Spellcrossed

by Barbara Ashford

  Daddy tottered down the aisle. Tears welled in my eyes as he raised his arms to embrace his lost child.

  To embrace me.

  My fingers dug into the worn nap of his abandoned seat, still warm from my father’s body. Only by gripping the seat hard could I keep from jumping up and running down the aisle and crying, “I’m here, Daddy. I’ve always been here.”

  Rowan seized Daddy’s left arm. Janet seized his right.

  The music swelled, mercifully covering the rising tide of whispers. Soothing magic rippled through the sostenuto of the strings as Alex tried to calm musicians and audience alike. I felt the steadying throb of Reinhard’s power and the determined beat of Mei-Yin’s, urging everyone to focus on the stage.

  As Michaela stepped aside to reveal the door to the secret garden, even those seated around me settled back in their seats. Their soft “Ahh” told me that the door had swung open, silhouetting Natasha in a flood of moonlight.

  I didn’t see it. I was still watching the shadowy figures escort my struggling father out of the theatre.

  CHAPTER 29

  HOLD ON

  I HAD NO TIME TO DEAL WITH MY EMOTIONS. When the house lights came up a moment later, I had to concentrate on damage control. I delegated my available staff to handle the audience and asked Bernie and Frannie to deal with the board. As Long made a beeline toward me, I beat a hasty retreat to the Dungeon to check on the cast and found Reinhard outside the women’s dressing room.

  “They are fine,” he whispered. “I told them it was Jack and…” He shrugged uncomfortably.

  They had all witnessed Daddy’s outbursts. This was just another crazy Jack moment.

  Natasha, God love her, was more concerned about Daddy than the fact that he had spoiled her big moment. Most of the other women were mollified when I told them he had been overcome by their performances, but a few grumbled that he had ruined their opening night.

  “Be glad the guy got into it,” Debra snapped, “and focus on Act Two.”

  I shot her a grateful look and continued down the hall to the men’s dressing room. Larry still seemed a little nonplussed, but Otis’ reassuring presence was calming everyone. I squeezed his arm, got a firm nod in return, and moved on to the musicians’ green room.

  Trapped in the pit—and assuaged by Alex’s magic—they were just puzzled because the underscoring had fallen apart. Alex had his arm around the shoulders of the poor oboe player, clearly bolstering his sagging confidence with Fae magic.

  I arrived at the breezeway to find staff and board doing their best to downplay the incident. The audience members who had been sitting near Daddy still seemed shaken, but Mei-Yin and Lee were working them hard. Lee’s power pulsed with strength and calm, while Mei-Yin’s crackled with humor. The odd combination worked. My racing heartbeat slowed and I felt the urge to laugh the whole thing off—just some poor old guy who’d gotten carried away by the magic of theatre. Things could be worse, I thought, as I raced up to Rowan’s apartment.

  Then I heard the shouting.

  I flung open the door and hurried inside to find Long stalking around the living area and Janet clinging to his arm.

  “Jack’s asleep in the bedroom,” Janet informed me. “Rowan gave him a tranquilizer.”

  I nodded my understanding of her faeryspeak. Before I could assure Long that everything was under control, he said, “What the hell just happened? What’s wrong with that man?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with him,” I replied, trying hard to keep my voice level.

  “First, those disturbances in rehearsals…oh, I heard all about them. Is he mentally unbalanced or—?”

  “No! And keep your voice down or you’ll wake him up.”

  “Let’s all keep our voices down,” Janet advised. “And let’s not overreact because Jack got caught up in the show.”

  “He’s an actor, for God’s sake! How could he get that caught up in the show?”

  “He’s been through a lot!” I exclaimed. “So cut him a fucking break, Long.”

  Long’s eyes widened, but I was too sick with worry to care.

  “Why don’t we all sit down?”

  I hadn’t even noticed Rowan standing in the doorway, his voice and power radiating calm. The tension in the room dissipated. I sank into an easy chair, limp and weak-kneed. Janet and Rowan guided Long to the sofa. They sat on either side of him, Janet clasping his hand, Rowan gripping his forearm.

  “The show brought back some painful memories for Jack,” Rowan said.

  “He just wasn’t ready to deal with them,” Janet murmured.

  “But he’ll be fine.”

  “And so will the show.”

  “Actors are resilient. They’re used to dealing with little bumps during a performance.”

  “And that’s all this was.”

  “There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “Nothing at all.”

  Long nodded, soothed by their soft voices and their seductive Fae power. Then he blinked and asked, “Should I make some sort of announcement before Act Two? To reassure the audience?”

  Rowan patted Long’s arm. “That might draw more attention to the incident. Better to go on as if nothing had happened, don’t you think?”

  “Yes…better to go on…”

  Janet squeezed Long’s hand. “If anyone asks, we’ll say that Jack was taken ill.”

  “Yes…that’s good…”

  Brainwashing my board president was not good. And observing the way Long’s head bobbed obediently made me a little queasy.

  Get used to it, Graham. This is what it will be like living with a faery. There will always be suspicions to quell, truths to avoid, lies to invent.

  Rowan ushered Long toward the front door, one hand resting lightly on his shoulder. Long hesitated, then eased free.

  “I know he’s your friend, Rowan. But as president of the board, my first responsibility is to this theatre. No matter how much I may sympathize with Jack’s problems, the fact remains that he’s a disruptive influence.”

  “I’ll look after Jack. And I give you my word, there will be no more disruptions.”

  “That’s not your job.”

  “But it is my responsibility.”

  Long shook his head. “The Crossroads Theatre isn’t a…a halfway house. If this man is as deeply troubled as I suspect, he needs professional care.”

  “He needs the Crossroads,” I said. “He was an actor once. He could be again.”

  “And when he’s ready, I’ll be the first to welcome him back.”

  “Back?” I echoed.

  “I’m sorry. Jack has to leave. Tomorrow.”

  “No!”

  Rowan’s power lanced through me, an urgent plea for silence. Janet advanced on Long, her cold eyes belying the warmth of her smile.

  I couldn’t let Long send Daddy away, but neither did I want to watch them break him. And they would break him. Long might be less susceptible to their brainwashing, but he would not be able to resist it forever. It would eat away at his resolution, transform his objections into complacency, convince him to do what they wanted—what we wanted. Could I let them do that when his concerns were perfectly valid?

  “Stop!” I exclaimed.

  Rowan and Janet shot me identical looks of disbelief; it was the first time I had ever noted any resemblance between them. Long merely seemed puzzled.

  “You can’t send Jack away. I’ve cast him in Into the Woods.” As Long’s expression shifted into outrage, I quickly added, “He needs to act again. He needs to find a purpose in life.”

  “Why is it our responsibility to give him that?” Long demanded. “And why are you so worked up about him? You’ve only known the man a few weeks.”

  “He’s my father.”

  Long gaped. Janet sighed. Rowan just watched me.

  “My mother divorced him more than twenty years ago. She took her maiden name again and changed mine, too. I got an occasional postcard from him and then…nothing. Until Rowan
brought him back to me. He didn’t recognize me. He doesn’t even know I’m his daughter.”

  My voice broke. Rowan hurried to my side, his arm and his power steadying me.

  Long glanced toward the bedroom. “He doesn’t know?” he whispered.

  Rowan shook his head. “We thought the shock might be too much for him.”

  “That’s why he got so upset tonight. He was seeing me on that stage, not Natasha.”

  Rowan’s anxiety flashed through me, then vanished as he tamped down his power. All the time he’d been dealing with Daddy, he must have been worried sick about me.

  “He’s had a hard life,” I told Long. “But he’s coping. And he’s excited about performing again. The Narrator is only a small part. I’ve asked Rowan to play the Mysterious Man.”

  “Rowan!” Long exclaimed.

  “You saw him as Billy Bigelow,” Janet reminded him. “He can certainly handle the Mysterious Man.”

  “That’s not the point! I should have been informed. About all of this.”

  “You’re right,” I agreed. “I’m sorry. But—”

  “What happens if Jack can’t go on?” Long demanded in a furious whisper. “Or—God forbid—he breaks down onstage?”

  “Bernie is understudying the role. And he’ll be playing the matinees.”

  “Bernie’s in on this, too? Good God, what else have you been keeping from me?”

  “I’ll be with Jack during rehearsals and the show,” Rowan said. “I can keep him calm and focused.”

  “You didn’t do a very good job tonight,” Long noted.

  “No. He caught me…off guard. That won’t happen again.”

  “I know it’s a risk,” I said. “But I’m asking you to trust our instincts. To trust me.” Careful to keep my voice soft, I added, “He may be my father, but I love this theatre. If I thought he couldn’t handle the stress—or turn in a good performance—I would never suggest this.”

  Long frowned. “Letting him stay is one thing, Maggie. But putting him in the show…”

  “Come to the Follies,” Rowan urged. “See how he does in that.”

  “He’s in the Follies, too?”

  “A kind of dress rehearsal,” Rowan said.

  “That’s hardly the same as performing on the main stage.”

  “It’ll be fun,” Janet assured him. “I’ll even wager Jack will exceed your expectations. If I win, I’ll make you dinner. If I lose…” She flashed a teasing smile. “…I’ll make you breakfast.”

  To my astonishment, Long blushed. Then he nodded brusquely. “But if I decide he’s not ready to perform in Into the Woods, that’s the end of it. Agreed?”

  I nodded meekly. I even worked up a grateful smile; I only hoped it was half as convincing as Janet’s kittenish one.

  No matter what happened at the Follies, I would never permit Long to send my father away. Daddy had finally opened the door to his past, and I was going to help him walk through it.

  CHAPTER 30

  HEY, OLD FRIEND

  THANKS TO THE SHITLOAD OF FAE POWER circulating through the theatre, Act Two went off without a hitch. When the lights came up on the final scene, even I gasped when I beheld the brilliant red and gold of the roses, the deep green of the foliage, and the otherworldly blue of the sky. When Archibald embraced Colin and Mary, I sniffled along with the audience, my vision blurred by tears and the shimmering light that suffused the stage.

  I wished Daddy could have seen it: the transformation of the garden, the transformation of all those touched by its magic. I wished he could have seen Archibald and Colin reunited. And I wished that life imitated art. I didn’t expect that Mom and Daddy and I would ever stand in Helen’s sun-drenched garden, all wrongs forgiven, all happiness restored, but for the first time I had real hope that some of those old wounds could be healed.

  For the next two days, he remained closeted in Rowan’s apartment, emerging only to apologize to the cast for “getting carried away” and to come to Janet’s house to run through Snow White with the rest of the staff. He seemed so relieved to throw himself into our rehearsal that I gave up any thought of telling him I was his daughter. It was far more important for him to shine during the Follies.

  Nancy’s arrival offered a welcome respite. Even if I could only escape for a few hours, dinner at the Bough would give me a chance to decompress.

  When I invited Frannie to join us for a drink, she shook her head. “I’m waiting for the couple who’ve booked the Honeymoon Suite to check in.”

  “So sit where you can see the lobby.”

  After a brief hesitation, she agreed, and for the next fifteen minutes, I enjoyed the rare treat of talking about ordinary things like the weather, the economy, and the recent coyote incursions in Dale. Then Frannie jumped up and exclaimed, “I think Mr. and Mrs. Louis just came in.”

  “Maybe I should go out and—”

  “No. You gals enjoy your dinner.” She winked at Nancy and whispered, “If you get any juicy gossip about Maggie and Rowan, be sure and pass it along.”

  As soon as Frannie disappeared into the lobby, Nancy pounced.

  “Something’s happened.”

  “You and my mother should start a detective agency.”

  I waited until Beth presented our salads and retreated to the kitchen. Then I plunged into the saga of opening night. Nancy expressed cautious optimism about Daddy’s breakthrough, but her expression clouded when I described the aftermath with Long.

  “You used the F-word?”

  “I was upset. I apologized later. And was very sweet. Well, sweet for me.”

  “Don’t shrug this off!” she exclaimed with rare heat. “Rowan allowed you to talk like that because he loved you. But you can’t do it with Long.”

  The arrival of our dinners saved me from answering. When Beth departed, I said, “I know I should follow Janet’s example and smile and coax and cajole. It’s just…”

  “Cajoling isn’t your strong suit. But at least treat Long with respect. And when he drives you crazy, count to five before you say anything.”

  “Not to ten?”

  “You’d never make it that far.” Nancy picked up her fork and set it down again. “I know you love your father. And you want him to be happy. But you can’t sacrifice your future for him.”

  “It won’t come to that. Long will—”

  “It’s not only Long. There’s Rowan to consider. And Alison. And your staff. I don’t want to see you jeopardizing those relationships because you’re putting all your time and energy into developing one with your father.”

  I poked my grilled trout, appetite gone. I was all too aware of how little time I had spent with Rowan, how much extra work I had thrust onto my staff. And every day that I allowed to pass without telling my mother about Daddy seemed a betrayal of the closeness we had forged. I doubted my father would ever give me the kind of love and support I received from them.

  And from the woman sitting across the table from me.

  “You’re absolutely right,” I said. “And now, enough about Daddy. Let’s talk about you.”

  She described her added workload at the library in the wake of the budget cuts and her poor mother’s case of shingles. In the middle of a story about her cat’s ear infection, she broke off abruptly.

  “This is about as much fun as discussing your fight with Long.”

  “Who cares? Sometimes, life is crappy bosses and shingles and ear infections. So what did the vet say about Dante?”

  Only when coffee arrived did she casually mention that she’d gone out on two dates with a college professor named Ed.

  “Two dates? And I’m only hearing about it now?”

  “Well, we just had the second date last night and—”

  “Wait. Start at the beginning.”

  Through a combination of wheedling and relentless interrogation, I got most of the details. Nancy assured me it was “too soon to tell” if anything would develop, but her faint blush and soft expression indic
ated things were developing pretty fast.

  When she said she had a surprise for me at tomorrow’s matinee, I was sure she was going to produce Ed. I waited outside the theatre in a fever of anticipation. But Nancy arrived alone.

  “No Ed?”

  She surveyed the horde of people streaming toward the lobby and suddenly grinned. “I brought someone else. Two someones, actually.”

  A bass voice bellowed, “Yo, Brooklyn!” And the burly figure of Lou Mancini waded through the crowd like a T-shirted and tattooed Moses parting the Red Sea.

  I managed to squeak, “Yo, Joizey” before Lou engulfed me in a bear hug. Then squeaked again as his girlfriend Bobbie shouldered him aside and treated me to an equally rib-bruising embrace.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

  “We wanted to surprise you,” Bobbie said.

  “And we sure as shit did,” Lou added.

  Bobbie punched his shoulder. “It’s a kids’ show,” she informed Lou in an undertone. “So watch your language, asshole.”

  “How long are you up for? Can you stay for the Follies?”

  “Hell…heck, yes!” Lou said. “That’s why we came up this weekend. Got into the Bough last night and—”

  “Wait. You’re not…are you Mr. and Mrs. Louis?”

  “That was Frannie’s idea. In case you started poking around.”

  “We nearly had a heart attack when she told us you and Nancy were in the dining room,” Bobbie said. “We ran all the way upstairs. And—oh, my God, Maggie—our suite’s gorgeous!”

  “Yeah. But I kinda miss my crappy old room.” Lou nudged Bobbie. “We had some good times up there.”

  “We know,” Nancy said. “Our room was under yours.”

  Lou’s bellow of laughter made several nearby patrons wince and earned him another punch from Bobbie.

  “I just can’t believe you’re here. Rowan will be so happy to see you. Maybe we can all go out for a quick dinner after the show.”

  Too late, I recalled all the reasons why that would be a really bad idea: mad dogs, special silverware, projectile vomiting.