Love at Center Stage: Three Theatrical Love Stories

by Janice Thompson

  Well, the female morale, anyway. Some of the guys didn’t look so enthused. Steve, for instance. As he drew near, she could sense the tension in the little wrinkles around his eyes. Not that she blamed him. If the shoe were on the other foot—if, say, a gorgeous, shapely Guinevere had sashayed into the room and caused the men to go gaga—Amy would probably be a little miffed, too. Okay, more than a little miffed.

  She offered Steve a bright smile. “I think we’re ready to roll now.”

  “Good.” His gaze narrowed, and for a moment she saw a look of pain in his eyes. Her thoughts shifted back to that wonderful kiss they’d shared the other morning, and shame washed over her. Lord, forgive me. This relationship thing is new. I’m on a learning curve. I guess it’s not okay to flirt with one guy when the one you just kissed is standing in front of you. She sighed. Truthfully, it wasn’t okay to flirt with Jackson even if Steve wasn’t standing in front of her. How she’d allowed herself to slip, even for a moment, was beyond her.

  Oh, but those eyes. And those lashes! What kind of guy had lashes like that? Were they real?

  Help me, Lord.

  By now, nearly everyone in the room had taken to chatting. No one seemed to be paying much attention to the matter at hand—the round-table reading. Amy called them to order once again, and before long, everyone was seated with script in hand.

  “Okay, I’m sure you’re familiar with the story,” Amy said. “So we’ll just dive right in. If you have any questions, please leave them for the end. As we read, Woody and I may stop you occasionally to give some direction.”

  Seconds later, they were off and running. Amy listened with amazement as Steve read the opening lines of the production. The British accent might be lacking, but the lyrical tone of his voice was not. Could it really be that he was born to act? Maybe he would give Jackson a run for his money. Sounded like he planned to try, anyway.

  Amy’s first lines were delivered with an undercurrent of nerves. Her voice initially trembled all over the place as she and Steve began the scene depicting Arthur and Guinevere’s first meeting. But shortly thereafter, she started to relax. As the lines went back and forth, she found herself caught up in the moment, loving the sound of their two voices, the rise and fall of emotions, the beauty of the words. She could get used to this, especially the part where Steve—er, Arthur—spoke with such tenderness that she truly believed the words were written for her. Maybe they had been. If the Lord had orchestrated all of this, then she had to believe that He knew she’d one day be sitting right here, reading these lines.

  Amy felt her cheeks turn warm and was grateful for the change of scene. As they reached the midsection of the story, the various other actors and actresses delivered their lines, some with more grace and finesse than others. Thank goodness Grady only had a couple of them. And thankfully Darrell seemed to take to the Mordred role with ease. Even Lucy excelled with her few lines. Amy’s father seemed a little over-the-top as Pellinore, but he simmered down after the first few minutes.

  But Gwen… Amy sighed as Gwen wriggled in her seat and messed with her cell phone. It frustrated Amy to see her so bent out of shape, but it frustrated her even more when she thought about how much things had changed over the years. Was there really a time, all those years ago, when she and Gwen had been best friends? They’d played dress-up and gone to sleepovers together. What in the world had happened to put an end to all that? In her heart of hearts, she missed her old friend and wondered if things would ever be different. She hoped so—prayed so.

  Before Amy knew it, they were at the point in the story where Lancelot made his entrance. Out of the corner of her eyes, she watched Jackson as he delivered his opening lines. They sounded even stronger than the ones he’d shared earlier. She whispered up a prayer of thanks, grateful to the Lord for bringing him here.

  For the first time, she actually felt confident in the outcome of the show. People would come…and with the caliber of talent that Jackson and Steve both provided, the audience would leave satisfied—their pockets a little emptier but their hearts a little fuller. At least that was the idea. Ultimately, the town of Camelot would rise from the ashes, financially sound and ready to face the future.

  Amy found herself so lost in her thoughts that she almost missed her next cue. She jumped into her lines, feeling a little flustered. Not that anyone else seemed to notice. No, everyone in the place had his or her nose buried in the script.

  Okay, maybe not everyone. Lucy, Annabelle, Blossom, and Gwen occasionally peeked over the edges of their scripts at Jackson, who, thankfully, remained oblivious. Hmm. She would have to keep an eye on that. No backstage romances during this play. They simply didn’t have time.

  Well, no backstage romances except the one between her and Steve. She couldn’t stop that ball from rolling down a hill if she wanted to. Not that she wanted to. No, more than ever, she wanted to follow her heart. Surely it would lead her straight into his arms…if he would still have her, after she’d practically swooned over Jackson.

  Amy found herself caught up in yet another daydream and nearly missed King Arthur’s last line. Only when the others began to cheer did she startle to attention.

  “We did it,” Woody said with a contented smile. “We made it through the whole show.”

  Applause sounded across the room and Amy looked around the circle at her cast, thrilled for their time and effort and even more thrilled at their enthusiasm.

  “You guys were great,” she said. “I feel so…” She started to say relieved but changed it to “blessed.” After what she hoped would be perceived as an encouraging smile, she gave some closing directions. “When we meet again on Wednesday afternoon, we’ll start blocking the opening scene.” She paused. “Oh, something else. We’re going to need someone to choreograph the dance numbers. I’ve been wondering if any of you have dance experience.”

  An awkward silence gave her the answer she’d feared. And then, from the opposite side of the room, one lone hand went up.

  “I—I used to be a cheerleader during high school back in Texas.”

  “Annabelle?” Amy tried not to let her surprise show.

  “Yes, and I was on the drill team too. I even took ballet and jazz as a kid, so I’ve had a lot of experience.” A sad look passed over her and she shrugged. “It’s been awhile. Obviously.”

  “Well, I’d be honored if you would talk with me before you leave today,” Amy said. “We’re going to need someone to choreograph two of the numbers for sure. Maybe three.”

  “I’d be happy to give it a shot. I don’t mean to brag, but back in the day, I was quite a dancer.” A hopeful look came to Annabelle’s eyes. “Sounds like fun.”

  “Great.” One problem down, approximately ten million to go. At least she had a plan of action now. That helped. “One last thing, everyone. I’ve put together a schedule for our future rehearsals. You’ll each get a copy. In fact, let me give those to you now.”

  She reached inside her bag and came out with several copies, which she passed around. Several of the cast members began to chat among themselves, and Amy decided to dismiss them—not that anyone actually left. No, they seemed content to visit. The guys, anyway. The women couldn’t seem to tear themselves away from Jackson.

  She approached the group and handed Jackson a copy of the production schedule. “I’ve laid out a full plan of action for our rehearsals,” she explained. “That way every scene gets covered multiple times. And the musical numbers too.” She pointed at Eula Mae. “We’ve got the best pianist in the county, and now Natalie has agreed to help our soloists with their vocals.”

  From across the room, Natalie gave a little wave.

  “Wow.” Jackson gave Amy an admiring look as he glanced down at the page in his hand. “I’ve seen a lot of production schedules over the years, and this is top-notch. You’ve thought of everything. And I like the way you’ve divided the music rehearsals from the drama rehearsals. That’s always helpful. ”

  She forc
ed back a grin. “Well, I can’t take the credit. I found a sample production schedule online and emulated it. That’s really the only reason I knew to start with a round-table reading.”

  “Well, if you need any advice from here on out, don’t be afraid to ask me,” he said. “I’ve been around the block a few times.”

  From across the room, Steve’s eyes reflected his “Sure you have” thinking.

  Gwen drew near, a smile lighting her face as she stood next to Jackson. “Speaking of going around the block, would you like someone to show you around Camelot one day this week?” she asked. “I’ve lived here all my life and would be tickled pink to show you off.” She giggled. “I mean, to show off the town, of course. Silly me. But anyway, we’ll have fun. I’ve got the cutest little convertible.”

  “Sounds tempting,” Jackson said. “Of course, I came to work, not to look at the scenery.” For whatever reason, his eyes riveted into Amy’s at that last part. She had a few things to say about the scenery. Wowza, as Lucy would say. She closed her eyes and took a mental snapshot. When her eyelids sprang open, she found Steve staring at her from across the room.

  Focus, Amy. Focus.

  Thankfully, Pastor Crane and Natalie came over, distracting her from the confusion in Steve’s eyes.

  “Brent Crane,” the pastor said, extending his hand in Jackson’s direction. “Can’t tell you how glad we are to have you here.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Jackson shook his hand.

  “Pastor Crane is the owner of the funeral home,” Amy explained.

  “Interesting coincidence,” Jackson said.

  “Yes.” The pastor laughed. “I spend the weekends getting their souls into heaven and the weekdays getting their bodies into the ground.” An exuberant laugh followed. “Get it?”

  “Yep.” Jackson chuckled. “I can’t even imagine trying to balance those two. If you’ve taken on the role of funeral director, then who counsels the families when a loved one passes away? Wouldn’t that be your job as pastor?”

  “Well, I do,” he said. “And sometimes Steve helps. He’s really good at talking people through rough times.”

  “Steve?” Jackson shrugged. “The Steve who’s playing King Arthur?”

  “Yes.” Pastor Crane nodded.

  “Is he a counselor?” Jackson asked.

  “No, he’s our mayor.” Amy hoped her voice wouldn’t betray her. Steve was clearly more than that, but she didn’t need to share that with a total stranger. “He’s got a great heart for people.”

  Jackson’s smile warmed her heart. “It’s been crazy, being on the road so much. I haven’t really had time to get to know people long-term. I mean, I have friends, but none that I’d spend Thanksgiving with. That’s one reason I’m glad to be here with Gramps.”

  “We’re glad you’re here, too,” Natalie said, giving his arm a pat.

  “Very glad,” Annabelle and Blossom spoke in unison as they stepped up beside him.

  Hmm. Looked like the fair maidens of Camelot had their eye on a certain knight. Only time would tell if he would dazzle and delight them as the real Lancelot had done. Still, Amy had a feeling that Jackson was halfway around the bend on that one already.

  “Dealing with the green-eyed monster, eh?” Woody asked.

  “What?” Steve jerked to attention.

  “Can’t say as I blame you,” Woody said. “Looks like Romeo’s making his move. Better move in to capture the fair Juliet before she jumps off the balcony and lands in his arms.”

  Steve’s blood began to boil. So he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed it. Well, he’d put a stop to this all right. Had the kisses he and Amy shared meant nothing? Why would she stand there—so close to a total stranger—drinking in his every word and giggling like that? Didn’t make a lick of sense. Then again, nothing about this afternoon’s chain of events made much sense right now.

  He drew in a deep breath, counted to three, then exhaled. There. Much better. No point in letting his frustration get the better of him. Finally prepared, he took a few steps in Amy’s direction.

  He’d just reached her when she grabbed his hand. “Oh, Steve! I’m so glad you’re here. Jackson was just telling me a story about Sarge that you’re going to love.”

  “Oh?”

  The edges of Jackson’s lips turned up in a smile. “Yeah. Gramps came to visit us in Nashville when I was in elementary school. My grandmother was still alive back then. I was just a kid and loved to play army. He gathered all the neighborhood boys together and acted like our drill sergeant. We had to do push-ups, run laps, you name it. Then he had us hide in the bushes, to keep from being found by the enemy.” Jackson laughed and Steve’s tension melted. “He was always so much fun.”

  “You should write those stories down, Jackson,” Amy said. “Seriously. One day you might have kids, and they’ll need to know all of this.”

  “I guess.” Jackson glanced at his watch then looked his grandfather’s way. “Right now, I think I’d better get him home. He’s been looking a little…I don’t know…different lately.”

  “What do you mean?” Steve asked. “Something we need to know?”

  A look of concern settled in Jackson’s eyes. “Maybe it’s just because I haven’t seen him in several months, but I’ve really noticed a change in him. He’s moving a lot slower, and his stories are more scattered too.”

  “How can you tell?” Amy giggled then put her hand over her mouth. “Oh, sorry.”

  “No, you’re right. It’s always been hard to tell with Gramps.” Jackson shook his head. “But I’m glad I’m here with him. Seems like he’s at that point where he really doesn’t need to be alone.”

  “He’s lucky to have you,” Steve added, feeling much better about this situation. Maybe Jackson didn’t have hidden motives after all. Maybe he hadn’t come to town to sweep the ladies off their feet. Perhaps he’d simply come at his grandfather’s bidding.

  “Oh, I’m the lucky one.” Jackson grinned. “He’s great. And I know I’m right where I’m supposed to be.” A pause followed. “I’m looking forward to getting to know everyone. I was just telling Amy, my life in Pigeon Forge was a little different. I’m hoping that Camelot will be a place where I can really get to know people for a change.”

  “Oh, we’re very friendly here,” Amy said. “You’ll see.”

  A niggling of jealousy distracted Steve, but he forced it away.

  Lucy Cramden chose that moment to approach. A coy smile followed as she turned Jackson’s direction. “Yes, we’re very friendly here.” An awkward pause rode the heels of her flirtatious wrangling, but she quickly recovered. “Jackson, your grandfather is ready to go. He sent me to fetch you.”

  “Yes.” Jackson glanced Sarge’s way. “It was great meeting all of you. I can’t wait to get this show on the road.”

  “Show on the road. Funny.” Lucy took him by the arm and ushered him across the room—out of sight but certainly not out of mind.

  No, Steve had a sneaking suspicion it would be a long while before any of the women of Camelot would get Jackson Brenner off their minds. He only prayed that one woman in particular would shake him sooner rather than later.

  Chapter Twelve

  I was planning to go into architecture. But when I arrived, architecture was filled up.

  Acting was right next to it, so I signed up for acting instead.

  Gilbert K. Chesterton

  The following Saturday, the men of Camelot showed up at the Civic Center to begin work on the amphitheater. With Grady’s hardware-store connections, the workers were equipped and ready. And thanks to a couple of Darrell’s friends in the construction industry, they had heavy equipment aplenty. Amy had never seen so many bulldozers and backhoes in her life. It looked like everyone in Knox County had arrived to help.

  Or hurt.

  Fred Platt, the county official who had badgered her over the phone, had decided to pay them a visit as well. Oh well. Might as well head him off at the pass…or se
nd him Steve’s way. Yes, she’d be better off letting Steve handle this one. He could charm birds out of trees. Surely he could handle one lone government official.

  Sure enough, Steve managed to talk the fellow through the process and showed evidence that everything would be done to code. He seemed to take it in stride, thank goodness. Then again, Steve usually managed to get people calmed down. He had that way about him.

  On this particular day, ironically, the person who needed consoling was none other than Amy herself. She’d hardly slept a wink for nights. Every time she closed her eyes, another problem played itself out on the stage of her mind. And now, before another minute slipped by, she needed to address them. She waited until the county official left before approaching Steve with her list of concerns.

  “Can I take you away from your work for a minute?” she asked.

  “Um, sure.” He looked at Darrell and shrugged. “You guys okay without me for a little while?”

  “Yeah. We’ve got this.” Darrell gestured for one of the bulldozer drivers to begin the work of digging out the area for the first row of seating. Amy found herself caught up in watching for a moment before she remembered the reason she’d pulled Steve away from the task at hand. She made a point to step far enough away that the others couldn’t hear her. No point in raising red flags or causing undue concern.

  “Steve, I’m worried,” she managed at last.

  He pulled her close and gave her a little kiss on the nose. “About what? The play?”

  “Yes.” She shook her head. “No. I mean, yes, I’m concerned about the play too. But there’s so much I didn’t think about, and it’s all staring me in the face.”