Shall we dance? On a bright cloud of music shall we fly?
~Rodgers & Hammerstein, The King and I

I could have danced all night, and still have begged for more.
~Lerner & Loewe, My Fair Lady

XXX

June 6, 1925

It wasn't often that Jane Edna Peabody felt beautiful, but as she examined her reflection in the full-length mirror, she could find absolutely nothing to quibble about regarding her appearance. Not only did the drop-waist evening frock perfectly suit her reedy figure, the jade-green chiffon elegantly complemented her pale complexion, wide gray eyes, and chestnut curls – the latter of which surprisingly had not fought her attempts to arrange them in a graceful wave, for once! And the dress had so many other lovely little details to admire, including a gold lamé underskirt trimmed in pale pink organza, and gold-stitched patterns vaguely resembling Egyptian hieroglyphs encircling the bronze-and-gold belt as well as the hem of her underskirt. But the assistant librarian's favorite facet was the charmingly whimsical rows of arrow fletchings embroidered in gold thread across the bodice, waist and hem of her jade overskirt.

Of course, if her aunt and uncle had still been alive to see her in this ensemble, they would have gone into fits of scandalized apoplexy. Being at the height of fashion, the dress only went down to just below her knees, and it was sleeveless! But as a warm, early-evening breeze blew through the open window and washed over her, Jane was nothing but relieved that propriety no longer demanded high collars, long sleeves, and voluminous petticoats even during the summer. Thankfully, it was 1925, so even the most old-fashioned River City-ziens were well used to seeing shorter hems and bobbed hair – even at more staid community functions like the Events Committee's Fourth of July charity ball slated to be held on the Madison Park Pavilion tonight – though only the most daring young women had the nerve to sport crimson lipstick and rouge. Not that Jane needed rouge right now, as the heat of the day had flushed her cheeks crimson, and a long afternoon of nervous lip-biting had brought plenty of color to her mouth.

Though lip-biting was a foolish habit she really ought to break, the assistant librarian was glad of the charms it lent her appearance, because it was especially important that she look beautiful tonight. Tonight was the first time she would ever dance with a man. And not just any man, but the man she loved. Still, it was rather silly of her to feel so nervous about the prospect, as she had known her dear Jim for nearly a year and had frequently and easily conversed with him as his intellectual equal. Yet here Jane was, anxiously fiddling with her hair and gown in her small but comfortable spinster bedroom, her stomach full of butterflies and dread that she would lose the history teacher's esteem once she revealed how terribly clumsy she truly was. Though the beautiful chiffon gown lent the assistant librarian the illusion of grace by ruffling becomingly around her as she descended the stairs of her boarding house to meet her beau in the parlor, and though the gold embroidery in her gown and matching pumps gleamed prettily in the moonlight as she and Jim made their way over to Madison Park, there was no expedient magic Jane could employ that, after a lifetime of struggling with two left feet, would make her dance "like a fairy princess with a moonbeam for her floor," as Mrs. Dunlop and the other ladies were known to effusively compliment whenever the lovely and elegant Miss Marian danced with her dashing Professor Hill.

But as the assistant librarian and history teacher strolled along amiably arm in arm, Jane's apprehension dissipated as she girlishly lost herself in the romance of her present circumstances. It was a beautiful Saturday evening in early June, one that could not have been more perfect than if it had been expressly made to order by the Events Committee. The sun had just recently set, taking with it the bothersome humidity that lingered into late afternoon, and a large, brilliant full moon illuminated the night sky. As Jane avidly drank in the glories of nature, it certainly was not lost on her that Jim, who'd been nothing but scrupulously sedate in his behavior toward her once they'd officially began courting, was openly staring at her as if she was the most enchanting woman he'd ever laid eyes on. Though the assistant librarian was not yet brazen enough as to egg on her beguiled suitor with saucy remarks, she reciprocated his ardor with warm glances and delighted smiles. How wonderful it was not to feel irredeemably dowdy and unfinished beside him, for once! For Jim was as handsome as ever tonight, wearing a brand-new midnight-blue evening suit that was just as stylish as her ensemble was.

However, Jane's confidence once again faltered as she approached the pavilion and saw that the dancing was already well underway. Although several friends and acquaintances greeted her with genuine smiles and compliments on her gown, the assistant librarian couldn't help noticing that the vast majority of women in attendance were not only decked in equally if not more fashionable frocks of deep rose, navy blue, violet, crimson and even black, they were in the midst of a rousing Charleston. Unsurprisingly, the stars of the throng were Professor and Mrs. Harold Hill, who not only set an impressive example with their fancy footwork, but were resplendent in their ensembles, which were the only outfits in River City that could boast being genuine Paris originals. Miss Marian wore a bronze silk drop-waist gown with exquisite beadwork, a crimson belt girding her waist, matching crimson ribbon threaded through her elegant blonde bob, and crimson pumps. Professor Hill, who grinned and moved with the vigor of a man half his age, was looking dapper as ever in his black evening suit paired with crimson tie and black-and-white two-toned shoes.

As captivated as Jane was by the tableau on Madison Park Pavilion, she remained acutely aware that Jim's eyes were still, for the most part, fixed on her. They were no longer arm in arm, but he stood close to her side and, while he was still in the bounds of propriety, it was clear to everyone in the vicinity that they were a pair. Though the assistant librarian gave her beau little smiling, sideways glances from time to time, she did not dare to fully meet his gaze, because she knew he was itching to do the very thing that she was dreading. If the history teacher saw the apprehension she couldn't quite conceal, he would politely refrain from asking her to dance, and she wasn't about to disappoint him. And spinster though she was, Jane was tired of being a shrinking wallflower. She wanted to dance with just as much carefree abandon as everyone else. So when the Charleston ended and Marcellus Washburn put a sedate waltz on the Victrola, it was Jane who turned to Jim with a mischievous grin and raised eyebrow and, after grabbing his hand, whisked him onto the pavilion.

But that was as far as Jane's bravado went. As soon as Jim's arm was around her waist and her hand was in his, his countenance transformed from beguiled to self-assured, and he smoothly began to lead her in this most basic of dances. Although the history teacher cut nowhere near as flamboyant a figure as Professor Hill, he moved with easy and appealing grace. However, even though Jane had diligently practiced her box step for hours and hours in preparation for this moment, they hadn't even been waltzing together for a whole minute before she stepped on Jim's foot. At this lapse, her nervousness returned full force, which only compounded her clumsiness. While the history teacher valiantly endured her incompetence and even managed to correct her mistakes with aplomb, she was almost in tears by the time the song was over. And when Marcellus Washburn started in on the Shipoopi – River City's perennial favorite and the most devilishly complicated dance a spinster ever had the misfortune to pitifully trip her way through – Jane let out a small sob, and would have run home thoroughly mortified if Jim hadn't immediately grabbed her hand and whisked her to a nearby hidden alcove.

As soon as they were away from prying eyes – which fortunately were nonexistent at the moment due to the boisterous stir of excitement of the whole town oohing and aahing in delight as the dazzling Hills once again took center stage – Jim caught Jane in a bear hug and simply held her without a word. This quiet but palpable assurance that he wasn't going anywhere did a great deal to steady the assistant librarian's frayed nerves, but it couldn't remove the awful sense of inadequacy and dismay that had plagued her all evening.

"You deserve a much better partner than me," she said unhappily, even as she clung to Jim in return.

"Nonsense," he said firmly, tightening his arms around her. "I don't want anyone but you, Jane."

"We'll never be able to dance together," she insisted. "It's useless – I practiced my box step for weeks! Not even Miss Marian could make me graceful at it, though heaven knows she tried her best."

Jim cupped her cheek and tilted her head up to face him. "Well, my dear," he said very gently, "I'm afraid you got too much of the wrong kind of practice."

Jane could only stare at him, perplexed.

Jim smiled. "You're not hopeless at dancing, Jane. You're simply untutored. Allow me to show you?"

As if on cue, the Shipoopi came to an end and a moderately-paced waltz started up. Though she thought Jim was overstating her abilities, Jane nodded her assent. But as soon as Jim's arm was around her waist and his hand was covering hers, she tensed up.

The history teacher merely chuckled. "Jane, the first thing you must do is stop fighting me. You're so focused on getting the steps perfectly in order that you aren't able to follow my lead. Don't get me wrong – I love your independent spirit. But waltzing isn't a solitary endeavor, and only one person can lead. To begin, I'm going to twirl you at various intervals, but I'm not going to tell you which direction. Your assignment is simply to follow me."

So Jim twirled her this way and that. At first, Jane felt like an absolute ninny, but as she surrendered to his direction, she was pleased to find that going with the flow proved far easier than she anticipated.

"That's wonderful, Jane," the history teacher beamed at her as he brought her back into his arms. "Now that you've mastered twirling, let's try the box step together. Don't worry about moving in time to the music, or getting the steps in perfect, textbook order. Just follow my lead."

So they tried the box step. Though Jane moved tentatively and haltingly, she allowed Jim to guide her wherever he would. As he led her both confidently and patiently, not only did she not step on his feet, she began to experience the first, feverish inklings of that exhilarating sense of elegance that had eluded her all her life. She might not have been the picture of grace, and she might have been moving to a beat contrary to the waltz currently playing, but she was actually dancing! As the moments passed and the two of them continued to move in harmony without incident, Jim brought her closer to him – much closer than he had held her on the pavilion. "You're a fast learner, Jane," he said admiringly. "Now let's try dancing in time to the music."

Unfortunately, that proved a bit more challenging than Jane had anticipated. Following Jim's lead was easy enough, but attempting to keep the music in mind at the same time added a layer of complexity she couldn't quite grasp. When she stepped on Jim's foot again, her cautious excitement evaporated. "I am hopeless," she lamented. "At this rate, you and I will never be able to waltz together – let alone dance the Charleston!"

"You are not hopeless," Jim insisted with the same quiet but passionate intensity as he did whenever the two of them were engaged in a particularly vigorous academic debate. "You were doing beautifully until you got nervous and reverted to bad habits. Take it from a teacher, Jane: unless you have a severe mental or physical impairment – and you most certainly have neither – you can learn to do anything competently."

"What about talent?" she retorted, her disappointment having thoroughly gotten the better of her. "You can't teach that."

Jim waved his hand dismissively. "What about talent? People with talent were simply born on third base, so to speak. Yes, dancing will come easier to the person who possesses a natural ability for it, while others who start all the way back from home plate will have to work harder and longer to master it." He paused and swallowed and, thanks to the moonlight streaming brightly from above, the assistant librarian could see the history teacher was actually blushing. "Jane, I've watched you for over a year now, and you are not without grace. While you do tend to bump into the corners of tables and shelves and carts when you're nervous or deeply engaged in conversation, you have astonishingly quick reflexes when one of your beloved books is in danger of falling to the floor." He took her hands in his and kissed the tips of her fingers. "You also have beautiful penmanship, which requires a certain physical elegance to achieve."

Jane laughed. "Well, that's only because I had a schoolteacher who made us practice our writing for hours and hours. Even if an answer was correct, we would get points off if it was hastily or messily scrawled. Good penmanship was drilled into me for so many years that it has become second nature."

Although she'd meant this statement as a counterargument, Jim nodded as if it were a confirmation of his point. "True proficiency demands constant practice and study. Even talent will not improve without it. In general, students of average intelligence but with a passion for learning and a willingness to work hard achieve better grades than those who are brilliant but lazy."

"I have always wanted to learn how to dance," Jane wistfully confessed. "But my friends only laughed at my clumsy efforts when I attempted to practice with them. And my aunt and uncle dismissed formal lessons as a frivolity and a waste of money, especially for a girl who was constantly crashing into things and tripping over her own two feet!"

Jim gave her hands a sympathetic squeeze. "I've had so many students like you, dearest. Passionate and curious in nature, but their spirits have been so thoroughly trampled by their well-meaning but plainspoken families that they can no longer see their own potential. Half the battle is getting my students to believe they can learn how to do something, after a lifetime of being told can't and don't bother. Drilling and rote memorization certainly have their place, but if deep down you persist in believing that you can't do something, you will never grasp it."

Jane sighed. "Well even so, at my age, I'm not likely to progress much further than mastering a basic waltz!"

"There, you see? You're already limiting your own possibilities," Jim tutted. "Consider the Think System, Jane. Professor Hill's curriculum takes tone-deaf sons of farmers and gets them to produce beautiful music. And do you know why? Because he has the singular talent of making them believe that, with hard work and determination, they can do anything they set their minds to." He kissed the tips of her fingers again. "You made a great deal of progress in learning how to dance tonight. Not only because you're intelligent and a quick learner, but because you trust me. It can take months, even years, to build that kind of rapport with my students."

Jane saw the scholar in Jim nearly every day, but as they were so evenly matched in wits, it wasn't often she had seen the teacher. And though his broadminded philosophy would no doubt have made an older and sterner pedagogue frown at such unorthodoxy, it had worked wonders for her. For the first time in her life, dancing was something she could actually picture doing with exhilaration and ease, rather than dread and doubt.

"Tell me, Mr. Hearst," the assistant librarian said with an arch smile, "have any of your students ever thanked you like this?" She leaned in and kissed him sweetly on the lips.

When they finally parted, Jim regarded her with an impish twinkle in his eyes – and then swept her into a dip. As Jane giggled and gasped and clung to him so she wouldn't fall to the ground, he bent down to press a warm, appreciative kiss on her laughing mouth.

"That was definitely a first – and only," he assured her in a low, heated voice that sent delightful, tingling shivers throughout her body.

He was still holding her in a dip. Jane gazed dreamily up at the history teacher. "I want to dance the Charleston with you, Jim – and the Shipoopi."

"We will," he promised, his eyes intently on hers as he leaned in to kiss her again.

"Last song, everyone!" Marcellus Washburn called out gaily, breaking into their reverie just before their lips met. A slow, romantic waltz started up on the Victrola.

Jim smiled ruefully as he brought the assistant librarian back into an upright standing position once more. "Shall we, my dear?"

Jane nodded and took his proffered arm. As he led her back out to the pavilion, she smiled at the sight of Professor Hill and Miss Marian nestled contentedly in each other's embrace, dancing in seamless and flawless rhythm together, a lovely public tableau but also a private little world unto themselves. Hopefully, that would be her and Jim someday.

As the history teacher took her in his arms and led her in the dance, Jane closed her eyes and let the music wash over her. As she waltzed in careful but continuous rhythm with the man she loved, she had the most wonderful sense that someday wasn't so far away, after all. Someday was now.