She braced herself. Pete’s jokes had been getting a little old over the past few weeks.
“How many actors does it take to change a lightbulb?” he asked.
Amy shrugged, clueless.
“Just one.” He erupted in laughter then managed to get himself under control to deliver the punch line. “They don’t like to share the spotlight. Get it? Share the spotlight?”
“I get it.” Amy tried not to groan. “I get it.”
Pete slugged Jackson in the arm. “Didn’t mean any harm by that, my friend. If all actors are like you, they’re a pretty good lot.”
“Thanks.” Jackson reached for a paintbrush. “Now, let’s get to work. I think we can finish painting this castle before rehearsal begins. If we hurry, that is.”
Amy watched the men work for a second, until she heard Natalie’s voice ring out. “Hey, Amy, I hate to interrupt, but I have something to talk to you about.”
She turned to find the pastor’s wife standing behind her, holding an armload of costumes.
“You know, the church has a ton of costumes from old Christmas and Easter productions,” Natalie said. “So Caroline and I got to thinking that we might be able to save a little money on costumes if we recycle some of these robes into medieval attire. What do you think?” She held up one that looked a bit like a bathrobe.
Amy gave it a close look, afraid to voice her opinion. Maybe they could make it work…with a miracle from on high.
“I’m a pretty good seamstress,” Natalie said. “And Caroline is too. I’ve printed some costumes from the web and think we’ve come up with a way to transform these. Would you be willing to let us give it a try?”
“To keep from having to pay for new costumes?” Amy nodded. “Of course. And in case I haven’t mentioned it, Natalie, I couldn’t have done this without your help on the vocals. The guys are sounding great on their songs.”
“So are you,” Natalie whispered then gave her a wink. “We couldn’t have found a better Guinevere if we’d searched the whole land.”
A rush of emotion swept over Amy as she whispered her thanks. “Just pray today’s rehearsal goes as smoothly as the vocal rehearsals have gone,” she added. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this one.”
“I’ll be praying,” Natalie said. “You know what the Bible says: the Lord won’t give us more than we can bear.”
“He must think I can stand a lot.” Amy offered up a weak smile. The last few weeks, though fun at times, had presented her with one of the toughest challenges of her life. Was she up to the task? Only time would tell. For now, she felt a little…discombobulated.
And all the more so as the reporter snapped a photo of her pulling her hair up into a messy ponytail in preparation for the rehearsal. Lovely.
Natalie turned back to Caroline to discuss the costumes and Amy glanced across the room once more. Her gaze settled on Steve, who gave Jackson a friendly slap on the back. Good. It’s about time those two became friends. They have so much in common.
After a quick glance at her notes, Amy clapped her hands. Much as she had been dreading this scene, it could wait no more. “Time to get started on the lusty-month-of-May scene,” she called out. “Annabelle’s been working on the choreography, and I think you’re going to like what she’s come up with.”
“I know I will.” Lucy Cramden giggled. “Been waiting for this for weeks.”
“This is going to be so much fun!” Blossom’s cheeks flushed, and Chuck gave her a nod.
Chuck looked plenty nervous. For that matter, so did the rest of the guys. Grady, lowering his paintbrush, looked downright ill, in fact.
Annabelle stepped to her place, front and center, raising her voice to be heard above the crowd. “Okay, I think I’ll start by pairing up the knights and ladies,” she explained. “So let’s see…” She looked over the candidates, trying to come to a logical decision. “I’ll be dancing with Chuck.”
The happy butcher smiled with delight, all hints of concern now gone. Amy couldn’t help but think this duo would fare well. She also wondered if Chuck would get a few extra dance lessons on the side.
“And what about Lucy and…” Annabelle looked back and forth between Grady and Pete. “Pete.”
Amy would’ve thought Pete had won the lottery, judging by the look of joy on his face at this announcement. He moved into place beside Lucy with a genuine smile.
To her left, Amy heard someone muttering. She turned in time to find Lucy eyeing not Pete, but her father. “I’ll give this my best shot.” Lucy rolled her eyes. “Even if I did end up with the wrong partner.”
The look on Pete’s face nearly broke Amy’s heart. Poor guy. How long would he go on trying to get Lucy to notice him?
“Prissy, I think I’ll pair you up with both of the twins,” Annabelle said. “It might make for a fun scene if they were fighting over you.”
Timmy and Jimmy seemed to like this idea a lot. They elbowed each other to get closer to the beautiful teen, and she looked on, all smiles.
“Next we’ll have Grady and Blossom,” Annabelle added. She looked back and forth between the forty-something hairstylist and the country bumpkin hardware-store owner, likely wondering what sort of duo they’d make. Amy had to wonder, herself.
Oh well. No time to worry about that now. Surely Blossom would forgive them for this selection and play along.
“Charlie, you and Sarge will be in this scene as well,” Annabelle said. “And Darrell too. You’ll be taking turns, dancing with each of the ladies at the maypole.”
“Dancing, eh?” Sarge rubbed his hip. “Gonna have to double up on my arthritis meds if I’m supposed to dance.”
“We’ll take it easy,” Amy explained. “And if it proves to be too much, you can sit out this scene.”
“Sit out, my eye.” He shook his head. “No, thank you. I’ve never been one to sit out a challenge. Why, I remember back in Vietnam—” And off he went again, sharing another war story. Thankfully, he ended it quickly with the words, “So I won’t be quitting, even if you tell me I’m the worst dancer you’ve ever seen. I’m not a quitter. No, sir.”
Amy contemplated his strong reaction. Apparently Sarge, like so many others, had finally settled into his role in this production. And how wonderful to see his “I won’t give up, no matter what” attitude.
“We’ll run through the lines leading up to this scene and then begin to choreograph the song,” Amy said.
Annabelle nodded. “I’ve got it all worked out. No worries. But I’m not quite done placing people yet, Amy.” She paused. “Eula Mae, I’d like you to help me out, if you will.”
“Need me to pick up something from the store?” Eula Mae’s eyes lit up. “Is there some sort of sale going on over at the Sack ’n Save that I’ve missed?”
“No, silly.” Annabelle chuckled. “I want you to dance in this song like the other ladies are doing.”
“Excuse me?” The older woman took a step back. “You’re not trying to put me in this play, are you? I agreed to be the rehearsal pianist. But I don’t act or sing. No way, no how.”
“You never mentioned anything about dancing,” Annabelle said. “And we could use more women. We’ll be using the vocal track to rehearse, so we won’t need you on the piano. She pointed to the stage area. “It’s important that we fill the gap. Woody, Sarge, and Charlie are without women.”
“Not for long.” Eula Mae grinned and headed straight for Woody. She looked at the crowd. “Eat your heart out, ladies. I’m staking my claim.” She slipped her arm around Woody’s waist and gave him a little kiss on the cheek.
Amy looked on, stunned. Eula Mae and Woody…a couple? How had she missed that?
Annabelle looked her way with a wink. Wow. So Annabelle had known all along. Well, some people were just more intuitive than others.
“Caroline, I’d like to bring you into this number too,” Annabelle said.
Caroline paled. “Oh no, thank you. I gave up dancing years ago when my hus
band passed away. I couldn’t possibly.”
“But we need all the women we can get.”
“C’mon and join us, Caroline,” Amy’s father said. “It’ll be fun.”
She reluctantly stepped up beside him, looking none too sure of herself.
“Okay, Amy,” Annabelle said with a grin. “You’re in this scene too. In fact, you’re the lead dancer.”
Yikes.
“You’ll start out by dancing with Steve.” Annabelle pointed Steve’s way, and he responded with a look of terror in his eyes. “Then, midway through the dance you’ll switch partners and end up with Lancelot. Er, Jackson.”
Amy felt her stomach rise to her throat. She’d known this moment would come, of course. But switching partners felt a little too…symbolic.
Not that she really had time to think about it. Eula Mae came over and grabbed her by the hand. “If I can dance, honey, you can dance.”
Amy looked into Steve’s eyes and offered a little shrug. He responded by pulling her close and placing a kiss on her forehead—for everyone to see. Apparently Eula Mae wasn’t the only one staking a claim today.
Gwen stood on the sidelines, her expression growing tighter by the moment. “Excuse me, Annabelle. But, where do I—?”
“Oh, I’m glad you asked.” Annabelle clasped her hands together. “This is where it gets fun. You start the dance with Jackson but end up with Arthur. Er, Steve.” She giggled. “In other words, you and Amy switch partners in the middle of the dance and never go back to the way things started. If that makes sense.” She paused to roll a strand of her long hair around her index finger.
Gwen’s expression brightened. “I start with Jackson”—she looked his way with a coy smile—“and end up with Steve?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Couldn’t have planned this any better myself.” The blond beauty sashayed over to Jackson, who looked over at her with a welcoming smile.
Amy wanted to raise her hand in protest, but she couldn’t really change the script even if she wanted to. If this was Annabelle’s vision for the dance, so be it. She could live with it…for now.
“Okay, let’s get started.” Annabelle turned to her motley crew of dancers and began to demonstrate the steps. In spite of her somewhat fluffy size, she looked really good. Now for the tough part—getting the others to look that good too.
Amy looked on as Annabelle led the knights through their steps. Okay, so maybe Grady wasn’t a dancer, but he certainly gave it his all. She could imagine her dad, Woody, and Sarge looking like knights in their costumes, but they danced more like those wooden toy soldiers with knees that refused to bend. Pete did a fair job. So did Chuck. And Jackson…wow. The guy could dance. The one who caught her eye, however, was Steve. He looked so handsome as he moved around the floor, following Annabelle’s lead. Yes, this was going to be nice. Very nice, indeed.
“Now we’re going to add in the ladies,” Annabelle said as they finished. “You’ll start with a little curtsy like this.” She demonstrated and nearly toppled over. Thank goodness, Chuck appeared beside her, offering his arm. She flashed a smile brightly at him. Well, until the reporter began to snap pictures. Then she returned to her “all business” attitude. “Let’s all try that together, ladies.”
Another curtsy followed, which Amy tried to emulate. It felt a little silly at first, but after awhile, she got the hang of it. And by the time all the steps had been given, she decided she rather enjoyed dancing. And who better to share the moment with than Steve, the one who’d captured her heart? Yes, as she gazed into his eyes, she had to admit that the Lord had orchestrated this dance just for the two of them.
Well, the two of them and Jackson Brenner, who caught her eye from across the room and gave her a little wink. After settling the fluttering in her heart, Amy turned her attentions, once again, to Steve. Her leading man.
Steve spent the first few minutes of the choreography rehearsal wrestling his stomach out of his throat. Something about dancing—either privately or in front of a crowd—made him a little nauseated. Why, oh why, had he given that reporter permission to take pictures of the rehearsal?
After a few minutes with Amy in his arms, though, Steve began to relax…enjoy it, even. Her perfume nearly drove him crazy. What was that? Something new? Regardless, he could hardly think straight. Not that a man with a beautiful woman in his arms should be able to think straight. No, he should just still his thoughts and enjoy the moment. If he could.
Far too soon, the moment arrived when Steve had to switch partners. He released his hold on Amy and watched as Jackson took her in his arms. Ugh. This might be tougher than he’d first imagined. Feelings of possessiveness swept over Steve as the music began once again. Gwen took hold of his hand and off they went, tripping the light fantastic. Or just tripping. He couldn’t quite get the hang of it with his new partner. Things just weren’t the same with Gwen in his arms.
“Hey, you stepped on my foot.”
“What?” Steve startled to attention. “Oh, sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Gwen clutched his hand even harder and gazed into his eyes with such tenderness that it almost stopped him in his tracks. “I’m so glad it worked out this way, Steve,” she whispered in his ear. “This is a lot of fun.”
“Mm-hmm.” He didn’t dare say more. For, while he’d finally started to enjoy the idea of dancing, the only partner that made sense was the one who seemed to be having the time of her life in Jackson Brenner’s arms on the other side of the room.
To his right, Steve heard a little giggle. He looked over to see Eula Mae and Woody doing a fancy spin. The giggle quickly turned to a shout as Woody tripped and went sprawling on the floor. As he landed, he let out a cry loud enough to bring the rehearsal to a halt.
“Woody!” Eula Mae knelt down beside him. “You okay?”
“My—my arm.” He grabbed hold of his right elbow and flinched.
The reporter drew near, snapping pictures. Steve gave him a warning look then moved in Woody’s direction. “Do you need help up?” he asked as he knelt down next to him.
“Hmm.” The older man shook his head. “Can’t seem to move this arm.” He groaned then looked Eula Mae’s way. “I told you I had two left feet.”
“Let me look at that arm.” Jackson dropped to his knees at Woody’s side. “I worked as a paramedic for a while just out of college.” He began to examine Woody’s elbow, which looked oddly out of shape. Steve felt queasy just looking at it.
Apparently so did Woody. He looked a little green. “Hurts all the way down into my hand.” He released another groan. “Hope I haven’t broken anything.”
“Oh, you’ve definitely broken something, no doubt about that,” Jackson said. He looked over at Steve, his eyes filled with concern. “I’d feel better if you called 911.”
“Oh, no need for that,” Woody said. “I’ll drive myself to the doctor.”
“You will not.” Eula’s Mae’s firm voice rang out. “For once in your life, listen to reason, you stubborn old man. You’re in need of medical care, and you’re going to get it. Besides, you can’t drive your car in this condition. It’s not possible.”
Woody, who seemed to be enjoying this attention on some level, started looking a little pale. Steve reached for his phone and dialed 911. He explained the situation to the woman on the other end of the phone, who responded with a couple of questions.
“They want to know about your overall health,” Steve said.
“Why the devil do they need to know about my finances?” Woody said, growing paler by the moment. “It’s my arm, not my pocketbook.”
It took Steve a minute to figure out where this conversation was headed. “They said health, not wealth.”
“Oh.” Another grimace followed before Woody responded. “Well, I’m on medicine for blood pressure and I have a pacemaker.”
“You do?” Eula Mae grabbed his hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What’s to tell?” he
asked. “I got it in the ’90s. But I’m in fine shape. Or I was, anyway. But I’ll tell you the truth—if you put me in an ambulance, my pocketbook will be in worse shape than my elbow, so will one of you please just drive me to the doctor?”
“You need a hospital, not a doctor’s office,” Jackson said. “This is a bad break. It might require surgery.”
“Still, I would think one of you fine citizens would drive this old fool to the hospital,” he said. “What do you say? Can we skip the ambulance?”
Steve posed the question to the woman on the other end of the line, who asked several questions of her own about Woody’s current condition. In the end, she agreed that he was stable enough to ride in a car to the hospital.
As he ended the call, Steve knelt down next to Woody. “Okay. I’ll take you myself. I want to keep an eye on you.”
“I’ll go with you,” Jackson said, concern registering in his eyes. “But in the meantime, we need to stabilize that arm.”
He spent the next couple of minutes doing just that, using some cloth strips torn from one of the older church costumes. Afterward, Jackson dove into the most powerful prayer Steve had ever heard, pleading with the Almighty for Woody’s healing. By the end of it, most of the ladies in the room had tears in their eyes.
“C’mon now, Woody,” Jackson said, pulling a chair his way. “We’re going to start by getting you into a chair and then we’ll see if you can stand. If you can’t, we’ll carry you out.”
“Carry me out, my eye,” Woody said. “I’m walking out of here like a man.” He gave Steve a don’t-you-dare-pick-me-up look.
As Steve rose and released a pent-up sigh, Mickey drew near with camera in hand. Steve elbowed him back with a gentle nudge. Still, he could hear the rapid click of the camera in spite of his warning.
Several of the men helped Woody into the chair, where he sat for a couple of minutes looking as if he might topple. Then, over a period of several minutes, Steve and Jackson helped him to a standing position.
“Is it my imagination, or is the room spinning?” Woody asked.
Love at Center Stage: Three Theatrical Love Stories Page 47