“Okay.” Steve walked up the steps to the stage, completely blown away by the set. The whole area had been transformed into a Camelot-like forest. Eerie medieval-looking trees hung suspended from wires overhead, and the backdrop had been hand-painted by Chuck to create the illusion of walking deeper into the forest. Perfect for the opening scene.
Steve turned to face the sound booth at the back of the auditorium. As he spoke his lines, his heart swelled with excitement. He looked around the new theater, encouraged by the ever-growing crowd of workers and the amazing work Darrell and the others had done on the facility. He got so carried away thinking about the transformation that he apparently forgot to continue talking.
“Keep going, Steve,” the sound tech called out. “Sounds good, but we need to make sure we’ve got the volume set right. Won’t be much longer.”
“Okay.” Off he went again, speaking his line from that infamous scene, the one where he released Guinevere and Lancelot from their sins. He closed his eyes, the emotion of the words wrenching his heart. Lord, is this how You feel when we betray You? The depth of meaning nearly swept him away to another place.
Until a spotlight hit him in the face. Steve opened his eyes and squinted against the glare.
“Sorry,” someone called out from the back of the auditorium. “Just checking the angle of the lights.”
“Okay.” After a few seconds the light went out, but tiny flashes still danced before his eyes. Steve stood still for a couple of minutes, hoping the sensation would pass. He happened to look out to the center aisle as one of the musicians walked toward the orchestra pit—or, rather, the area in front of the stage that would serve as a makeshift orchestra pit. The unfamiliar female with long dark hair carried a cello. Or tried to, anyway. She tripped over a wire and nearly went sprawling.
Darrell happened along beside her at just that moment, a smile wider than the Atlantic on his face. He stretched out his arms, steadying her, and then took the instrument and walked beside her up the aisle. Coincidence? Steve doubted it.
His gaze shifted again, this time settling on Natalie, who greeted her brother, Mark, as he took his place at the keyboard. The two began a lively conversation, one that kept him plenty distracted.
“Keep talking, Steve,” the sound tech called out. “Just a few more lines and we’ll be set.”
He began to speak, the words to his soliloquy front and center in his mind once more.
Well, until Grady entered the stage dressed in an odd getup. “I think something must be wrong with Natalie today,” he muttered. “Look at this here getup she’s makin’ me wear fer the rehearsal.” He pointed down to his shorts and then up to his medieval-looking shirt.
“Why?” Steve asked.
“Split my pants.”
“What?” Steve couldn’t help but chuckle at this news. “You split your pants?”
Several of the musicians started laughing—Steve’s first cue that he’d just delivered that line through the sound system for all to hear.
At this point, Amy entered the stage dressed as Guinevere. Her beauty stunned him. He could hardly breathe as he took in the medieval gown. It matched her eyes perfectly.
“Wow.” Just one word, but it was all he could manage.
“You like?” She twirled to show off the skirt.
“Very much.”
“Thanks.” She gave him a shy smile—his first glimmer of hope in some time. “We need to get started. You guys ready?”
“I was just checking my mic,” Steve said, his heart nearly thumping out of his chest. “But since you’re here…” He paused, realizing everyone could hear him. “Do you have a minute?”
She gave him a curious look. “Sure.”
“We need to talk.” He put his hand over the microphone and whispered, “Privately.” Her eyes widened and she nodded. Steve looked back at the sound guy. “Are we done?”
“All done,” the guy said. “Thanks.”
Steve took Amy by the hand and led her to the edge of the stage, past Prissy and the twins and beyond Grady and Blossom, who were giggling over his odd attire.
Finally, he could share his heart. Let her know what he’d been thinking. Feeling.
Unfortunately, at the very moment Steve opened his mouth, Chuck approached, dressed in knightly attire but looking a little green around the gills. In fact, as the fellow grabbed his midsection, he looked as if he might be ill.
“You okay?” Steve asked, rushing his way.
Chuck shook his head. “N–no.”
“What’s wrong?” Amy asked, stepping up beside him. “Are you sick?”
“Maybe. Do I have a fever?” Chuck gripped his belly.
Amy put her palm on his forehead. “Nope. Cool as a cucumber.”
“I feel horrible. Don’t think I can go on.”
“What?” She looked terrified. “But you have to. The show must go on. That’s our motto.” She paused and gave him a curious look. “What’s really going on here, Chuck? Something you want to talk about?”
Chuck shook his head, his gaze shifting to the ground. “I’m just scared.”
“Scared? Of what?” Steve asked.
“T–this.” Chuck pointed out to the stage and the auditorium. “I’ve—I’ve never done this before. And I’m not sure I can do it now. I’m not cut out for this. Thought I could do it, but I can’t.”
“Chuck, none of us have done this before,” Steve said. “You’re in good company. Trust me. We’re all terrified.”
“You are?” The tight lines around his mouth softened a bit.
“We are.” Amy and Steve spoke in unison.
Steve looked at her, wondering what scared her more—directing the show or playing the part of Guinevere. He’d just started to ask when a frantic male voice called from offstage.
“Look out below!”
One of the Styrofoam trees began to swing wildly overhead, nearly hitting Chuck in the head. Steve grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to safety just as the huge tree broke free from the wire that had held it bound to the bar above. It hit the stage with a thud, a horrible scraping sound reverberating in the monitors.
Amy let out a shriek, which brought several of the men running from backstage.
“Everyone okay out here?” Darrell asked. “Anyone get hurt?”
“That stupid tree almost knocked me in the head,” Chuck said. He turned to Steve. “You should’ve let it hit me. Then I could’ve slept through this whole thing. Pretended like it never happened.”
“No more pretending,” Steve said. His thoughts and his gaze shifted to Amy. “From now on, we only move forward, no matter how difficult.” He reached to take Amy by the hand, once more ready to spill his heart.
Unfortunately, he’d only gotten three or four words into his rehearsed speech when the sound of an explosion ripped through the building. Seconds later, the power went out…and everything faded to black.
“No way.” Amy groaned and slapped herself in the head. “Don’t tell me.” She turned her attention from Steve, who’d started some sort of cryptic conversation, to find out what had happened to the lights.
“Don’t worry, Amy.” A voice shouted from the booth at the back. “We did that on purpose. Had to repower the soundboard. Everything should be back up in a minute and we’ll be ready to roll.”
“Ah.” She turned back to Steve, who gripped her hand. “Do you think we could talk after the show?”
“Sure.” The pained sound in his voice threw her a little. Strange that he wanted to talk now, with so much going on. Was he upset with her about something?
The lights came back on, offering her hope that things could move forward.
Amy walked to the center of the stage, which amplified her voice. “Okay, everyone. Let’s get together and pray; then we’re going to dive in. Act One, Scene One.”
Actors and tech people came from out of the woodwork for the prayer, which Steve led with great passion. His prayers never ceased to amaze her. Why
was it he could share his deepest feelings with the Almighty but not with her?
Probably not an appropriate question.
The dress rehearsal got off to a healthy start. Woody took his seat in the front row, his script on a music stand in front of him. The orchestra warmed up then began to play the overture. Her heart went crazy as she listened. This is really it. We’re here…doing the very thing we only dreamed of doing. Oh, it felt so good. So right.
She watched as Steve entered the stage as Arthur for the first time. Something about his demeanor, his words, pricked her heart. She forced her attentions to the stage, awaiting her cue.
Off in the distance, a male voice interrupted: “Who stole my pants?” She turned to find Grady running across the backstage area dressed in his shirt and a pair of shorts.
“Don’t ask.” Jackson stepped into the spot next to her, his nearness giving her a bit of a jolt. “Just stay focused on the show.”
“I’ve been kind of freaked out all day,” she whispered. “I heard that Pete and some of the other guys have a rubber chicken they’re planning to insert into one of the scenes, so I’m on my guard. And I’m terrified Lucy’s going to sneak Fiona in here somehow.”
“Heard all about the rubber chicken,” Jackson said. “But they haven’t told me yet which scene they’re planning to use him in. And as for Lucy sneaking Fiona in, well, I’d say that’s a given.”
“I’d rather they get their pranks over with tonight, when no one’s here,” she said. “Because tomorrow night, that auditorium will be filled….” She stopped talking, caught up in the beauty of Steve’s speech. “Wow.”
Jackson leaned in close, his breath tickling her ear. “He’s doing a great job, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he is.” Amy smiled. “He was born for this.”
“I think you’re right.” Jackson’s tender gaze seemed to reach all the way down to her soul. “And so were you.” A long pause followed, and he whispered, “Which is just one of many things that makes the two of you so perfect for each other, I suppose.”
“W–what?” She turned to face him, but he’d slipped away into the shadows of darkness backstage. Still, he’d given her a lot to think about. Not that she had time to think right now. Right now she needed to stay focused on Arthur’s lines. What was her cue again?
Ah yes. There it was.
She made her way onstage as Guinevere and finished the opening scene with her heart in her throat.
Well, almost finished the scene. About three lines from the end, her lavalier mic went out. One of the techs came running onto the stage holding a package of batteries.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “Meant to swap these out before we started.”
He shot off the stage and she wrapped up the scene, then raced backstage for the scene change.
Caroline met her, a tiny flashlight in hand. “Time to get dressed for your wedding, honey.”
Amy smiled, her heart now racing. Almost felt like the real deal, especially with Caroline leading the way.
“I thought Natalie was going to help me with costume changes,” Amy said.
“I made her sit down. She’s not feeling well.”
“Oh no.”
“It’s going to be okay,” Caroline said. “I’m working on finding someone to take her place backstage.”
“Good idea.”
The orchestra began to play the music for the wedding scene. From across the stage, Amy caught a glimpse of Steve in his wedding costume. “Wow.” She could hardly believe her eyes. With the crown sitting perched atop his head, he looked very much like a real king.
King of my heart.
She smiled as a rush of emotions washed over her. And as she stepped out onto the stage in her wedding gown, the whole experience felt surreal. She looked up, mesmerized by the twinkling stars overhead. Well, fake stars, but twinkling ones nonetheless. They made a beautiful backdrop for the wedding scene. So did the battery-operated candles, which flickered all over the stage.
As the music swelled, she stepped onto the stage and took a few steps toward Steve. Her eyes never left his. When they met in the center of the stage, he reached for her hand. She took it willingly and turned to walk with him toward the Pastor Crane, who had donned a priest’s robe for this particular scene. As the wedding scene moved forward, Amy found her throat tight on more than one occasion, especially as Steve spoke his vows. He squeezed her hand so tightly that she flinched…until she realized what he was trying to say. The words—albeit scripted—were straight from his heart. He left no doubt in her mind. Oh, how she wanted to skip all of this nonsense and just throw herself into his arms—forget about all of the chaos from the past few weeks and just go back to where they started, that day in his office when he’d kissed her for the first time.
The orchestra continued to play, the music taking a slow turn. Ah, the end of the wedding ceremony. Time for the big moment. The one she’d waited for all evening.
Amy and Steve had just leaned in for the kiss when something distracted her. “W–what’s that?” She pointed to the stage, sure she saw a large rat scurrying from one side to the other. “R–rat!”
“That’s no rat!” Steve said, taking off after it. “That’s Fiona!”
Off he went, running until he caught the little rascal. Lucy entered the stage with a sheepish look on her face. “I hadn’t planned to send her out until the next scene,” she said. “I promise.”
Woody entered the stage and lit into Lucy, who looked as if she might cry…until a noise from backstage stopped them all where they stood.
“Wait.” Amy put a finger to her lips, trying to get everyone to stay quiet so she could hear. “What is that? You guys hear it, don’t you? It’s coming through the sound system.”
Confusion registered in Steve’s eyes.
“That sound. It’s amplified. Coming from backstage,” she whispered. “Sounds really…odd.” She grew silent once more and tried to make sense of it. Off in the distance, a girlish giggle resonated through the sound system, followed by—what was that? Smacking? Was someone chewing gum with a lav mic on? If so, they had to be stopped immediately.
Then the words, “You silly man!” came through, clear as a bell. In the pit, the orchestra members stopped playing and began to laugh. Off in the wings, cast members doubled over with laughter too.
The voices spoke again, sounding more and more familiar. At once, Amy realized who—and what—she was hearing.
“No way.” She looked at Steve, wondering if he’d figured it out.
Not that she planned to stick around long enough to find out. Amy raced backstage, beyond stagehands and the props director. She sailed past Grady—still dressed in his shorts and doublet—and into the very darkest corner, behind the props table. She grabbed a penlight from the table and turned it on, pointing the tiny ray of light on two people who happened to be wrapped in each other’s arms…kissing.
“Dad?” Amy whispered.
No response.
“Dad!” She flashed the light in his direction and he turned her way, looking like a kid who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He took a giant step back and paled.
So did Caroline, whose nervous stammers morphed into senseless giggles.
“Oh, uh…” Amy’s father raked his fingers through his hair. “We were just…”
“You were rehearsing a love scene in front of approximately forty-five people,” Amy explained. She pointed to her father’s mic, and his eyes widened.
“Don’t tell me…” A look of sheer terror passed over his face.
“Okay, I won’t tell you,” Amy said, still reeling. “But I will ask you to reach down and flip the switch on that microphone so that your love scene isn’t broadcast to everyone in the theater. The guys in the sound booth have enjoyed your performance so far, and so have the people in the orchestra.”
From out front, a round of applause sounded, confirming her words.
“Oops.” Caroline’s giggles started
up again, and she threw herself into Amy’s father’s arms, clearly unable to get control of herself.
By now, at least half the cast had gathered around, many of them chuckling. Steve pushed through the crowd, sounding a little out of breath. “I lost you back there in the dark, Amy,” he said. “Didn’t know where you went.”
“I just followed the trail until I found the culprits.”
“Caroline?” Steve said after a moment’s pause. “Something you want to tell us?”
She turned to him with a smile. “Mm-hmm.” Caroline put her left hand out for all to see, a diamond ring shimmering under the glow of the penlight.
Amy let out a squeal. “You two are engaged?” She ran toward them, wrapping them in an embrace and nearly dropping the light in the process. “I don’t believe it.”
“No, not engaged,” Amy’s father said, his voice a little shaky. “We, um…”
“We’re married!” Caroline released the words with a triumphant look. “Have been, for three weeks.”
“W–what?” Amy leaned against the props table, overcome. “You’re…married? And you didn’t tell us?”
“Yep. And nope.” Her father took her hand. “Are you mad at me?”
“Not mad.” She shook her head. “Just confused. Steve and I thought that Caroline was…” She paused. “We thought you were sick.”
“Sick?” Caroline laughed. “What in the world made you think that? I’ve never felt better in my life.”
“Well, you were acting so secretive,” Steve said. “And you were gone so much. I thought maybe you were in Knoxville at the doctor’s office or something. I don’t know.”
“Well, we were in Knoxville,” Amy’s father drew near and slipped his arm around her waist. “Saw the justice of the peace three weeks ago.”
“And spent the night at the prettiest little bed-and-breakfast,” Caroline threw in. “I’ll have to tell you all about it.”
A couple of the older men whooped and hollered their response to that news. Still, Amy couldn’t quite process all of this. How had her father managed such a thing…behind her back?
Love at Center Stage: Three Theatrical Love Stories Page 55