Unbound - Rachel's Story
Copyright© 2025 by A Kiwi Guy
Chapter 6
Rachel’s Sunday mornings usually followed a comfortable pattern: coffee, the paper, and ignoring the laundry for as long as possible. But today felt different.
Partly it was because she’d said yes to Matt’s home-group invitation. Partly it was because she still wasn’t sure how she’d been manoeuvred into trying this para dancing idea. And partly — if she was honest — she was curious to see him again.
She dressed simply — soft blue top, jeans — and wheeled into the kitchen to make coffee. The thought of an afternoon in a room full of strangers gave her stomach a faint flutter. Yet her Godmama’s words kept nudging: Don’t close the door before you’ve looked inside.
Matt arrived promptly at 2.30. “You ready?” he asked.
“As I’ll ever be.”
The home group met in a weathered villa tucked down a quiet street. Inside, the smell of fresh baking mingled with the faint tang of percolating coffee. About a dozen people sat or milled around in the lounge — chatting, laughing, greeting Matt with warmth.
He introduced her with an easy confidence, never making a fuss about her chair. The others followed suit — smiles, handshakes, names she knew she wouldn’t remember straight away.
They gathered in a circle, someone read a short passage from the Gospel of Luke, and the discussion rolled naturally from there — snippets of personal experience, questions, the odd burst of humour. Rachel found herself speaking once or twice without meaning to, and nobody pounced or prodded her.
By the time the “simple tea meal” appeared — a table laden with sausage rolls, scones, cheese, and fruit — she realised she was actually enjoying herself.
“You okay?” Matt murmured as they stood side by side at the food table.
She nodded. “It’s ... surprisingly nice.”
“I’ll take that as a win.”
After the farewells, they drove to the Ara gymnasium. The access code worked first time; the heavy door swung open into the echoing, empty hall.
“See?” Matt said. “Perfect.”
Rachel wheeled onto the polished wood, the sound of her tyres a whisper in the vast space. Matt pulled out his phone, linked it to a Bluetooth speaker he’d also brought, found a waltz on Spotify, and the music filled the air.
At first, it was awkward — figuring out how to match her turns with his steps, when to lead, when to follow. They bumped once, laughed, tried again. Slowly, they found a rhythm.
“There,” Matt said, “that’s the start of it.”
Rachel looked up at him. “It’s ... actually fun.”
“Told you.”
They ran through it again, but thirty minutes was about all Rachel could manage. It was obvious that Matt had nowhere reached his limits, but he was conscious of not wanting to push his partner too hard, especially for a first time.
“Next time,” he said, “we’ll add a spin.”
Rachel rolled her eyes, but the smile stayed. “We’ll see.”
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