Set the Stage

by Karis Walsh

  “Instead of stupidly saying I couldn’t see you anymore, I’d ask to see you more often. To see more of you, every inch of you,” Emilie said, her voice dark and intimate. “Instead of pushing you away and walking away, I’d have done this.”

  Emilie raised her hand and gently touched Arden’s lips with her fingers. The barest hint of friction between the sensitive skin of Arden’s mouth and Emilie’s slightly rougher fingertips turned Arden’s nerve endings into a whirling mass of sensations and heat.

  “And this,” Emilie added. She leaned forward and kissed Arden, her lips cautious and questioning. Arden answered with a gentle tug on the hand still wrapped in Emilie’s hair, pulling her closer and increasing the pressure of their mouths against each other. Emilie relaxed into her, running her tongue across Arden’s lips and deepening the kiss with a certainty that Arden hadn’t felt in her before. She had heard Emilie talk about her goals and her determination to succeed—and Arden knew her desire to act was a sincere dream of hers—but now Arden was feeling the full force of Emilie’s power. She kissed Arden like a woman who knew exactly what she wanted. She wanted Arden, and Arden wanted her right back.

  Emilie pulled away slightly. Arden wasn’t ready to stop, but she let Emilie move back, reminding herself that they were in a public park, only a few yards off the trail.

  “Arden, can you forgive me for saying you were getting in the way? You’ve never been anything but supportive of me, and I am sorry that I didn’t understand that before.”

  “You hurt me when you pushed me away, but I’m not angry.” Arden paused and sorted through the emotions Emilie had ignited inside her. “Frustrated, yes. Sad. But you’ve told me from the start how much this season matters to you, and I know you thought you had to do whatever it took to keep yourself safe from distractions.”

  Emilie put her hand on Arden’s thigh, and every vein, every capillary, seemed to soak up the feeling of her and spread it through Arden’s body until it became as necessary to her survival as blood and air. “I’m sorry. I hate that I hurt you because I was thinking of myself.” Emilie shifted her hand, rubbing the length of Arden’s thigh with an aching slowness. She gazed at Arden and seemed to see the effect her touch was having, because a smile spread across her face. “I finally figured out that I need to be distracted more, not less. And I think you’re just the woman to do it.”

  Arden gave a long-suffering sigh. “I suppose I’ll have to make a sacrifice for the good of the festival and completely and utterly distract one of its stars.”

  “Good. Maybe you should start now, because I have a big performance tomorrow night.”

  Arden straddled the bench and put her hands on Emilie’s waist, scooting her closer. She kissed Emilie again, giving most of herself—but not all—to the moment. Because that’s all her relationship with Emilie would be, just this one moment, this one season. There were no promises of tomorrow, but only a recognition of what they wanted today. Emilie gave a soft moan against Arden’s lips, and Arden knew that she wouldn’t refuse anything Emilie had to offer, no matter how fleeting.

  Emilie lost herself in the joy of having Arden in her arms, only moving away when she heard people coming toward them on the trail. She moved a few inches away on the bench as a family with three kids noisily walked past them.

  Arden winked at her, and then went back to working on the machine in front of her. She looked unmoved by their kiss at first glance, but Emilie saw hints of it when she looked more closely. A swath of red where Arden’s low-cut tank top and open flannel shirt left her skin bare. A slight tremble of her fingers as she used a screwdriver to pry off a metal hood. Emilie wished she had even a touch of Arden’s serenity. She was filled with so much relief because Arden had forgiven her that she figured her feelings must be visible for anyone to see. She searched for a topic of conversation that was appropriate for a public venue, because anything more personal would make her want to kiss Arden again. And not stop.

  “What’s wrong with the patient?” Emilie asked, gesturing at the rusted object. “Whatever it is.”

  Arden rolled her eyes. “It’s a trimmer. Haven’t you ever done yard work?”

  “No, but I appreciate those who do.” Emilie moved her leg so her calf was flush against Arden’s. “What do you trim with the poor thing? Rocks?”

  “Grass and weeds,” Arden said with a laugh. She poked at the battered metal and cracked plastic of the trimmer. “Joe tends to swing it around without paying attention to what he’s cutting. Every tool he uses has battle scars.”

  Emilie watched Arden’s fingers as they delicately searched for damage and repaired it. Emilie imagined them moving over her body with the same intention and thoroughness Arden showed when she was caring for her plants and machines, and she gave up on the pretense of making small talk.

  “I have the night off,” she said, spinning a metal washer across the picnic table. Arden caught it with a quick snap before it sailed off and onto her lap. “Do you want to go on a date with me?”

  Arden stared at the trimmer as she put the washer in place and screwed the hood on again, but Emilie saw the curve of a smile on her cheek. “Tonight? That’s kind of short notice, isn’t it?”

  Emilie bumped her knee against Arden’s. “Do you have plans with someone else? If so, I’ll send Joe and the trimmer after her. That ought to free up your evening.”

  Arden laughed. “No, I don’t have plans, and yes, I’d love to go on a date. What did you have in mind?”

  Sex. Emilie paused before she spoke the word out loud, long enough to make a better decision. They had been too many things in relation to each other in too short a time—friends, estranged, and now on the brink of something new. She didn’t want to rush and miss the beauty and excitement of what was happening between them.

  “How about dinner? My roommate raved to me about a Thai place on Pioneer Street. I’m not sure what it’s called.”

  “It’s new,” Arden said with a nod. “I haven’t been yet, but I’ve heard it’s great. I think it’s called the Bard’s Thai Restaurant.”

  “No way,” Emilie said, scrutinizing Arden’s expression to see if she was joking. She looked completely serious, but then she grinned.

  “No way,” Arden mimicked. “The real name is even worse, though. It’s called Sweet Balm.”

  Emilie squinted, scanning through scripts in her mind because the phrase sounded familiar. The memory of a high school production came rushing back. “Oh, from Antony and Cleopatra.” The satisfaction of deciphering the clue was quickly replaced with a horrified glee. “Ew, she was talking about poison.”

  Arden joined in her laughter. “I know. How great is that? I think they did a search online for a Shakespeare reference and didn’t bother reading beyond the single line.”

  “Well, it’s settled, then. We have to eat there. Did you want to do something else? I have the whole evening off for once and don’t want to waste a minute of it without you.”

  “I have a few ideas,” Arden said with a smile that made Emilie’s mind leap back to her initial plan. Sex. Skip dinner, and more sex. Arden shook her head as if reading her thoughts and took hold of Emilie’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “But maybe we should stick to things we can do in public. For now. Why don’t we each plan something, and then have dinner. I’ll be finished with work around four thirty.”

  A night with no plays, no rehearsals, no stress. Just Arden. Emilie smiled. “I’ll be here,” she promised.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Emilie got back to the park early, but Arden was already waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, sitting on a stone bench with her long legs crossed and her loose brown hair shining in the soft spring sunshine. She had changed out of her flannel and grass-stained jeans and into black jeans and a long-sleeved green cotton shirt. The work clothes gave her an earthy, confident appeal, but tonight’s outfit was just plain jump-her-bones sexy. Emilie paused before approaching her. She had been an eddy of nerves th
is morning, as bad as her worst case of stage fright, because she hadn’t known if Arden would accept her apology and come back into her life, or tell her to go to hell. She had underestimated Arden’s kindness, though. Emilie had spent too much time with people like her parents who ignored her dreams, or like her ex who actively crushed them. She had let them fill her mind with doubts about Arden’s generous spirit, but they were receding now. All she saw was Arden. Waiting for her.

  Arden was fiddling with her phone, but she looked up and spotted Emilie as soon as she reached the bottom of the stairs. She stood and came toward her, with a smile that Emilie knew must mirror her own.

  “Hey. You look beautiful,” Arden said, giving her a quick kiss on the mouth.

  Not enough. Emilie slid her hand around the nape of Arden’s neck and pulled her close for a longer kiss. She felt a little breathless when they moved apart.

  “So…” Arden drew out the single syllable as she ran her forefinger down the side of Emilie’s face, leaving a trail of heat along her cheekbone. “Ready to get started?”

  “It depends on what you have planned.”

  “Geocaching.”

  Emilie raised her eyebrows. “What?”

  “Geocaching,” Arden repeated. “People hide caches all over the world and post coordinates and clues online. There are a bunch in the park and around town, and there’s a new one I haven’t found yet. I know you like puzzles, so I thought you’d have fun solving this one.”

  “That’s not exactly the activity I had in mind, but I’m intrigued.” Emilie smiled, pleased Arden had noticed that if she wasn’t reading scripts, she was usually doing a crossword puzzle. “Do I get a prize if I win?”

  Arden laughed. “You don’t really win. You find. People usually leave little trinkets behind, and you can take one and leave something of yours.”

  “Okay,” Emilie said. This didn’t sound like a typical date activity, and she loved the way Arden brought unexpected things into her life. “How do I start?”

  “I’ve programed the coordinates into my GPS. We’ll follow them to the general location of the cache, and then use a clue to find it.”

  Her fingers brushed against Arden’s as she took the phone from her, and Emilie wasn’t about to let the tingly feeling slip away. She transferred the phone to her right hand and kept hold of Arden’s with her left. She frowned at the map, trying to figure out how to follow the arrow that wobbled each time she moved.

  “Huh. This way, I think,” she said, starting to walk deeper into the park. Arden didn’t follow her, and when Emilie got the length of her arm away she snapped back to Arden’s side.

  “Try again,” Arden said with a laugh.

  “Okay, how about this way.” She walked in the opposite direction and Arden came with her this time. They walked out of the park and turned right on Main Street before Emilie got the hang of using the GPS.

  “A few blocks ahead on the left?” she said with a hint of question in her voice.

  “Not even close. Remind me never to ask you for directions,” Arden said, bumping into Emilie’s side. “How do you manage to navigate those confusing catacombs under the theaters?”

  “There are signs pointing the way. And I only got lost once. Maybe you heard about the unexpected appearance of a fairy queen in Caesar’s forum?”

  “As a matter of fact, I did see that in the paper. The reviewer thought she added a sense of whimsy to the tragedy.”

  Emilie laughed. “Who knows what character will show up in Rome next. Maybe Lady Anne? Hey, we’re supposed to turn right, I think.”

  “Now you’ve got it.” Arden gave her hand a squeeze, and Emilie nearly dropped the phone. She tried to concentrate on following the trembling arrow instead of the way her insides quivered at even the slightest touch from Arden.

  She stopped in front of a small coffee shop. “We’re here, aren’t we?” She looked at the storefront, with its flagstone patio and wrought-iron furniture. Both sides were flanked by large planter boxes full of geraniums and petunias. “So where’s the treasure?”

  Arden dropped her hand and got a piece of paper out of her pocket. “Ready?”

  Emilie nodded. She was ready for Arden to be holding her hand again. But she’d come this far, and now she wanted to find whatever this cache thing was.

  “Don’t look down; don’t look up; look in between. Find a hidden L-shaped spot where shadows make a scene.”

  Emilie repeated the words silently as she surveyed the patio. “The planter boxes? They’d make good hiding places and they’re an in-between height. Oh, the pergola. It makes a sort of stage.”

  The crosshatched shadows from the pergola covered the back half of the patio. Emilie walked toward the back beams and found a spot where a two-by-four jutted out of the wall and connected to one of the wooden posts, making an L-shape. She glanced back at Arden for confirmation, but Arden only shrugged. She was grinning, though, and Emilie went over to the section for a closer inspection.

  “What am I looking for?”

  “You’ll know when you find it,” Arden said from directly behind her. She had crossed the patio and was standing close enough for Emilie to detect the honey-sweetness of her.

  “That’s helpful,” Emilie said with as much sarcasm as she could fit into the phrase. She reached around the post and felt along the two-by-four. “I’d better not touch a bug. Oh, wait, I found something.”

  She tugged on the square-shaped plastic box, and it came loose from the underside of the beam with the scratchy sound of separating Velcro. She opened the lid and found a notebook with a tiny pencil inside, along with a pile of charms and coins. She grinned, as happy as if she had discovered real treasure. “What do I do now?”

  “Sign your name and date to the register, then swap out one of the little prizes for something of yours. I have a magnet from the park if you need something to leave.”

  Emilie rummaged in her messenger bag for a pin she had bought at the festival’s gift shop on her first visit. They had a bunch of them with Shakespearean insults, and she had bought several. She showed Arden the one with thou art a boil printed on a blue background. “How’s this?”

  Arden laughed. “Perfect.”

  Emilie swapped the pin for a miniature troll doll with purple hair. “And I’ll take this, to complete my collection.”

  “Excellent choice,” Arden said. “While you’re signing the log, I’m going to go inside and get us something to drink.”

  Emilie added her name to the notebook and carefully put the plastic box back where she had found it. By the time she had finished, Arden was back with two fizzy lemonades in plastic cups.

  “What’s next on the agenda?” she asked as they started walking back toward the festival grounds.

  Emilie fished a key tied to a red leather lanyard out of her bag and dangled it in front of Arden. “I have a key to a magical world. Just for you.”

  Arden wrapped both hands around her cup and gazed toward the sky. “Please tell me it’s a key to your apartment.” She dropped her supplicating tone and added, “Well, unless you weren’t kidding about the troll collection.”

  Emilie laughed. “You’ll have to see for yourself. Sometime. Maybe. Okay, anytime. But this is something different.”

  She led Arden down an alley to the back entrance of the Thomas Theatre and opened the door with the key. She took a staircase leading down to a dimly lit hallway.

  “Looks like they spent all their decorating budget on the foyer and stage,” Arden said. Unlike the elegant front of house, with its warm and luxurious textiles, everything around them was bare cement. Stenciled signs provided the only splash of color.

  Until Emilie got to the double doors at the end of the hall and tried the handle. Gwen had left them open for her, and Arden stopped as soon as she saw what was inside.

  The walls were covered with propped-up pieces of stage sets, ranging from outdoor gardens to indoor city apartments. Rows and rows of wooden framework boxes he
ld smaller painted bits of scenery, and furniture and other heavy props were placed in clusters around the room.

  “You might be using some parts of these old sets next year,” Emilie said, watching Arden set her drink on a ledge near the door and walk slowly around the room. “These are just the ones Gwen wants to keep at hand in case they’re needed, and there’s lots more in storage in other places.”

  Arden had circled back to Emilie, and she cupped her face gently in her hands. She kissed her softly, lingering for a long moment before letting her go and allowing Emilie’s heart to beat again. “This is awesome. Thank you. Can I touch them?”

  Emilie laughed at the sound of childlike wonder in Arden’s voice, in such contrast to her usual poise and her definitely mature kissing ability. “Of course you can. These will be your sets soon.”

  Arden started another circuit of the large space with Emilie trailing behind. “I remember this from last year’s Tempest,” she said. “Oh, and this was from the first act of Romeo and Juliet, when they met at the Capulets’ dance.”

  Emilie listened in amazement as Arden displayed a nearly encyclopedic knowledge of the festival’s productions. She might not have realized her passion for stage design before this year, but her mind had apparently been cataloging every detail of every play she saw in anticipation of her eventual moment of self-discovery.

  When they finished the impromptu tour, Emilie put her hands on her hips and scanned the room. “They’re putting on Much Ado About Nothing next season, on the Elizabethan stage. What pieces would you use for the set?”

  “Those trees,” Arden said without hesitation, pointing to a large arbor scene. “And the castle interior. What would you pick for Macbeth, in the Bowmer?”

  “I can picture the witches standing in front of that one.” Emilie indicated a piece covered with indefinable dark swirls of paint. “And I’d accept the role of Lady Macbeth if I could have this one as my dressing room.”

  “Very gracious of you,” Arden said. She smiled, but Emilie sensed a sudden shift in her mood. A haze of sadness dropped over them, as if a curtain had come down on a play. She knew Arden expected her to leave at the end of the season, and she would have to if she was offered a role that was impossible to turn down. But they were here now. Emilie’s contract and her heart wouldn’t let her leave before November.