Kristen took a bite of her bagel, her eyes suddenly far away. “I remember the last time we went skating. It was just before we did our last Christmas show.”
“Yes,” Trudie said. “So let’s just go. Let’s just sit and talk and relax for awhile.”
By 8:30, the women were at the Grove Point ice skating rink, dressed in coats, caps and gloves. Mary Ann had awakened her daughters at eight to tell them that Ray would pick them up at 9:30, and she reminded them to eat some breakfast. It would be a long and exciting day.
Outside, the wind was calm. The sky was a quilted silver gray. Flurries were drifting down, glazing the tops of parked cars and the gray roof of the ice skate rental house.
Grove Point was an oval rink that sat off the highway down in a little valley, surrounded by birch and elm trees, with an old red barn visible on the crest of a distant hill. The rink didn’t open until nine, but the girls didn’t care. They roamed the area, circling the place, pausing to settle on a long wooden bench at the far end, where they had a good view of the area.
They didn’t speak for minutes at a time, content to feel the cool flecks of snow on their faces and tongues, happy to snuggle close, arms locked together, feeling sane and sweet, away from the frantic world.
When they got cold, they walked and chatted about their lives. When they sat again, falling into a new silence, they were caught by the serenity and snowy beauty of the area, by the festive decorations of holly, wreaths and Christmas lights.
Skaters appeared at 9 o’clock, some sailing gracefully past, turning and pivoting, some stumbling, reaching and falling to the music of Sleigh Ride!
To Trudie, it was an irresistible impulse. She shot up, exclaiming that she had to skate, sore and tired as she was. Kristen and Mary Ann enthusiastically followed.
Soon all three were gliding across the ice, feeling wildly young again, as the wind swept across their faces and chilled their bones. When one fell, the other two helped her up, and they cruised on, laughing, chatting and free. Their muscles ached and their feet complained, but they drifted on, unwilling to give up the high adventure, all too aware that they’d soon be back in the hectic world of the show… and then their inevitable separation would come. They’d part once again and carry on with their distinctive, challenging lives. So for those few enchanting moments, they skated on, arms raised, faces turned to the sky, feeling joyful, free and easy.
Finally, the flying minutes told them they had to leave. Before they returned to their car, they asked a young woman to take their picture. The fussy woman threw herself into the production, snapping photos at different angles and poses.
Their favorite was the one of them leaning slightly into a snow bank. Each was snuggly tucked close to the other, at a three-quarter angle, ski caps pulled low over their foreheads. They were laughing, eyes squinting, but gleaming with delight and affection.
When they arrived at the theater, they were swarmed by questions, problems and quarrels. No one had gotten much sleep, and tempers flared over the slightest issues. Jon was onstage with the full cast in costume, arguing with Liz about the way she was lighting the end of the show.
Hugh Watson was testing the hanging stage microphones, traipsing across The Ghost of Christmas Past’s difficult and technical scene, oblivious to everyone, ignoring complaints and anxieties. Hugh had simply shut them out, concentrating on his job with all the focus and one pointed meditation of a Zen master.
Ray was down the hall, rehearsing the musicians in the band room. He discovered he was missing parts for the trumpets and first violins. He would have to run home to search his old music trunk to see if they were there. And, of the 16 musicians present, seven were students who attended surrounding high schools that had music programs, but these students were far from professional. The band’s rendition of The Hallelujah Chorus was off-key and clumsy.
Molly Cahill had her chorus and dancers in the woodshop room, drilling dance steps, but dumbing them down when she saw the group couldn’t keep up.
Oscar and the set designers had run out of paint, wood and nails and Connie was nowhere to be found to issue the necessary petty cash so they could make a run to the hardware store, only open until 1 p.m. And on and on...
The Christmas Women dived in, solving each problem, while fighting off a colossal anxiety that the entire show was about to fall flat on its face, be a stinking disappointment to Mrs. Childs and the community, and be a dismal failure for the return of The Christmas Girls.
By two o’clock, all three women were seated in the auditorium. They were fighting exhaustion, and they still had to rehearse their numbers with the orchestra in full costume and makeup.
At 4:15, the girls were again sitting in the auditorium, struggling to recover what little optimism and energy they had left. Jon had vanished. Oscar and his crew were still hammering and painting. Ray was in the orchestra pit rehearsing the musicians, pleading with the violins to play in tune. Hugh Watson was in the back of the house at the mixing board, working assiduously to solve the problem of why two outside speakers were still not broadcasting.
A rambling crowd had formed around the school, especially when the word got out that the show would be broadcast live from the stage.
The Christmas Women wore their short, tight, red dresses, white faux fur hats and 3-inch red heels, just as they had 20 years before. Their cheeks were rosy, fake eyelashes long and sexy, their makeup heavy.
“I’d love a very wet gin martini,” Kristen said. “There’s a bartender named Doug, who works at a hotel on the West Side of Manhattan. He makes the best martinis.”
“One hour of sleep,” Trudie said. “Just one single hour. I’d pay big bucks for one hour of uninterrupted sleep.”
Mary Ann batted her lashes slowly. “I wish my Christmas shopping was done. No way anybody on my list is going to get anything until January, except the girls. I’ve never seen them happier. They are having the time of their lives.”
Kristen and Trudie looked at her, affectionately. “They’re wonderful girls, Mary Ann,” Trudie said. “You are very lucky.”
Mary Ann nodded. “Yes, I am.”
Trudie glanced down at her phone and saw the text from Julie. She sat bolt upright. “It’s a text from Julie!”
They all sat up, waiting.
Trudie tapped and read.
“I told Mom I was taking her out. She said no, she’s not going anywhere. I texted Jon. He’s here. He’s taking her. Told her, Santa Claus is coming to town! We’ll be there!”
Trudie showed the other two the text. They applauded, hugged and kissed.
Kristen shot up, and unkinked her neck. “Okay, kids. Let’s go do a show. Ouch! Everything hurts!”
TWENTY-FIVE
At 4:45, the dressing rooms were crackling with nervous laughter and excitement. Liz was still in the theater running light cues. Hugh had solved the speaker problems, and the sound coming through the outside speakers was pure and clean.
Ray paced backstage, agonizing over the orchestra, unable and unwilling to accept comfort and encouragement from anyone.
Oscar and his team were sliding the sets into position, making final alterations, using large fans to help disperse the fresh paint smell. Fake snow had been delivered and Oscar pointed up to the catwalk, instructing two high school athletes what to do and when to do it. There was no time to rehearse.
Jon had returned, telling the three girls that Mrs. Childs was weak, but he’d said just enough to make her interested and intrigued. She was coming to the 8 o’clock show. He’d leave right after the 5 o’clock show, under police escort arranged by Sheriff Jake T. Mason, and accompany her and Julie back to the theatre. He and the Sheriff would escort her down the aisle to her center aisle seat.
At 4:55, Trudie carefully drew back the stage curtain and stared out. The auditorium and balcony were filled to capacity, including standing room. Her knees got rubbery, as she heard the low buzz of the anxious crowd and saw ushers seating the last of the audi
ence. She was amazed and grateful that it had all come together so fast. She felt a catch in her chest, and she swallowed hard.
The lights slowly dimmed, and the restless audience fell into whispers. Ray entered the pit, and a spotlight bathed him. There was thunderous applause. Trudie saw the terror in his eyes as he lifted his piton, pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his face. They were not professionals. They were not used to being in the spotlight. It was all supposed to be a simple little Christmas show. None of them saw this behemoth coming, sweeping them up in emotion, fear and challenge.
The cymbal crash startled Trudie—she jumped. The orchestra erupted into a lively version of We Wish You a Merry Christmas. And then it all came rushing back to her. Twenty years were erased in an instant and she was 18 years old again, excited, thrilled, ready to perform in the Deer Lake High School Christmas show, featuring The Christmas Girls!
She merged with the chorus as they prepared to spill out onto the stage for the opening number. Trudie saw Kristen and Mary Ann across the stage, stiffly waiting for their cue from Liz. It seemed to happen in slow motion. Liz called the cue and gave the signal: a pointed gun of her finger. The show was off and running!
There was a hypnotic quality to the performance, as singers and musicians merged, dancers twirled and leaped, and then exited the stage for A Christmas Carol.
Jon and his cast moved through the play with ease and fluidity, capturing mood, atmosphere and most of Jon’s direction. There were glitches of course: some sets took too long to appear. Bob Cratchit and Jacob Marley dropped lines. Don Rawlings started playing his sax before the girls were on stage. The musical accompaniment to Mary Ann’s recitation of ‘Twas the Night before Christmas was too loud and the audience had trouble hearing her. The chorus forgot some of the words to The Twelve Days of Christmas, and, during the finale, snow fell abundantly on stage right, but not on stage left. One boy up on the catwalk had gone off to the bathroom, misjudging the time. That caused the chorus on stage left to instinctively look up, until Ray motioned for them to focus on the audience.
The musicians struggled with Frosty the Snowman and The Hallelujah Chorus, and The Christmas Women’s finale kicking chorus routine was a bit off and awkward. But they spiritedly swung through the steps, with broad toothy smiles and lively singing that struggled to stay on pitch.
When the burgundy velvet curtain finally came down, the uproarious applause was deafening. The entire cast received a standing ovation, returning for four curtain calls.
After the show the entire cast met behind the stage, in the Green Room. There was little time for back patting and celebration. After a few quick bites of pizza, the tension swiftly returned, as the cast listened closely to the aggressive stage notes from Jon (delivered by Jon’s assistant, Lynn, because Jon had fled to retrieve Mrs. Childs). There were voluminous music notes from Ray and many dancing notes from Molly Cahill.
Jon had slipped out via the back door of the school, waving at the cheering crowds that were held back by yellow CAUTION tape and security guards. He piled into the Sheriff’s car and, with its roof lights flashing, they traveled off to Julie’s house.
The Christmas Women stood in bare feet before the cast, Mary Ann and Trudie with shawls wrapped around their shoulders, and Kristen sipping coffee. Trudie spoke for the trio.
“We thought you were all wonderful out there! The three of us and Ray want to thank you for coming and for being a part of this reunion and celebration of Mrs. Childs’ life. Whatever happens out there during the second show, I hope we can all just enjoy ourselves, have fun and pretend there aren’t three cameras capturing every move, every word and every step our poor aching feet take.”
The group laughed. Trudie saw Oscar and Mary Ann exchange affectionate glances. She also noted that Kristen and Cole were not. They were avoiding each other’s eyes.
Trudie folded her hands. “Seeing you all here again has been one of the best Christmas presents of my life. Thank you all again, and Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!”
After the applause faded, the cast emptied the room and prepared for the final show. The strain of so many concentrated hours was showing on many faces, including those of The Christmas Women. Now that it was certain that Mrs. Childs would be in the audience, the cast had to tramp down nerves and trepidation. Like The Christmas Women, the performers wanted this night to shine, to inspire and to leave Mrs. Childs, and indeed them all, with nothing but pride and good memories.
Liz gruffly called everyone into position. “Curtain in 10 minutes.”
Trudie went to her. “Is Mrs. Childs here yet?”
“Nope.”
“We may have to delay the curtain.”
“Curtain is at 8:00 sharp,” Liz said, crisply.
Trudie gained instant aggressive height. “We do not raise that curtain until Mrs. Childs is firmly in her seat, Liz! That is final. No argument. No debate. The show is not about us. It’s about her!”
Liz’s eyes burned. “Whatever you say, Ms. Boss.”
Trudie stormed away across the stage, struggling to regain her composure. She inched forward to peek through the side curtain. Just as she did, she heard screams of joy and wild applause. Trudie peeled back the curtain to see the entire audience rise to its feet.
There she was! Mrs. Childs in a wheelchair, being ushered down the center aisle by Julie and her brother, Nick, with Jon and the Sheriff behind, chests puffed out, faces filled with masculine pride. The applause was deafening.
Mrs. Childs glanced about, struggling to take it all in, struggling to understand, her lips compressed in tight concern. Her eyes widened in speculation as she advanced.
Near her designated seat of honor, Jon and Sheriff Mason helped her up, walked her a couple of steps, and eased her down in her chair.
“Okay, Teach,” Jon said. “Sit back and enjoy the show.”
Mrs. Childs was speechless, searching her daughter’s and her son’s eyes as they sat down beside her. The applause continued, as the lights slowly dimmed.
Just before the lights came down, Trudie saw something that startled her. She saw a handsome man in his early forties and a teenage boy start down the right aisle, with an usher leading them to their seats. The boy was Kristen’s son, Alexander! No doubt. Trudie recognized him from Facebook and Christmas card photos. The man with him must be Kristen’s husband, Alan! Trudie had seen only the occasional photo of him on Facebook. Now it made sense: Kristen’s decision at 4:42 in the morning. She and Cole avoiding each others’ eyes. Kristen had called her husband and son and asked them to come.
Trudie glanced right to see Kristen peering out from stage right. She’d seen them too. Trudie noticed Kristen’s private smile of satisfaction as she released the curtains and stepped back.
At 8:13 p.m., the curtain was drawn back and a large white screen descended. A recent photograph of Mrs. Childs was projected onto it. It revealed a mature face, with carefully styled gray hair, a friendly smile and lively eyes. The audience erupted into loud applause, as a dedication was superimposed over the photo.
This Christmas Show is Dedicated
to Mrs. Myrna Childs.
Offered with Love and Devotion
by Her Former Students at Deer Lake High!
Thank You for Making a Difference in Our Lives!
And
Merry Christmas!
Mrs. Childs absorbed a wave of affection and was nearly overcome with emotion. So many fond memories rushed back, of all the wonderful music and dancing and acting, those Christmas shows that had made her so proud. Her breathing choked and tears came into her eyes.
The screen was raised as a spotlight struck the orchestral pit. Ray emerged, and he was showered with applause. He stepped up on the conductor’s podium and pivoted to face his former teacher. He placed a hand over his heart and bowed.
Mrs. Childs began to tremble. She swallowed back emotion, even as the first cymbal crash announced the start of the Christmas show.
The over
ture bounced through the melody with energy and verve, setting a tone of high celebration. When it concluded, the stage lights flashed on and the entire cast swept in from the wings, dressed in bright winter sweaters, scarves and hats, singing It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year. Their voices were sure and strong, and the orchestra struck every note right. Ray was sweating and beaming.
The Christmas Girls materialized, joining the chorus, each seizing the arm of a man, strolling across the stage dancing and singing.
As the opening chorus drew to a close, Liz, with headset on and hard eyes focused on Oscar, called the next scene.
The lights went to black, and Oscar and his crew flew into action. They placed the fireplace, Scrooge’s office furniture, Bob Cratchit’s desk and Scrooge’s safe on the set. The crew fled the stage as Liz called the next scene.
In the balcony, the projector shot images of old Victorian England onto a backdrop, revealing church spires, gothic towers, hansom cabs, turrets, gables and foggy streets.
A dim spot caught Jon Ketch enter stage left, dressed all in black as old Ebenezer Scrooge, white hair sticking out from a stove pipe hat. The audience applauded their home town boy who had made good, and they watched the wizened, irascible figure groan and complain through his scenes. He stooped about, miserable and grumpy, barking out his hatred of life and everyone in it. His eyes moved in fury and contempt, his body passing through raw emotion, fear and regret.
Mrs. Childs watched raptly as the play progressed, gaining power and poignancy until, near the end, all of Scrooge’s bitterness was shattered into humility and pathos, when the towering and frightening Cole Blackwell, as The Ghost of Christmas Future, pointed his crooked, wiggling finger at Scrooge’s own tombstone, demanding that he see it and learn from it.
Stunned and terrified, Scrooge staggered about, face in his hands, sobbing and pleading, “ No, Spirit! Oh no, no! Spirit! Hear me! I am not the man I was. I will not be the man I must have been but for this intercourse. Why show me this, if I am past all hope? Good Spirit, your nature intercedes for me, and pities me. Assure me that I yet may change these shadows you have shown me, by an altered life! I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach. Oh, tell me I may sponge away the writing on this stone!”
The Christmas Women Page 22