Set the Stage

by Karis Walsh

  Emilie held up her hand, palm facing Olivia. “If you start asking questions about toilet training again, this interview is over.”

  “Fine,” Olivia said with an exaggerated sigh.

  Emilie laughed at her aggrieved tone. She thought back, trying to remember games she had played and books she had read when she was small. “My older sister read to me, and she used to do funny voices for all the characters. But she went to college the year I turned four, and both my parents worked long hours, so they didn’t have a lot of time for games.”

  “You were the youngest of five, weren’t you?” Olivia made a note on her paper, and Emilie rolled her eyes.

  “Yes. I’m sure you already have that information in my file. Anyway, I was in day care most of the time, which isn’t necessarily bad, but mine wasn’t exactly a stimulating environment. We watched a lot of videos.”

  “So”—Olivia drew out the word while she flipped through notes from previous talks—“back to your mom’s comment about the play…”

  “My parents thought acting would get in the way of schoolwork, which would keep me from graduating and getting a job. They didn’t consider the theater a legitimate workplace. Whenever I got a low grade on a test or anything like that, I’d hear the same I told you so.”

  Almost as if they were happy she had failed in an endeavor they didn’t understand or appreciate. Emilie kept that comment to herself, and she also wasn’t about to give Olivia details about Europe and Leah. When she had returned to the States, broke and sad, she had gone to her parents’ home for solace and a little help getting back on her feet. She had endured an hour-long I told you so lecture about the evils of the acting world, and then she had left again, preferring to survive on her own rather than conform to their ideals.

  “They wanted what was best for me,” she said out loud, defending her family to Olivia and keeping the harsher details to herself. “And in their minds, what was best was getting a job and a husband and having a pack of kids to put in day care.”

  Olivia gave an unprofessional snort of laughter. “A husband? Didn’t they know you at all?”

  “A little hint for when you’re an actual therapist. Don’t laugh at your clients. And no. They thought everything that didn’t match what they wanted me to be was just a phase I was going through.”

  “I’ll stop laughing if you stop using your comedy voice.” Olivia waved off her protests. “Yes, you do. Especially when we talk about personal topics. Your voice goes all wry and sarcastic. It’s funny, but in the biz we’d say you have a classic avoidance complex.”

  “Maybe it’s my way of telling you to mind your own biz,” Emilie said.

  “Nah. You love it. I’m helping you understand yourself. So you kept acting even though you were discouraged from it.”

  Emilie sighed and settled back on the bed. Olivia was joking around, since Emilie didn’t have some damned avoidance complex. She faced emotions head-on as an actor, putting them on display for the whole audience to see.

  As long as they were safe ones. Strength and stubbornness and playfulness—the characters she was comfortable playing were the ones with traits she either liked in herself or wanted more of in her own life. She could play Titania when she was bewitched because it was all in fun, but when it came to Cassella, there were no games involved.

  Arden had seen it. She had tried to tell Emilie in the park, but she hadn’t wanted to listen. She wanted to power through the role using the very personality traits Cassella didn’t have.

  She realized she had sprung upright in bed, and Olivia was staring at her with a questioning expression. “Um, acting, yes. I had to keep acting. My life was gray, and acting gave it color. but I learned to hide it from my parents because I knew they wouldn’t approve. It was easier to say I was doing homework with a friend than to tell them I was at rehearsals. If I kept my grades up, I was okay.”

  Until she’d become a professional actor, and then, well, the rest was history. They had been sure she would fail, and when she returned from Europe, heartsick and nearly out of savings, they almost seemed pleased to have been proven correct. They were certain she would finally give up her foolish aspirations and start living a normal life. Instead, she had started off on the journey that had led her here. To Ashland.

  And to Arden, who had learned more about her in a matter of weeks than even the people closest to her had ever known. Even more than Emilie knew about herself, apparently.

  “Session over for the day?” Olivia asked, as if she understood Emilie’s need to be alone and think.

  “Please.” Emilie swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “Olivia?”

  She paused with her hand on Emilie’s doorknob. “Yes?”

  “Thank you.”

  Olivia smiled. “For intruding on your personal life?”

  Emilie returned her grin. “Exactly.”

  *****

  Emilie joined the Skywriting cast onstage Saturday as the audience applauded their performance. She couldn’t keep from scanning the seats and searching for Arden, even though she was certain she wouldn’t be there. Emilie had been painfully clear that she had thought Arden was part of her acting problems.

  She walked backstage to the Thomas Theatre’s tiny green room, accepting congratulations from the other cast members with a pleased feeling, and a nod of approval from Lendon with a huge wave of relief. She hadn’t been awe-inspiring as Cassella, but she had a feeling she had been good enough to remain in the role. For the time being, at least, and as long as she continued to improve and didn’t backslide.

  Her hands were shaking as she wiped off the thin layer of makeup. The part had taken as much out of her as she had feared it would, and she was exhausted. But the bone-deep weariness was worth it. She hadn’t been as impressive as Gemini in the part, but then again, they each acted it differently. If Emilie could find a way to lose herself in the character during the entire play—not just for moments at a time like she had today—then she might turn this into her part. She might always be Cassella, no matter how many others played the part after her.

  Emilie changed out of her costume and into jeans and a thick sweater. She still didn’t like the character. At all. The past two days had been hell as she prepped endlessly for today. Arden wouldn’t have approved of Emilie’s intense focus, but she might have forgiven it because of Emilie’s methods. She had delved into the past, into her time with Leah and the poor choices she had so willingly made. She had let herself feel all the negativity and doubt she had been trying to keep stuffed inside.

  And somehow, over the course of forty-eight hours, the wave of emotions she had always felt hovering over her, ready to crash down and drown her, had become a well of experience she could tap into when she needed it. She was still afraid of drowning if she went too deep, but she would keep trying.

  Emilie walked out to the courtyard and was surprised to see a few people waiting there, asking for her autograph on their programs. She smiled and chatted and signed, trying to look cool and casual even though she wanted to hug each person and tell them how relieved she was that they weren’t in line at the ticket booth, demanding a refund. She acted like she signed autographs every day, and soon everyone had dispersed and she was alone, walking home in the chill night air.

  Once she was by herself, without the matinee hanging over her, she revisited a part of the emotional baggage she had unpacked over the last couple of days.

  Arden.

  Emilie had traveled back to their first meeting, back through all the times they spent together in the park and in town. Back to their kiss in the catacombs.

  Even back to her disastrous insistence that Arden be cut out of her life because she needed to focus on playing a part. She had faced the decisions she had made about Leah, but this one was even harder to look at. Both choices had been made out of fear—the one in the past because she was afraid of taking a chance on acting and the one now because she was afraid of taking a chance on love.

&nbs
p; She hoped she could find a way to have both. The career she had always dreamed of having, and the woman she craved beyond anything else. But if she had to choose just one?

  Emilie smiled in the darkness as she turned up the walkway toward her house. This time, she would choose love, and not fear. She would choose Arden.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Arden? Are you okay?”

  Arden looked up to see Jacob hovering in the doorway of his small office cubicle. She had been waiting for him to get back from lunch, sitting with her elbows on her knees and her head resting in her palms. She must look as bad as she felt if he was using her given name and not his usual nickname for her.

  “I’m fine.” If fine meant she was wallowing in heart-wrenching pain. She hadn’t slept much in the few days since Emilie had decided she needed to devote all her time to her job, leaving none left for Arden. She had suspected that losing Emilie at the end of the season, even if they had nothing more serious than a friendship, would hurt her, but she hadn’t accurately predicted the depth of that pain. Maybe it was because the break had happened too suddenly, or because it had come in the middle of the festival year instead of at the end as she had anticipated. Maybe she would get over the heartbreak once she had time to adjust to the shock of Emilie’s announcement.

  Yeah, right.

  She wouldn’t get over Emilie anytime soon, but she couldn’t claim to be surprised by the turn of events. Emilie had been excruciatingly honest from day one about this season, her career, and her need to rebuild her life on her own terms. Arden understood. That didn’t make her feel any better, or help with her sleepless nights, but she would support Emilie’s decision. Focusing on her own life just might make the process a little easier.

  “I need to talk to you, Jacob.”

  “All right,” he said with a cautious tone, his forehead creased in what looked like a concerned frown. He sat across the desk from her. “What is it? How can I help?”

  “I’m giving my notice. I think. Maybe.” Arden sighed. Way to be decisive. She was really grabbing this new opportunity with gusto. “I might need to quit.”

  All the worry permeating Jacob’s expression and voice disappeared, and he smiled broadly at her. “Great! I was hoping this would happen. Congratulations, Arden, I’m so happy for both of you.”

  Arden blinked rapidly, trying to catch up with the meaning of his words. “What? You’re glad that I’m leaving the park?”

  Jacob reached over the desk and patted her hand. “I’ll miss you, of course, but anyone can see how you feel about Emilie. I would never want to hold you back from moving away with her.”

  “Shit. Jacob, it’s nothing like that. Emilie and I are friends. We were friends. We’re nothing now.” Arden paused, more flustered because he had spoken her secret hope aloud than because he had so terribly misinterpreted her meaning. She took a deep breath and started over. “Emilie is concentrating on her career right now, and I’m making plans for my own. I was offered a job with the festival, designing sets. It’s just an internship, so I’ll probably have time to help out around here when you need me. Or stay, if you can’t find someone else.”

  Jacob sighed and shook his head, but he quickly shifted his expression into another smile, only slightly less enthusiastic than the first one. “That’s wonderful, Little Philips. I hadn’t realized how much talent you really have until you started making your stages in the park. Focus on this new job of yours and don’t worry about us. We’ll muddle through without you. Do you start right away?”

  “In the fall. That is, if I decide to accept. I’m pretty sure I will, but…” Arden realized she was rambling again and made herself stop for a moment. Too many changes all at once. How could she be sure she was pursuing something she wanted and not trying to distract herself from Emilie’s absence? “If I do this, I might get offers to do plays outside of Ashland. I guess I imagined I would stay here, working in the park, forever. Like Gramps.”

  Jacob put his hands on the desk and leaned toward her. She expected him to say something comforting or nostalgic, and she wasn’t prepared for the sternness in his voice. “Your grandfather stayed because he wanted to build a stable home and life for you. Not a prison. He loved this park and was thrilled when you came to work here, but all of us knew you were destined for more than this.”

  Arden still wasn’t sure she was destined for anything in particular, but when she thought about working with Gwen and designing sets for the three theaters at the festival, she felt a shiver of excitement that had nothing to do with distracting herself from Emilie and everything to do with a passion she had never imagined lay deep inside of her. Unfortunately, the passion would always feel connected to Emilie, because Arden doubted she would have discovered it if she hadn’t stumbled across Emilie playing Titania in the forest.

  “The main work won’t start until the season closes,” Arden continued. “We’ll have some meetings before then, but I want to stay here as long as I can.”

  “We’ll work around your schedule as long as you want.” He stood up and came around the desk to stand next to her, setting his hand on her shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Arden. Your grandparents would be, too.”

  Arden couldn’t speak around the sudden tightness in her throat. Her parents were out there somewhere, but Jacob was the closest she had to real family. She nodded, silently acknowledging his support, and he stepped away.

  “Joe broke the trimmer again,” he said. She was relieved to have the conversation move away from emotional topics and back to everyday life. “Can you work your magic and fix it? It’s next to the door.”

  “Sure.” Arden got up to leave, but he held up his hand to stop her.

  “Don’t ever sell yourself short, Arden. Not in this new job, and not in any other part of your life. Don’t give up on her just yet.”

  Arden shook her head. “Nice try, Jacob, but she’s got other plans.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. Today her plan seems to be to walk through the park until you show up.”

  Arden hated the beat of hope she felt inside. Emilie was here? Why? She kept the muscles of her face relaxed, trying not to betray any emotions.

  “She likes rehearsing in the woods. That’s probably why she came.”

  Jacob laughed. “I’m sure you’re right. Now go outside and fix that trimmer. And please, let her find you because she’s wearing down our paths looking for you.”

  Arden picked up the trimmer and her toolbox on her way out of the maintenance shed. She sat on a wooden picnic bench next to the river, tucked away in a curve of rhododendrons whose buds were just beginning to burst into pink and red flowers. From her hidden vantage point, she saw Emilie before she herself was spotted. She pretended to be deeply involved in the process of tightening screws on the ancient machine.

  After a few minutes, she felt Emilie’s presence behind her and smelled a hint of jasmine, but even so she was startled when she felt Em’s hands softly cover her eyes. They hadn’t touched often, but Arden would have recognized the warmth and texture of Emilie’s skin even if she had a thousand hands from which to choose.

  “Guess who?” Emilie said. Arden felt the resonance of her rich voice move through their connection and inside her.

  “Um, Ally? Karen? No, it must be Leslie.”

  Emilie removed her hands and slapped Arden lightly on the shoulder. “I guess I deserved that. Do you mind if I sit down?”

  Arden shrugged and gestured toward the bench. Emilie sat close beside her, so that her thigh was pressed along Arden’s.

  “So, how have you been?” Arden asked, relieved that her voice sounded somewhat normal.

  “Okay,” Emilie said. “Rehearsals for Richard are going well. Geoffrey exaggerates every note the director gives him. It’s driving her crazy, but he makes the rest of us laugh. And I get to keep the part in Skywriting. I wasn’t spectacular in this last performance, but I did well enough to convince Lendon to let me stay in the role. For now.” She
sounded casual, as if everything was fine between them, but Arden knew her well enough to recognize the tension in her quick speech.

  “Most of all,” Emilie continued softly, “I’ve been missing you.”

  Arden closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She opened them again and looked at Emilie, who was staring at the table and tracing the grain of the wood with her thumbnail. “I missed you, too.”

  “I’d like to go back in time,” Emilie continued. A brief flicker of a smile was the only indication that she had heard Arden’s barely audible words.

  “How far back? Before Europe?”

  Emilie looked up toward the tops of the fir trees surrounding them. “That’s tempting. But no. If I did that, I’d save myself some heartache, but I’d lose something, too. Maturity, maybe. The chance to come here and be part of all this. The drive to fight for my chance in roles like Cassella. You.”

  Arden reached out and gently twisted one of Emilie’s curls around her finger. Something bright and happy was filling the empty place she had felt inside. “So how far back in time would you go?”

  Emilie looked at her then, with eyes full of the same tentative hope that Arden was feeling. “Back to the day I thought I needed to choose between you and the festival. I was wrong, Arden. Whether I succeed or fail on the stage, it’s because of who I am and what I bring to the part. I thought you were distracting me, but my problem was that I was running away from the way I felt. Onstage, and with you.”

  Arden realized she had been holding her breath, and she exhaled with a long sigh. She had seen Emilie doing exactly what she described when she was playing Titania and Cassella. Holding herself apart from the strong emotions that the roles demanded she embrace. And now she was putting Arden in the same category—as someone who made her feel something powerful enough to frighten her.

  “If you could go back to that day, what would change?” she asked, running her fingers through Emilie’s hair in a steady rhythm, moving deeper through her soft curls each time.