“I’ll try.” She yawned. “I better go to bed. I’ve been awake since two.”
“Seriously?”
Maizie just nodded.
“You better take some ibuprofen too. You’ll probably wake up with a bad headache.”
“Thanks for reminding me.” Maizie turned to leave, then turned back. “But don’t tell me what to do.” She shot at him before retreating into the house.
“Whatever you say, princess,” Christian called after her. He smiled despite himself as he turned back to the field.
Fifteen
Maizie rolled over in bed and winced. Why did her face hurt? Oh yeah, Christian. Even though her face and head were killing her, she felt lighter than she had in days. Probably because
she had finally swallowed her pride and apologized. And it hadn’t killed her.
“Eric Jensen, go back to bed.” Maizie heard her mom commanding her dad. She pulled herself from bed to help her mom fight him. Her dad was more stubborn than the cows he raised. He worked harder than anyone she had ever known and hardly took a moment for himself.
“I’ve been asleep since noon.” Her dad retorted and Maizie glanced at the time. It was only 1:30.
“Nice try, Dad. Go back to sleep.” Maizie caught her parent’s attention, and they both gaped at her.
“What happened to you?” Her mother ran to inspect her face.
“Christian—” Maizie didn’t have time to finish her sentence before her dad jumped up.
“What? I’ll kill him.”
Maizie pushed her overprotective dad back into his chair with a gentle shove.
“He let out the clutch too fast and I ate the steering wheel,” Maizie explained.
“I remember when Mack did that to me.” Her dad said with a chuckle. “Of course, I’m tougher than you and didn’t get a black eye, just a bruised ego.”
“Hey,” Maizie interjected. “I’m tough too.”
“Of course you are, sweetheart.” Her dad gave her a side hug.
“Thanks for the concern,” Maizie said. “Now back to bed.”
“Fine. Only because you’re up. Will you switch Mitchell off in an hour.” Her dad yawned. “Oh, and take the boys some lunch soon.”
“I will, Dad,” Maizie said and pushed him toward his room.
“Thanks, sweetheart.” Her mom said, as soon as her dad disappeared. “I swear he listens better to you than me.”
“It’s because I’m so tough,” Maizie said with a grin.
“I’ll make some sandwiches for the boys,” her mom said and headed for the kitchen.
Maizie had an hour before she needed to get back on the tractor. Her body was stiff from sitting for so long. What she needed right now was to dance.
* * *
The music transportedMaizie to another world. A world where nothing existed besides dance. She ran through her routine over and over again. Perfecting every move from her pirouette to her back tuck. The routine started out slow, almost like a ballet, then morphed into contemporary, ending with exactly twenty-two seconds of hip hop. It was risky, but a risk she hoped would impress the college dance team. She loved choreographing and teaching her own dances. Someday she wanted to have her own little dance studio to do just that.
Her studio had been a place of refuge growing up, especially after Mack had passed. She longed to provide the same comfort to other kids. Regardless of whether she ever became a teacher, she’d never stop dancing.
