A chirping cricket seemed to be the only thing with a pulse at the moment. Lois slapped her hands together. “Now, lets get on with it. Why weren’t you running the scene I asked you to run?”
Oliver sighed. “Lois, we did. For forty-five minutes. But you disappeared.”
Lois cleared her throat. “Well, I was in a creative trance. It happens sometimes. But now I am revived, so let’s get on with it. Where are the puppets?”
Katelyn popped out, holding one sock with brown string hair—a boy—and the other sock with yellow string hair—a girl. Redmarkered smiles and googly, stick-on eyes made up their expressions. She’d glued gummy worms all over each of them.
“Hello!” Katelyn said, pretending to be one of the puppets. She grinned proudly at Lois. “Aren’t these great? I came up with the gummy worm thing to make them appear scary, like you asked. Aren’t they adorable?”
“Adorable. Yes, that’s what I’m going for, Katelyn. This entire piece is going to make everyone clutch their hearts and click their heels.” Lois stomped forward. “Didn’t you read my notes? They are supposed to be hideous!”
Katelyn’s arms fell to her side. “They are. They’ve got worms coming out of their skin.”
“Gummy worms. That’s not going to scare anybody, Katelyn. I want people to feel faint, like they might lose their lunch. Do you hear what I’m saying? Nobody is going to buy into the idea that those two puppets are scary!”
Katelyn’s bottom lip protruded. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to do, but I’ll give it another shot.”
“Fine. But for now, we’re just going to have to roll with it. This is a key scene, people, and I want it done right! Put everything you’ve got into it. Oliver, do you hear me? I want to see Scrooge dejected, frightened, humiliated, and humbled. Scared out of his mind. But still a little bit stubborn as he contemplates cheating on his taxes. All right? What am I going to have to do to pull this character out of you?”
“I’m trying, Lois. I really am. By the time we open, I’ll have him.”
Lois spun her finger in the air. “Fine. From the top of the scene. Let’s go.”
Everyone moved into place as Lois approached Melb, who still waited in the wings. “I’m sorry, Melb. Now is not a good time. Can’t you just talk to Oliver when he gets home tonight?”
One eyebrow lifted high on Melb’s forehead as she studied Oliver. “You say he’s not getting the character?”
“Not really,” Lois sighed. “He’s trying. I’ll give him that. But Scrooge needs to be in a perpetual state of moodiness. Do you know what I mean? He’s got to be the guy that hates life and anyone who dares to live it. He’s got to be miserable.”
“I think I might be able to help you out with that.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.”
“Well, good. I need something. I have puppets that look like they belong on Sesame Street.” Lois signaled for them to start.
Oliver began. “Forgive me if I am not justified in what I ask, but I see something strange, and not belonging to yourself protruding from your skirts. Is it a foot or a claw?” he asked the ghost.
“It might be a claw,” answered Garth, batting at the garlic swinging from his forehead, “for the flesh there is upon it. Look here.” Garth parted his robe. Katelyn hunkered behind him and slid the puppets around the outside of each leg.
Oliver pretended to gasp in fright. He was supposed to look appalled, but it came off as annoyed. What would it take to make this man look desperate? “Spirit, are … are they yours?”
“They are Mans. And they cling to me, appealing from their fathers. This boy is Ignorance. This girl is Want. Beware them both and all of their degree, but most of all beware this boy, for on his brow I see that written which is Doom, unless the writing be erased!”
Suddenly, from the back of the auditorium, they all heard a scream. Lois stepped onto the stage and saw a shadowy figure standing near the back, who looked like he might faint. “Alfred?”
Melb stepped up beside her. “The puppets might be scarier than we think.”
CHAPTER 12
Somehow he gets thoughtful, sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him in the church, because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to remember upon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk, and blind men see.
AFTER CONVINCING EVERYONE he was fine and just had the stomach flu, Alfred managed to escape the theater and all the people who had surefire ways to beat a virus. Suggestions ranged from standing in front of his open freezer for five minutes to grinding up tree bark and mixing it into milk.
He should’ve known the stomach flu line wouldn’t work. In New York, all you needed to make people scram was the mention of a contagious disease. But in the backward way of Skary, Indiana, it actually caused people to line up on your doorstep to bring you chicken soup and washcloths for your forehead.
He’d come to the theater to tell Lois that he wouldn’t need any more fliers. The news was spreading quickly and had even landed in some local newspapers. But just hearing those familiar words, although they were talking about sock puppets no less, caused fear to strike yet again, deep inside him. There had hardly been time to revel in his marketing accomplishment before being struck by that stupid little demon named Ignorance.
It haunted him as if he were Scrooge himself. And maybe he was. Maybe he was the Skary equivalent. The black trench coat in a room full of sundresses. The one dark bulb in a glowing white light strand. The guy that sings off-key in a church chorus. No, worse. He’s the guy that can’t even read the music.
That was him. Yes. He was looking at the same sheet music as everyone else, but he couldn’t read it. He couldn’t make sense of the notes. Or even the words, for that matter. He did a decent job keeping up appearances, but soon enough, everyone would know he was just lip-syncing.
The frigid air didn’t keep him from plopping down on one of the many park benches that lined Main Street. He didn’t want to go home. There was a good chance a company of carolers would happen by, and he would, no doubt, have to stand there and listen to it all with a cheery disposition.
“Hello, Alfred.” Mayor Martin Blarty stood clutching his briefcase, earmuffs doing a good job of helping the cliché of this town along. Not to mention the Frosty the Snowman scarf wound around his neck.
“Hello, Martin.”
“Are you looking for something?”
“Looking for something? I’m just sitting here.”
“You look like you’re looking for something.”
Alfred could only shrug.
“Something bothering you?” the mayor asked.
Alfred pinched the bridge of his nose, then dropped his face into his hands. Well, why not? Why not blab about it all? What did he have to lose? It was eating him up inside, not to mention doing a poor job of hiding itself, evident in the fact that he’d been caught very much off guard, in the most humiliating way, at the theater just moments before.
Alfred shook his head and peeked at the mayor from behind his hands. “It’s embarrassing, to tell you the truth, Martin.”
The mayor smiled. “I’ve had my share of embarrassment. I’m sure I’ll understand.”
“I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”
“Give it a try.”
“Okay. Well, it all started in my childhood. With Want.”
The mayor smiled knowingly and sat down next to him on the bench. “Oh, sure. It happens to the best of us. Everybody wants more and more, right?”
“You don’t understand. I was Ignorance.”
“Not to give you a complex, but I think you mean you were ignorant.”
“I’m talking about the girl, Want, in the pl—”
“Been there. For a while, all I wanted was Lois Stepaphanolopolis. I gotta tell you, after seeing her direct this show, I can’t help but think I’m pretty lucky not to have gotten what I want
ed, if you know what I mean.”
Alfred would have to take a different approach. How could he explain a phobia of two puppets? “That’s the problem. I don’t know what I want. I need something. I know that. I want to find it. But I don’t know what it is. And if I did know, I wouldn’t know how to get it.” Alfred paused. “The very definition of ignorance. Maybe I’ve become the very thing I fear.”
“Don’t fear, Alfred. The Lord has a way of showing us not what we want, but what we need. Maybe you want for nothing. But maybe you need something.”
“Need.” Alfred pondered it. “Too bad that’s not a character.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
The mayor patted him lightly on the shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better,” the mayor said with a sudden enthusiasm in his voice, “you must know, the phones are ringing off the hook.”
“Phones? What phones?”
“Oh, all right. Phone. But it’s been ringing like crazy. I finally had to hook up our old answering machine just to get out of the office tonight.”
“About what?”
“About what? The play! I tell you, Alfred, I haven’t seen this kind of excitement since we had that five-county parade seven years ago. People are really getting behind this thing.” Martin grinned. “I’m playing Bob Cratchit. Did you know that?”
“No. I haven’t hung around a lot … You know, been busy marketing.”
“Well, you have quite a talent. It’s remarkable. I’ve had people calling me to see if we’re taking up an offering. Others have called wondering if we’re going to allow flash photography. I even heard from one man offering to let us use his donkey!”
“His donkey? Why?”
Martin laughed. “I have no idea. But it’s just that season. People become generous. Maybe that’s all the guy has, you know? A donkey. But he was willing to haul it up here if we needed it. That’s why I love this time of year. It brings out the best in everyone.”
“Except Scrooge,” Alfred pointed out wryly.
“Yes,” Martin chuckled. “That Scrooge. Dickens had quite an imagination. Though I suppose every town has their own Scrooge. We had one. She died a few years back. Missy Peeple.”
Who could forget that crazy old busybody? But Alfred nodded only vaguely.
“I thought we’d plan for hot chocolate and cookies after the show. Maybe you would like to do a reading, Alfred?”
“A reading?”
“Yes. Of A Christmas Carol After the show. That would be perfect!” Martin said, slapping his mittened hands together. “That’s something they do in New York, right? They have people stand up and read something.”
Alfred stared at the empty street as the wind chilled his cheeks and caused him to quiver. “I’ll have to think about it.”
“And listen, Alfred, maybe you’ll be flying back to New York for Christmas, but if not, I’d like to invite you to come for dinner. I’m having a few people over. Nothing extravagant, but we have fun. We usually get a game of Scrabble going, and we drink eggnog like it’s really got alcohol.” He laughed. “Oh, and bring a white elephant gift. That’s the highlight of the evening.” He leaned in. “And don’t forget the Christmas Eve service. It’s really something special. We sing ‘Silent Night,’ and everyone holds their candles in the air. That’s my favorite part, except the year when Mr. Stone accidentally caught Mrs. Humphrey’s hair on fire, but luckily it was just a wig, so everything turned out fine.” Martin closed his eyes. “There’s nothing like that song, you know? ‘Silent night. Holy night. All is calm. All is—’ ”
“And don’t you think for one second that I’m going to believe any of that nonsense!”
Alfred and Martin jumped to their feet and turned toward the commotion. A woman was shouting, and through the darkness, they could see her beating some poor guy over the head with her purse. “You are despicable!”
“It’s Oliver! And Melb!” Martin said and began running toward them. Alfred decided to follow, although he figured that when the woman is beating up the man, there’s no real need to get involved.
“You’re being ridiculous!” Oliver said as he blocked purse shots.
“What’s going on here?” Martin asked.
Melb, holding a small suitcase in her other hand, flung it at Oliver. “Don’t even think about coming home tonight!” And with that, she stomped away.
The three men stood there, each staring at the suitcase that had hit Oliver in the chest and now lay at his feet.
“What’s going on?” Martin whispered.
“I’m not sure. One minute, I’m running a scene; the next minute, I’m a lazy excuse for a husband.” Oliver rubbed the top of his head. “I’ve never seen Melb this angry.”
“What are you going to do?”
Oliver thought for a moment. “She mentioned something about Wolfe and Ainsley. I didn’t catch all of it because she kept slapping my ears, but maybe they know something I don’t.” Oliver slowly crouched to lift the suitcase off the ground. “Well,” he said, standing and adjusting his coat to sit straight across his shoulders, “you two gentlemen have a nice evening. Happy holidays.”
Alfred shook his head. Now that was the kind of dysfunction that could get him in the holiday spirit.
CHAPTER 13
His offences carry their own punishment, and I have nothing to say against him.
OLIVER TROMPED UP the long sidewalk that led to Wolfe and Ainsley’s home. He checked his watch. There was a chance that Abigail was already in bed, so he would have to knock softly. The windows glowed with light, indicating someone was still up.
But before he could knock, the front door flew open. Ainsley stood there bundled up like she was ready for a hike. Abigail was wrapped in three blankets.
“Oliver?”
“Ainsley? Are you going somewhere?” Then he noticed the suitcase at her side. “You are?”
Tears welled up in her eyes. “I’m going to stay with Melb.”
“Why?”
She glanced behind her. “Why don’t you ask Wolfe?”
“He knows something? Because I’m confused. Melb yelled at me and threw me out of the house.”
The tears dripped down her cheeks. “I don’t think Wolfe will even notice I’m gone. All he wants is some peace and quiet.” Her sorrowful eyes suddenly turned angry. She moved past him and walked to the side of the house where her van was parked.
Oliver stood in the doorway of the Boone home, uncertain what to do. Was Wolfe really here? Surely not, or he would’ve been clamoring out the door after her. And how could Ainsley and Melb both be mad at the same time? A sinking feeling came over him when Wolfe suddenly appeared out of his study, carrying a script with a pencil tucked behind his ear. He glanced up, and surprise popped onto his face. “Oliver?”
“Yes?” Oliver squeaked.
“What are you doing?”
“Just, uh … just standing here.”
Wolfe came over. “Why?”
Oliver shrugged, having a hard time coming up with something to say. His suitcase started doing the talking as Wolfe’s attention fell to it. “Um … well, Melb kicked me out.”
“What? Why?”
“That’s what I came over to find out.”
Wolfe guided him in by the shoulders and shut the front door. “Sit here,” he said, and Oliver slid onto a barstool. “You want tea?”
“Okay.”
“Did you two have a fight?”
“Not that I’m aware of. I was at play practice, and she showed up. She started yelling at me about how I didn’t want to be around her and that if they were that much trouble, she didn’t want me around. Or something like that.”
“And you can’t think of anything you did to make her mad?”
“Nothing. I left for play practice, and she was fine. She even said she’d have some warm cider waiting for me when I got home.”
Wolfe put the kettle on the stove. “Maybe Ainsley knows what’s wrong. She was with Mel
b today. But between you and me,” Wolfe whispered, “she’s been acting a little strange too. I haven’t had a chance to put up the Christmas lights, but she’s throwing words out like obligation’ and ‘responsibility.’ It’s a strand of Christmas lights, you know? Anyway, let me just run upstairs, see if she’s up to talking.”
“Oh, um …”
“She might already be asleep. I haven’t seen her since we finished dinner. I helped her clean the kitchen, and I’ve been working on my lines … well, my character anyway. I don’t have any lines, but Oliver, I think I’ve nailed it. I really do. I’ve been practicing some mannerisms that I think are dead-on—”
Oliver stopped Wolfe as he passed by. “Wolfe, she’s gone.”
“What do you mean she’s gone?”
“I saw her walk out. With a suitcase. And your daughter. They’re staying at my house.”
“That’s absurd.”
“It just happened. I was about to knock on your door, and there she was. She seemed upset.”
Wolfe looked mortified.
Oliver continued trying to sort through everything. “What’s going on? I mean, Melb, yeah, she’s temperamental. But for Ainsley to be mad too … there’s got to be something wrong. That can’t be a coincidence.”
“Hold on.” Wolfe ran upstairs and within a few seconds came bounding back down with a piece of paper in his hand. “I knew it. She left a note.”
“How did you know she would leave a note?”
“That’s just Ainsley. She’s very organized, even when she’s angry.” Wolfe tore open the envelope and pulled out a lined piece of paper.
“Well, what’s it say?”
“Dear Wolfe, hope the play goes well. As for me and Abigail, we’ll get out of your way so you can concentrate on doing what you love the most. We wouldn’t want to be a burden. Ainsley.”
Wolfe dropped the note to the counter. “What does this mean? She’s mad because I’m doing the play and can’t hang the Christmas lights?”
“Melb too?”
“I can’t believe this! I’ve done nothing but comply with every whim and need of this family. I get up twice in the middle of the night. I change dirty diapers. I disinfect anything within a two-foot radius of Abigail. And this is what I get? She’s mad because of some stupid Christmas lights? Well, you know what? She can be mad! At least now maybe I can get some sleep!”
Boo Humbug Page 9