Learning Her Lines

by Amelia C. Adams

  “Are you saying . . . are you saying that because I’m not ready right now, you’d rather not court?” He furrowed his brow. “I must say, that’s a bit frustrating. Why must there be a time limit imposed on this thing?”

  “Aren’t you imposing a time limit by saying we have to wait until later?”

  He took a step back. “I . . . I didn’t see it that way. Yes, I suppose that’s a time limit as well.”

  Perhaps it was mean of her, but she rather enjoyed the fact that she’d unsettled him. “Let’s just be friends, Melvin. It’s clear to me that this isn’t a good time to be talking about relationships—not when there’s so much else going on. Down the road, as you said, after things are more settled at the theater, we can meet up again and see if we think this is worth pursuing. In the meantime, if I were to find someone else or if you did, that would be our answer.”

  She’d kept her tone light and friendly, but his expression was now a glower. “Waiting has never been my greatest strength.”

  “But you’re the one who suggested it. I thought that was what you wanted.”

  “What I wanted . . . Oh, I don’t even know what I want anymore.”

  She toyed with the handle of her reticule, trying to decide what she should say next. She could change the subject and let him off the hook, so to speak, or she could say what she was really thinking. If she did that, she’d run the risk of losing him altogether, but at the same time, if she couldn’t tell him her true thoughts, this wasn’t a genuine relationship anyway. “I think what you want is for me to wait indefinitely until you wake up one morning and decide,” she told him. “That might work well for someone else, and I do know many girls who have been in that situation, but that’s not what I want, Melvin. I don’t want to put my life on hold while you make up your mind. That’s not fair. We also don’t know each other well enough for you to be making those kinds of requests of me.”

  He looked down at the ground, then back up. “You’re right,” he said, meeting her gaze. “You’re absolutely right. I shouldn’t have even mentioned courting until I knew for sure that’s what I wanted, and I never should have implied that I wanted you to wait until the time was right for me. I apologize for that.”

  “And I apologize if I’ve been sharp. I sometimes speak too abruptly when I’m riled.”

  “No need for an apology.”

  “Excellent. Shall we head back, then?”

  “I suppose we should—it is nearly dark.” He looked up at the sky. “I think, though, that we’ll need to resume this conversation another day.”

  That was interesting. “Another day when we’re not quite so busy, I hope.”

  “Yes. Exactly.”

  They walked back to the restaurant in almost complete silence. Catherine felt sorry about that, but she didn’t regret having made her point. Yes, she had feelings for Melvin, and yes, she would love to be courted by him, but a courtship needed to come with respect, and if he thought she should wait around until he was ready to make a commitment, that wasn’t showing her respect. Of all the things she’d been looking for in a marriage partner, respect was at the top of her list, and if this meant she had to keep looking, that’s how it would have to be.

  Melvin bid goodnight to her at the door of the restaurant. She entered and went straight to the kitchen, trying to avoid the eyes of the customers who still remained in the dining room. She knew they were all her friends, but she needed a little bit of quiet and didn’t think she could handle another conversation at the moment, even with friends.

  Titus glanced at her over his shoulder. “Long day?”

  “Possibly the longest.” She grabbed an apron and tied it on, then turned her attention to the dishes. That was a safe task. It was predictable, controllable . . . and dishes never argued back.

  “So, I was thinking.” Titus walked over beside her and leaned against the washbasin. “I shouldn’t have teased you earlier. I can see how hard you’re working, and you didn’t deserve that. I was just . . . Well, Mrs. Van Dyke is an interesting woman.”

  Catherine grinned. “Yes, she is. It’s all right—I was having a hard time not laughing myself.”

  He chuckled. “I’m glad we see eye-to-eye on that. After you left, I realized that I’m being selfish by not agreeing to help you. If you’d still like me to practice with you, yes, I’ll read the male lines.”

  “You would?” Catherine was stunned by this. Titus was happier at his stove than anywhere else in the world, and he rarely did anything that wasn’t somehow connected with cooking. This was a welcome surprise. “I’d really appreciate that.”

  “You’re welcome. And maybe . . . maybe we could keep this just in the family. We don’t need everyone in town knowing, do we?”

  She smiled. “No, we don’t.”

  “Good. Because it’s just better that way.” He went back to his work, and she went back to hers, trying not to laugh out loud. She loved her family, every infuriating one of them. God had blessed her by placing her where she needed to be when her parents died—she would never be without people who loved her.

  ***

  “If you’ve come to tell me how badly I’ve ruined things, you’re a bit too late,” Melvin said when he walked into his living room and saw Mrs. Van Dyke sitting there.

  “Ruined things? Whatever do you mean?”

  “With Catherine.” He put his hat on the table and sat down in the other chair. “I brought up the idea of courting, but then told her she’d have to wait for me to be ready, and she put me in my place. Very rightly. I deserved it.”

  Mrs. Van Dyke’s lips twitched. “Good for her.”

  “I didn’t realize that guardian angels also play matchmaker.”

  “We do whatever is needed for that individual. You’d be surprised at just how often their ills can be solved with true love.”

  “And for those who never find true love?”

  “We bring about other things to help them along. Not every path is the same; not every journey is identical. That’s because no two human beings are identical.”

  “That’s certainly true.” Melvin sniffed the air. “You didn’t start coffee this time?”

  “Are you assuming I’m going to do that every time I stop by?”

  “Well, no. I just thought . . .”

  She chuckled. “You’re rather fun to tease, did you know that? You get a little wrinkle right between your eyebrows and you look like you’re about to pout, but you don’t actually do it.”

  “I couldn’t possibly do any of those things.”

  “Next time I tease you, I’ll hold a mirror in front of your face and you can see for yourself.” She settled more comfortably into her chair. “So, what are you going to do about Catherine?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve already created such a disaster, I’m not sure how I could ever go about repairing it.”

  “Oh, you mortals. You take everything so seriously, as though you’re somehow powerful enough to destroy things. I don’t mean to be a source of disappointment, my dear Melvin, but you haven’t ruined anything. You’ve merely put a wrinkle in it, and wrinkles can be ironed out with a careful hand. And a little heat. Meaning, it won’t be the most comfortable experience you’ve ever had, but humbling yourself isn’t meant to be comfortable.”

  “Humbling myself, hmm?” Melvin considered that. “That’s something I’ve done very scarcely in my life, and I’m sure I need a great deal of it.”

  “Trust me—you do. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have brought it up.” Mrs. Van Dyke stood up and moved toward the door. “Don’t expect Catherine at the theater for a few days. I’m going to work with her privately at the restaurant.”

  “But how will she learn to interact with the others? And them with her?”

  “She’ll be back. She just needs to get the words in her mind before she adds the complication of movement and surroundings. Besides, I believe the two of you could use a break from each other.”

  “A break?” Melvin came to
his feet. “Are you forbidding me to see her?”

  Mrs. Van Dyke’s hand flew to her chest. Not surprisingly. “I have no right to dictate any such thing. I do think, however, that if you were to spend some time apart, you might find it easier to communicate when you do see each other again.”

  Melvin nodded slowly. He could see the wisdom in that. “I could go somewhere else to eat for a few days.”

  “I think that would be best. Each of you should feel as though you’ve worked things out on your own, and then when you come together again, you’ll be fresh and clear-minded. Personally, I think we likely leaped from acquaintances to courting too soon.”

  Melvin looked at her in shock. “You started planting ideas in my head from the very first minute.”

  “Just because I put ideas there doesn’t mean you have to follow through on them.”

  “I was trying to be honest with her and let her know my stance. But now I’m wondering if that really was my stance, or if it was you putting words in my mouth.”

  “Which is why you should spend some time apart to evaluate.” She opened the door. “I’ll see you later, Melvin, but I’m not exactly sure when because I’ll be working with Catherine.”

  “You could check in and let me know how she’s doing. From a professional standpoint, of course. Learning her lines.”

  “Yes, that would be good of me. We’ll see how good I feel.” She whisked through the door and shut it, leaving him baffled. No matter what he said, no matter what the circumstance, she always managed to make it sound like all the best ideas had been hers from the start.

  Chapter Nine

  “Did the people in Shakespeare’s day really speak like this, or was he being overly flowery on purpose?” Titus asked, squinting at the script he held in his left hand. His right hand held his turning fork, and every so often, he’d stab one of the steaks and flip it over. It made Catherine smile to watch him.

  “I imagine a combination of both,” Mrs. Van Dyke replied. “He had to be accessible to his audience, but he also wanted them to transcend their everyday lives with his stories. That’s a common goal of most writers.”

  “Right now I’d just like to understand more of it.” Titus flipped another steak.

  “You’re doing a wonderful job, and I appreciate your help,” Catherine told him. “It’s nice to hear Romeo’s parts spoken in a man’s voice so I can see what it will sound like when I’m ready to rehearse with Mr. North.” She turned back to Mrs. Van Dyke. “I’m not to go to the theater for three whole days?”

  Mrs. Van Dyke had the grace to act like she hadn’t already heard this question twice. “Yes, my dear. You need time to memorize your lines without distraction.”

  Catherine understood that, but it felt like she was being punished for something. “Doesn’t Melvin want to see me anymore?”

  “Oh, my dear.” Mrs. Van Dyke placed her hand on Catherine’s shoulder. “This wasn’t his choice—it was mine, and he’s equally sad about it.”

  “It was your choice?”

  “Yes. I noticed during rehearsal last night that you were being pulled here, there, and everywhere, and you weren’t even being asked to read what we’d practiced during the day. That can’t have been comfortable for you.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” Catherine admitted.

  “I don’t think it’s fair to toss you right into the center of a play and expect you to keep up with the others when they’ve been rehearsing for weeks. This will give us the chance to see to your learning at a pace that works for you.”

  Catherine smiled, suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude. “Thank you for seeing to my best interests, Mrs. Van Dyke. You see, Melvin and I had a small quarrel last night, and I was afraid that he’d decided to get rid of me or some other such thing. I should have listened to your explanation from the start instead of taking it so personally.”

  “That’s quite all right, my dear.” Mrs. Van Dyke paused. “I wonder if I should tell you, or if I should let him tell you . . .”

  “Tell me what?” Catherine wiped her floury hands on a dishtowel and leaned against the counter. “Please—tell me what?”

  Mrs. Van Dyke grinned, and Catherine realized she’d walked right into the older woman’s trap. “I spoke with Melvin last night, and he’s quite unhappy about your quarrel. He realizes that he made a mess of things.”

  “It’s very good of him to admit it,” Catherine replied. “I’m still trying to decide if I said or did anything wrong—at the time, I felt entirely in the right, and I still feel that way. Maybe I’ll start to have guilt in another day or two.”

  “Maybe you will, and maybe you won’t. I’m not sure it’s necessary,” Mrs. Van Dyke said. “Let’s put all that to the side and concentrate on getting you ready. We’ll have time enough to discuss relationships when this is all said and done.”

  ***

  For the next three days, Catherine and Mrs. Van Dyke worked several hours a day on her lines, with Titus chiming in here and there. Uncle Samson returned with the other men from town, each driving a wagon loaded with supplies, and it was just in time, too—they’d all nearly run out of coffee, and a restaurant can hardly function without coffee.

  The night Samson came home, Catherine found him in the parlor as usual, but this time, he wasn’t reading his newspaper. He was merely sitting there, a faint smile on his face.

  “Uncle Samson? Is everything all right?”

  He looked up. “Hmm? Oh, yes. Of course. I was just thinking.”

  “About what? You looked happy.”

  “Did I?” He chuckled, and she took the chair across from him. “What we did wasn’t anything spectacular—we hitched up some wagons, drove them a distance, unloaded a stranded train, and came back. We didn’t risk our lives or encounter blizzards or face starvation—it was almost like attending a Sunday School picnic for how dangerous it was. And yet I have a sense of pride and completion I haven’t felt in years. I was just contemplating how we sometimes think we have to be heroes on a grand scale in order to make a difference in the world, but in reality, heroes are those who are committed to doing what they’ve been asked to do. Or volunteering when others won’t. We all make differences in the lives of those around us, and it doesn’t matter how large those gestures are.”

  “You’re right, Uncle Samson,” Catherine said with a smile. “And I’m so glad you feel like a hero—and that it’s made you happy. You deserve it.”

  “I believe I do,” he replied. “Now, off to bed with you. I understand you’ve been working hard.”

  “Yes, but it’s making me happy too.”

  “Good. Soon we’ll have a whole houseful of happy people.”

  That was a perfectly wonderful thought.

  ***

  “Again from the first line,” Melvin said, pointing at Gerard. “You keep putting the emphasis in the wrong place.”

  “I don’t feel like it is the wrong place.” Gerard walked to the edge of the stage and squatted so he’d be closer to eye level with Melvin. “The emphasis changes the meaning. What exactly is the meaning here? It could go either way, and we need to figure that out before we take it any further.”

  Melvin studied the page, then sighed. “You’re right,” he said at last. “You’re absolutely right. I’ve been reading it the other way this whole time. Do it again, but with your interpretation, and let’s see how it sounds.”

  Gerard took his place again, and Melvin cringed as he realized just how wrong he’d been. The whole passage was better with Gerard’s input, and Melvin had nearly allowed his pride to bring down the quality of the production. His pride had been responsible for a great many things as of late, and he wasn’t pleased about it.

  “I don’t feel like we’re getting anywhere,” he said to Mrs. Van Dyke when she popped up at his elbow a few minutes later. “I’m not inspiring them, I’m not leading them—I merely have them on leashes and I’m guiding them around and around in circles.”

  “Perhaps that’s be
cause you’re not feeling very inspired,” Mrs. Van Dyke replied. “I might have the solution to that problem.”

  “Oh? What’s that?”

  Mrs. Van Dyke motioned toward the wings, and Melvin’s breath caught as Catherine stepped onto the stage wearing her Juliet costume. “We realized we’d never brought this to you for approval,” she said. “What do you think?”

  Alice stood next to Catherine, a box of pins in her hand for whatever alterations Melvin wanted, but he didn’t want anything. What he saw standing before him was perfection, and any changes would mar the vision. “You’re lovely,” he finally managed.

  Catherine smiled. “Does that mean you approve of the costume?”

  “I do. I definitely do.”

  “Excellent. I’ll go change and then I’ll come right back. Mrs. Van Dyke believes I’m ready to join the cast again today.” She exited the stage, and Melvin exhaled long and loud.

  He’d missed her more than he’d realized, and that was saying a great deal. Each morning when he’d woken up, he’d had to remind himself to head to a different restaurant. There were several good establishments in town, but only one had Catherine, and because she wasn’t there, he found little things to criticize. Nothing had been good enough, and consequently, he felt terrible about himself and his reactions—he wasn’t good enough.

  But now that Catherine was back, maybe everything would settle back to rights again.

  “She’s the answer to many of your problems, but you’re the answer to the rest,” Mrs. Van Dyke told him when she returned. “Catherine can’t cure your character flaws or fill in the chinks in your armor. Those are things you’ll have to do for yourself.”

  “Understood, and I’m ready to tackle them,” Melvin replied. “But she can solve my biggest problem of all—loneliness. If she were at my side, I don’t think I’d ever be lonely again.”

  “As long as you let her in, you’ll never be lonely,” the woman corrected. “I know several couples who have yet to learn this lesson. They walk through each day feeling completely isolated when in reality, if they would simply open up to their spouses, they’d find a wealth of friendship. Don’t let that become you.”