Acting Up

by Kristin Wallace

  “Do you think I’m crazy to take on directing a musical? What if I screw up?”

  “You won’t.”

  Addison chuckled. “Did you happen to miss the news coverage about my life? All I’ve done this past year is screw up.”

  Marjorie took Addison’s hands. “Okay. I want you to close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it, Ms. Covington.”

  Addison followed orders.

  “Lord, we ask now for Your guidance,” Marjorie prayed. “Put Your all-powerful hand over our entire production. I also ask You to give Your strength to Addison. Calm her spirit and give her confidence that she can do anything in Your name. Amen.”

  A surprising thread of warmth spread out from Addison’s hands and up her arms. The chills receded, and her insides stopped twisting like a pretzel.

  Addison opened her eyes. “You prayed for me.”

  “I know,” Marjorie said with a grin. “How did it feel?”

  “Good. I can’t remember the last time someone prayed for me. Thank you.”

  Marjorie nodded. “Ready to go, boss?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  They walked out on stage, and the cast ceased chattering. Twenty-three teenagers stared at Addison with expressions ranging from wariness to outright terror. She realized they were just as uneasy about her. They didn’t know her from Adam, except what they’d seen on the show or in some interview. It was entirely possible they thought playing Corrine Barrett wasn’t much of a stretch.

  Addison scanned their faces. Luke Mitchell was slouched in a seat at the back of the pack. His body language said he regarded the whole process as an amusement, but his face was intense, as if he was ready to absorb everything.

  Her female lead huddled in the front row, like she was trying to disappear. Addison vowed to work on Michelle’s confidence. If Addison couldn’t get the girl to believe in her talent, they’d all be in huge trouble.

  Lisa Turney had deigned to show up, but judging by her pinched mouth and glacial blue eyes, she wasn’t happy about it. Flanking her were three pretty, giggling girls who’d been cast to play Bree Sommerville’s friends. Bree’s Posse, or BPs, as Addison had dubbed them.

  Addison took a deep breath. “Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you for coming out and for committing the next few months of your lives to She’s a Beauty. I think the story is great, and I know if you are prepared to work hard, the show will be a success.”

  A skinny boy with a wicked cowlick raised his hand. “Ms. Covington?”

  “Yes—” She leaned closer to Marjorie. “What’s his name again?”

  “Peter Johnson. He plays Harry’s lab partner, JT.”

  She needed to start memorizing names. “Yes, Peter. Did you have a question?”

  “Not really. I just wanted to say, this is so cool!”

  The rest of the cast laughed and Peter grinned. Addison remembered him now. His Opie Taylor-freckled face and sly wit made him perfect as the comic foil for handsome Harry. He could even manage to stay on pitch, which was a bonus as far as Addison was concerned.

  “Thank you, Peter.”

  One of the BPs raised her hand. She had shoulder-length ebony hair and winter sky gray eyes. Addison was pretty sure the girl had been cast as Brianne.

  “Nina Walters,” Marjorie whispered without any prompting.

  Addison sent her assistant a brief, silent thank you. “Yes, Nina,” she called out.

  “My mother told me she went to school with you,” Nina said.

  “Oh?”

  Nina giggled. “She said you must have had a lot of work done because you sure don’t look like you did in high school.”

  Addison raised a brow. “How thoughtful of her to say so.”

  The smile grew, as did the teasing glint in Nina’s eyes. “I saw your yearbook picture.”

  “I’ll give you one thousand dollars if you burn it.”

  “Fifteen hundred and I’ll destroy every copy,” Nina returned.

  Lisa Turney raised her hand.

  Addison regarded her as one would a cobra about to strike. “Yes, Lisa?”

  “My mom always says God made us beautiful as He sent us, and we shouldn’t alter perfection.”

  Addison tamed the automatic eye roll at the blatant piece of self-righteous garbage.

  “Lisa, give it a rest,” another voice rang out.

  Addison’s gaze swung toward a stocky, muscular kid with dark-blond hair. Her defender was Brad Connors. Stick a straw hat on him and put him on a raft in the Mississippi, and he’d be a dead ringer for Huckleberry Finn. Which was exactly why she’d cast him to play Ellie Dooley’s brother.

  “My mom went to school with yours, and I’ve seen those yearbook pictures,” he said. “Your mother didn’t always look like she does now either.”

  Lisa flushed as the other kids laughed.

  Addison held up her hand. “Okay, everyone, since we’ve now established most of us change after high school, let’s get down to the rehearsal. I want to start today with a read-through and a review of the musical numbers.”

  A hand belonging to one of the other BPs shot up. Number Two had chestnut hair and brown eyes.

  At least now Addison could narrow the girls down. “Yes, Amanda?”

  “I don’t read music.”

  “Seriously?”

  She shrugged. “I listened to a CD and memorized my audition song.”

  The third member of the Posse slowly raised her hand. She rounded out the hair rainbow with her blond hair and blue eyes.

  Her wary expression had Addison worried. “Carla?”

  “I don’t read music either,” Carla said. “I took piano lessons when I was like five, but I quit.”

  “I read music,” Michelle declared. She’d straightened from her scared rabbit huddle. “I can help them.”

  Addison sent up a hallelujah to the heavens. “Thank you, Michelle. Girls, I’m putting you in her hands. Please sit next to Michelle at rehearsals, and when you’re not in a scene, she’ll work with you on the music. I’d like everyone to come up and gather around the piano now. Sopranos, I want you on the right, altos on the left. Guys in the middle.”

  The group made their way up to the stage, accompanied by giggles and excited chatter.

  “What did I tell you?” Marjorie said. “You’ll be fine.”

  Addison followed behind the cast and stood behind the accompanist, a quiet, dark-haired senior who could have passed for a twelve-year-old, but played like a seasoned pro. A moment later, the chords of the opening number filled the room.

  As the voices filled the auditorium, Addison looked out across the empty seats. With most of the lights off, she almost missed the dark figure standing at the back. The glint of gold from the hallway light told her it was Ethan. The light created a halo effect around his head, and she had the whimsical feeling an angel had come to stand guard.

  Even in the dark, she could feel his eyes on her. Her skin prickled with those zingy vibes again. Then he turned to leave. Right before the door shut, he gave her a thumbs-up.

  Who knew a simple thumbs-up could be so sexy? The zings turned into firecrackers.

  She turned back in time to catch her assistant director looking right at her. Marjorie’s eyes were wide with what Addison would almost call glee.

  Addison gave her best Corrine Barrett stare down. “What?”

  Marjorie wasn’t impressed because her smile grew. Addison resisted the urge to stick out her tongue, even as she mentally cringed. She’d been in the building all of four hours, and already she was acting like a schoolgirl.

  Which did not bode well for the next few months. Not. At. All.

  ****

  After rehearsal, Addison headed to the hospital to visit her aunt. Her visits had become a daily ritual, to the point where the hospital staff no longer even gave her a second glance. They’d gotten the autographs and picture-taking out of the way the first few days, and now she was simply R
uth’s niece, which was pretty nice.

  Addison approached the nurse’s station and aimed a warm smile at the woman manning the desk. “Good afternoon, Adelle.”

  “Hi, Addison,” Adelle said, eyes crinkling with mirth. “I heard you had your first rehearsal today. How did it go?”

  The Covington Falls grapevine was something else. “Fine. How is my aunt?”

  Adelle grinned. “See for yourself. She’s been making the rounds again.”

  “Rounds? Is she on staff now?”

  “Not yet, but we might recruit her.”

  Addison’s heels clacked against the tile as she followed Adelle down the corridor. The floor was slower today, with only the sounds of various televisions coming from the rooms cutting through the peace. They passed a smaller nurse’s station, and the young woman who’d helped Addison the first day waved a cheerful hello.

  They did indeed find Aunt Ruth in another room. She was sitting beside the bed of a woman. They were holding hands, and both had their eyes closed. Addison opened her mouth to announce her presence, but Adelle held up a warning hand.

  “Lord, be with June as she goes into surgery tomorrow,” Aunt Ruth said. “Put Your healing hand on her and guide the hands of the doctors and nurses. Calm her fears and let her know that You are with her. Amen.”

  “Thank you, Ruth,” the other woman said.

  Adelle clapped her hands. “Visitors.”

  A delighted grin bloomed over Aunt Ruth’s face. “Alice.”

  Addison decided she liked having someone be delighted when she showed up. She walked over and kissed her aunt’s cheek. “Hi. You’re out of bed.”

  “My orthopedist said I needed to start moving again.”

  “Did he tell you to take over chaplain duties as well?”

  “My visits give me an extra incentive to get out of bed. Have you met my friend, June? We’re part of the quilting circle at church. She’s getting a new hip tomorrow.”

  Addison shook hands with the other woman. “Hello, June.”

  “My granddaughter is in your musical,” she said.

  “Who is your granddaughter?”

  “Nina Walters. She is so excited.”

  “She’s definitely got enthusiasm.”

  “I never knew she liked drama,” June said. “My son-in-law wasn’t too keen on it at first, but Nina convinced him.”

  “I’m glad. She’s a great addition to the cast.”

  June winked. “Girl’s got him wrapped around her pretty finger. I suppose most fathers are like that, though. My Harold could never deny our daughter anything either.”

  Yes, and sometimes such devotion leads to tragedy. A stark vision of the last time Addison’s father failed to deny her something flashed through her mind. A horn blaring, screeching tires, a desperate shout. Then nothing. Shaking, Addison swallowed and forced the memory away. In the awkward silence, Aunt Ruth reached for her walker and rose to her feet. Addison could tell the movement was painful, but Aunt Ruth didn’t complain.

  Once back in the hospital room, Addison helped her aunt into bed. Aunt Ruth sagged against the pillow with a grateful sigh.

  “Can I get you anything?” Addison asked, smoothing back a strand of her aunt’s hair.

  “Water would be nice.”

  Addison poured a glass from the pitcher on the bedside table. “I know your doctor told you to keep moving, but I hope you’re not doing too much.”

  Aunt Ruth sipped the cool liquid. “Only a little tired. My mind tells me I’m a young woman, but then my body reminds me I’m eighty-three.”

  “The nurse said you make rounds every day. Do you pray with all the patients?”

  “The ones I can reach. So many of them are frightened. Providing a little comfort helps us both, I think. I can help calm their fears, and it gets my mind off the fact that I’m getting old and frail.”

  “You’re not so old.”

  “Yes, I am,” Aunt Ruth said. “Not quite ready to meet my Lord yet, but old nonetheless.”

  Addison sank down into the chair next to her bed.

  “You’re quiet today,” Aunt Ruth said. “Did something happen?”

  “My assistant director prayed for me at rehearsal,” she said, resting her chin in her hand.

  “Really? I hope you were nice to her about it.”

  A thump of hurt knocked against her chest. “I’m always nice.”

  Aunt Ruth’s mouth twisted in a who-are-you-kidding grin.

  “Okay, I try to be nice,” she said. “Most of the time.”

  “Honey, I didn’t say you weren’t a nice person. You’re just… touchy… about religious matters.”

  Addison let out a sharp huff of air. “First I’m mean, and now I’m touchy? Great.”

  “And sensitive.” Aunt Ruth laughed. “You also think relying on something beyond yourself is a weakness. Am I right?”

  Pressure built inside like a steaming pot. “Whom else would I rely on? People let you down. They leave. They send you away. They die.”

  “Yes, sometimes they do hurt you. Your mother—”

  “I don’t want to talk about her. She has nothing to do with my life now.”

  “Honey, she has everything to do with your life then and now. You’ve shut yourself away so as not to let anyone close. You chose a profession where you pretend to be someone else. And you married a man who would never break through the wall encased around your heart.”

  “This gets better and better.” A vise clamped around the barricaded organ as anger replaced hurt. Addison jumped up and stalked over to the window. “So I’m a mean, touchy, emotionally stunted fake. How on earth do you put up with me if I’m so horrible?”

  “You’re not horrible.”

  “Sure sounds like it.”

  Aunt Ruth’s eyes reflected deep sadness. “You’re wonderful. Loving, kind, generous, funny, strong. I only wish you believed the same thing. I wish you could see yourself the way I do. The way God sees and loves you. Yes, you have flaws. We all do as humans. I have my share.”

  “I always thought you were perfect.”

  Her head shook. “No, I’m far from perfect. Maybe the reason I see your distance is because I recognize it in myself. I shut myself away, too.”

  Something about her tone made Addison pause. The wrinkles on Aunt Ruth’s face seemed to depress even more, and her eyes went flat. All traces of sparkle gone in an instant.

  “What happened to you?” Addison asked.

  “I was engaged once, did you know?”

  Addison blinked. “No.”

  “His name was Alan, and I loved him with all my heart. We met when I was nineteen and were engaged within a month. He was so strong and vibrant. And smart. We talked about everything and anything. He could make me laugh harder than anyone I’d ever known. Then he went off to Europe to fight in the war.” She went still.

  “He died.”

  Aunt Ruth nodded, and even after all this time a thin sheen of tears formed a liquid veil over her eyes.

  Addison wanted to howl at the injustice of a senseless death that had robbed her sweet aunt of happiness.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  Aunt Ruth turned her head, and some of the sadness retreated. “After he was gone, I became angry and bitter. I pulled away from my friends and family. Shut myself off emotionally. After a time, other men became interested in me, but I rebuffed them all.”

  “You never fell in love again?”

  “No one could ever live up to my Alan. I refused to give my heart again. Not if it meant I could be hurt. And not if it meant I had to let go of my fury. At life, at God, even at Alan.”

  “You were angry at your fiancé?”

  She fingered the blanket on the bed. “He’d left me alone. Of course it’s not rational to blame someone for getting killed, but holding onto my rage was much easier than facing a future without him.” Her chin came up. “Anger eats away at you bit by bit until it corrodes your soul.”

  Ad
dison leaned back against the wall. “You’re saying I need to forgive Merrick?”

  “That might be too fresh a wound.”

  “What’s your point then?”

  “Your mother. I know she hurt you, but if you can’t let go of the bitterness you feel toward her, you will never be truly happy. I don’t want you to become the woman I was.”

  “You don’t know the whole story. What she said after—” Addison broke off and swallowed down the sobs clawing up her throat.

  Aunt Ruth held out a hand. “Come here.”

  Addison hesitated.

  “Come on.”

  Addison took the few steps to the bed and perched on the side.

  Aunt Ruth took Addison’s hand. “I may not know the details of what happened between you two, but I can guess. I can’t imagine sending my child away for any reason, but I can’t forget that her actions saved my life.”