Oh, yes, the children had remembered Lily. Just not in a good way.
"They remember me. They love me."
"How pitiful that you need such adoration," she sneered.
He heaved a breath. "Later, Lily."
"Wait, I want to talk to you about Amberose's play, maybe finding it."
Shaking his head, he said, "Not worth it to me."
"Please, Johns!" Tears filled her eyes. "If not today, then breakfast tomorrow? Please, the role is really something. It will make me—you—make us all!" She paused. "If we can salvage this fiasco."
He figured she wanted him to do all the work. But the only way to see if he should contemplate the role would be to look at whatever portion of the script Lily had. He suspected he wouldn't get her notes until he actually met with her and she'd handed them to him.
"All right," he agreed. "Tomorrow, MidMorning Bell, Thespian Club."
"Thank you!" she trilled. Then her lips curved and her eyes sparkled. "I saw Raz with that new woman last night. His attention to her really steamed Morifa Daisy…."
And Lily had moved on to boring gossip, Lord and Lady help Johns. He pasted an intent expression on his face, slipped his hand in his trous pocket where he kept his perscry, below Lily's line of vision. With a touch, he had it ringing and stating, "Incoming scry for Saint Johnswort."
"Gotta go," he said, raised his fingers for a sign-off gesture.
"Tomorrow morning, then," she caroled in a cheerful tone with a wiggle of fingers, though her gaze held dark sharpness as if she doubted his honesty. She smiled with an unamused smile. "I'll treat." Her lilting voice mocked.
His expression solidified into the stone of offended pride, then he made himself relax. Returned her mocking look with a smoldering one of his own. "Fine with me. I always enjoy when a woman picks up the tab." A lie, but who cared?
She hissed, and flounced, and cut the scry.
Johns sighed. He hated playing games, didn't do that as often as most of his colleagues. And he disliked Lily Fescue, didn't know if breakfast with her would be worthwhile or not, even for more information about the elusive Amberose script. He should put that out of his mind, he had better things to think of.
On impulse he scried Blakely Wattle, to touch base with the agent. No answer.
Too bad he hadn't received a scry from a much more honest and fascinating woman than Lily Fescue.
When would Giniana Filix call? Would she?
He hoped for that more than any prospective role. Odd, but true. Just the thought of her stirred him more deeply than anything else in a long time, a pervasive feeling of aching need.
CHAPTER 6
THAT NIGHT, Giniana had no sooner gotten to the Daisys than she'd been met at the door by the new GraceLady who wore a diaphanous gown and a sly smile. "We've decided to stay in tonight. And play. Play with the baby, too. We won't be needing you, but we'll still pay for the evening and your time and trouble since you came all the way here." She pushed gilt coins and bills into Giniana's hands, then shut the door in her face.
Giniana stood open mouthed, breathing sparkling evening summer air as her evening widened with freedom. Dizzying. And her heart, as well as her body, knew what she wanted to do. She didn't want to go home and check on her patient—whom she'd just looked in on and refilled his bedside water pitcher—didn’t want to listen to Thrisca.
Slowly she walked, experiencing all the night had to offer, the lingering scent released by the summer flowers during the day, the insects whirring cheerfully in the bushes, the feel of the ground under her lighter step.
She smiled with the release of care, the living in the moment of now instead of worrying about later.
Then an urgent call from Intake at AllClass HealingHall shrilled through her pebble. Scrying all contract or consulting Healers. Please 'port to AllClass HealingHall Intake to treat emergency victims of a boating accident.
More gilt to pay for Thrisca’s time procedure. Giniana's options vanished and her shoulders slumped a moment as the previously lifted burden thunked back down upon her.
She flicked a word reply with her thumb. I'll be right there.
And she used the lovely mood and surrounding energy of the evening darkening into night as energy to teleport to the HealingHall.
Not only Giniana, as an independent Healer, showed up at AllClass HealingHall. Two others had, too, and some journeymen and journeywomen Healers, interns, had been at the center. Lark Holly briskly organized them into teams, with Giniana leading one full team, and teaching the journeypeople as they Healed.
A septhour later, one of the HealingHall gliders took her home, dazed and nearly spent, but with more coin in her pocket than she'd anticipated.
A peevish Thrisca, who'd wanted to sleep outside in a huge bed of catnip that Giniana forbade, refused to listen to reason. There is no life without some fun, and sleeping in catnip is marrvvelllous—GO AWAY! I watch man from here. A cat snort. He didn't come out door at all today.
Giniana stared at her Fam. Did you eat?
Thrisca rolled over and showed catnip in her mouth. I ate.
Food? she persisted.
I munched some food. Another roll and the cat's back showed Giniana a long, flexible and irritated spine. You weren't supposed to be here tonight. Go. Away.
Giniana should stay, watch over her Fam and human patient. But if she hurried, she could make the play, Firewalker, and instead watch Johns perform his craft.
Johns knew Giniana Filix sat in the audience. Even if his general situational senses hadn't given him that information, the tiny bond between them had. He wanted to analyze that bond—from her Healing him, spending a little time together and layered with mutual attraction? But his cue came up in five seconds. Big breath, check his balance, inside and out. Four, three, two, one. He surged onto stage, leading with his fist to take a punk down….
His Fire Mage character battled flames burning a FirstFamily Residence, and as he jumped away from a falling beam, he felt the spurt of fear of Giniana Filix.
Their bond expanded.
Good. Distracted only for an instant or two during an action scene that his body continued, rolling, leaping to his feet, snatching the heroine from mid-air. Perfect timing.
Heroine pushed him away as another burning beam hit, gave him a quick sideways look not in the play, he rolled out spellwords, raising and lowering his arms, putting out the blaze like a real Fire Mage would do
And he acted, less involved in his character than normally, but the excitement of having a lovely woman he liked and respected in the house gave him a boost. Rather a split attention, moving well, saying his words with the passion and inflection they needed, but also hooked into Giniana Filix's reactions. Despite her family background, the play affected her. Particularly since it featured several strong women characters. His link with Giniana gave him an edgy interaction with his female co-star and romantic lead, which she, also an excellent actress, picked up on and gave back to him in an equally intense performance.
The story swept Giniana into it. At the end, the firewalker and the heroine battled villains who'd set a fire, the couple broke free just in time for the firewalker to extinguish the blaze, then ran through a building collapsing behind them. Once outside, the hero declared his love, the heroine hers and they flung themselves together in a kiss that looked as hot as the flames that had graced the stage.
Seeing the fascinating guy who seemed interested in locking mouths, crushing bodies together with another woman jolted Giniana from the story. As the curtain fell and applause roared, she thought once more how her parents had had affairs with their co-stars, especially her father.
Actors, pretending feelings they didn't have.
Like love for their daughter.
Making promises they never kept, like to each other and their child and their Fam.
Yes, she clapped with those all around her who'd enjoyed the story, suspended their disbelief that such exciting events rolled on right before their eyes, experienc
ed the emotions the actors had pulled out of them through their craft and some Flair.
Those who'd manipulated their emotions.
But the audience calling for another bow from the cast had made the choice to come and have their emotions tugged, hadn't they? To be entertained, swept out of the now and the problems of their lives, to an urgent and dangerous then of a story.
Still, she wondered how much Johns felt for his co-star when he kissed the woman—until Giniana's pocket perscry vibrated. The note stated that one of the patients she'd helped earlier at AllClass HealingHall needed the next layer of Healing.
Giniana bit her lip. She didn't want to leave. She wanted to go backstage and talk to Johns, even if surrounding fans burbled huge admiration at him. The first time she'd wanted to linger in a theater for decades.
She teleported to do her job, her duty.
At the end of the play, the audience yelled and stood and the cast received more curtain calls than ever. Johns briefly regretted the closing of the show, obviously he and the cast hadn't explored all the nuances of the characters, but so life went.
Giniana didn't come backstage to the green room or to his dressing room. He'd even used the ebullient Flair from a good performance to fund a whirlwind spell so he could change faster and see her. But she'd left. From the faint anxiety of her bond, he understood she hurried to a job. He hadn't thought the Spindles would be that strict, or that injury-prone.
He circulated in the green room, interacting with the audience, also considered part of his job, though the lack of Giniana’s presence smudged his enjoyment of the praise from people packed in the green room. The compliments along with the glass of inexpensive wine he sipped, fumed through his head with possibilities that the production would continue.
Simple denial of bad circumstances.
Better to think that he'd find a new part, soon.
Instead of enjoying speaking with the captivating Giniana, a noble and wealthy patron of the arts, Morifa Daisy, stepped in front of Johns just as he had calculated it was time he could leave. Morifa touched his arm and gushed at him and he knew he'd better give her attention or she'd spread vicious gossip. Like she had about Raz and their meeting last night.
Suppressing a sigh, Johns went back to his other job, promoting himself, being Klay St. Johnswort, larger-than-life actor.
When, at last, her female butt sashayed out of the room, without getting him to commit to any kind of a date, he looked around to see only the rest of the cast. A couple of the guys appeared envious, everyone else, amused.
"Time to wrap it up, folks," the stage manager said. She glanced at her wrist timer. "Theater hours have been cut. Don't come in more than a half septhour before a rehearsal or performance, and we're past time on when this place should close, now."
Someone muttered about the producer being cheap. Another person said the reason the play had been canceled was because the guy wanted to launch a new production featuring his lover rather than keep Firewalker going, though the play continued to make money. Johns didn't know about that, but his mood definitely deflated at the reminder that he'd be living on savings in two and a half weeks.
Yeah, his face fell into a brooding expression.
The weak-guy-secondary-character who died in the last scene, Ellis Gardenia, a good if aging actor, buffeted Johns on the shoulder. "Cheer up. And do something to keep your spirits cheerful."
Johns narrowed his eyes at the man. "You're continuing to take those lessons in counseling."
Ellis rocked back and forth on his heels, thumbs tucked into his belt, gave Johns a wide, cheerful grin. "Yep, I'll have professional SecondLevel Counselor status by the end of the month. Got a few referral clients from my teacher already." He rolled his shoulders, glanced around. "I'll miss acting, but the counseling business is so much steadier." He winked at Johns, "And still deals with characters."
That pulled a chuckle from Johns. "Best of luck."
Meeting his eyes, Ellis put his hand on Johns shoulder and he felt sheer optimism flow from his fellow actor to him.
"Truly, Johns. Don't be negative about this. You're an extremely good actor and should be proud of your past work, and confident that your career will be strong."
Johns wanted to be a great actor. A phenomenal actor.
Ellis flashed a smile. "I know you and a group of colleagues meet for breakfast every morning at the Thespian Club, and while you exchange news and gossip, you also do a daily divination, yes?" Ellis' thin, plucked brows rose with the question. No doubt he'd let his eyebrows revert back to their natural heavier state once he became a counselor.
"Yes, we all pull a daily divination card," Johns confirmed.
"And what did you draw the last time?" Ellis persisted.
Johns relaxed, let the slight bounce of confidence within him rise to curve his lips. "The Oak King."
With a nod, Ellis said, "A brilliant career ahead of you."
"I hope so," Johns said. He was determined to make it so.
"And I'll remind you that helping others helps yourself. I know you volunteer at Moores House for Lady-Blessed Children. That's common knowledge in the counseling and Mind Healing circles." Ellis squeezed Johns shoulder. "Keep on doing that."
The thought of the kids did buoy Johns. Or at least remind him that he should be thankful for what he'd received. Time to do a gratitude ritual.
Giniana knew she should go home. Johns didn't need her enthusing at him. If she knew actors, he'd be plenty puffed up already after the green room. He—and the rest of the cast—had done an extraordinary job tonight.
Return home … to a dying Thrisca and the sick patient. At the thought, she checked on both of them, the man had lapsed into Healing sleep, though Giniana should change his linens within the next couple of septhours. She preferred to do that personally instead of initiating the cleansing spells set in the sheets as well as in her tiny infirmary.
Instead of heading home, as soon as she finished the next course of Healing, Giniana took a public carrier to the theater district. There she strolled in the large rectangular space of marble benches and fountains of the main plaza.
She'd forgotten just how lovely this area was, how energizing and soothing at once, depending on which a person needed. Studying the fountains, the echoes of sounds and the reflections of light, she admired what the designers and architects had constructed. Surely they'd worked with Healers.
And Giniana waited for Johns to leave his theater, hardly scolding herself.
Johns walked out of the theater. Like most of the staff, he skirted the building from the back door to the front. He'd find good transportation by public carrier from the district to the rest of the city, and home, along the streets of the large central plaza.
The sight of Giniana Filix sitting on a bench watching for him struck him like a palpable force. A hot blow spreading satisfaction from his chest out. He began to arrange his face in a superficial smile, then his instincts rose and he stopped. When she looked up at him, she'd see his raw and natural grin.
He strode forward quickly, and her gaze switched from the fountain to him, and her brows went up as her eyes widened. Good. He hoped she felt his pleasure at seeing her, perhaps felt the lifting of his spirits, too. As he got within a meter of her, he held out his hand. Yeah, he wanted to touch her. Let that need buzz down their bond, too.
"Greetyou, Giniana Filix." He kept his hand out and she placed hers within it and he tugged to request her to stand. "You came." Then he gave her a truth. "I'm glad you did, and I felt you in the audience." He didn't say he'd missed her when she hadn't come backstage.
Glancing around, he asked, "Did you come alone?"
"Yes." She flushed slightly and smiled. "You did very well." Her words sounded breathy, and he hoped that indicated she felt the desire swirling between them, but…
"I'm not the man in the play," he said. "I'm not that courageous, and not as intensely conflicted." He paused, found an easy smile for her. "I have my own
strengths and issues."
Her head tilted and her mouth dropped from the previous curve. She looked away and removed her fingers from his own. "I know that."
She moved slightly away and began walking to the busiest street with the most public carrier routes. He took a step to her and caught her hand. This time she didn't pull it from his clasp, nor did she make any nasty comments about actors.
He revealed a little more about himself, in words and along their bond. "I miss your touch." He linked fingers with her…and followed where she led.
Now that he was paying more attention to her instead of his own emotions reacting to her, he felt her weariness, and sent her some residual energy from the boost of the play.
She caught her breath and tilted her head, for an instant her hand stiffened in his. "Thank you."
He glanced at her, noticed lines of strain beside her eyes, darker smudges under them. She hadn't put on any physical facial enhancements or masked the signs of weariness with a spell. Totally unlike any other woman of his acquaintance. A corner of his mouth lifted in appreciation of the charm of an honest woman.
She stumbled and he steadied her, and she unbalanced again on the next step. He caught her arm, pulled her close to steady her. "What's wrong?" he asked, saw her wince, and went with his own bluntness. "Are you tired?"
She shrugged, stepped back from him but didn't pull her arm away and he loosened his grip on her biceps, moving his fingers to above her elbow. "I sensed that you went to Heal. Is someone at the Spindles hurt?"
"No," she responded. "In fact, they are a very healthy bunch. Healing you and Raz Cherry last night was the first after-hours emergency I've had at the estate in months."
"Oh."
Before he could follow up on his comment, she continued, "Since I want to keep in practice with all types of Healing, I'm also on call with two HealingHalls—AllClass and Primary."
"Ah." Like most folk he knew, Johns used the Celtan Councils' subsidized AllClass HealingHall that charged him a minimal amount.
Heart 16 - Script of the Heart Page 6