Just in front of the new couple he located another old friend. Ida Sullivan sat in the second row with a look of pure satisfaction on her wrinkled face. Walter Malone was seated next to her, dressed in a suit that must, surely, be older than Colin, himself. The elderly man leaned in to whisper something in Ida’s ear, and she responded by smiling broadly. Colin took a second look. Is he holding her hand?
He barely had time to contemplate the matter. The stringed quartet began the introduction, and he swallowed hard as the familiar strain of music gave him his cue. His heart pounded in anticipation as he stepped through the doorway at the designated moment and began to sing. The love song he and Jessica had chosen was in Italian. Of course. Nothing else would have done.
He had rehearsed at length, though his nerves now kicked in and Colin found himself barely able to eek out the first few words. And yet he must continue. He would sing beyond the tears that now formed in his eyes. He would sing over the lump in his throat. He would sing the song of angels, and she would join him in a heavenly chorus, one that would require no interpretation.
As the words began to soar like ribbons on the wind, Jessica made her entrance from the back of the theater, stepfather Andrew at her side. The audience stood to their feet and Colin could hardly contain the emotion that held him in its twisted embrace. My bride! By the time he reached the chorus, Andrew had released Jessica’s hand and she crossed the beautifully decorated bridge across the orchestra pit to join him onstage. By the time the second verse began, Colin’s solo had become a duet.
***
Jessica fought back tears as she crossed the stage. Roman columns, draped with tulle and twinkling lights, framed a beautiful Italian village, hand-painted by the best set designers Dallas had to offer. She hardly noticed it, however. She couldn’t seem to take her gaze from the man she loved, the one the Lord had dropped into her life when she least expected it.
Her grandmother’s words of encouragement flitted through her mind rather unexpectedly. When had she spoken them? Ah yes—that day she had tried on wedding gowns. You’re going to be a beautiful bride, Honey, and that radiance is going to shine through like a light that can’t wait to escape the darkness because it will spring up from your innermost being. For the first time, Jessica understood. From the very core of her being, she understood. I love this man. Honestly and truly love him. And the light in her eyes must surely radiate the love she now felt.
His eyes seemed to dance with excitement, as well. The handsome baritone, tall and striking in his romantic Italian apparel, sang to her in a voice she had only dreamed of. She eagerly took Colin’s hand and joined him in song. Their voices rose and fell, and emotion carried them through to the end of the piece. Then, as the dramatic piece ended, the minister made his entrance.
Together, he led the two through the rest of the ceremony. With all of her heart, Jessica vowed to love this man. To cherish him. You make it so easy, Colin. She wiped tears of joy from her eyes as he shared his heart openly and clearly for all to see and hear. His hand-written vows seemed to ignite her heart and set it ablaze. Have I ever loved before? No. I’ve never known love until now.
Now, at this very moment, all of her dreams ran crazily, merrily, into truth. Into reality. Tonight, she would cling to the hand of this man God had given her and commit to raise her voice alongside his for all of time.
Never again a chorus of one.
Author’s Note
Thank you for reading A Chorus of One. I’ve always loved Jessica’s story because it reminds me of my four grown daughters, who all love to sing. If you liked her romance, perhaps you’ll enjoy the others in the Texas Weddings Series:
Texas Weddings I & II (A Class of Her Own/A Chorus of One)
Texas Weddings III & IV (Sweet Charity/Banking on Love)
Texas Weddings V & VI (Angel Incognito/Deep in the Heart of Mayhem)
Now enjoy another theatrical love story, Starry, Starry Knight.
Starry, Starry Knight
by
Janice Thompson
Starry, Starry Knight
© 2015 by Janice Thompson
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.
Scripture references are from The Holy Bible, New International Version®, niv®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan.
All characters are fictional. Any resemblances to actual people or events are purely coincidental.
Dedication
To the only wise King, the One who sits enthroned upon my heart.
You’ve taught me that sometimes we have to go backward in order to go forward.
Thank You for sending me back to Camelot.
Table of Contents
Preface
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Town Description
About Janice
Other Books by Janice
So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen.
For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
2 Corinthians 4:18 niv
Preface
My tie to Camelot goes back to the fall of 1977 in East Tennessee, where I played the role of a lady-in-waiting in Milligan College’s production of the Lerner and Loewe musical. The story is rich with personal symbolism and always reminds me of that precious season of my life. And though I’m a Texas girl at heart, there’s something about East Tennessee that leaves me breathless. It calls out to those who’ve wandered away in much the same way a loving father welcomes home his wayward child—particularly in the fall when the leaves are turning.
The elusive kingdom of Camelot has always been shrouded in mystery. Perhaps that’s why we love it so much. Within its boundaries, we’re swept up in a world of knights and ladies, chivalry and dreams, romance and sacrifice. And in the tale of Camelot, we find a symbolic portrait of a very real King, One willing to give His very life for those He loves, even those who break His heart. What an honor to dedicate this story to Him.
Don’t let it be forgot
That once there was a spot,
For one brief, shining moment
That was known as Camelot.
—From the musical Camelot by Alan Jay Lerner and Frederic Loewe
Chapter One
Acting should be bigger than life.
Scripts should be bigger than life.
It should all be bigger than life.
Bette Davis
An early morning haze hung over the sleepy town of Camelot, Tennessee. Amy Hart squinted to get a better view of the road as she maneuvered her Jeep Liberty around a tricky bend. On a clear day, the journey into town would prove challenging. But on a morning like this—with the heavy April skies pressing in around her—the curvy road seemed to slip away into a foggy mist. How many times had she imagined she could drive off into the dreamy haze and find herself in a world of knights, ladies, castles, and kings?
Once she rounded the turn, Amy reached over and flipped on the radio then settled back against the seat as a familiar worship song came on. Perfect. Pretty soon the skies would clear and so would her mood�
�just as soon as she arrived at work and shared her latest idea with Steve. Only then would the tightness in her chest dissipate. She lost herself in thought as she pondered her best friend’s reaction to her latest plan. Likely he would think she’d lost her mind. Just like the last time. And the time before that. Oh well. She would prove him wrong—this time.
Amy made her way down Excalibur Drive and turned off onto Lancelot Lane, taking a shortcut to City Hall. Another turn to the right landed her on Camelot Court. She sighed as she caught a glimpse of the abandoned car lot to her right. As usual, nothing much stirred there. Or at the bank. Or at Gwen’s Grooming, Camelot’s only pet-friendly store. No, at this time of morning, not much fluttered but the birds. Well, the birds and Lucy Cramden, who always walked her ferret, Fiona, at the crack of dawn. Strange sight, a ferret on a bright pink leash. Just part of the quirkiness that made Camelot…Camelot.
As Amy turned into the parking lot at City Hall, the sun peeked through the fog for one magical moment, taking her breath away. She took it as a sign. A confirmation, of sorts. Surely the Lord Himself had performed this wondrous act to boost her courage. She whispered a prayer of thanksgiving and her spirits lifted immediately.
After pulling into her usual parking space, Amy turned off the car. Instead of heading for her office, she lingered in the car for a few moments, watching the colors of the sky morph from dizzying gray to pinkish blue. She used the extra time to get a handle on her thoughts. Last night’s town hall meeting had left her reeling, but this morning she’d awakened with the perfect plan, one she hoped others in town would go along with. In fact, it was such an amazingly simple idea, she had to wonder why no one had thought of it before.
She glanced out over the bluff, the panoramic view mesmerizing her as always. For as long as she could remember, Amy had always loved the dewy mornings in East Tennessee, and the changing of the seasons only made her love them more. The vibrant colors had proven spectacular last fall when the leaves turned. As a child, she’d believed her father’s tale that an artist’s paintbrush swept in across the bluff while she slept, leaving behind strokes of amber, hazy orange, and brilliant gold. Of course, she’d believed all her father’s tall tales as a kid, including the one about meeting King Arthur face-to-face and pulling Excalibur out of the rocky ledge near Beaver Creek. But who could blame her? Dad’s stories carried her away to a place deep in her imagination, and sometimes a girl just needed to travel.
“You’ve won my heart with those stories, Dad,” she whispered. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She allowed herself one last glimpse over the bluff before thinking about entering the real world. It offered the promise that things could be different in her sleepy little town. Yes, now that spring was finally upon them—winter’s frost finally gone—the leaves danced in brilliant shades of green. The trees that housed them stood sturdy and strong, so close together that she could scarcely see where the branches of one ended and the next picked up.
Kind of like the people of Camelot.
“It’s better than any work of art.” Amy closed her eyes to imprint the photo of the bluff on her imagination. “Only God could paint a picture like this.”
A tap on her window nearly sent her out of her skin. She let out a yelp then looked over to discover her best friend, who also happened to be the town’s newly elected mayor, grinning on the other side of the glass. Rolling down the window, she scolded him. “Steve, you scared me to death!”
“Sorry.” His gorgeous blue eyes twinkled as he flashed a smile. “Just couldn’t stand the idea of you sitting there with that goofy grin on your face. Daydreaming again?”
“N–no.” She shook her head. “Not really.”
He gave her a pensive look. “You’re up to something. I can always tell by the expression on your face.”
“W–who…me? Never!” Amy did her best to hide the smile as she rolled the window back up and climbed out of the car. Drawing in a deep breath, she tried to figure out how to begin. As they made the walk toward the front of tiny City Hall, she decided to start with the obvious. “I don’t mind telling you, that meeting last night really had me worked up. I hardly slept a wink.”
Steve sighed, and his boyish smile disappeared. “No point in worrying about it, though. God’s got this under control, Amy.”
“I know.” She waited while he opened the front door with a gentlemanly flair, allowing her to enter. “But I love this town. And the idea that it might…” She wouldn’t say the words that flitted through her mind. She didn’t dare.
“God has a plan. I know it.”
“Right.” She turned to him, ready to share her idea. “Just remember you said that, okay?”
“O–okay.” He cocked his head and gave her a what-are-you-up-to-now look as they trekked down the hall, side by side.
Amy knew that look well. She’d seen it hundreds of times over the years, going all the way back to the seventh grade when she’d decided they should turn all the desks in the classroom upside down during recess. And that time in high school when she’d laid out a plan for stealing the opposing team’s mascot for a day. And last month, when she’d suggested the city-council members host a citywide bake sale to raise funds.
Her current idea might be amazing, but Amy realized it would be a hard sell to the others on the city council. She needed to win Steve’s support first.
“Okay.” She paused at the door in front of her tiny office. “As you know, our city needs money to stay afloat. Lots of money.”
“Right.” His brow wrinkled.
“We’ve tossed around a lot of ideas, but none like the one I’ve just come up with.”
“I’m bracing myself.”
She rolled her eyes. “Problem is, we’ve been coming at this from a logical left-brained angle. I think we need a right-brained approach for once.”
“I have a feeling you’re about to be more specific. Not sure why that worries me.” Steve crossed his arms as if preparing for a showdown of wills.
“Before I tell you, I just want to reiterate that I love this little town,” she said. “I was born here, after all. And even though I left for college, I’ve seen it through hundreds of ups and downs. More downs than ups.”
“Right. Me too.” He nodded.
“I feel like the morale of our citizens is on a decline with everyone so worked up about our lack of revenue, and that breaks my heart. A place called Camelot should be idyllic, shrouded with a lovely sort of mystery.”
Steve snorted. “The only mystery around here is whether or not Old Man Brenner will have the good sense to put his dentures in before coming into town. And whether Woody Donaldson will remember that Officer O’Reilly threatened to take away his driver’s license if he goes plowing through the plate-glass window of the Sack ’n Save again in that old Mustang of his.”
Amy slugged Steve in the arm. “Be serious.”
“I am.” He chuckled but paused when she reached to take his hand. Steve glanced down at it for a second then directed his attention to her eyes.
Good. I have him now. Maybe he’ll focus so I can get this out.
“I’ve always thought of Camelot as a lovely romantic painting, a place people would want to step inside to escape the harsh realities of life. But lately it feels like the colors are fading. I’m starting to wonder if we’ll even continue to exist if someone doesn’t step up to the plate and do something, or if we’ll just…” Her voice drifted off. “Fade away like the legend,” she managed to whisper. Amy felt the sting of tears but willed herself not to cry. Not in front of Steve, at any rate.
“You know me. I’m a realist,” he said. “That’s not to say I don’t have faith, but someone has to be practical. If we can’t keep our budget in the red for more than a couple months, Camelot really won’t exist. That’s the cold, hard reality.”
“Exactly. But I think I’ve come up with a way to convince people this is the perfect place for romance. A place where people young and old can fall head over
heels in love and be swept away by the possibilities of what could be.”
“Um, okay. Have you been watching the Hallmark Channel again?”
“No.” She groaned. “Please hear me out. According to legend, Camelot is a place for happily-ever-afters.”
“Unless you happen to be King Arthur,” he said. “In which case, it’s a place where a handsome younger man sweeps in and steals your woman while your back is turned. And then you end up at war with his country and with several of your best men dead because you made the mistake of putting your trust in someone who really couldn’t be trusted.” Steve crossed his arms and gave her a funny look. “But never mind all of that. You were saying?”
She sighed. “I’m just saying, Camelot should be a place where people can come to have their faith renewed. A place where they can dream again, hope again.”
“Ah.” A smile tipped up the edges of his mouth. “Now you’re talking. Go on.”
Amy didn’t let his playfulness deter her. Not this time. No, this time she had the perfect answer. “Camelot.” She nodded as she spoke the word. “The answer is as simple as the name of our town. Camelot.”
“O–okay.” He still looked confused.
As she opened the door to her tiny office, the City Planner sign fell off and clattered to the floor. She picked it up and stuck it back on the door then turned her attentions once again to Steve, ready to do business.
“We’ve never taken advantage of the one thing that should be as obvious as the noses on our faces.”
“And that would be…?”
“Camelot. The musical.” She drew in a deep breath then let the idea fly. “I think we should perform the musical Camelot and charge money for the tickets. Can you imagine it? People would come from all over the country to see folks from Camelot put on the musical Camelot.”
Love at Center Stage: Three Theatrical Love Stories Page 32