“Ah ha.” I see. So, that’s what this was about. First she was directing at the church, now a community theater? Lord, what are You up to, here? Trying to keep me in Harmony forever?
Just then, the manager passed by and Brittany snapped to attention. “Are you ready to order?” she asked, grabbing her notepad and pen.
“I’ll have two eggs over easy, bacon, toast, and hot tea,” Tangie said.
“I’ll have the same.” Gregg closed his menu. “But make mine coffee. I’m not into the tea thing.”
Brittany took their menus and headed to the kitchen.
“She’s a great kid,” Gregg said. “Very passionate about the theater. Hoping to go to New York one day.”
“She’s really talented, then?”
“She’s pretty good, but I don’t think she realizes what she’d be up against in the Big Apple.”
“I could fill her in, but it might be discouraging,” Tangie said with a shrug.
“So, you didn’t just jump into lead roles right away?” he asked, peering into her eyes.
Tangie couldn’t help but laugh. “I didn’t jump into lead roles, period. Trust me, I was fortunate to land paying gigs at all, large or small. And they didn’t last very long, sometimes. A couple of the shows I was in folded after just a few performances. Life in the theater can be very discouraging.”
He shrugged, and his gaze shifted down to the table. “I guess it’s the same in the music industry. I tried recording an album a few years ago, but couldn’t get any radio stations to play my tunes. Pretty sobering, actually.”
“Man, they don’t know what they’re missing.” Tangie shook her head, trying to imagine why anyone would turn Gregg’s music away. “You’ve got one of the most anointed voices I’ve ever heard.”
“Really? Thanks.” He seemed stupefied by her words, but she couldn’t figure out why. Surely others had told him how powerful those Sunday morning services were, right?
Brittany returned with a coffee pot in hand. She filled Gregg’s mug. Then she started to pour some in Tangie’s cup, but stopped just as a dribble of the hot stuff tumbled into the cup. “Oops, sorry. You said you wanted tea.”
“Yes, please.” When Brittany left, Tangie smiled at Gregg. “It’s funny. I love the smell of coffee, but I don’t really like the way it tastes. My roommate back in New York used to drink three or four cups a day.”
“It’s great early in the morning.” He took a sip, then leaned back in his seat, a contented look on his face. “I’ve been addicted since I was in my late teens. My mom. . .” He hesitated. “Well, my mom sometimes let me do a few of the grown-up things a little earlier than most.”
“Speaking of your mom, how did your date go?”
He laughed. “Good. She’s a hoot. You’ll have to meet her someday.”
“Does she go to the church? Maybe I’ve met her already.”
“The church?” Gregg’s brow wrinkled. “No. I wish. But I’m working on that.”
“So, she let you have coffee as a kid?” Tangie asked, going back to the original conversation.
“Yes.” He grinned. “First thing in the morning, we’d each have two cups. Then she’d leave for work and I’d get on the bus to go to school. Wide awake, I might add.”
“Well, maybe that was the problem. I was never up early in the morning when I lived in New York. I rarely got to bed before three or four and usually slept till ten or eleven in the morning. By the time I got up and running, it was practically lunch time.”
“Are you a night owl?” Gregg asked.
“Always have been.” She smiled, remembering the trouble she’d gotten in as a kid. “So, life in the theater just works for me. . .at least on some levels. Shows never end till really late, and there’s always something going on after.”
“Like what?”
“Oh, dinner at midnight with other cast members.” Tangie allowed her thoughts to ramble for a moment. She missed her roomie, Marti, and their midnight meetings at Hanson’s twenty-four-hour deli after each show.
“I’ve always been a morning person,” Gregg said. “Sounds crazy, but evenings are tough on me. When nine o’clock rolls around, I’m ready to hit the hay.”
“That’s so funny.” Tangie tried not to laugh, but the image of someone dozing off at nine was humorous, after the life she’d led in the big city. She paused and then opened her laptop. “I guess we should get busy, huh?”
Gregg’s expression changed right away. Gone were the laugh lines around his eyes. In their place, a wrinkled brow and down-turned lips.
Tangie studied his expression, sensing his shift in attitude. “You’re not looking forward to this?”
He shrugged and offered a loud sigh in response. “In case you didn’t notice from that video you watched, I’m not exactly a pro at putting on shows with kids. If we could sing our way through the whole performance, fine, but anything with lines and costumes sends me right over the edge.”
“Well, that’s why I’m here.” She grinned, feeling the excitement well up inside her. “I want you to know I’m so hyped up about all of this, I could just. . .throw a party or something.”
“Really?” He looked at her as if he didn’t quite believe it.
“Yes, I don’t know how to explain it, but there’s something about putting on a show that makes my heart sing. I love every minute of it—the auditions, reading the script for the first time, building the set, memorizing lines. . .” She paused, deep in thought, then said, “Of course, I’m usually the one on the stage, not the one directing, but I have worked with kids before and I just know this will be a ton of fun.”
“Humph.” He crossed his arms at his chest and leaned back against his seat. “If you say so. I’d rather eat a plateful of artichokes—my least favorite food on planet Earth, by the way—than put on another show. But we’ll get through this.” He reached for his cup of coffee and took a swig, then shrugged.
“Oh, we’ll more than get through it,” she promised him. Reaching to rest her hand on his, she gave him a knowing look. “By the end of this, you’re going to be a theater buff, I promise.”
Gregg laughed. “If you can pull that off, I’ll eat a whole plate of artichokes. In front of every kid in the play.”
“I’m not going to let you forget you said that.” Tangie nodded, already planning for the event in her head. “I’m going to hold you to it.” She glanced at her laptop screen, and then looked back up at him. “In the meantime, we should probably talk about the production. I had the most wonderful idea for the Easter play. I hope you like it.”
“Wait.” He shook his head. “You mean, you actually wrote something? Already?”
“Well, of course. You didn’t expect me to get one of those canned musicals from the bookstore, did you?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t know there was any other way.”
Tangie laughed. “Oh, you really don’t know me. I don’t do anything by the book. And while there are some great productions out there, I really felt like Pastor Dave wanted us to cater specifically to the community, using the Easter egg hunt as our theme. Didn’t you?”
Another shrug from Gregg convinced her he hadn’t given the idea much thought.
“Well, I don’t know about all that,” he said. “And I definitely think a traditional Easter pageant is the safest bet. People expect to see certain things when they come for an Easter production, don’t you think?” He began to list some of the elements he hoped to see in the show and Tangie leaned back, realizing her dilemma at once.
She eventually closed her laptop and focused on the animation in Gregg’s voice as he spoke. He hadn’t been completely honest with her earlier, had he? All of that stuff about how he didn’t like doing performances wasn’t true at all. Right now, listening to him talk about his version of an Easter pageant—which, to her way of thinking, sounded incredibly dull—she could see the sparkle in his eye. The tone of his voice changed.
In that moment, she realized the
truth. It wasn’t that he didn’t like putting on shows. He just hadn’t done one he could be proud of. That’s all. But if they moved forward with the pageant he had in mind, things were liable to fall apart again. She didn’t see—or hear—anything in his plan that sounded like what Pastor Dave asked for.
Tangie swallowed hard, working up the courage to speak. Lord, show me what to say. I don’t want to burst his bubble, but we’re supposed to be doing something different. Something original.
When he finally paused, Tangie exhaled and then looked into his eyes, noticing for the first time just how beautiful they were.
He gazed back, a boyish smile on his face. His cheeks flushed red and he whispered, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to get carried away.”
“Oh, don’t be sorry.” She hated to burst his bubble, but decided to add her thoughts. “I, um, was thinking of something completely different than what you described, though.”
“Oh? Like what?”
“Well, hear me out. What I’ve written is really unique, something people have never seen before.”
He gave her a dubious look.
“Just don’t laugh, okay?” She proceeded to tell him about her plan to use talking animals—sheep, bunnies, baby chicks, and so forth—to convey the message of Easter.
“I’ve been thinking about this whole egg theme,” she explained. “And I think we need to start the show with a giant Easter egg—maybe four or five feet high—in the center of the stage. We’ll get some really cute kid-themed music that fits the scene, and the egg can crack open and a baby chick will come out. Of course, it’ll be one of the kids, dressed as a chick. He—or she—can be the narrator, telling the rest of the story. There’s going to be a shepherd, of course. He’ll represent God. We’ll need an adult for that. And then the little sheep—and we’ll need lots of them—will be us, His kids. Make sense?”
Gregg stared at her like she’d lost her mind. Still, Tangie forged ahead, emphasizing the take-away at the end of the play.
“See? It’s an allegory,” she explained. “A story inside a story. The baby chick hatching from its egg represents us, when we’re born again. We enter a whole new life. Our story begins, in essence. The same is true with rabbits. Did you realize that bunnies are symbols for fertility and rebirth?”
“Well, no, but I guess I can see the parallel,” he said. “Rabbits rapidly reproduce.”
“Say that three times in a row.” Tangie laughed.
He tried it and by the end, they were both chuckling.
Once she caught her breath, Tangie summed up her thoughts about the play. “So, the chicks and the bunnies are symbols of the rebirth experience. And the bunnies—because they rapidly reproduce—will be our little evangelists. Get it? They’ll hop from place to place, sharing the love of Jesus.”
“Um, okay.”
“And the little sheep represent us, too. One of them wanders away from the fold and Jesus—the shepherd—goes after him. Or her. I haven’t decided if it should be a boy or girl. But there’s that hidden message of God’s love for us. . .that He would leave the ninety-nine to go after the one. I think the audience will get it if they’re paying attention.”
“Maybe.” He shook his head. “But I don’t know about all that. I still think it’s better to do something tried and true.”
“Like your Christmas play?” Tangie could’ve slapped herself the minute the words came out. “I–I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “I’ve already admitted that I’m no director.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” she said. “You just haven’t found the right show yet. But I think this Easter production has the capability of turning things around for both the kids who are in it and the ones who come to see it.” She offered what she hoped would be taken as a winning smile. “And you’ll see. By the end of this, you’re going to fall in love with theater. It won’t just be a means to an end anymore. It’s going to get into your blood. You’ll be hooked.”
“Somehow I really doubt it.” Gregg took a swig of his coffee and gave her a pensive look. “But, for lack of a better plan, I’ll go along with this little chicks and bunnies play you’re talking about. Just don’t credit me with writing any of it, okay?”
Tangie’s heart plummeted to her toes. Not only did he not like her ideas, he acted like he thought she was crazy. Well, she’d show him a thing or two about crazy over the next few weeks. And then, if she ended up failing at this gig in Harmony. . .she might just give some thought to heading back home. . .to the Big Apple.
***
Gregg could’ve slapped himself for making fun of Tangie in such a pointed way. From the look in her eyes, he knew he’d injured her pride. He knew just what that felt like. Still, he wasn’t sure how to redeem the situation now. Lord, I’m going to need Your help with this one. It’s beyond me.
Yes, everything about this was beyond him—the production, the outreach. . .and the beautiful woman in the nutty outfit seated across from him with the look of pain in her eyes.
SEVEN
“Gran-Gran, you know I love you, right?” Tangie paced her grandparents’ living room as she spoke with great passion.
“Of course!” Her grandmother looked up from the TV and nodded. “But you’re blocking the TV, honey. We’re trying to watch Jeopardy.”
Tangie sighed and took a giant step to the left. Nothing ever got between Gran-Gran and her TV when the game shows were on. Still, this was important. Tangie attempted to interject her thoughts. “Gran-Gran, you know I would never do anything to hurt you.”
“Never.”
“What is the Sears Tower!” Gramps hollered at the TV.
Tangie looked his way and he shrugged. “Sorry, honey. The question was, ‘What is the tallest building in America?’ and I happened to know the answer.”
He and Gran-Gran turned back to the TV, and Tangie knew she’d lost them. She took a seat on the sofa and sighed. Gran-Gran looked her way.
“You’re really upset, aren’t you?”
Tangie nodded. “Sort of.” She worked up the courage to say the rest. “Now, don’t be mad, but I’m giving some thought to only staying in Harmony till after the production, then going back to New York.”
“What?” Her grandmother turned and looked at her with a stunned expression on her face, then reached for the remote and flipped off the TV. “But why?”
How could she begin to explain it in a way that a non-theater person could understand? “I. . .I need artistic freedom.” There. That should do it.
“Artistic freedom?” Gramps rose from his well-worn recliner and snagged a cookie from the cookie jar. “What did someone do, kidnap your creativity or something?”
“Very nicely put,” she said. “That’s exactly what someone did. He stole it and put it behind bars. And as long as I stay in Harmony, I’m never getting it back. I’m destined to be dull and boring.”
Her grandmother’s brows elevated slightly. “You? Dull and boring? Impossible.” Gran-Gran stood up and approached Tangie.
“I can see how it would happen here,” Tangie said. “I feel like my voice has been squelched.”
“Impossible. You’ve got too much chutzpah for that. Besides, folks can only take what you give, nothing more.”
“Maybe I just don’t know enough about how to compromise with someone like Gregg Burke. But one thing is for sure, this gig in Harmony doesn’t feel like a long-term plan for me.”
Gran-Gran’s eyes misted over right away. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.” Tangie sighed when she saw the hurt look on her grandmother’s face. “I’ll stay till the Easter production is over at the beginning of April. But then I’m pretty sure I’d like to go back to New York.”
“Really? But I thought you were done with New York,” Gramps said, a confused look on his face.
“Well, see, I got an e-mail from my friend Marti last night. She just found out about auditions for a new show. They’re going to be held a few days after the produc
tion and the director, Vincent, is an old friend of mine. He directed a couple of plays I was in year before last. I’ll stand a better shot with this one, since I know someone.”
“Honey, I know you enjoy being in those shows. You’re a great little actress.”
Tangie cringed at the words little actress. How many times had her father said the same thing? And her directors? She didn’t want to be a little actress. She wanted to have a career. A real career.
Gran-Gran continued, clearly oblivious to Tangie’s inner turmoil. “But, as good as you are, that’s not your ministry. You’re a teacher. You said it yourself when you stood up in front of the church to talk to the congregation. You’re a gift stirrer. Your real ability is in motivating and teaching those kids. And if you go away. . .” Gran-Gran’s eyes filled with tears. “Well, if you go away, nothing will be the same around here. There’s no one to take your place.”
Tangie shrugged. “Gregg will do fine. And Ashley. . .she’s great with the kids.”
“Yes, but she’s too busy. That’s what I was saying before. She has a full-time job at the school, teaching second grade.”
“Right.” Tangie sighed.
“That’s why she couldn’t help with the Christmas production. She was doing a show of her own. I know her pretty well, honey. She would probably agree to help, just to appease Gregg, but she’s just too overwhelmed to take on anything else right now.”
“I’m sorry, Gran-Gran. I just don’t think I’m up for the job long term. It’s going to be hard enough to make it through one show.” Tangie tried not to let the defeat show on her face but couldn’t seem to help herself.
Gran-Gran plopped down in a chair, a somber look on her face. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. Very sorry.”
As she left the room, Tangie reached for an oatmeal raisin cookie—her third. She took a big bite, pondering everything her grandmother had said. Looked like Tangie was right all along. She wasn’t meant for small-town life.
What did it matter, really? Apparently she was destined to fail at everything she put her hand to—whether it was in the big city or in a tiny place like Harmony, New Jersey.
Love at Center Stage: Three Theatrical Love Stories Page 5