by Karis Walsh
She shook herself mentally. Geoffrey was right. She had a dream opportunity that people with more years in the company would love to have. She couldn’t let it slip away. This was what she had longed for when she was in Europe, and what she had worked for since her return. She’d damn well better not let it slip through her fingers.
Emilie started walking toward her apartment, then changed her mind and headed into the park. She didn’t want to sit around and worry before the performance. She’d go see how Arden’s stages were coming along, instead. Think about Arden and the passion she didn’t seem to see within herself, although it was obvious to Emilie.
And think about that kiss…
Chapter Thirteen
Arden held a two-by-four in place and used a power drill to screw it tightly into a post. When she finished, she stood back and checked her progress. The framework was in place for this stage, and she imagined how it would look when it was painted to match the Elizabethan stage, but in miniature form. She had decided this platform would have a comedic focus, and she had already collected—with Emilie’s help—some great scenes that included court jesters and buffoons from Shakespeare’s works. The stage was the first one visitors to the park would see, placed near the main duck pond and practically in the shadow of its inspiration, the Allen Theatre.
This was the exact place where she had asked Em to stand and recite some dialogue when she had first been playing with the idea of building these stages, and she felt a shiver of satisfaction run through her. Her grandfather must have felt this same kind of pride when he saw the completed fountain he had created for the Japanese garden. She was contributing something special to her park. She had resisted Jacob’s insistence on it from the start, but now she understood exactly what he had wanted from her. To become part of a legacy, along with Gramps.
Arden pushed against the frame, checking to make sure the stage was solid and sturdy. She was completing the task Jacob had set for her, but the platforms felt like a beginning instead of an end. She didn’t want to stop with these small sets. She wasn’t sure where she might go from here, but she was feeling an unaccustomed sense of excitement about the future.
Tempered with sadness. Emilie had helped set her on a new path, one that might possibly veer away from her anticipated one of staying in this park her whole life, like her grandfather had before her. But Emilie wouldn’t be around to see where Arden went from here. Maybe they would try to remain friends, keep in touch and share triumphs and failures through email and online updates, but Arden didn’t think she would be able to keep up the charade much longer. She had wanted Emilie from the start, and getting to know her had only made the attraction more profound and real. Em would eventually realize how talented she was, and then she would feel secure enough to let someone get close to her. There’d likely be a long list of candidates waiting for the chance, and Arden did not want to get that kind of update in her in-box. She’d rather never know.
She picked up her tools and loaded them in the back of the Mule. She drove them back to the maintenance shed and picked up cans of paint and some brushes. She was ahead of schedule, and she might as well continue to work while she had daylight on her side. She had been pushing herself at a faster pace than usual, avoiding breaks and meals, because every time she sat down to rest, she was catapulted back into the underground corridors, back to the place where she had kissed Em. She didn’t need to keep returning to that place and time.
So she painted. And hammered, and sawed, and spent hours choosing fonts and typing dialogue. She had gotten through two days like this—her mind reeled to think of all she could accomplish if she had to spend a lifetime keeping busy so she didn’t dwell on thoughts of Emilie.
She’d probably master an instrument, learn a few languages, and cure cancer. Right now, though, she had managed to get her first platform completed. The stage was a replica of the larger one, but she had changed the proportions so it was squatter, fitting with the scenes from comedies she hoped would be performed on it. Even with so many thoughts and emotions roiling through her, she had to smile when she looked at it. She could almost imagine the gnomes she had originally pitched to Jacob stepping on the stage and performing a funny play.
She heard laughter behind her, interrupting her thoughts, and she turned to see Gwen standing there. She was wearing black again, different clothes but the same color. Today’s glasses were a shocking shade of purple.
“How charming,” she said, walking around the small theater and chuckling. “I can picture Beatrice and Benedick bickering up there.”
Arden grinned. “Thank you, Gwen. Can you really tell that this stage was designed for comedies?”
“Absolutely. You told me through the shapes you chose, and other people will recognize them as well. Do you have any others done yet?”
“Just one,” Arden said, after hesitating briefly. She wasn’t sure if she had expressed her concept as well with the other, but she had designed it with Emilie in mind after their tour the other day. It had taken shape in her mind surprisingly quickly, and she had finished building it in less than a day. Of course, she had worked on it like a woman possessed, since the memory of their kiss had been fresh in her mind, her nerve endings still raw after contact with Emilie.
Gwen was looking at her expectantly, so Arden picked up her painting supplies. “I can show you the stage if you don’t mind taking a short walk. It’s in the Japanese garden.”
“Oh, I love it there,” Gwen said, falling into step with Arden. “I’ve gone a few times when I’ve felt stuck on a design problem. I’m usually inspired by running water, and the sound of the trough fountain focuses my mind and helps me see solutions.”
Arden wasn’t surprised. She had heard similar comments from others, including Marty, who came to the garden to sketch ideas for her glassblowing creations when she was feeling blocked. Arden had probably seen Gwen in the garden before, but not from close enough to recognize her. She and the other maintenance staff usually avoided the garden when they saw someone quietly sitting in it or walking slowly along the paths, because they didn’t want to interrupt their solitude or time of contemplation.
“My grandfather designed and built that fountain,” Arden said.
Gwen nodded. “Ah. I see where you got your ability to communicate through form language.”
Arden had a feeling her self-deprecating grandfather would have laughed at the comment, but he also would have appreciated his fountain’s effect on Gwen. She kept silent as she took Gwen through the gate and over to the stage.
She fidgeted during the long moments of silence that stretched between them as Gwen studied the platform from every angle. Arden had created it because of the talk she and Em had had about the stage in the Thomas Theatre. Unlike her other designs, this one didn’t have a backdrop but was open on all sides. The platform was broken up with low rectangles and squares made of plywood that could be shifted to form walls or seats or other props, and everything was painted in shades of brown, blending into the trees and ground around the set.
Arden wanted this to be a place where some of the most famous monologues would be spoken. The actor would be visible from all sides, standing in the center of the clearing like the deepest thoughts in the center of someone’s mind. She wondered if Gwen would be able to read any of that from a few blocks of wood.
“Introspection,” Gwen said, “with nowhere to hide.”
Arden nodded, speechless.
“This is good work, Arden. Will you show me the other plans you’ve drawn?”
“Okay,” Arden said. Luckily, she wasn’t in charge of writing the scripts for her stages, since she apparently didn’t have as much ability to communicate verbally as Gwen thought she did with forms. They went back to the maintenance shed, and Arden showed her the other sketches she had planned for the first phase of stages, plus the less developed ones she hoped to build if the initial attempts were popular with tourists.
Gwen left soon after, to get bac
k to the theaters in time for the evening’s performances, and Arden spent a few minutes sitting at a picnic table, erasing lines and incorporating some of the suggestions Gwen had made for her designs. She was busily at work when she felt a tap on her shoulder.
She knew it was Emilie before she turned around. She wasn’t sure what she noticed first, the scent of jasmine or the way the air felt charged and more intense whenever Emilie came close to her.
Em gestured over her shoulder. “I can’t believe you finished the Elizabethan stage already. I can’t wait to try it out.”
“We’ll be posting the signs explaining all about them this weekend. You can give the inaugural performance. You’ll be sure to win a Tony for it.”
“I’d be honored.” Emilie bowed with a flourish. “I’ll mention you in my acceptance speech. If I have time, after naming all my gnome costars.”
“How did you know I was planning to incorporate gnomes somehow?” Arden asked with a laugh.
Emilie grinned. “I figured you’d get gnomes in there somewhere, if only to make Jacob crazy. How are the rest of the stages coming along?”
Arden handed her the notebook, and she sat down on the bench and flipped through the pages.
“Oh, Arden, I love this one,” she said, her voice serious as she looked at one of the more ornate designs Arden had planned. The backdrop was a trellis, and living plants would mingle with the painted vines and flowers to make a garden setting. “It reminds me of the clearing where we met. Titania would be happy to live here.”
Arden scooted closer and rested her chin on Emilie’s shoulder. “I was thinking of you when I came up with this idea. I wanted to recapture that day.” She reached over and traced her finger over the floor of the stage. “There’s a tree stump near the rose garden, and I’m going to build the stage around it.”
Emilie leaned her head against Arden’s for a moment before turning to the next page. “Oh. This is a new one, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but it’s built already, in the Japanese garden. Gwen just stopped by, and I showed it to her, and she seemed to like it.”
“It’s like the Thomas Theatre. Minimalist and exposed. No barriers.”
“Exactly. Maybe you can do a scene from Skywriting there, since it’s sort of modeled after the play’s set.”
Arden felt Emilie stiffen before she finished her sentence. She sat up straight, putting her fingers under Emilie’s chin and turning her head. “What’s wrong? You played Cassella the other day, when I asked you to read lines in different places around the park. I was being honest when I told you I believed you’d be worlds better than Gemini if you really gave yourself over to the part.”
“She’s gone,” Emilie said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Who’s gone? Cassella?”
Emilie shook her head. “Gemini. She had some sort of accident, or at least she’s claiming she did. She left the company this morning.”
Arden sighed with relief. Em was only feeling the stage fright she said she experienced before every performance. “That’s great. You’ll be playing the part, won’t you? I wonder if I can get a ticket on such short notice…”
“I don’t want you there,” Emilie said sharply. Arden felt as if she’d been slapped in the face, but Emilie reached for her, putting her hands on Arden’s shoulders and keeping her from getting up and leaving. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it the way you think. I just don’t want you to see me screw up the part. You’ll feel bad for me, and you’ll try to lie about how well I did, and I’ll see right through it because you’re so honest, and—”
“Whoa, Emilie.” Arden held up her hand to stop Emilie’s rambling descent into a pessimistic version of the night ahead. “You won’t screw it up. You’ll be a star, and I’ll sing your praises after the show, and you’ll know I’m telling the truth, and I’ll ask you to sign my program, and—”
“Stop, stop,” Emilie said, laughing and waving her hand to make Arden stop mimicking her.
Arden grinned. “My version is much better, and it’s more likely to come true. I know you have some mental blocks against playing this part, but once you step onstage, they’ll disappear. This is the chance you were looking for. The reason you came to Ashland in the first place.”
Emilie’s laughter faded. “I know it is. But Gemini used me, Arden. People think she planned to leave when she did because I haven’t been doing well at all in rehearsals. If she had left sooner, they’d have recast the role. And since she got such amazing reviews, a bad performance by me will stand out even more.”
Arden felt anger wrapping around her lungs, making it difficult to breathe. “I’m not saying I agree with you, but if what you’re saying is true, why would she want to hurt you so badly? She couldn’t be jealous of you getting the part, because it was already hers.”
Emilie kept her face averted, but Arden could see pain sharpening the edges of her expression. “I don’t think it’s personal. She was mad at the festival director for not letting her out of her contract, and she must have seen this as a way to get back at him.”
Although Arden wanted to hunt Gemini down and scream at her for making Emilie hurt like this, she had to admit to herself that Emilie’s story might be true. Em had been telling her how badly rehearsals had gone. Maybe she hadn’t been exaggerating like Arden had originally thought, and maybe Gemini had come up with this sick plan to embarrass the festival and Emilie. But none of that changed the fact of Emilie’s talent—Arden had no doubt about the truth of her ability not just to act, but to become a character.
“Em, I’m certainly not saying these rumors are based on fact, because this whole thing seems like a bad conspiracy theory, but even if it were true, you can’t let this define you. You were picked to be in this company, and you were given some really great roles. You know how competitive the auditions for this festival are. So don’t accept being anyone’s consolation prize or anyone’s tool to use to get revenge.”
Emilie hooked her arm around Arden’s neck and pulled her close, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Arden.”
They sat in silence for several minutes, leaning in to each other. Arden wished she could inject her faith in Em’s potential directly into her veins, giving her the confidence she needed to play this role, and her desire to help Em almost eclipsed the familiar arousal she felt every time she touched Emilie. Almost. Not all the way.
When Emilie sat up straight again, sifting her fingers through Arden’s hair as she pulled away, Arden could see the same flush she felt on her own neck and cheeks coloring Emilie’s skin. But now wasn’t the time to ask for more.
“Do you want to run some lines?” she asked. “Or talk about tonight some more?”
Emilie shook her head. “No, but thank you. I’d much rather see the new stage you mentioned. And hear everything Gwen said while she was here. I had a feeling the two of you would have a lot to talk about.”
Arden took Emilie to the Japanese garden, where Em got on the stage and initiated it with a Lady Anne speech. They strolled through the park for an hour after, talking about Gwen’s visit and the weather and nothing in particular until Emilie had to leave for her play.
Arden hugged her tightly, glad to see Emilie looking less pale and more relaxed than she had earlier. As soon as Em was out of sight, Arden ran to the maintenance shed and changed into some un-paint-spattered clothes. Getting a ticket to tonight’s performance was a long shot, but she had to try.
Everything about this play guaranteed it would be sold out. The theater was tiny, the premiere had been a hit, the book was a bestseller…
“You’re lucky,” said the woman in the ticket booth. “We’ve had a few cancellations today, and I can get you a seat in the third row. Have you been to the Thomas Theatre before?”
Arden answered the woman’s friendly questions, but she had a sinking feeling inside. She ran through a list of excuses as she waited to go inside the theater—anything to keep from believing Emilie’s dire theor
y. It was early in the season, and the plays were rarely as crowded now as they’d be in the height of summer. The forecast had called for rain, so people had opted to stay inside instead of venturing out and risking getting wet.
She sat in her seat and twisted the playbill in her hands, mangling it beyond recognition before the lights dimmed and the show started. She tried to watch objectively, as if she hadn’t seen Gemini’s opening night brilliance, but even without the comparison, Emilie’s performance was lackluster. She didn’t miss a beat with her lines, but she was detached from the part like she was having an out-of-body experience and leaving a shell of herself onstage to act.
Arden understood what Em had meant about choreographing the scenes. She hadn’t noticed it during the first performance, because the actors had shifted around smoothly, presenting a moving tableau so every audience member had the best seat in the house. Emilie was awkward with her movements, sometimes forgetting and standing with her back to entire sections of the theater for much too long.
The applause for the actors was polite, but brief. Emilie was a fine enough actor to bow and smile with a pleasant expression on her face, although it wavered a little when she faced Arden’s row and saw her there. Arden grinned and clapped loudly, giving her a thumbs-up sign that felt as lame as it must have looked.
Afterward, she waited outside the theater, even though she suspected Emilie wasn’t going to show. As soon as the time display on her phone showed she had waited exactly fifteen minutes, she left and walked back to her car. She hated the feeling of relief washing over her because she didn’t have to face Emilie tonight. She couldn’t lie to her—even though she wanted to, Em would see right through it. She’d at least have the night, and maybe longer, to come up with a decent way to phrase her reaction to the play.