Love at Center Stage: Three Theatrical Love Stories

by Janice Thompson

  She glanced over at Woody, who sat in a chair while Lucy applied stage makeup to his face.

  “I have the best makeup crew in the world,” Woody said. “Same folks who restored the Statue of Liberty.”

  Lucy slapped him in the arm. The good arm. “Stop that, Woody. If you keep talking, how will I ever get enough makeup on you?”

  “Oh, the eternal question.” He chuckled.

  Annabelle approached, dressed in her lady-in-waiting attire. Amy couldn’t help but gasp when she saw her with the cinched waist and flared skirt. She had a true hourglass figure, one that apparently made Chuck’s eyes pop. He stood off in the distance with his eyes riveted on her.

  “Annabelle, look at you.” Amy found herself almost speechless.

  Annabelle turned in a circle, showing off her dress. “Don’t you love this shade of blue?”

  “Yes, but even more than that, I love the way the dress is made. Really shows off your new figure. Just look at that waistline. And your new hair looks great.”

  “Oh, that’s Blossom’s doing.” Annabelle giggled. “Can’t believe I let her talk me into it. I’ve never had my hair in an updo like this before.”

  “It’s beautiful, and so are you.”

  “Thanks, Amy.” Annabelle’s cheeks turned pink. “I do feel transformed. Guess that’s the right word.”

  “Transformed is right,” Amy said. “You’re breathtaking.” She leaned in and whispered, “And a certain handsome knight has taken notice, hasn’t he?”

  “You mean Chuck?” Annabelle grinned. “Definitely. He offered to drive me home last night after the fellas sang that awesome song.”

  “On a white steed?”

  “No.” Annabelle giggled. “And not on a stubborn mare, either. He drove me home in his car. We had the best talk ever. He’s such a great man, Amy. I really think…” She paused. “I really think he was worth the wait.”

  “Perfect.”

  The opening music to the Camelot theme resounded from the orchestra pit. Amy’s heart raced—in part because she realized that tonight’s performance was the fulfillment of a dream for her. This event could very well change the town of Camelot forever.

  Lord, what if I hadn’t stepped out and followed my heart?

  A joyous feeling rose up inside of her as the words “followed my heart” flitted through her mind. They reminded her of Steve.

  Steve! Where are you?

  She glanced across the stage, seeing him in the wings on the other side—exactly where he was supposed to be. Yes, that was her Steve. Always where he was supposed to be. Doing the thing he was called to do. Caring for the people he’d been called to care for.

  The music swelled, and she watched as King Arthur took the stage, the forest scene magnificently framing his entrance. His first words filled the auditorium with his presence. Then again, a real king could always command an audience, couldn’t he?

  Amy closed her eyes and breathed a prayer. Then, when the moment came, she entered the stage, taking on the role of Guinevere—the love of Arthur’s life. Could anything be sweeter?

  The next hour was a blur. After all of the weeks of rehearsing, after all of the hours of agonizing, the first act of the play soared by at lightning speed. With the exception of a couple of dropped lines and one costume faux pas—Chuck entered the stage wearing his cowboy boots with his tights—the whole thing came off without a hitch. Amy could hardly believe it.

  Only when the musical crescendo announced the beginning of the intermission did she feel the weight of the world lift from her shoulders. Well, for a minute, anyway.

  Exiting the stage on the left, she was approached by Annabelle, whose eyes were wide. “Um, Amy?”

  “Yes?” Amy pulled off her headpiece and ran her fingers through her hair.

  “I thought you’d want to know that Natalie’s in labor.”

  “What?” The headpiece slipped out of her hand and landed on the floor.

  “Well, at least she thinks she is. Could be those…what do you call them? Bragging Higgs contractions?”

  Amy rose and shook her head. “I don’t have a clue what they’re called. But if they’re contractions, shouldn’t someone be driving her to the hospital?”

  “Well, that’s the problem. Pastor Crane has gone back to the sound booth to fix some sort of computer problem. Jackson has gone to get him.”

  “Okay.” Amy sprinted toward the stage then turned back to Annabelle. “Where is she?”

  “In the ladies’ dressing room.”

  “Gotcha.”

  She rushed to the dressing room, where she found Gwen kneeling next to Natalie, who sat in a chair with a look of pain on her face. The poor woman made a few puffing sounds then closed her eyes, wincing.

  “That was a strong one,” she whispered a few seconds later.

  “How far apart are the pains, Natalie?” Gwen asked, glancing at the clock on the wall.

  “About every three minutes,” Natalie responded. “From everything I’ve read, that means I’m getting close.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Amy asked.

  “The contractions started in the second scene,” Natalie said. “Didn’t feel like much at first. But by the time we got to the wedding scene, I knew I was in trouble. There was no turning back.”

  “Definitely no turning back from this point on,” Amy said. “But we’d better get you to the hospital before you have this baby in the dressing room.”

  “I can think of worse scenarios,” Natalie said. “Honestly, Amy, this production is the best thing that’s ever happened to our little town. Since I moved here, I mean. I’m so proud of you.” She put her hand on her belly and then winced again. “Oh, there’s another one.” Once it had passed, the pained expression on her face shifted to one of relief. “That was a big one.”

  Pastor Crane and Jackson arrived in short order and gently helped Natalie to her feet.

  “You okay, honey?” her husband asked.

  “I—I—” Natalie paused and took a few deep breaths. “I will be. But promise me one thing, Brent.”

  “Anything.”

  “Under no circumstances will I give birth in that hearse. Understand?”

  “Of course.” He chuckled. “Though the stories we could one day tell our kids would be pretty unique, don’t you think?”

  She shook her head. “No, thank you. I can think of a thousand other stories I’d rather tell them, trust me.”

  “Okay” He grinned. “But that means we have to hit the road.”

  “Someone needs to tell my brother,” Natalie said.

  “I’ll tell him,” Jackson said. “The musicians are on a break right now but should be heading back to their places soon. The second act starts in six minutes.”

  “Yikes.” Amy glanced at the clock. She’d never seen time pass so quickly. And from the looks of things, things were only going to get crazier from here on out.

  “Steve, we have five minutes to find someone to take Pastor Crane’s place.”

  “What?” Steve turned as he heard Amy’s voice. “What happened?”

  “He just left with Natalie. She’s in labor.”

  Steve felt his heart lurch. “No way.”

  When Amy nodded, he tried to compose himself, tried to think. Who could fill in for Pastor Crane? There were just a couple of brief scenes, primarily the one where Guinevere was burned at the stake. Hmm.

  A couple of ideas rolled around in Steve’s head, and one took root. “I know the perfect person. He’s certainly been around enough.”

  Seconds later, he bounded down the steps into the seating area, his gaze fixed on one man: Fred Platt.

  “Sorry to take you away from your family,” Steve said, “but I need to ask a favor.”

  “Sure.” Fred shrugged and rose from his seat. “What is it?”

  Off in the distance the orchestra members settled into their seats.

  “We just lost Pastor Crane,” Steve said. “Need someone to take his pla
ce.”

  “W–what?” Fred paled. “Oh, but I couldn’t…” He shook his head.

  “You can do it, Daddy!” his son called out.

  “You might as well, Fred,” his wife said. “You may never get another chance to be a knight-in-shining-armor.”

  Ouch.

  “You’re one of us now,” Steve said, giving Fred a slap on the back. “Might as well join the family. We won’t bite.”

  The fellow looked terrified but followed along behind Steve as the orchestra began to play the opening number for Act Two. As for what would happen next…well, that was up to the Lord. For now, Steve was content, knowing that Camelot was safe in His hands.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Good night! Good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow

  That I shall say goodnight ’til it be morrow.

  William Shakespeare

  The second act rolled by at lightning speed. Steve rushed from place to place, scene to scene, grateful to be surrounded by such a great throng of people. He was a bit mesmerized by how well everything seemed to be going. Even the jousting scene was a hit with the audience. Mickey soared through it as if he’d been born for the task. And Fred—though nervous—had pulled off Pastor Crane’s role with no problem.

  The moment the show ended, the cast and crew went crazy. Steve had never heard so much whooping and hollering in his whole life. Not that he could blame them. The whole thing had been surreal, in a wonderful sort of way. If the standing ovation was an indicator, the audience had loved it too. Didn’t look like they would be asking for their money back. That alone was worth celebrating.

  After the final curtain call, the cast met backstage for a quick “We-did-it!” moment. Woody gathered them in a circle and offered his congratulations; then everyone scattered to the winds. Well, all but Amy, Steve, and Jackson, who remained fixed to Woody’s side, chattering nonstop.

  “How can we ever thank you for all you’ve done, Woody?” Amy asked, her eyes brimming with tears. “We owe you so much.”

  “This has been the best experience of my life,” he said, giving her a hug. “So no thanks are needed.”

  “Oh, happy day!” Eula Mae’s voice rang out. She slipped into the spot next to Woody and put her arm around his waist. “I love a man who loves the theater.”

  “I love a woman who loves a man who loves the theater,” Woody said and then kissed her on the cheek. “And you have to admit, there’s a strange sense of euphoria after the first show. I think it’s triggered by relief.”

  “Relief that the show wasn’t as bad as the dress rehearsal?” Steve asked.

  Woody chuckled. “Maybe. Probably. But I was going to say it’s because the tension of doing the show for the first time has lifted. Every subsequent show gets easier, and the actors and actresses grow more and more sure of themselves.”

  “I hope you’re right about that,” Amy said. “Because tonight was nerve-racking. I thought I was going to lose my lunch a couple of times. And did you see that part where I dropped my lines in the scene with Lancelot?” She groaned and gave Jackson a sheepish look.

  “I did,” Woody said. “But it didn’t matter. Jackson covered beautifully for you.”

  “Yes, he did.” She gave Jackson a smile. “He’s a consummate pro, isn’t he?”

  “Thanks.” Jackson shrugged. “But to be honest, I just feel like one of the family here. There’s no pro or non-pro. Ya know?” He laughed. “I think I just made a rhyme.”

  Steve watched as Gwen approached and gave Jackson a little wave. He smiled then headed off to her.

  “Jackson is a brilliant actor,” Woody said. “One of the best I’ve seen. We were blessed to find him.”

  Steve cleared his throat. “What am I? Chopped liver?”

  Woody slapped him on the back with his good arm. “No, my boy, you’re not chopped liver. You’re ham and cheese on wheat with a pickle on the side.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Steve shook his head. “What does that mean?”

  “It means you delivered—in the same way a great sandwich offers multiple layers of goodness. Your acting was great, the singing was out of this world, and your on-screen chemistry with Guinevere—er, Amy—was completely believable.” Woody grinned. “I almost believed you two were a couple in real life. Oh wait…you are.”

  “Ah.” A sense of contentment settled over Steve as he contemplated Woody’s words. “Yes, we are.”

  “I’m not the only one who thought you were great, by the way,” Woody added. “I happen to know that Mickey is giving the show a great review. He told me so himself.”

  “Awesome,” Amy said.

  “Gotta love those good reviews,” Woody said. “It’s like a stay of execution. It means the show will live to see another day.”

  “How many days, do you think?” Amy asked, slipping her arm through Steve’s. “How long can we keep the show going?”

  “Don’t suppose it matters.” He gazed at her, his heart full. “We’ll leave that in the Lord’s hands. He knows how long we’ll need to keep this thing going to bring in adequate revenue. And He knows what we can stand, physically and psychologically. We’ll just follow His lead.”

  Several of the ladies drew near, distracting Amy. After a lengthy giggle-fest, she disappeared with them, heading to the dressing room. Steve watched as she disappeared behind the curtain and then returned for a moment to blow him a kiss.

  He caught it, not even trying to hide the smile. With his heart so full, how could he help but smile?

  Woody gave him a curious look. “Anything you want to tell me about Fair Guinevere there?”

  “Yes, spill the beans, mister,” Eula Mae added.

  “Only one thing is really important in this story,” Steve said. “She ends up with the right man and they live happily ever after.”

  “I see. So Lancelot doesn’t steal her away?” Eula Mae’s gaze narrowed.

  “Not a chance.”

  “Is the king going to take the lady as his bride?’ Woody asked, giving him a pat on the back.

  “If she’ll have me.”

  “Oh, I feel pretty sure she’ll have you,” Eula Mae said, giving him a hug. “If you’ll just shave those ridiculous whiskers off your face.” She reached up and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  “That’s why we keep you on the payroll, Eula Mae,” Steve said. “To keep us walking the straight and narrow.”

  “My boy has always walked the straight and narrow.” His mother’s voice rang out. Steve turned to face her, and she threw her arms around his neck. “Son, that show was amazing. You were amazing.” She released her hold on him and took a step back to stand beside Bob. “You look so…kingly.”

  “Thanks.” He gave her an exaggerated bow. When he straightened, Darrell stood in front of him.

  “Thanks, bro,” Darrell said, “but it’s not necessary to bow every time I come around.” He chuckled and slapped Steve on the back.

  “Right. No bowing necessary,” Steve said. “But the Bible says I should give honor where honor is due, and you did an awesome job—both with the build-out of the theater and with your performance. You amaze me, big bro.” He threw his arms around him and gave him a tight squeeze. When he stepped back, Steve noticed his mother’s eyes brimming with tears. “You okay, Mom?”

  “Yes, this is just such a special moment. My heart is so full.” She slipped her hand into Bob’s and released a breath. “This is the perfect opportunity to share our news.”

  “You’re having a baby?” Darrell tried.

  She smacked him in the arm. “No. Bob and I are thinking of moving.”

  “Again?” Steve said. “But you just moved to Memphis few years ago. Are you sure you’re up to another move so soon?”

  “I think so.” Bob grinned and pulled her close. “She’s been after me for months to bring her back home.”

  “Home?” Joy consumed Steve as the realization set in. “To Camelot?”

  “Yes.” Tears spilled down his
mother’s cheeks. “I’ve been aching to be with my boys. And with Caroline too.” She paused. “There is one little problem, though.”

  “What’s that?” Darrell asked.

  “Well…” She stared at them both. “When I left, I handed the house over to you boys. If I come back, we’ll have to figure out the housing situation.”

  “I could build you a house,” Darrell said. “Or…” His eyes lit up. “I could build myself a house and you could move back to your place.”

  “But what about Steve?”

  Steve looked her way, an idea surfacing. “Might be just the right timing,” he said. “Could be I’ll need a new house soon too.” He gave his mother a knowing look. “By the time you two arrive in town, you’ll have your old place to come home to. And I…” He paused, his heart fuller than ever. “I’ll be ready to make a move of my own.”

  Amy joined the other ladies in the dressing room. She laughed as Annabelle stared at her reflection in the mirror. “I’m going to need power tools to get all of this makeup off. Lucy was pretty heavy-handed.” Giggles followed.

  “What else is new?” Caroline said. “The woman has skill. What can I say?”

  “We’ve all got skill,” Blossom added. “I’m floored by the talent in our little town. Completely floored.”

  “So am I,” Amy said, giving her a hug. “You were all great.”

  “Could you believe those guys in the jousting scene?” Annabelle’s eyes widened. “They blew me away. Those horses were spectacular. Who did you say they belong to again?”

  “Mickey. The reporter. The horses are his dad’s.”

  “They made the show,” Caroline said. “I loved them.”

  Amy listened in as the ladies carried on, sharing their favorite memories of the night. Off in the distance, Gwen sat staring at her reflection in the mirror, slowing removing her makeup.

  The crowd eventually cleared, leaving Amy alone with Gwen. Her heart twisted as she felt the Lord’s nudge to say something to her. “Are you coming to the after-party?” Amy asked, taking the seat next to Gwen.

  “What would be the point?” Gwen looked her way for a second then turned her gaze back to her reflection. Amy couldn’t help but notice the sadness in her eyes.