Alaskan Escapades: The Adventures of Danger Gurl

Papal's Dance

It was the last thing I expected to hear as I unpacked. A familiar tune that I'd been fangirling over the entire trip home. It was now floating up from the stairwell of my grandparents small home. This sound I had to investigate. I dropped the last stack of pants into my tired old dresser and headed for the stairs. I got halfway and noticed people were dancing in the living room that surrounded the left side of our stairs. I gasped and stopped in my tracks. It was my Gran and my Papal. They were dancing. They weren't just slow dancing; they were moving. 

Was that a twinkle? OMG, my Papal just lead my Gran in an actual twinkle. My jaw flew open, and I fell into a crouch on the stairs. I couldn't take my eyes off of them.  My grandparents were holding each other close and dancing. I watched as my favorite music filled the room, and my Papal's eyes were focused on my Gran as she twirled in a sudden underarm turn. 

My Gran knows how to twirl? I could hardly believe my eyes, but there they were.  I watched Papal's calloused and wrinkled fingers lovingly leading her through a beautiful cross body move to a break. They danced for several minutes, and as the song slowly came to a close, a gentle dip and Gran was cradled in his arms her worn face glowing as she looked into his eyes. The love was so intense that I could not help but feel a sparkle of electricity flow up my body.  

They were left standing in a cuddle shrouded in the beams of the late summer sun that spilled in through our picture window.  My breath caught as he bent ever so slightly and kissed her. I blushed and suddenly felt as I'd intruded on a very private moment. I realize my Grandparents loved each other, but I seriously never pictured them as lovers before. Suddenly, I had to know how the met. I wanted to know these dancers that until now I thought I knew. I rose and quietly slipped back up the stairs.

Downstairs I heard the familiar sound of my Papal's sea bag as the weather worn dog tags from his Navy days tingled like tiny bells. When I was little, I used to imagine a small angel that followed him to sea, ringing them as he prepared to leave.  Papal's Navy days were long over, but he still went to sea. Years of fishing had taken its toll on the once striking young man that I'd only seen in pictures on the walls of our home. I realized now I didn't know that person. 

Sure I knew the older man that had raised me from a young girl, but he was quiet. He was the type of person that would give you a smile and a twinkling eye but rarely spoke and with chosen measured words. I cherished those words. I followed him everywhere. My trance was broken by the sound of his voice booming over the silence. 

"Alana-Bella! Mi Bonita! I must leave now." 

 My Papal would break into Spanish when he was tired. He was headed off yet again to find fish and earn precious income for the family and those on our fishing vessel. 

"Un momento Papal!" I checked my cheeks to make sure they were clear of tears and rushed down the stairs with a broad smile breaking out on my face. "Adios Papal. I will pray for you each day. Be safe."

"Always, always I will remember my Bonita," Papal said. He wrapped me in the arms I had just seen embracing my Gran and kissed me on the top of my head. Smiling and humming the very same tune, he turned and walked out.

Turning to Gran, I gave her a hug and returned to my unpacking. 

                                                                               ***

Several days later we'd just finished cleaning up from dinner and were resting from our chores in the living room. I watched my Gran working with her needlework and decided I would tell her of what I'd seen. I was anxious to learn about their past and surprised I'd never asked before. 

"Gran?" I asked.

"Yes, Alana?"

"Where did you and Papal learn to dance?" I asked. I was eager to start her talking.

"Alana, you're not the only dancer in the familia," she said as she put down her work and smiled at me. "You're Papal was quite the handsome dancer in our time."

"Gran, how did you two meet? I've never heard this story."

"Oh, it was so many years ago. Times were not so easy then. I was a young girl. I loved to go down to the docks to read and watch the young men work."

"Gran! You didn't," I laughed teasing her. This was the same woman that took me to church every Sunday and lectured me on the wild ways of young men these days. I pulled my legs up to my chest and settled in. This I thought would be a most interesting story.

"I noticed this one young man," she continued. "His hair wasn't long, but it flew uncontrollably in the ocean breeze. Of course, I thought to myself, how beautiful he was. His skin was tanned from hours of working the deck and Alana; his eyes were beautiful golden brown and so large. I had to watch myself, or I would be lost in them. But he didn't look my way. He was far too busy bringing in the catch and putting the vessel right for the dock."

Her eyes went closed, and I could see her remembering him as her face lit up. "But Gran, how did you two meet?" I prodded waiting for an answer.

"It was at the village social. I had on my best spring dress. It was pure white with the most beautiful blue sash. I went the dance with my friends. I actually hoped to see him there, but after several songs I'd not been asked to dance once and did not see him at all. I was becoming very disappointed. 

Then out of nowhere a hand appeared in my view, and the deepest voice rang in my ears. Excuse me but would you care to dance, a voice asked. I looked at the hand a moment. It was one of those moments that seem to hang suspended in time. Callouses tipped each knuckle. I was rough. It was a fisherman's hand, and I knew it was he. I looked up into those eyes and my heart leaped like it wanted to reach the next moment before the rest of my body."  She laughed and then sighed. "I took that hand and he lead me right to the middle of the room. Holding my waist in his hand he cupped my other ever so softly. Your Papal can be the gentlest man.  The band began to play, and I followed him closely around the room with our eyes locked on each other. We never missed another dance at the social hall after that night. When the dance was through he took my hand and kissed it. I could hardly stay on my feet the swoon he gave me. It was one of those moments when emotions meet time and time runs away. We danced several more numbers then sat near the dance floor and talked."

My Gran went on for several hours. She told me the stories of the dances and how they would run off together to the woods. I sighed.

"What's the matter, Alana," she asked, "You are too anxious. Your Papal was meant for me, and you must wait for one meant just for you too."

"I know Gran. I just think it may never be for me," I said, and my chin dropped to my knees in mock defeat.

                                                                         ***

Three weeks later I was sitting at the only bar in the town and reading the latest best seller and that very same song came on. I smiled.

"My have this dance?" A deep voice sounded next to me.