by Janice Hanna
She’d no sooner started to say “go inside and look at your notes” when Darrell’s truck pulled into the parking lot. As usual, the tires were thick with dried mud, a casualty of his job as a construction worker. Pete’s pest control van whipped in on his heels, the plastic cockroach on top dangling precariously to one side as he made a sharp turn into a nearby parking space. Strange. Had he been in some sort of accident? Pete was followed by Grady then a string of other vehicles.
“So much for meeting ahead of time.” Amy sighed.
“Aw, that’s okay.” Woody chuckled as he gestured to the odd display of vehicles. “We should take it as a good sign that they’re on time. They’re excited about the production, looks like.” He fussed with his hearing aid.
“Yeah.” She glanced at the vehicles again, wondering if Gwen would show up. “Excited or just plain curious to see how I fare as a director?”
“You’ll do fine, kid,” Woody said, giving her a pat on the back. “Don’t let them see you worked up. They’re looking to you for their cues, and I don’t just mean the kind on the stage. If you’re nervous, they’ll be nervous. So, stiff upper lip.”
“Gotcha.” She saluted him and then smiled.
He turned to Pete, who approached with a sour expression on his face.
“What happened to your van, Pete?” Woody asked. “Someone attacked me.”
“Attacked you?” Darrell asked as he stepped into the spot beside Pete. “What do you mean?”
“Someone shot clean through old Bugsy.” Pete pointed to the plastic cockroach, a pained look in his eyes. “Now, why would someone want to do that, I ask you? What did Bugsy ever do to anyone? He’s never hurt a flea.”
Amy tried not to smile as the irony of that statement sank in.
The sight of a stretch limo hearse pulling into the parking lot interrupted their conversation. Amy watched as Pastor Crane swung wide the door on the driver’s side of the hearse. As his feet hit the pavement, he turned to give everyone a wave. “Be right with you,” he called out. “Precious cargo aboard!”
The pastor-slash-funeral director walked around the back of the car to the other side, where he opened the door for his wife. Natalie climbed out of the passenger door, her ever-growing belly leading the way as she waddled toward them. Drawing near, Natalie offered Amy a warm smile.
“Hope you don’t mind that I’m here,” she said. “I’m not a cast member or anything, but I couldn’t resist coming along for the ride.”
“Mind? Why would I mind?” Amy asked.
“Oh, well.” Natalie paused, her gaze shifting downward. “I know that jealousy is a sin, but you have no idea how envious I am,” she said at last.
“Of what?” Amy could hardly imagine the mild-mannered pastor’s wife as anything but sweet and gracious.
“I love performing, and I’m dying to be in this show with the rest of you.” Natalie pointed to her baby bump and shrugged. “But I wouldn’t trade this little guy for all the plays in the world.”
“Aw.” Amy suddenly understood where she was coming from. “Well, if it helps any, I’d planned to ask for your assistance with something, anyway.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. You’re the best singer in town. I’m hoping you can help with the vocals.”
Natalie grinned. “I’d be honored. I was hoping you’d say that.” She paused. “Well, the part about needing my help, I mean. And I’m happy to give it.”
“I’m so relieved.” Amy reached out and squeezed her hand. “This is the part that’s worried me the most. Well, the vocals and the choreography. I still need to find someone with dance experience.”
“Just another reason why I refuse to join that-there church,” Grady said as he stepped up next to Amy. “They don’t allow folks to dance.”
Pastor Crane shook his head. “Actually, we have no policy for or against dancing, Grady.” A hint of a smile followed. “And if you have your heart set on kicking up your heels, Amy is looking for someone to choreograph the show. Might be just the job for you.”
Grady muttered a few unintelligible words and then headed to the door of the Civic Center.
Natalie laughed. “I somehow doubt he’d step up to the plate. But you can count me in, Amy. Thanks for asking.” She turned her attention to Pete, who stood facing his van. “Pete, what happened to Bugsy?”
“It’s the strangest thing,” the somber-faced exterminator said as he turned back to face the group. “He’s been shot clean through, but I haven’t got a clue who did it or why. I was on a call to the Johnsons’ place. They live pretty far off the main road, and I know people get a little crazy back in the woods sometimes.”
A shiver ran down Amy’s spine at the very thought of it. “Someone was shooting in the woods? Did you call Officer O’Reilly?”
“Not yet. I just know that while I was in the Johnsons’ house, I heard a gunshot. Ran out and saw that Bugsy’d been hit.” He pulled his hat off and ran his fingers through his hair. “Breaks my heart.
Poor little fella.”
“No doubt.” Amy shook her head, troubled by the fact that someone in their general vicinity had done such a thing. So much for thinking they were safer in a small town.
They all stood together, sharing a moment of respectful silence as they stared at Bugsy. Or rather, what was left of Bugsy.
“He’s a classic,” Pastor Crane said, after clearing his throat. “Gonna be hard to replace him.”
Pete’s eyes misted over. So did Amy’s, but it had nothing to do with Bugsy’s demise. The overpowering aroma of Pete’s uniform was enough to knock a buzzard off a hearse. Interesting irony, since she happened to be staring at one.
A nervous laugh interrupted her thoughts. “Hey, Amy, I heard a great theater joke,” Pete said. “It’s about a director, so I thought you might get a kick out of it.”
“Um, okay. Why not.” She needed a nice diversion right about now. “Let me have it.”
“All right.” Pete smiled and his gaze narrowed. “A stage manager says to a director, ‘I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is that there is a wonderful theater in heaven—well-equipped, spacious, plenty of wing space. In fact, there’s a show opening tomorrow night.’”
“The director says, ‘That’s awesome! So what’s the bad news?’”
“The stage manager says, ‘You’re directing the show!’”
Pete laughed so hard after delivering the punch line that he nearly lost his breath. Pastor Crane and Natalie joined in. So did Grady and Eula Mae, who had meandered up at just the right moment.
“Very funny,” Amy said when they all settled down. “You’ve had your laugh at my expense. Glad you got that over with.”
“Oh, there’s plenty more where that one came from,” Pete said. “I’ve been looking up theater jokes online. There are dozens of them.”
Overhead, a crack of thunder shook the skies. Amy looked up, startled. “Guess we’d better head inside. Hope Steve and Pop can outrun the storm.”
She led the troops through the door. A couple of minutes later, Lucy Cramden entered, looking spiffy in her black leggings and oversized T-shirt with the word SUPERSTAR: written across the front. Blossom came next, the change in her hair color nearly taking Amy’s breath away. Cherry red. Interesting. Next came Prissy, looking none too happy. Well, until the twins arrived, anyway. With Timmy and Jimmy on the scene, Prissy’s expression brightened right away.
Within minutes the first row in the Civic Center had filled with several participants. At a quarter after five, Amy looked around, noticing several cast members still missing, including Steve. Hopefully he and her dad would be back from Knoxville soon with the supplies. She prayed the dreary weather wouldn’t keep them. Still, she couldn’t postpone the rehearsal. Not with so many anxious eyes boring through her. Might as well get moving.
“I brought snacks for everyone!” Caroline’s happy-go-lucky voice rang out. “Cookies and punch. Got to keep the energy levels up.”
“You’re so sweet.” Amy gave her a hug as Caroline came to the front. As she did, a rush of emotions swept over Amy. Oh, how she missed her mother. She had to believe that her mom—had she lived—would have been right here, serving up homemade cookies and filling cups with sugary punch.
Focus, Amy.
The cast members gathered around the cookie tray, nibbling and gabbing. After a few minutes, Amy turned her attention to the group. “I want to thank you all for coming,” she said. “We’re going to do an opening exercise and then dive right into the rehearsal. What we’re going to do today is called a round-table reading. We’ll put the chairs in a circle and read the script from top to bottom.”
“Funny that it’s called a round-table reading,” Grady said. “Since we’re the knights of the Round Table.” He slapped his knee. “Get it? Knights of the Round Table.”
He snorted, which created quite a stir of laughter in the room. Just as she got everyone settled down, Steve rushed through the door.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “We ran into a little problem about ten miles west of Knoxville.”
“Actually, Steve, being the Good Samaritan that he is, decided to stop and help an older woman change a flat tire,” her father added, as he entered the room on Steve’s heels.
“Aw. Nice guy.” She wanted to give Steve a little wink but decided against it since so many others were looking on. There would be plenty of time to tell him later what a hero she thought he was—for saving both the town and the damsel in distress.
Steve took a seat in the front row. “Did we miss much?”
“No, actually, we were just getting started. I was about to explain what we’re—”
“Sorry I’m late. Won’t happen again.” Chuck Manly came rushing in, still wearing his butcher’s apron. He took a seat next to Steve then proceeded to tell a story about lamb chops. Amy found herself distracted at first by his stained apron and then by the sudden flurry of activity at the door. She glanced over just in time to see Annabelle racing in.
“Sorry. The manager had me on the ‘twenty items or less’ lane today, and you know how crazy that can be, especially when we’ve got a sale going on.” Annabelle started talking about Sack ’n Save’s latest promotional on paper products, but Amy couldn’t track with her. Not with so many other things on her mind. She wanted to go over and remove Chuck’s apron and then toss it in the trash. Only then she would have to touch it. Ick. Annabelle didn’t seem to mind being near it. She took the empty seat next to Chuck, smiling all the while.
Gwen followed behind Annabelle, wearing her dog-grooming apron and dragging two poodles on a leash. One of them, the smaller of the two, yapped nonstop, his barks echoing against the linoleum floor.
“My client—was—running late,” Gwen said between pants. “She’s supposed to be—stopping by—to pick up these little guys.”
Woody shook his head. “I don’t care if your client is great, there are no animals inside. Not after what happened with Fiona at the audition.”
Lucy rolled her eyes and grunted.
“I said late, not great,” Gwen explained. “Besides, I don’t have any choice. It looks like it’s going to rain. You can’t very well expect me to stand outside in the rain with two freshly groomed dogs, can you?”
“I don’t care what you do with your logs,” he said. “A little rain never hurt ’em. You still can’t expect that we’re going to say it’s okay to bring animals into the rehearsal. It’s not going to happen.”
Gwen slapped herself on the forehead. “Fine. Just forget the whole thing. I’ll go back to my place and you guys can dumb show.” She turned toward the door.
Thankfully, her client showed up at just that moment and scooped the little darlings into her arms, apologizing profusely for her tardiness. Afterward, Gwen marched to the front row, head high and lips pursed.
Amy sighed, realizing what a force to be reckoned with her old friend was turning out to be. When had things soured between them, and what could she do to fix it? Did she even want to fix it? The Bible said she needed to turn the other cheek. She’d been turning it so much lately, she felt like one of those ballerinas in a jewelry box—dizzy.
“I want to say a few words before we kick off the rehearsal,” Amy said, snapping back to attention. “First, I’m so honored that you all accepted the roles you were given. I feel like everything has come together perfectly.”
Off in the distance, Gwen rolled her eyes.
“And thank you for allowing me to play a dual role,” Amy continued. “I’m not quite sure how I’m going to manage directing and acting, but I’m willing to give it the old college try. Thank goodness Woody is here. Otherwise I wouldn’t even attempt it.”
“Happy to be of service.” He rose and waved his hand and then sat back down.
“Just a couple of questions before we begin,” Amy said. “First, does anyone have any experience in building websites?”
Pastor Crane raised his hand. “I built the site for the funeral home. Looks pretty good, if I do say so myself. Why?”
“We need to build a site with information about the show,” she explained, excitement kicking in. “And it needs to have a shopping-cart feature so people can buy tickets online.”
“Never done a shopping cart before,” he said. “But I’ll figure it out.”
“Perfect.” She felt some of her anxiety lift. “And we’ll have to somehow market the site to draw people in. I guess we can talk more about that as time goes on.”
“I’ve managed to draw customers to the funeral home,” he said.
That got a laugh out of everyone.
“I’m not sure they came because of your advertising, Pastor,” Pete said. “Not that your site doesn’t look great.”
Amy chuckled. “Well, I’m grateful that you’re willing to give it a try.” She glanced at her notes. “Now, one more thing. We’re going to need to hire musicians. We can only practice with the vocal tracks for so long. A live orchestra will make the show.”
Natalie raised her hand. “How will we pay for them, Amy? Hiring musicians can get pricey.”
“We have to sell advance tickets,” she said. “It’s the only way to guarantee we’ll have the funds to pay them.” She gave Natalie an imploring look. “You’re doing so much already with the costumes, but I need someone who knows about music to locate musicians for us. Would you be willing to try?”
“Sure.” A thoughtful look crossed her face. “I can start with my brother in Knoxville. He’s a concert pianist.”
“He is?”
“Yes.” She gave Amy a confident smile. “Our parents raised us in a musical home. Someone was always playing an instrument or singing. And my brother got the lion’s share of the talent.”
“Hardly.” Amy gave her friend an encouraging nod. “You have the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard. You’re loaded with talent. And I hear you’re quite the seamstress too.”
“Aw, thank you,” Natalie said. “I wasn’t fishing for compliments. Just wanted to say that my brother knows other musicians…so maybe he can help us out.” Her eyes sparkled. “Maybe he can even come and play the piano. That would be wonderful.”
“Sounds great.” Amy paused to check her notes before continuing. “Oh—many of you have been asking about Lancelot, and I’m thrilled to tell you that we’ve located someone who’s perfect for the role. Just tied up the loose ends this morning, in fact. He’s on his way. Should be here in the next few minutes.” She felt a ripple of relief run through her as she made the announcement. Thank goodness this final detail had been ironed out.
“Who is he, Amy?” Blossom asked. “Someone we know?”
“No.” Amy responded. “But he’s connected to someone we know quite well. It’s Sarge’s grandson, Jackson Brenner.”
“Jackson Brenner?” Annabelle looked perplexed. “That name sounds familiar.”
“Maybe you’ve seen him in other shows,” Amy said. “He’s starred in q
uite a few over in Pigeon Forge. And before that, he did some recording in Nashville. I hear he’s really, really good.”
“Well, he’d better be,” Grady grumbled. “That’s all I’m sayin’. Since ya turned down yer own townspeople to let him play the part.”
“Enough of that. Time to get busy.” Woody eased his way out of the chair and faced the crowd. “Before we dive into the round-table reading, we’re going to teach you some stage directions, so everyone out of your chairs. Come on up to the front of the room and join Amy for this fun exercise.”
Amy watched as Pete and Lucy made their way forward. Some of the others—like Grady, Gwen, and Chuck—didn’t seem as enthused.
“Never used the words ‘fun’ and ‘exercise’ in the same sentence before,” Chuck muttered.
“Me neither,” Grady added.
“There’s a first time for everything,” Pete said. “C’mon, fellas.”
Amy gave him a smile, grateful for his encouraging words.
“Stage directions are a critical part of the equation,” Woody explained, once everyone got into place. “So it’s important that everyone pay attention. Amy’s going to lead you through the process by playing a little game.”
Deep breath, Amy. Here we go.
“Okay, everyone. Before we begin, I want to find out how much you already know about stage directions.” Amy gestured to the makeshift stage area. “If I say upstage right, where do you go?”
Pete scratched his head. “I don’t even see a stage.”
“We’re pretending.” She gestured to the open space behind her. “I’m going to show you where upstage right would be, but let me start by telling you that stage directions are always from the actor’s perspective as he faces the audience. So if I say stage right, it’s the actor’s right, not the audience’s right. Got it?”
Grady shrugged. “Shore. Nuthin’ hard about that.”
“Now, back in the earliest days of theater, the stages were built on an incline but the part nearest the audience was a bit lower than the back of the stage. So if I say upstage, you move toward the back of the stage. Make sense?”
Everyone nodded.