Not even a flicker of an eyelid.
Maxine elbows me out of the way, shoves Romeo aside, and plants herself beside James. “Stephanie, the photographer says he’s ready for your close-up.”
Two blue eyes pop open. “Close-up?”
The crowd erupts into sighs and nervous laughter as Stephanie attempts to sit up, looking dazed and confused.
James’s arms hold her in place. “No, stay right where you’re at. We gotta get you checked out.”
“Oh, no.” Her glossy pink mouth turns up in a smile. “My leg really hurts.”
And Juliet Capulet promptly passes out.
The ambulance sirens cut through the mayhem, and everyone quiets as the EMTs file in.
Some paramedics consult with James, then hoist the limp Stephanie onto a stretcher. “We’ll handle it from here.”
Bev grabs her purse and shuffles behind them. “I’ll stay with her until her parents get to the hospital. I’ll be back soon.” She shouts out some final commands for her worried cast then exits through the lobby doors. Trailing behind her star actress.
The theatre gets awkwardly quiet. A few of us look around, not really sure what comes next.
“What are we going to do?” Millie’s hands cover her face.
“Millie—”
“What?” Millie takes a step back out of the group, gaining some distance. “Of course I hope she’s okay. But James, we have a play opening in two hours.” Tears well in my foster mother’s eyes, and she looks away.
The hum of the stage lights is the only sound for a full minute.
Maxine pops her gum, startling me out of my pathetic thoughts.
“You know what you have to do.” Her eyes bore into mine.
“Um . . . get a broom?”
Maxine’s hands latch onto my arms, and we’re nose to nose. A personal space violation if I ever saw one.
“We’re without a Juliet, Katie. And nobody knows this part but you.”
The wave of surprise ripples among the crew.
My eyes grow large, and I shake my head. “Oh, no . . . no way.”
Everyone gathers around me. They all begin talking over one another, bombarding me with encouragement, suggestions, and pleas.
No. Can’t do this. They’re crazy. What do I know about being in a play? My last theatrical experience was in elementary school. I’ll make a fool of myself. The audience will throw tomatoes at me. They’ll boo me and demand their money back.
“I can’t. There’s just no way.” I turn to Millie. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what the solution is, but it’s not me.”
“Katie, you’d be—”
“No, Millie.” I look into every face onstage. “I’m a disaster waiting to happen. I know this. I don’t want to screw one more thing up—especially something this important.”
“You are not a disaster, Katie Parker. You’re the girl who breezed through her math test.” Millie stands in front of me and grabs my hands. “You’re the girl who’s been working her tail off here and at school for over a month. We know you can do it.”
James puts his arm around me. “You know those lines better than Shakespeare. And we’ve all seen what a drama queen you are, so acting shouldn’t be a problem for you.”
Gee. Thanks.
Maxine sniffs with importance. “Well, I guess if you’re not gonna do it, we’re left with only one option.” She lays the back of her hand to her forehead. “I will be Juliet.”
The protests fly, and I can only stand there and smile.
“Which one of you is Romeo?” Maxine’s lips squeeze into a pucker.
A few people begin to snicker. But Millie’s face falls, and dropping my hands, she walks off stage.
Maybe I am an idiot. Or maybe I really don’t have a backbone when it comes to peer pressure. But standing here, watching my foster mom walk away, totally defeated, through with the fight and through with her dream, I know what I have to do.
It’s the last thing I want to do, but I guess that’s what makes it a sacrifice. “Okay.”
Millie stops.
“I’ll do it.”
She turns around in the aisle, a sad smile on her face. “It’s okay, Katie. You’re absolutely right. It’s not fair to throw you into this. This just isn’t meant to be.”
“Millie, the girl can either ‘wherefore art thou’ or I can. Take your pick, but this show will go on.” Maxine snaps her fingers at a lady on stage. “You! I’m ready for my costume fitting. And I’m not afraid to show a little cleavage.”
“Millie, I’m in.” And I am. I’ll probably throw up at some point tonight, but I’m going to do this. “A lot of people worked really hard to see this place open, and we can’t let them down.”
James pulls me into a hug, and then Millie is there, wrapping her shaking arms around us both. A fourth party moves in, squeezing the very breath out of me, and I know without looking it’s Maxine.
“Annnd break!” Maxine steps away, slapping each of us on the butt. “Now, little missy, let’s get you in costume. While you’re changing and doing makeup, I’ll go over your lines with you.”
I reach for James and Millie, but like a caveman, Maxine drags me behind the stage and into a dressing room.
“Okay, now you go behind that screen, and I’ll pass the costume over.”
A big, poufy yellow gown flies over the screen. I slip out of my clothes, forcing myself to think positive thoughts. The words from a famous literary classic come to mind, and I repeat them in my head: I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.
“Um, Maxine?” I step out from behind the panel. Turning in a circle, I show Maxine that Stephanie’s dress fits me like a glove.
A glove that belongs to someone else and has no business being on my body.
“Oh . . . well.” Maxine stares at my chest.
“Quite a bit of space here.” I pat the material down.
“You could hide a small country in there.”
“The dress is a little short too.” I have a good five inches on Stephanie, and the same hem that covered her shoes grazes a few inches above my ankles.
“One problem at a time.” Maxine scurries out of the room. She returns just as quickly, holding up a package of tissues in each hand. “Boobs in a box!”
Her hands move as fast as bee’s wings, ripping out tissues and stuffing them into my bodice.
“Get your hands off my chest!” I snatch the tissues out of her grip and slap her hands away. “I am not that kind of girl.”
Maxine is helping me with lines when Frances walks in.
“Congratulations, Juliet! Wow, you’re a star.”
“I so could’ve had the part.” Maxine grabs me, plants a smacking kiss on my cheek, and struts out of the room.
“I can’t believe this.”
I laugh. “You can’t believe it? Try being in my shoes.” I attempt to wiggle my toes in Stephanie’s heels. “My too-tight shoes.”
“You’re gonna be great. Millie says you have the whole play memorized.”
Walking to the mirror, I begin to pin my matching headpiece on. “I don’t know, Frances. I’m scared to death. The whole town’s gonna be out there.”
“I know you can do this.”
My sigh fills the room.
“Katie, remember a few weeks ago at church, Pastor Mike spoke about Jeremiah?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you read the verse he mentioned in chapter 29?”
“Well, I was gonna read my Bible. I’m sure it’s a great book, but I decided I’d just wait for the movie.”
Frances grins, but presses on. “It says God has big plans for you. Plans to make you a success and not harm you.”
I check the clock in the reflection, panicked that I have so little time left. Don’t really have any extra minutes for a Bible study right now, you know?
“So what I’m trying to say is you’re here for a reason, Katie. Living in In Between for a reason. The Scotts are your foster parents for a re
ason. And I think you’re going to be on stage tonight. . .for a reason.”
I push the final pin in my hair and look at my friend. “All I see right now is that in another hour I’m going to walk out on that stage, in a play I’ve never been in before, and perform one of the world’s most famous parts. And I’m sick to my stomach. Like so nervous I could do some serious hurling all over this hideous yellow dress. The entire town of In Between is going to be out there. And I know I’m going to totally mess up. A lot.” I stop long enough to take a breath. “This could be a huge mistake. Like Beyonce as a blonde mistake.”
Frances hands me a blush brush. “This isn’t a mistake. And no matter what, there are people out there who care about you. And they don’t really mind whether you mess up a line or have a wardrobe malfunction. That’s not what this is about.”
No, it’s not. It’s about helping James and Millie. I owe those people. And one day when Mrs. Smartly’s green van swings back into town, I don’t want to leave in any anyone’s debt.
“Thanks, Frances.”
Frances tugs me into a hug.
“Um, Frances?”
“Yes?”
“You’re smashing my Kleenex.”
Knock. Knock.
“Five minutes until you’re on, Katie. Get ready.”
Bev closes the door of the dressing room, where I’m now surrounded by all the other actors not on stage. (You know, as in the actors who know what they’re doing.)
My heart gallops like it’s going to give out any second. My dress is too tight (well, except for the top part), and my palms are sweating. Did someone turn up the heat? It’s so hot in here. I tried to drop a few subtle hints for someone to turn the air conditioner on, but no one was interested. Don’t these people know who I am? I’m Juliet!
Juliet’s lines chase one another in my head. Frances’s words interrupt them like commercial breaks. I need a moment to clear my head.
Opening the door to the dressing room bathroom, I close myself in and turn the lock. This moment calls for some heavy duty yoga breathing. My skirt gathers around me as I sit on the floor, enjoying the cool surface.
Can I do this? I mean, seriously, can I really pull this off?
God, are you up there? Do you hear me?
I don’t know if you’re into Shakespeare, but if you are, I really hope you stop by and help me out. You know, I’m not sure where we stand. I don’t have you all figured out yet. I barely have the math thing under control. But if you do have a purpose for me, and I’m supposed to be here tonight, I just want to ask you for a little help. Help me remember my lines and where to stand. Help me to remember to not turn my back to the audience. And make sure I don’t pull a Stephanie and fall out of a balcony window. And one last thing . . . please let Amy show up and make everything work out between her and the Scotts.
I startle at the knock on the door.
“Katie, you’re up.”
Okay, gotta go. Bye. Er, I mean, Amen.
With my pulse racing faster than a thoroughbred, I follow Bev out into the wings.
She puts her hand to my back and gives me a little push. “Out you go. Break a leg.”
I turn around and frown.
“No, not like Stephanie,” she says. “I mean . . . oh, never mind. It’s your cue.”
And somehow my legs carry me onto the stage. I pause for a moment and take it all in. The lights. The stage. The theatre full of people. And even though I can’t see them for the spotlight, I know James, Millie, Sam, and Maxine are in the front row, cheering me on.
I walk farther onto the stage, entering the scene and deliver my first line. “How now, who calls?”
The crowd erupts into applause.
For me.
My eyes fill, and chills dance along my spine.
And I feel like I’ve just come home.
My movements grow bolder, my voice louder. I lift my chin like I’m royalty.
I am Juliet.
On the Valiant stage, I, Katie Parker, step into the spotlight and find Frances was right. This is exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Over a month ago I broke into this theatre.
And tonight—I’m breaking out.
Chapter 42
I grab a cold bottle of root beer, my third for the night. The production was over hours ago, but everyone involved in the play has moved to the Scotts’ for a cast party. I still have Juliet’s dress on, the last outfit she wears as she stabs herself. The extra padding on top really came in handy when I had to fall to the floor in a dead heap. Never mind that a few tissues slipped out and parachuted into the first row. I’m too giddy to care.
“Katie, you were wonderful. Have I told you that?”
I laugh. “Yes, Bev. Thank you.” I’ve never had so much praise in all my life. I’m eating it like candy.
“I’m headed home; it’s been a long day. But I wanted you to know you really blew me away tonight, and anytime you want to be in one of my plays, you say the word.”
I just want to tattoo all her compliments on myself, so I’ll never lose them. I say good-bye to Bev and go in search of my foster parents.
When I walk past the living room, I find James and some other men discussing the theatre and watching SportsCenter. He dips a chip into some queso but jumps up when he spots me in the doorway.
“You’re drinking kind of heavily tonight, aren’t you?” He wipes the cheese off his mouth.
“I’m not the one on the diet.” I elbow him in the stomach. “Don’t worry, though, I won’t tell on you.”
“I’m so proud of you, Katie.”
Sometimes I find it hard to make proper eye contact. I guess I’m not the trusting sort. But I look into the face of my foster dad, and I know this guy means what he says. James would never intentionally let me down. He’s the real deal.
“I’m proud of you too.” I step in closer so he can hear me above the noise. “I’m sorry about Amy. I know you’re disappointed.” And even though James was right all along about Amy not showing up, I hope he still thinks there’s a chance one day she’ll come home.
“It’s okay.” He nods. “We’re all okay.”
This tender moment is interrupted by the sound of Maxine yelling from another room. “Limbo time!”
James rolls his eyes. “All right, so not everyone is okay.”
I search the rest of the house for Millie and finally find her when I glance outside the kitchen door. I flick the outside light on, and there she sits. By herself on the porch swing.
The creaking of the door opening sounds loud to my ears, as I interrupt Millie’s quiet escape.
“Hey, sweetie.” She smiles, but it’s not too convincing. She needs to get lessons from Stephanie, I guess.
“Whatcha doing out here?” I take the other side of the two-seater swing.
Millie gazes at the stars, and she props her head on her hand. “Just thinking.”
“About what?” My feet rest lightly on the ground, and I use my toes to move the swing.
“About how wonderful you were tonight. You know you were amazing, right?”
I shrug. “Well, I had hoped for totally spectacular, but I’ll take amazing.”
“I knew you could do it. I had faith in you.”
I’m still not sure where I stand on this God business. I’m ready to admit there might be something to it, and I guess I hope there is. But there are still too many uncertainties for me to leap into that unknown right now. Maybe God is why I was taken out of a bad home situation. Maybe it’s God who’s brought me here. And perhaps God allowed me to totally rock tonight on stage.
But this God didn’t fix everything.
“Millie . . . your faith didn’t bring Amy back.”
Somewhere, tree frogs croak, and the cicadas chirp. And it’s a long space of time before Millie speaks.
“No, my faith didn’t bring Amy back. But you know what else I was thinking about out here? I was thinking how I’ve had things all wrong lately.”
/> Welcome to my world.
“I’ve been talking to you about faith and God, and here I was . . . Well, let’s just say I wasn’t doing a good job of pursuing either one myself.”
Sometimes Christians are like Shakespeare. It’s English, but a totally different version. “I’m not following you.”
“I’ve been praying so hard for Amy to come home. For months. Years.” Millie rubs her arms against the evening chill. “And I have to believe that day is going to come. But tonight I realized God has been faithful.” Millie brushes a tear away. “He brought me you. Do you get that?”
No, not really.
“Katie, when I saw you standing in the spotlight, I just knew. I’ve been praying for a daughter . . . and spending all my time chasing after Amy. But the kid I’m supposed to be taking care of? Well, she’s right here.”
Millie gathers me in her arms, and just like the first day I arrived, I breathe her scent in. It was right then. And it’s still right now.
Swiping at her eyes, my foster mother sniffs then laughs. “Oh, we could use some tissues.”
I stick my hand in my dress and pull out a handful.
Millie laughs and kisses me on the head. “See, Katie Parker, you’re just what I need.”
The stars twinkle and glow above us. We watch the night sky, Millie with her renewed faith, and me with . . . well, whatever it is I have.
I do know some things for sure: I will be returning to the stage. My life doesn’t have to be a catastrophe. And for right now, In Between is where I’m at.
Long live the Chihuahuas.
About the Author
Four-time Carol award-winning author Jenny B. Jones writes romance with equal parts wit, sass, and Southern charm. Since she has very little free time, she believes in spending her spare hours in meaningful, intellectual pursuits, such as watching bad TV, Tweeting deep thoughts to the world, and writing her name in the dust on her furniture. She is the author of romantic comedies for women such as RITA finalist Save the Date, as well as books for teens, like her A Charmed Life series. You can find her at www.JennyBJones.com or standing in the Ben and Jerry’s cooler.
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