Lizette Baker wished her mother had worried less about
showing her the perfect way to pirouette and more about
teaching her a few practical things, like how to coax more
warm air out of her old car's heating system and how to
put snow chains on tires so smooth they slipped on every
icy patch she found as she drove east on Interstate 94 in
southern Montana.
A colder, frostier place Lizette had never seen. Even with
a wool scarf wrapped around her neck and mittens on her
hands, she couldn't stay warm. It was only mid-November
and it was already less than ten degrees Fahrenheit
outside. No wonder hers was the only car in sight as she
drove along this road hoping to reach Dry Creek, Montana,
before her heater gave out completely.
The attendant in the gas station she'd stopped at back in
Forsyth had offered to call a mechanic to repair her
heater. Another man, with a dirty blond beard and a snake
tattooed on his arm, had made a different suggestion.
"Why put out good money for a mechanic?" he'd asked in an
artificially friendly voice. Lizette hadn't liked the way
he was looking at her. "I'll keep you warm if you give me
a ride down the road a bit. I'm looking for my kids." He'd
reached into his pocket and pulled out a worn snapshot,
which he'd then shoved at her. "Kids need to see their old
man. You haven't seen them, have you?"
Lizette would have rather given the snake on the man's arm
a ride than the man himself, but she hadn't wanted any
trouble, so she'd politely looked at the picture of his
two children.
"No, but they're beautiful children." And the children
probably would have been beautiful, she thought, if they
hadn't looked so skinny and scared. "Sorry about the ride,
but I have a car full of boxes. Moving, you know."
Lizette hoped the man hadn't looked at her car too
closely. If she'd shifted the boxes around a little, she
could have cleared enough room in the front seat for a
passenger.
The tattooed man hadn't said anything more, but he'd put
the picture back in his pocket.
After a moment's silence, the attendant had finally
asked, "So do you want the mechanic to come over to fix
that heater? He doesn't keep regular hours, but he can get
down here in fifteen minutes flat."
Lizette had shaken her head. "Thanks though." She barely
had enough money left to get her ballet school going; she
couldn't afford to fix anything that wasn't actually
falling off the car. The heater was spitting out just
enough warm air to keep her from freezing to death, so it
would have to do for now.
She'd looked out her rearview mirror as she'd pulled away
from the gas station and had seen the man with the snake
on his arm watching her leave.
It wasn't the first time since she'd left Seattle that
Lizette had wondered if she was making a mistake.
Her whole life had changed in the last few months though,
and she needed a new beginning. Besides, where else could
she get free rent to start her own business? Lizette had
learned to be frugal from her mother, Jacqueline. Indeed,
it had been Jacqueline who'd found the ad for free space.
Lizette had not known until recently that her mother had
saved for years with the hope that they could open their
own ballet school someday. When Lizette's father had died,
years ago, Jacqueline had given up the fledgling ballet
school she and her husband had started and had taken a
steady job in a bakery. At the time, Lizette had not
realized the sacrifice her mother was making to keep them
secure, probably because Jacqueline never complained about
giving up the school. When she'd first tied on her bakery
apron, she'd even managed to joke. She said she wished her
husband could see her. He'd say she was really a Baker at
last.
Her mother had made the job sound as though it was exactly
what she wanted, and Lizette had believed her back then.
Maybe that was because Lizette herself was happy. The
bakery was a playground to her. She loved the warm smells
and all of the chatter of customers. The bakers even got
into the habit of asking Lizette to try out their new
recipes. They said she had a taste for what the customers
would like.
Giving up that ballet school was only one of the many
sacrifices Jacqueline Baker had made for Lizette over the
years. Lizette hadn't even known about some of them until
her mother had been diagnosed with terminal cancer. That's
when she'd started giving instructions to Lizette.
"You'll find fifteen thousand dollars in this safety
deposit box," Jacqueline told her as she handed Lizette a
key. "I wanted it to be more, but it'll get that school of
ours started if we're careful. Then there'll be no need
for you to work at the bakery — you'll be free to dance.
The money should cover everything for a year. We don't
need anything expensive — just something with good floors
and lots of room for practice."
Lizette was amazed and touched. So that was why her
mother'd never spent much money on herself, not even after
she became the manager of the bakery and started earning a
better salary. Lizette could see how important it was to
her mother to start what she was calling the Baker School
of Ballet.
As the pain increased and Jacqueline went into the
hospital, she talked more and more about the school. She
worried that Lizette had not been able to find an
affordable space to rent even though she'd gone out to
look at several places. Jacqueline even asked the hospital
chaplain to come and pray about it.
Lizette was surprised her mother was interested in
praying. Jacqueline had shown little use for God over the
years, saying she could not understand a God who took a
man away in his prime. Unspoken was the complaint that He
had also robbed her of her beloved ballet school at the
same time.
But now, at the end, who did her mother want to talk to?
The chaplain.
If they hadn't been in a hospital when her mother asked to
speak to a minister, Lizette wouldn't even have known how
to find one. She herself had never been to church in her
life. Sunday was the one day she could spend with her
mother, and Jacqueline made it clear she didn't want to go
to church, so Lizette never even suggested it.
Yet on her deathbed Lizette's mother spent hours talking
to the chaplain about her hopes for a ballet school.
Lizette quietly apologized to the man one afternoon when
the two of them had left the room so the nurse could give
Jacqueline an injection. Lizette knew the chaplain was a
busy man, and she doubted he was interested in ballet
schools — especially ones that didn't even exist except in
a dying woman's dreams.
The chaplain waved Lizette's apology aside, "Your mother's
talking about her life when she talks about that school.
That's what I'm here for. It's important."
In the last days, the soft sound of the chaplain's praying
was all that quieted Jacqueline. Well, Lizette
acknowledged, toward the end it was also those expensive
injections that kept her mother comfortable. Lizette never
did tell Jacqueline that those injections weren't covered
by their insurance plan.
It didn't take much money to open a ballet school, Lizette
told herself when her mother kept asking about sites. By
then, the extra hospital bills had used up the entire
fifteen thousand dollars, and Lizette's small savings
account as well. Lizette said a prayer of her own when she
promised to open the school in the fall.
"You're right. Fall is the best time of the year to start
a ballet school," Jacqueline said as she lay in her
hospital bed. "We can start our students right out on our
simplified version of the Nutcracker ballet, and they'll
be hooked. Every young girl wants to be Clara. Plus we
already have all of those costumes we made for you and the
other girls when you were in dance school."
Part of the deal in the sale of her parents' ballet school
had been that the new owner, Madame Aprele, would give
Lizette free lessons. Lizette had studied ballet for
years, and even though she didn't have her mother's
natural grace, she still did very well.
"And you'll be there to watch." Lizette dreamed a little
dream of her own. "You've always loved the Nutcracker."
Her mother smiled. "I can almost see it now. I remember
the first time I danced Clara as a five-year-old. And
later, the Sugar Plum Fairy. What I wouldn't give to dance
it all again!"
Lizette vowed she'd find a way to open a school even
without money. Then maybe her mother would get stronger
and they could run that school together. With all of the
praying the chaplain was doing, Lizette figured they were
due a miracle.
Later that week Jacqueline claimed she'd found a miracle —
right in the middle of the classified section of The
Seattle Times. The ad offering free rent for new
businesses had been buried in the used furniture section
of the paper. Lizette called the phone number from the
hospital room so her mother could listen to her end of the
conversation.
Free rent would solve all of their problems for the
school, and Lizette wanted Jacqueline to share the
excitement of the phone call. Lizette hadn't realized
until she was halfway through the conversation that the
free rent was in a small town in Montana.
Jacqueline kept nodding at her during the conversation, so
Lizette found herself agreeing to take the town of Dry
Creek up on their offer. She couldn't disappoint her
mother by telling her that the free rent wasn't in Seattle.