“I think so. I’ve never met anyone like her. Even though she doesn’t talk, we communicate well.”
“Are you aware of why she doesn’t talk?”
“No. It doesn’t seem appropriate to ask.”
She didn’t add that she’d done a little research without learning that answer. She had told herself it was wise to learn as much as she could about her student to better teach her, but the truth was, the more time she spent with Katie and Will, the more she wanted to know about them.
Katie’s lessons over the past few weeks had gone largely like the first one. Jasmine arrived at Will’s house, fixed the poor attempt at a bun that Will or Frank tried to do, and got right into working with Katie. If the lessons were scheduled close to a mealtime, Will or Frank—depending on who was there for the lesson—invited her to stay and eat with them, which she inevitably did.
She just couldn’t say no with Katie always so hopeful.
Their casual mealtime conversations had made Jasmine even more curious. She started her research by reading up on Will’s career.
He’d been drafted out of high school by the Colorado Rockies at age seventeen. He had then worked his way through the team’s farm system, beginning in Asheville, North Carolina in single-A. He’d been drafted as a starting pitcher, but struggles in his initial outings in AAA caused him to transition into a relief role at age nineteen. By the time he hit the Majors at age twenty-one, he had already begun to show promise as a closer.
It was in Will’s Wikipedia bio that she discovered Katie hadn’t entered his life until she was four. The details on that were vague. Jasmine had only been able to piece together from the timeline that Will had been seventeen when Katie’s mother got pregnant, and that coincided with when he was playing ball in North Carolina. No details about Katie’s mother were anywhere Jasmine could find, which was why she hadn’t gotten the insight she’d hoped into Katie’s issues.
She wasn’t about to admit any of that to her therapist though. She’d surely get a lecture about maintaining boundaries with clients.
“A child’s mental health is a delicate topic,” Dr. Smythe said. “You’ve mentioned her father is heavily involved in your work with her.”
“Yes.”
Will attended each of Katie’s lessons when he was in town. It was something that touched Jasmine. Throughout her childhood, it had been her mother who took her to her lessons and paid attention to the instructor’s feedback. If she was lucky, her father showed up for recitals. Seeing how invested Will was in Katie’s dance education—indeed, how invested he was in her overall well-being—showed her what a great guy he was. They’d come a long way from her thinking of him as the outrageously overprotective dad who wanted to toss her in jail.
Now, she thought of him in other ways…ways she was sure a teacher wasn’t supposed to think of a student’s parent. It was awfully hard not to when he was so damn charming and attractive though, wasn’t it?
“If you ever have the opportunity to ask her father for more details,” Dr. Smythe said, “it could be helpful. Knowing the cause of Katie’s trauma may aid you in helping her to heal.”
Jasmine nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“It sounds as though this teaching role has provided you with some unexpected benefits.”
“I suppose it has.”
“You said you’re doing this until you’re healthy enough to begin auditioning again. Didn’t you say that time is coming soon?”
A prickle of anxiety creeped along Jasmine’s nerves. Her last PT appointment was coming up in a couple weeks. Based on her most recent appointment, she expected Everly to give her clearance to begin auditioning.
“Yes,” she said.
And finally, the big question.
“And how does that make you feel?”
As she’d been instructed during their first session, Jasmine took a moment to process her feelings and put her thoughts together before responding.
“Confused,” she said at last.
“Okay. Talk it through.”
Jasmine took another moment to watch the ducks swimming on the pond outside the doctor’s window before saying, “I’ve known since I performed in my first dance recital that I wanted to be a professional dancer. It didn’t take much longer for me to focus on ballet. It has been my life for nearly twenty years.”
“And now?”
She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. “Now I’ve met Katie. My work with her has made me question whether I’m so strongly pursuing my dance career because it’s my true passion, or