by Janice Hanna
“Not yet.” Steve shook his head, now turning his gaze to Charlie.
“Amy’s been pretty emotional,” Charlie said. “Thought I saw her crying in church yesterday. You know how private she is, though. Wouldn’t let anyone know even if she was upset.”
“I think she’s just exhausted,” Steve said. “And feeling the weight of all of this because she suggested the idea in the first place.”
“She knows we’re not holding her responsible if this thing doesn’t fly,” Charlie said. “I’m not sure why she takes on so much responsibility.”
“She’s always been like that,” Steve said. “For as long as I can remember. She gets these ideas, dives in headfirst, then beats herself up when things don’t work out.” He paused, reflecting on his words. “But we have nothing to worry about this time. It’s going to work. We’ve done our part. Now it’s time for the Lord to do what only He can do.”
Charlie smiled. “Amen to that. It takes faith to step out and build something, even before you know it’s going to work.”
“This whole thing has been a faith move—for the community and for us as individuals,” Steve said. “I think God’s watching closely to see if we falter at the last minute. That’s why we’ve got to keep on keepin’ on, even when things get tough. And from what I’ve heard from Woody, the final week of rehearsals can get plenty tough.”
“Hope we’re up for the task,” Charlie said.
“I’m going to head inside and look for her,” Caroline said. “Maybe I can cheer her up.” She headed off in the direction of the Civic Center.
Pete pulled into the parking lot next and got out of his van, a look of excitement on his face. “Did you see what’s going on in town?” he asked. “Haven’t seen this much frenzy since Woody drove through the plate-glass window of the Sack ’n Save.”
“Are you talking about the RV park?” Steve nodded. “It’s almost done. Eula Mae set up a phone line for people to call for reservations. We have a handful coming in Thursday. That’s when we’ll set up the tents in Lance’s parking lot for the vendors. We’re expecting quite a few of them, so there will be food and shopping for our tourists. I expect it will grow over time.”
“Yes, and did you see all of the goings-on at the diner?” Pete asked. “Ellie Parker is on a roll, adding more booths and turning the storage room into a workspace for their new catering business. She’s got great plans for the food for the show. I’ve never seen her so excited.”
“That’s the point,” Steve said. “I haven’t seen our townspeople this energetic for years. It’s like we’ve had an injection of hope. And hope is a good thing. It’s what we’ve been lacking around here for the past few years. Your daughter had a good idea, Charlie. She really did.”
“Yep.” Charlie smiled, his eyes twinkling. “Gotta agree with you there. Putting on this play has been great for all of us. And I like what you said about hope. I’m a firm believer in looking ahead to better days.” He glanced across the field in the direction of the Civic Center.
“Speaking of better days…” Pete grinned. “I had a little talk with the Lord about Lucy Cramden after church yesterday.”
“Oh?” Charlie and Steve spoke in unison.
“Yep. He told me to be patient. That good things come to them that wait. So I’m waiting.”
Off in the distance, Eula Mae’s voice rang out. “Yoo-hoo! Steve. I need to talk to you.”
“Sorry, fellas,” he said. “When Eula Mae calls, I don’t dare delay.”
Charlie laughed. “She’s got you whipped.”
“Yep. But I’ve learned to live with it.”
“Good preparation for marriage, I suppose,” Pete said.
Steve thought about those words as he crossed the parking lot in Eula Mae’s direction. How could he even begin to think about marriage when the woman he loved had distanced herself from him?
“Steve.” Eula Mae gestured for him to come to the door of the Civic Center.
“What’s up?”
“We need to talk.” Her strained whisper was barely audible.
“Why are we whispering?” he responded, his voice lowered to match hers.
“Because…” She gestured with her head. “That county official is still out in the parking lot. You never know. He might have the whole place bugged.”
“Bugged.” Steve chuckled as he echoed the word. “We’ve got a pest-control expert on hand, Eula Mae, so we can take care of that in a hurry.”
She didn’t seem to get his joke. Her expression didn’t soften. “I’m just saying, the fellow could be a spy,” she whispered.
“No, Fred is a great guy,” Steve said. “And I invited him to come to the rehearsal today. Besides, I’ve got good news. He stopped by the office earlier and dropped off the paperwork from the county.”
“Have you tested it for traces of poison?” Eula Mae whispered. “That’s how they get you, you know. You touch it and then put your hands to your mouth, and…wham. You’re dead.”
“Eula Mae, you’re not listening. We passed the inspection. We’ve been given an eleventh-hour stay. They’re not shutting us down. We’ve been cleared to have the performance. We’re good to go.”
“Oh.” She released a breath. “Well, I’m still whispering.”
“Why?”
“Woody just pulled into the parking lot and is headed our way.” She glared at Steve. “You had to go and buy him a hearing aid.”
“Well, sure.” Steve nodded. “What’s wrong with that?”
She lowered her voice a bit more, her gaze darting out to the parking lot. “I liked him better when he couldn’t hear me.”
“Why is that?”
“Because.” She shook her head. “I was always muttering things under my breath whenever he got me riled up, and now he can hear every word.”
“What have you got to be riled up about?”
“Not sure.” She sighed. “Just feel like I’m on the slow boat to China with that man. We’re like the tortoise and the hare. I’m the hare, in case you’re wondering. And now things are more complicated than ever because he can actually hear what I’m saying.” She glared at Steve. “See what you’ve done? You’ve taken the zing out of our romance.”
“Well, I didn’t mean to take the zing out of your romance, Eula Mae.” Placing a hand on her shoulder, he said, “But just so you know, Woody’s head over heels in love with you.”
“Oh?” A smile lit her face.
“Yes, and he’s not whispering about it,” Steve said. “In fact, he’s been shouting it at the top of his lungs. So you might as well stop muttering and tell him how you feel.”
“Someone talking about me behind my back?” Woody’s voice rang out.
Steve turned and smiled then gestured at Eula Mae. “Yes, we were talking about you. But I think it might be a good thing if someone started talking to you, instead.” He gave Eula Mae a gentle nudge in Woody’s direction.
She sighed and then whispered, “I don’t know what to say.”
“Sure you do,” Woody said, pulling her close. “Just tell this crazy old fool that you love him, and we can get on with the show.”
Steve began to walk away just as Eula Mae let out a little giggle. Looked like the zing hadn’t really gone out of their romance after all. Now if he could only figure out how to put it back into his own.
Amy paced the new theater, her mind reeling. Set pieces. Check. Theater build-out. Check. Well, except for the restrooms, but they’re coming along nicely. Costumes. Check. All but Pellinore’s, but that’s okay. Natalie will get that done.
Natalie. Hmm.
The last time she’d seen Natalie, the poor woman had been unable to stand because of her swollen feet. Still, with Caroline’s help, she finished up most of the costumes.
Thinking of Caroline reminded Amy of Steve, of course. He’d been acting so strange lately. A little distant, even. Then again, she hadn’t gone out of her way to rekindle their romance. Her thoughts had been on
one thing only—the play.
“The play’s the thing,” she reminded herself.
“No, the people are the thing,” Caroline said, drawing near. “But I understand what you’re saying. And I do have to admit that putting on a play can be consuming. We’ve more than proven that. It’s taken its toll on quite a few people.”
Amy tried not to let her dismay show. Still, Caroline had just deflated any enthusiasm she might’ve mustered up moments before. Unfortunately—or fortunately—she didn’t have time to dwell on it. Pastor Crane approached, concern etched in his brow.
“Everything okay?” Amy asked.
“Yes.” He nodded. “We had three funerals this week, and poor Natalie’s run ragged. Have you seen her?”
“Yep.” Caroline nodded. “She’s inside ironing Arthur’s wedding doublet. Looks like she’s ready to pop, so I made her sit down to do the rest of the ironing.”
“She’s not due for three more weeks,” he said, “but she’s miserable.”
“Pretty common in the last month,” Caroline said. “Make sure she puts her feet up when you get home tonight.”
“I’ve been massaging them for her every night.” The sweetest look passed over him. “I do what I can. Sure can’t carry the baby for her.”
“Wait a few weeks, and you’ll be able to do that,” Caroline said. “But by then, Natalie probably won’t want to let go of him. Trust me on that.”
Something about this conversation made Amy feel a little…odd. Sad, even. What would it be like to have the man you loved walk you through a pregnancy? To have him kneel at your feet and massage them, speaking words of love over you?
“A penny for your thoughts.” Jackson’s voice stirred her from her thoughts.
“Oh, hey.” She offered a weak smile.
“Hey yourself. Getting excited?”
“Yes.” She paused. “I was just about to ask how things are going with ticket sales on the website. We’ve been so worried about what will happen if the town is overrun with people, we’ve never stopped to consider the opposite.”
“What do you mean?” Pastor Crane asked.
“What if no one comes? What if we’ve done all of this and can’t sell any tickets?”
“We’re already selling tickets,” he said. “I checked the website last night; we’ve sold a couple dozen.”
“To residents,” she countered. “Probably.”
Pastor Crane reached out and put his hand on Amy’s arm. “Have faith. God’s got this one covered, Amy. Deep breath.”
“It will all work out. You’ll see,” Caroline reassured her. “Although if you could come inside when you’re free, we could see to the hem of your wedding dress and that would be one less thing to think about.” She smiled at Amy and waited for her nod before turning back toward the Civic Center.
As Caroline and Pastor Crane walked away, talking about Natalie’s delicate condition, Amy couldn’t help but feel pretty delicate herself. Not just frazzled. More…run-down. Exhausted. She prayed she would make it through these next few days.
“Did you happen to check the weather report?” Jackson’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
“No. Why?” Amy gave him a curious look.
“Well, there’s a storm front coming in from the northwest. It’s supposed to hit us in a couple of days.”
“No.” She dropped into the seat, defeat setting in.
“It’s just a storm, Amy. It will pass.” He took the seat next to her.
“No, it’s not just a storm,” she argued. “It’s another in a long line of interruptions to my plan to put on a show.” She’d no sooner uttered the words “my plan” before conviction settled in. “I mean, God’s plan.”
He reached over and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. “Yes, it’s God’s plan. And because it’s His and not ours, we can rest easy in the fact that He’s got the details ironed out. Even the part where the storm rolls in. So do what Pastor Crane suggested. Take a deep breath.”
His gentle gaze distracted her momentarily. Why was he always so…nice? Why couldn’t he just be snippy every now and again? Why couldn’t he avoid her, like Steve was doing? Did he have to show up every time she needed someone to hold her hand and offer words of comfort?
Shaking off her thoughts of men—Jackson in particular—Amy rose. “I’ve got to gather the troops. We were supposed to start ten minutes ago.” She quickly made the rounds, inside the Civic Center and out, rounding up her cast and crew. After giving a few last-minute instructions to the techies and musicians, Amy gathered the cast together to pray. Her excitement grew as she saw them all in their costumes for the first time. They might be a ragtag lot, but they sure cleaned up nice. Even Chuck, the butcher, looked like a million bucks in his knightly attire.
Instinctively, she looked to Steve to lead them in an opening prayer. Would he still be willing? His warm smile convinced her that he would. And sure enough, his powerful words to the Lord gave her just the courage she needed to move forward. We can do this, Lord. But You’ve got to help us. Otherwise, it’s just going to be a big mess.
After the prayer, Annabelle led the others in a warm-up, starting with toe touches. Amy chuckled as she watched her father attempt to touch his toes.
“It ain’t happenin’!” he called out. “Either my legs are getting longer as I age or my arms are getting shorter. Either way, I can’t reach the ground anymore.”
Amy laughed. For a moment, anyway. A few seconds later, something distracted her. Looking at Annabelle in her soft blue gown, Amy had to conclude the obvious. The store clerk might’ve started out as a size eighteen, but the dress now hung on her like a sack of potatoes. Looked like this choreography gig had more than energized her spirit; it had taken off a few pounds. Maybe more than a few.
“Annabelle, when you get a minute, let’s talk.” Amy flashed an encouraging smile.
When the warm-up period ended, the cast members were sent to their places backstage and Annabelle approached Amy with a look of concern in her eyes.
“Is everything okay?”
“Oh yes.” She offered a relaxed smile. “No biggie. Just wanted to suggest that you stop in to see Caroline and Natalie before you leave today. You’ll need to change out of that costume so they can take up the seams.”
“Take up the seams?”
“Well, sure. It’s falling off of you.”
“It is?” Annabelle looked down. “Crazy. I’ve been so busy, I didn’t notice.” She tugged at the waistline, which hung loose. “Guess you’re right.”
“If we don’t take it up, you’ll be tripping all over yourself. Might as well take care of it now.” She paused and smiled. “And by the way, you look great. Love the new hairstyle.”
“Oh, thanks.” Annabelle grinned. “It was Blossom’s idea. You know how she is. She’s been wanting to experiment on me for years, but I wouldn’t let her. But something about this show gave me the courage to try new things, so I decided to let her go for it.”
“‘Go for it,’ ” Amy echoed. “I like those words. They seem pretty fitting right now, don’t they? That’s what we’re all about to do—go for it.”
And go for it, they did. The next two hours were spent wriggling and winding their way through Act One. Talk about ups and downs! Just about the time Amy thought she could catch her breath, another catastrophe hit.
They’d just taken a break to eat dinner when Gwen came running Amy’s direction. “Amy, come quick!” The pained expression on Gwen’s face, coupled with her breathless words, left nothing to the imagination. Something terrible had happened.
Turning on her heel, Amy followed her across the stage to the back, where she found Sarge in a heap on the floor. Jackson knelt on his right and Steve on his left. Steve worked feverishly, checking his breathing and pulse.
“I called 911,” Gwen said, her eyes filled with tears. “They’re on their way.”
“What happened?”
“I’m not sure. He was acting a little f
unny all morning.” Gwen shrugged. “Saying some odd things and looking a little lost. But with Sarge, it’s kind of hard to know…ya know?”
“Right.” Amy nodded but didn’t say more for fear of hurting Jackson’s feelings.
“Then, just before you called us to break for dinner, he started talking kind of crazy. His words were slurred. And the next thing I knew, he said he had to sit down. But there wasn’t time to sit. Down he went.” Gwen’s eyes filled with tears.
Steve looked up, and Amy could read the concern in his eyes. “I’m pretty sure it’s a stroke. I hope the paramedics get here soon.”
“Is—is he breathing?”
“He’s breathing and his pulse is steady,” Steve said with a nod. “But I’d feel better if—” Off in the distance a siren pealed out, and Amy sighed with relief. Minutes later, two paramedics pushed their way through the crowd and went to work on Sarge right away. One of them spoke into the walkie-talkie on his shoulder. In the meantime, the entire cast gathered around, many of them ushering up quiet prayers. Steve asked everyone to step back, his voice commanding authority.
One of the paramedics ran toward the ambulance, returning with a stretcher. Within minutes Sarge was situated on it, his eyes closed and an oxygen mask firmly in place.
“Where are you taking him?” Jackson asked. “I want to come with you.”
“You can follow us,” the paramedic said. “Hope you’re up for a drive. He needs to go to the medical center in Knoxville.”
Jackson’s eyes widened and he nodded.
“Do you want me to go with you?” Amy asked.
“I…” He shook his head. “No. Amy, you’ve got to stay here and keep going. This rehearsal is too important. If the second act doesn’t get knocked out, we don’t have a show.”
“What good is a show when the people in it are hurting?” Amy felt the tears rise.
“I’ll go with him, Amy.” Gwen gave her an imploring look. “If you’re okay with that.”
“Of course.”
She stepped back, watching as the paramedics continued their work. In the midst of the struggle to elevate the stretcher, Sarge seemed to jar awake. For a moment, he looked as clear-eyed as a youngster ready to head outdoors to play. His lips began to move beneath the oxygen mask, and he grabbed at it, pulling it loose. His lips continued to move, the words faint…barely distinguishable.