Author's Note: Thanks to everyone for all of your wonderful reviews of the last chapter. They helped my muse immensely. This chapter is very Lyla-centric and reveals an old talent of hers, but the Elves shall return in the next chapter. Please review!
Chapter Seven:
Lyla stared at the laptop screen, half-tempted to throw the wretched thing out the window. With all the advancements in technology and all the new knowledge learned in this world since she'd been gone, one would think she'd be able to find something that could give her the connection she needed with the spell books and the portal.
She raked a hand through her hair. Relying on her memory and three thousand-year-old notes was getting her nowhere. The public library in Fort Collins hadn't turned up anything useful, and the Internet was no better. Taking a gulp of her lukewarm coffee, she glanced at the clock: 5:00 p.m. A frown creased her brow. Had she eaten today? Her stomach growled loudly in reply. Apparently not.
Her mother entered the office. "How's it going, honey?"
"It's going nowhere. Absolutely nowhere. And apparently, neither am I." Lyla crossed her arms on the desk and rested her forehead against them. A feeling of hopelessness overwhelmed her, and she barely resisted the urge to cry.
Her mom's gentle hand on her back offered a small measure of comfort. "You'll figure it out, sweetheart. You're brilliant. If you could figure it out once, you can do it again."
Lyla sat up. "Yes, but before I had the spell books and no pressure. Neither is the case now."
"Sitting in this room all day every day isn't doing anything to help. Why don't we go out to dinner, and then you can come to dance class with me."
"I can't. I have to keep working. I have to get back."
Diane crossed her arms. "Lyla Marguerite Sanderson. You have only been back for three weeks, and I think you've spent twenty of those days secluded in this room. You've barely been eating, and I don't think you've been sleeping either. Have you eaten today? Did you even go to bed last night?"
Lyla grimaced. "I—"
"Don't lie to your mother, young lady."
"I slept for a little while on the couch in here."
"How much is a little while?"
Lyla frowned. "I don't see how it matters. All that matters is that I get back to my family as soon as possible."
"Aren't I your family too? You've been gone for twenty years in my time, and I've just gotten you back. I feel like I've barely seen you."
Pain tugged at Lyla's heart at the hurt look in her mother's eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel like that. I-I just miss my family so much."
Diane put an arm around Lyla's shoulders. "I know. I understand. But sitting in here wasting away isn't going to help you get back any faster. If anything, it's going to make it take longer. You need to eat. You need to sleep. You need to get out of this house and experience life."
A sigh escaped Lyla's lips. Her mother was right. If she spent every waking moment locked in this room, she would never make any headway. The answer could be staring her in the face, and she would be too exhausted and worn down to see it. It would do her good to go out with her mom, visit her friends, and see how this world had changed in the time she'd been gone.
"You're right, Mom."
Her mother smiled. "Of course I am. Now, let's go grab some dinner, and then you can watch your old mom strut her stuff at seniors' ballroom dance class."
Lyla chuckled. "I'm in."
*/~
Lyla sat along the wall in the dance studio and watched the seniors mingle about. Her mother socialized with a group of women while they waited for the teacher to arrive, leaving Lyla by herself. She glanced around the room. The studio was spacious and well-lit with tasteful decorations possessing a Latin flare. A large trophy case stood against the wall adjacent to her. She rose and looked at the numerous awards, recognizing the names of several prestigious dance competitions. Apparently this studio was very successful.
A handsome Latino man in his late-20s entered the room. Assuming he was the instructor, Lyla returned to her seat.
"Sorry I'm late," he said. "My wife is sick, so I'll be teaching you alone tonight."
Lyla frowned as her mother tapped him on the arm and pulled him to the side. Dread filled her as Diane said something to him, then pointed at her. By the Valar, she wouldn't. He started walking toward Lyla, and she groaned. Evil woman!
"Hola, I'm Gabriel Martinez. Are you Lyla?"
She arched a brow. "That depends on what you're about to ask me."
He gave her a broad smile. "Your mother told me you were a dancer. As you heard, my wife is ill, and I'm without a partner to teach the class tonight. Perhaps you would be so kind as to help me?"
Lyla shot her mother a dark glare. She hadn't danced ballroom since she was eighteen. "I'm afraid I'm in no position to help teach anyone. I've no talent for this sort of thing."
Gabriel frowned. "Diane said you used to dance ballroom competitively."
"That was many, many years ago. I haven't danced in over thr—um, twenty years."
"So you stopped dancing when you were three?"
She laughed softly. "I'm older than I look."
"I'll take your word for it. It's just a simple tango for a beginners' class, and we can practice for a few minutes first if it will make you more comfortable. I'd really appreciate the help."
Lyla sighed. What did she have to lose? "Why not? But if I'm terrible and you can't walk at the end of the night, don't say I didn't warn you."
Gabriel grinned and led her into a smaller studio room. "You'll do fine. You never really forget dance. It's hardwired into your body. Even if your mind has forgotten, your body and soul will remember."
"We'll see."
He showed her his half of the tango, then her counterpart. She tried her best to replicate the steps and picked them up for the most part after a couple of tries. They danced the piece together a few times, and Lyla was glad to see that Gabriel handled having his toes trampled well, as she spent a good amount of time stepping on them.
"Not bad," Gabriel said. "You learn quickly, and your attitude for the tango is perfect."
Lyla's mouth curved. "Oh, that. I was just envisioning the heated discussion I'm going to have with my mother on the way home."
He laughed. "Well, I'm grateful for your help. Come. We have a tango to teach."
"Or to slaughter," Lyla muttered.
The lesson went better than she expected. Everyone seemed receptive and grateful that she was willing to help, making her feel less like a fool. Once the class finished and everyone left, Gabriel thanked her again.
"I can tell that you used to dance," he said. "With some lessons, I think you could get back to where you used to be."
"So do I," her mother said.
Lyla shook her head. "I bet you do. I don't think I could ever get back to the level I was at when I was eighteen. I don't think my body bends that way anymore."
Gabriel smiled. "You're too hard on yourself. You did a great job tonight. Besides, I know that I could use your help more in the near future. My wife is pregnant, and it won't be long before she can't teach classes anymore. You'd assist with just the beginners' classes at first. Then, if you'd be willing to take some private lessons—free, of course—you could help me with the more advanced groups once you get back to the proper level."
"I—"
"She'd be glad to," Diane chimed in.
Lyla scowled at her. The woman was mad! "I can answer for myself, thank you very much." She sighed. Dancing tonight had brought back some pleasant memories, but she didn't know if committing to something like this was wise. If everything worked out as she hoped, she would be back in Valinor before much more time passed. But she supposed it wouldn't hurt to participate until she figured out a way to go home. "All right."
Big grins spread across both Gabriel's and her mom's faces. "Wonderful," he said.
They worked out a quick schedule, and then Lyla and Diane left. "I can't believe you roped me into this," Lyla said on the way home.
"Roped you into what? Dancing? You did great tonight, and I could tell you had fun. Admit it."
"I did have fun, but I haven't danced like that in three thousand years. Longer than that, actually."
"Yes, but from age three to age eighteen, you were my little dancer. I think it'll do you good to get back into it. It'll help take your mind off your troubles. Do you know I still have all of your old ballroom trophies?"
Unexpected laughter welled within Lyla. "Oh, good Lord. You're impossible."
"I am a stubborn, old woman who is used to getting her way."
"And you got your way tonight with your unsuspecting dance instructor caught in the middle. I just know I'm not going to be any good, and the poor man is going to regret asking me for help."
"Nonsense. You'll be wonderful. And if all this does is get you out of the house for a few hours a week, I'll be happy."
*/~
The small park near her mother's high-rise whizzed by. Lungs burning, Lyla sprinted after Kendra, trying unsuccessfully to keep up with her. She hadn't gone for a run since she'd been back, so when her mother suggested jogging with Kendra—who lived on the same floor—in the mornings, Lyla had expected a relatively normal workout: challenging, but manageable. Boy, was she wrong.
The woman slowed beside a small fountain, and a few seconds later, Lyla halted beside her. She dragged air into her lungs, grateful for the small reprieve.
Kendra chuckled, green eyes twinkling from behind black, modern-framed glasses. "You okay?"
"I-I think so. I haven't run this hard in a very long time, if ever."
"You're doing fine. Hey, you're keeping up with me better than most people."
"Thanks, I think." Lyla studied her. In her early-30s, she was tall and pretty with shoulder-length blond hair pulled into a high ponytail. "Have you ever thought about running competitively?"
She grinned. "I used to. I was in the Summer Olympics years ago."
Lyla's jaw dropped. "No wonder I can't keep up."
"It's a bit of a curse. All my jogging partners quit on me. Even my fiancé Nick won't workout with me anymore." She gave Lyla a wicked smile. "You actually have potential."
"Good thing for you then that I need the exercise."
Kendra patted her shoulder. "That's the spirit. Let's get back to it." At Lyla's groan, she giggled. "A bit slower this time."
This time Kendra set a more manageable pace that Lyla could handle. "So what do you do, Lyla?"
"Um, well, I used to be a language professor at the university, but that was years ago. Now, I guess I'm a researcher."
"What kind of research?"
Lyla frowned. How did she explain this without sounding like a lunatic? "I'm currently researching a basically unknown language belonging to an ancient culture. Needless to say, it's difficult and frustrating."
"Sounds like it. I think I'll just stick to psychology."
Lyla arched a brow. "You're a psychologist?"
"Yes. I specialize in marital difficulties and counseling. Are you married?"
By the Valar, she was going to kill her mother for this. "I'm not sure if I should answer that."
Kendra laughed. "Don't worry. I promise not to use my psychological charms on you unless you ask."
"Then yes."
"Long time?"
A sad smile crossed Lyla's face. "Forever."
Her new friend glanced at her. "Judging from your tone, I'd say there's a story there. If you ever want to talk, I'm here. No charge. You are my jogging partner, after all."
"I might take you up on that some time."
They finished their run, then headed back into the apartment building. Mike, the younger security guard, gave them a devilish smile. "Hello, ladies. Looking foxy this morning."
They gave him a wave. "Hi, Mike."
"It must be my lucky day to see such beauty this early in the morning."
Kendra rolled her eyes. "Shameless flirt!"
He grinned. "I can't help it with you two around."
They stepped in the elevator. "He's terrible, isn't he?" Kendra said.
"Yes. Although I will admit that it's nice to be noticed."
"Of course it is. I'd be depressed if he stopped."
When they reached floor thirty, Kendra paused before her door. "Same time tomorrow?"
Lyla nodded and walked down the hall, entering her mother's apartment. Diane was at an early morning doctor's appointment, so she had the place to herself. Hopping in the shower, she enjoyed the warm water rushing over her. This was one thing she had definitely missed in Valinor and Middle-earth. Sometimes a bath just didn't cut it.
Once she was finished, she dried off and dressed, eyeing her hair in the mirror. It had taken a little getting used to after having hair past her waist for three thousand years, but she really liked her new mid-shoulder length cut. She frowned, wondering what Glorfindel would think. He'd probably hate it.
The front door opened. "Lyla?" her mom called.
Lyla exited her bedroom and moved into the living room. Her mother was in the kitchen putting a bag of groceries away. Lyla started to help, but Diane waved her away.
"I've just had a great idea that might help you with your research. After my appointment I stopped at the store where I ran into an old friend. He's the Dean of History and Culture at the college."
A frown crossed Lyla's face. "Who is this?"
"Will Baxter. Do you remember him?"
Lyla blinked. Will was her old dance partner from years ago. They had been friends and had danced together for ten years but had lost touch when they both quit ballroom and went to different colleges. "Of course I do."
"I've kept in touch with him over the years. I even run into him at the dance studio occasionally when his daughter has a lesson before my seniors' class. Anyway, he's also in charge of the rare book section of the university library. We're supposed to have lunch tomorrow to catch up, but I think you should go in my place."
Excitement shot through Lyla. "Rare books? Why didn't you mention this before?"
"He's been out of town, and I didn't think about it. My memory isn't what it used to be. So, you'll go?"
"Of course. Wait, does he know I'm back?"
"No. I figured you could surprise him."
Lyla's eyes widened. "Surprise him? He's what… forty-seven now? I hope I don't give him a heart attack."
Her mother chuckled. "I think he'll survive."
Lyla couldn't stop the grin from spreading across her face. Not only would it be good to see Will again, but he could very well provide her with the connection she needed to find a way home.
