenty of girls around Nightingale who’d be more than willing, believe me. At every Grange dance, the ladies flirt with him like crazy. I love to tease him about it—he really hates that. But I wish Luke would get married—I don’t like the idea of him living his life alone. It’s time he thought about settling down and starting a family. He was thirty last month, but when I said something about it, he nearly bit my head off.”
Rorie nibbled on her lower lip. She inhaled a deep breath and released it slowly. Her guess was that Luke Rivers had his heart set on someone special, and that someone was engaged to another man. God help him, Rorie thought. She knew exactly how he felt.
* * *
The music was already playing by the time Luke, Kate and Rorie arrived at the Grange Hall in Luke’s ten-year-old four-door sedan. Rorie tried to force some enthusiasm for this outing, but had little success. She hadn’t exchanged more than a few words with the foreman during the entire drive. He, apparently, didn’t like this arranged-date business any better than she did. But they were stuck with each other, and Rorie at least was determined to make the best of it.
They entered the hall and were greeted by the cheery voice of the male caller:
Rope the cow, brand the calf
Swing your sweetheart, once and a half...
Rorie hadn’t known what to expect, but she was surprised by the smooth-stepping, smartly dressed dancers who twirled around the floor following the caller’s directions. She felt more daunted than ever by the evening ahead of her. And to worsen matters, Kate had insisted Rorie borrow one of her outfits. Although Rorie liked the bright blue colors, she felt awkward and self-conscious in the billowing skirts.
The Grange itself was bigger than Rorie had anticipated. On the stage stood the caller and several fiddlers. Refreshment tables lined one wall and the polished dance floor was so crowded Rorie wondered how anyone could move without bumping into others. The entire meeting hall was alive with energy and music, and despite herself, she felt her mood lift. Her toes started tapping out rhythms almost of their own accord. Given time, she’d be out there, too, joining the vibrant, laughing dancers. It was unavoidable, anyway. She knew Kate wouldn’t allow her to sit sedately in the background and watch. Neither would Clay and Skip, who’d just arrived.
“Oh, my feet are moving already.” Kate was squirming with eagerness. Clay smiled indulgently, tucked his arm around her waist and the two of them stepped onto the dance floor. He glanced back once at Rorie, before a circle of eight opened up to admit them.
“Shall we?” Luke asked, eyeing the dance floor.
He didn’t sound too enthusiastic and Rorie didn’t blame him. “Would it be all right if we sat out the first couple of dances?” she asked. “I’d like to get more into the swing of things.”
“No problem.”
Luke looked almost grateful for the respite, which didn’t lend Rorie much confidence. No doubt he assumed this city slicker was going to make a fool of herself and of him—and she probably would. When he escorted her to the row of chairs, Rorie made the mistake of sitting down. Instantly her skirts leaped up into her face. Embarrassed, she pushed them down, then tucked the material under her thighs in an effort to tame the layers of stiff petticoats.
“Hello, Luke.” A pretty blonde with sparkling blue eyes sauntered over. “I didn’t know if you’d show tonight or not. Glad you did.”
“Beth Hammond, this is Rorie Campbell.”
Rorie nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, Beth.”
“Oh, I heard about you at the drugstore yesterday. You’re the gal with the broken-down sports car, aren’t you?”
“That’s me.” By now it shouldn’t have surprised Rorie that everyone knew about her troubles.
“I hope everything turns out okay.”
“Thanks.” Although Beth was speaking to Rorie, her eyes didn’t leave Luke. It was patently obvious that she expected an invitation to dance.
“Luke, why don’t you dance with Beth?” Rorie suggested. “That way I’ll gather a few pointers from watching the two of you.”
“What a good idea,” Beth chirped eagerly. “We’ll stay on the outskirts of the crowd so you can see how it’s done. Be sure and listen to Charlie—he’s the caller. Then you’ll see what each step is.”
Rorie nodded agreeably.
Luke gave Rorie a long sober look. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
All join hands, circle right around
Stop in place at your hometown...
Studying the dancers, Rorie quickly picked up the terms do se do,allemande left and allemande right and a number of others, which she struggled to keep track of. By the end of the dance, her foot was tapping out the lively beat of the fiddlers’ music and a smile formed as she listened to the perfectly rhyming words.
“Rorie,” Skip said, suddenly standing in front of her. “May I have the pleasure of this dance?”
“I...I don’t think I’m ready yet.”
“Nonsense.” Without listening to her protest, he grabbed her hand and hauled her to her feet.
“Skip, I’ll embarrass you,” she protested in a low whisper. “I’ve never done this before.”
“You’ve got to start sometime.” He tucked his arm around her waist and led her close to the stage.
“We got a newcomer, Charlie,” Skip called out, “so make this one simple.”
Charlie gave Skip a thumbs-up and reached for the microphone. “We’ll go a bit slower this time,” Charlie announced to his happy audience. “Miss Rorie Campbell from San Francisco has joined us and it’s her first time on the floor.”
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