DANCING IN THE RAIN

"Love is a circle that is everlasting"

Paul Rennie slipped down the seat further, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. His editor had just given him the assignment from hell. He had been asked to write a story about Eleanor Mitchell, World and Olympic Ladies Ice Skating Champion. At 27, she was the darling of the ice skating world, dedicated, successful and totally single minded in her search for success. To write the story, he had to shadow the woman, and that meant getting up at 5.00 a.m. to watch her practice. He sighed heavily, thinking of his nice warm bed, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Mr. Paul Rennie," a voice in front of him asked.

Opening his eyes, he jumped to his feet. "Yeh, that's me. Not used to the early hour," he admitted sheepishly sticking his hand out towards the grey-haired woman standing in front of him. She was dressed in a outrageously bright coloured long flowing dress, her grey hair tied back into a pony tail. She peered at him with amused eyes.

"Oh don't worry young man, me neither. My sister dragged me out of bed to watch our niece practice. I'm Abigail Mitchell," the woman smiled warmly taking his hand.

"Pleased to meet you Miss Mitchell," Paul smiled back.

"Oh good god. Call me Abby. You make me sound older than I am," she said laughing. "Come on Eleanor's changing, and my sister will want to talk to you before you meet."

Paul followed Abby towards the edge of the ice rink. "Have you ever skated?" he asked curious.

"Oh no. Fall over every time I set foot on the damn stuff. Victoria, my sister, was a junior champion. When Eleanor's parents died in a car crash, Victoria became her guardian. Encouraged her to learn, and that as they say was the start of it," she explained.

"And you?" Paul asked.

"I have lived abroad most of my life. I have only just returned to Chicago to live. Finally, got tired of the gypsy life," she admitted, a wistful note in her voice.

"Good morning," a voice said from behind them. Paul turned and couldn't help his mouth dropping open. He was looking at an exact copy of Abigail Mitchell, apart from how she was dressed. This woman was dressed in a smart black trouser suit with a white blouse. Her grey hair was neatly drawn into a french pleat.

"Vicky," Abby exclaimed. "I've been telling Paul here all about you and Eleanor."

"Victoria Mitchell," she ignored her sister extending her hand towards Paul. Before Paul could reply, she continued in a business-like manner. "Eleanor will be on the ice for two hours. You will then have the rest of the day to talk to her. I have prepared a summary of her career and achievements. She is taking part in the skating exhibition at the weekend. I have secured you a seat. I hope this is satisfactory enabling you to write your story," she directed her stern gaze at Paul.

"Uhh yeh sure. Whatever," he stuttered, feeling absurdly like a child under her severe gaze.

"Good," she turned her back on them studying the ice intently.

Abby elbowed him lightly in the ribs. "She's the serious one. I was lucky I got the fun part," Abby whispered in Paul's ear chuckling. "That's probably where Eleanor gets her manners from. Victoria never did know how to enjoy herself."

Paul glanced sideways at the woman; she was grinning broadly. He nodded smiling back. He had decided that he liked this woman.

"Mr. Rennie. If you have finished talking to my sister. I will introduce you to Eleanor," Victoria said motioning to him.

"Eleanor," she called as a young woman glided onto the ice. The young women changed direction skating towards them. Paul took the opportunity to study the darling of the ice world. Slender, she was dressed in black leggings with a baggy green jumper which matched the colour of her eyes. Her red hair was tied neatly, but severely on top of her head. She slid to a stop, kicking up an ice shower with her blades. She scowled at him as he extended his hand towards her.

"Paul Rennie from the Chicago Gazette. I'm here to make you look good," he introduced himself flashing his most wicked grin.

She narrowed her green eyes at him glaring angrily. "Eleanor Mitchell. And I don't need you or your newspaper to make me look good," she snapped.

He couldn't resist it; looking her up and down slowly, his clear blue eyes sparkled with amusement, "No you don't."

Furious, she turned her head from his lingering gaze. "I have to practice now," she snatched her hand away and skated to the middle of the rink.

He watched in wonder as she gracefully glided across the ice, turning and spinning as she went. He didn't believe in love at first sight, but he was willing to make an exception on this occasion. Eleanor Mitchell was beautiful, but cold. Paul loved a challenge. "I'm gonna melt the ice queen," he thought to himself.

**************

Eleanor spun round easily on the ice her arms outstretched. She loved the ice and the feel of it beneath her feet. This was her life, the only one she wanted. Nothing else was as important to her as the feeling of dancing alone.

She stole a glance sideways at the man who had been sent to write a story on her. Her sponsors had insisted on the story persuading her that it would be good for her career, and she had reluctantly agreed. "How dare he grin like that. How dare he tease me," she thought to herself angrily. She skated faster trying to get the image of his teasing eyes out of her mind.

It disconcerted her, and she didn't want to admit it, but she found him very attractive. Tall and slim with blonde hair that stuck up wildly, and the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen. They sparkled with mischief as he spoke. But so scruffy; she had noted that he wore a Mickey Mouse tee-shirt which was half untucked, pale blue washed out jeans, and a brown leather jacket. She stumbled slightly; recovering with ease, she dismissed thoughts of the annoying reporter returning to concentrating on her skating.

**************

"Do I really have to spend the whole day with him," she wailed as her aunt helped her to remove her ice skates.

"Yes you do Eleanor. Your sponsors want a story. It's very important to your career," Victoria chided her niece.

Eleanor pouted. "But he's so scruffy and ill-mannered. "He'll probably swig beer from a bottle," she said damningly.

Abby had been sitting quietly in the corner watching her sister and niece. "I think he's kind of cute. If I were thirty years younger, I would most certainly want to spend the day with him," she smiled mischievously.

"Aunt Abigail," Eleanor cried horrified. Her sister favoured with a dirty look, and went back to her task of unlacing the ice skates.

Abby snorted. "Oh Eleanor. You need to lighten up. Enjoy your life."

"Skating is my life. The only one I want," Eleanor raised her voice as she pulled on her ankle boots.

"What a waste," Abby muttered under her breath, which produced another dirty look from her twin sister.

"That's enough Abigail. Just because you have spent your life drifting from place to place, doesn't mean that Eleanor should," she said crossly. Taking Eleanor by the arm, she guided her towards the door. "Mr. Rennie is meeting us at the house. Come on Abigail. And try to behave yourself."

"At least I know I'm alive," Abigail murmured rebelliously following her sister and niece out of the changing room.

**************

Paul had been ushered into a large living room, which was situated on the second floor of the large townhouse. He felt decidedly uncomfortable, sitting in a large armchair, his legs crossed. Glancing around the room he knew why; clinical white walls, with little decoration and ornaments and books neatly placed on shelves. There were a few family pictures, but this were regimentally placed along mantelpiece. A stark contrast to his own untidy, but comfortable, apartment.

Restless, he stood up to gaze out of the window across the city. His eyes were drawn towards a small park - an oasis of green within the large bustling city. His thoughts were interrupted by Eleanor coming into the room.

"Let's get this over with," she said. Paul turned towards her successfully stifling a gasp. She had changed into a long flowing pale yellow summer dress. Her flame red hair was tied loosely into a plait that reached down to her waist.

"You don't like me do you?" he challenged.

A look of surprise at the question crossed her pale features. "I don't have to. You are here to do a job. So let's get to it," she snapped slumping onto the couch.

"It would make it easier if you were nicer. I bet you have a really nice smile," he teased. Before she could give an icy retort, Paul jumped to his feet. "Let's take a walk. I find it easier to do interviews while I'm walking."

She stared at him. "What," she stuttered.

"A walk. You know one foot in front of the other," he said lightly. "Bit like dancing but slower."

She scowled at him. "Fine," she agreed getting slowly to her feet and leading him downstairs towards the front door. "Which way?" she asked pausing on the porch steps. At his puzzled expression. "Well this walk was your idea," she said impatiently hands on her hips.

He smiled slightly pointing towards the park. "That way." He started to stroll towards the park he had seen from the window. Eleanor reluctantly trailed behind him. Paul looked back. "Come on slow coach," he called.

"Do you have to be so..... so rude to everyone you meet," she complained catching up with him.

"Do you?" he answered grinning.

She looked at her feet guiltily. "No I suppose not. I am sorry. I have a lot on mind. What with the skating exhibition, the World Championships...," she started to say.

Paul put his hand up. "Whoa, whoa. I get the picture. So tell me about the real Eleanor Mitchell," he walked towards the park gates.

"You have my aunt's summary of my career and achievements," she said silently.

He nodded. "Yes, I have. But I want to know who you are. I don't really care about the outside you, I want to write about the inside you. What do you do for fun? What do you laugh at?"

She stared at him as though he gone completely mad. "Why?" she asked.

"I think people would be interested," he replied. "I know I would."

She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "I skate. That's all that is important to me," she replied.

"Don't you ever do anything wild and unpredictable. Like....," he desperately tried to think of something. "Like dance in the rain."

"Dance in the rain. It would melt the ice," she said scathingly.

"Oh, of course. I bet your Aunt Abigail has danced in the rain," he uttered, laughter in his voice. "I bet she's led an interesting and exciting life."

Eleanor laughed lightly. "I'm sure she has. On both counts."

Paul turned towards her. "Hey, you laughed. I like it." Eleanor started to frown. "No don't do that. I like it when you laugh. Your eyes dance when you laugh," he said.

"Are all reporters like you? Totally insane," Eleanor grinned.

"Probably," he teased. "We just can't resist a challenge." He turned to face her, stopping her in mid stride. "Tell you what. Let's make a deal. I'll teach you to dance in the rain. If you teach me to skate. Deal," he stuck his hand out to seal the bargain.

Eleanor considered the man in front of her for a moment. She found herself strangely attracted to his man with the mercurial blue eyes and the wild blonde hair.

Recklessly, she took his hand. "Deal," she agreed. She was rewarded with a smile that seemed to light up his whole face.

He took her hand in his, and started to walk towards the centre of the Park. "If I'm gonna to teach you to dance in the rain, I'm also gonna have to call you Ellie," he announced.

Pulling on his hand she stopped in her tracks. "Why," she frowned ready to argue with him again.

"It's part of the rules. Eleanor is just too.... too old. Ellie suits you better," he decided fixing her with a determined gaze. She nodded her head slightly. "Good that's settled."

**************

They spent the next three hours walking in the Park hand in hand. Paul completely forgot about the interview he was meant to be conducting. Instead they talked about their respective lives, and their hopes and dreams for the future. Paul teased Ellie when she threatened to become too serious, reminding her of their deal.

They sat on a bench in front of a large lake, eating ice-creams. Paul glanced sideways at the young woman beside him. Her features had relaxed; she was no longer the ice queen he had met early that morning. "What?" she asked catching him staring at her.

"Oh nothing," Paul murmured. "Just thinking."

"About what," Ellie persisted throwing the end of her ice-cream cone to the ducks on the lake.

"You," he said looking deep into her green eyes.

She shifted uncomfortably staring out towards the lake. "I suppose we ought to be getting back. Aunt Victoria will be wondering where I've got to," she said standing, shyly offering Paul her hand.

Smiling he took the offered hand, and they began to walk back towards the park gates. Paul sensed that her mood had changed. "So what music are you dancing to on Saturday," he asked, deciding that it was a fairly safe question.

A sad look crossed her face. "Oh something Aunt Victoria has chosen for me."

"Oh so it's dull and sad," Paul said not thinking. Ellie frowned, but remained silent.

They walked in silence, holding hands. They didn't notice that the sky had turned from a pretty azure blue to a stone grey colour. Ellie shivered a little as a cool breeze flowed through the trees. Paul looked up to the sky just as the rain started. It was a light summer shower, but there was no shelter in sight. He looked at Ellie puzzled as she squeezed his hand.

"What about our deal Mr. Reporter?" Paul looked confused. "You promised to teach me to dance in the rain," she said lightly dropping his hand. Paul watched as she spun round gracefully, her dress twirling around her bare slender legs. She laughed, her hands outstretched towards him. Stepping forward, he took her in his arms and waltzed her around the park. Laughing and giggling, they danced towards the gate; other people stared as they hurried on their way to shelter. Paul and Ellie didn't notice them, they were lost in their dance.

At the gates, Paul grabbed Ellie's hand, pulling her down the road towards her house laughing. They were still giggling when the door opened revealing a very angry Victoria Mitchell. "Eleanor. Just what do you think you are playing at?" she said furiously.

"Dancing in the rain," Eleanor giggled pulling Paul past her aunt into the hallway. They were soaked, dripping on the cool white marble tiles.

Victoria scowled at Paul. "You are soaked Eleanor. Go upstairs and dry off now," she ordered. Eleanor looked at her feet guiltily "And you, young man," she glared at Paul. "Had better go home."

Paul turned to leave. "Goodbye Ellie. And thank you for a wonderful afternoon," he grinned, his blue eyes sparkling. He took her hand and kissed it lightly.

"I will see you on Saturday. At the exhibition. Won't I?" she asked hopefully avoiding looking her aunt, who was staring at the two of them disgustedly. "And there's still your side of the deal."

"You bet. It's my job. And a deal's a deal," he glanced at Victoria mischievously. Eleanor giggled as she ran up the stairs.

**************

Paul sat in his allocated seat on the front row clasping a can of coke in his hand. Glanced around the stadium, he wasn't surprised to see it filling up; looking at the programme, there were a number of champion skaters performing tonight. He hadn't seen Ellie since their day in the Park, and he had spent a lot of time day dreaming about her. His editor was screaming for the story, and Paul hadn't been able to write one word. He couldn't seem to capture the essence of Ellie on paper. He had tried to ring her on several occasions, but her aunt had told him that she was busy. He doubted that the messages had, in fact, got to Ellie.

"Hello Paul," a voice to his side startled him out of his reverie. Abigail Mitchell sat down next to him. She was dressed in bright orange, her grey hair wildly tied into a high pony tail.

"Hiya Abby. How are you?" he asked fondly.

"Oh I'm fine, but I can't say the same for my sister. She is spitting venom, and I think it's all your fault," she grinned.

"My fault," he stammered.

"You'll see," she whispered mysteriously. "Eleanor told me about your afternoon. Sounds like fun."

"I didn't mean for Ellie to get soaked," he started to protest but Abby patted his knee affectionately.

"About time someone melted that ice heart of hers," she laughed. "Oh and before you ask, I have danced in the rain. And with a very nice young man," she sighed wistfully.

"I thought you would have," Paul muttered bringing the can up to his lips.

"Oh yes, but we were naked," she grinned as Paul nearly choked on his drink.

Paul was distracted by asking for more information by the first of the skaters coming onto the rink to loud applause. He patiently sat through watching the numerous champion skaters; he was getting impatient as he wanted to see Ellie skate. At last, the compere announced her name over the loud speaker, and she glided onto the ice.

She looked beautiful; her red hair was loose to her waist secured with a hair band, and she was wearing a jade green midi length dress with green boots. The music started up, and she began to glide across the ice gracefully, her movements matching the delicate music being played. He didn't recognise the music, and he couldn't really imagine Victoria Mitchell choosing the gentle tune. As the music grew in tempo, so Ellie's movements grew - spinning and turning never missing a sstep or her footing. As the music faded, she came to a stop spinning in a tight circle on one foot.

She slowly stopped, and the audience stood clapping enthusiastically. Paul and Abby joined them in standing. Flowers were being thrown onto the rink, and Ellie was carefully picking them up, winding her way towards where they were standing.

"Wasn't she wonderful?" Paul enthused turning to Abby.

"I have never seen her skate better. Victoria won't ever admit it, but it's all your doing," Abby replied handing him a red rose. "Here."

"Thanks. What do you mean my doing?" he asked taking the rose.

"You should have been there to see the look on Victoria's face when Eleanor insisted on changing the music for tonight," she laughed at the memory. "She was furious, but Eleanor dug her heels in."

"Music, what do you mean?" Paul asked puzzled.

"The music for tonight was some funeral type stuff Victoria prefers. But Eleanor insisted on the pretty tune. Did you like it?"

"Yes I did. It fitted Ellie well, and she danced so beautifully to it," he answered looking towards Ellie who was still picking up flowers from the ice.

"It's called Dancing in the Rain," Abby grinned as Paul's mouth dropped open in surprise.

"Paul. You're here. I thought you wouldn't come," Ellie stopped in front of him an armful of flowers. He turned to her, offering her the single red rose. Her face lit up, and she motioned to the small girl helping her collect the flowers. The small girl skated off with the bundle of flowers as Ellie took the single rose from Paul. He leaned forward kissing her lightly; Ellie didn't resist returning the kiss.

He pulled away reluctantly as someone touched his elbow. "Take good care of her Paul," Abby said as she moved along the aisle. "Don't forget both of you lots of dancing in the rain."

Abby looked back smiling to herself as she saw Paul lift Ellie over the barrier, and tenderly embrace her. "Oh yes. There'll be lots of dancing in the rain for those two."

THE END