Stage Fright / Goodbye, Sweet Prince / Brotherly Love

by Catherine Marshall

  David rolled his eyes. “In my experience, it takes more than that to impress Christy.”

  “Actually, I wasn’t very impressed,” Christy said. She winked at David. “The sad truth is, Neil, you were reciting Juliet’s lines.”

  Three

  So, Neil tells me you’re a bit of a theater buff yourself, Christy,” the doctor’s aunt said that evening at dinner.

  “She’s the best director in Cutter Gap,” exclaimed Ruby Mae, who lived at the mission house with Christy and Miss Ida. “’Course, factually speakin’, she’s the only one.”

  Cora Gray laughed loudly. “Ruby Mae, my dear, that’s the best kind of director to be. Too many cooks spoil the broth, if you get my meaning.”

  “Truth to tell, I don’t rightly follow you—”

  Ruby Mae began.

  “Remember the other day, Ruby Mae,” Christy said, “when you tried to convince me we should change the name of our play to Goldilocks and the Six Bears so that the under- studies could perform, too? That’s what Aunt Cora means by ‘too many cooks.’”

  “I weren’t cookin’. I was directin’,” Ruby Mae muttered as she reached for the bowl of Miss Ida’s mashed potatoes.

  Doctor MacNeil’s aunt was so down-to-earth and charming that Christy already felt like she’d known her forever. She was a plump, animated woman with vivid blue eyes and a full-throated laugh you could hear in the next county. From the minute she’d arrived, she’d insisted that everyone call her “Aunt Cora.”

  “Aunt Cora, you’ll be interested to hear that Christy once starred in Romeo and Juliet,” the doctor said.

  “So did your nephew,” David added wryly. “I caught a bit of his performance this afternoon.”

  Doctor MacNeill pretended to pout. “Personally, I thought I made a riveting Juliet.”

  “I was just in a high school play, Aunt Cora,” Christy explained quickly. “It was nothing, really.”

  “Right now, the Knoxville Players is working on a production of Romeo and Juliet,” said Aunt Cora. “There’s nothing tougher than Shakespeare.”

  “I wish I could see it,” Christy said. “It’s been so long since I’ve watched a real play. Not since I was living in Asheville.”

  “Cutter Gap doesn’t get much in the way of the arts,” Miss Alice explained with a smile. “That’s why we’re all so excited about Christy’s play.”

  “Theater is my great love,” Aunt Cora said. “When those curtains part and the lights dim, it’s simply magical.”

  Christy couldn’t help sighing. “That’s how it always felt to me, too,” she said. “I actually used to dream . . .” She hesitated, suddenly self-conscious.

  “Dream what, dear?” Aunt Cora asked gently.

  Christy shrugged. “Oh, you know—silly things. I dreamed that I’d someday be in a real play on a real stage.”

  “That was my very dream when I was growing up!” Aunt Cora said with a smile. “Don’t forget: ‘We are such stuff as dreams are made on.’” She winked at Ruby Mae. “That’s from another one of Shakespeare’s plays.”

  “He sure did write a heap,” Ruby Mae said.

  “I suppose he was a bit of a dreamer himself.” Aunt Cora took a sip of her tea. “I like to think we all are.”

  “Oh, I got powerful plenty o’ dreams,” said Ruby Mae. “I want to be a mama in a big house in a fancy city, like Asheville—maybe even Knoxville. And I’ll have me a golden horse, faster ’n lightnin’.”

  Aunt Cora nodded. “Those are fine dreams, Ruby Mae,” she said.

  “How about the rest o’ you?” Ruby Mae asked. “Miss Alice, I’ll bet you got yourself all kinds o’ fine dreams.”

  Miss Alice considered. “That’s a good question. I have lots of dreams, I suppose. To begin with, I dream of bringing medicine and learning and hope to every last person in these mountains.” She grinned. “And of course, there’s my long-held aspiration to learn to play the dulcimer.”

  “Why, Miss Alice, I’m sure Jeb Spencer would learn you to play, if’n you just asked him,” Ruby Mae exclaimed.

  “It’s true, Miss Alice,” Christy added. “Jeb’s taught all of his children how to play. And it’s such a lovely instrument.”

  Christy could still remember the first time she’d heard Jeb play the dulcimer. It was a box-like instrument with four strings, a slender waist and heart-shaped holes. The sweet music it made sounded as if it had been sent straight from heaven.

  “How about you, Preacher?” Ruby Mae asked. “What’s your dream?”

  David combed back his straight, dark hair with his fingers. He thought for a moment before answering. “Well, to tell you the truth, Ruby Mae,” he said, “I wouldn’t mind seeing more of the world someday. Paris. London. The mysterious Far East.” He shrugged. “Of course, it’ll probably never happen. It’s hard to imagine having the time, let alone the money. . . .”

  “You can’t go a-thinkin’ that way, Preacher,” Ruby Mae scolded. She reached across the table to snare the last of Miss Ida’s flaky biscuits. “You gotta keep hopin’. That’s the fun o’ dreamin’.”

  “Ruby Mae’s right,” Miss Alice agreed. “When I told people I was going to help start a mission here in the Great Smokies, you should have heard their reactions. They said I was doomed to fail.” She grinned. “Some even said I was crazy. But you have to dream big, even if you might fail. The trying is everything.”

  Miss Ida cleared her throat. “Well, I should see to the cleaning up, I suppose.” She pushed back her chair and began to clear the table.

  “Hold on, Miss Ida,” Christy said. “You can’t get away without telling us your dream.”

  “I don’t have a dream,” Miss Ida said primly. “Unless, of course, it’s that someday Ruby Mae will finally learn to clean up her bedroom.”

  “Not so fast, Ida.” David yanked on her apron string. “I admitted my dream. Fair is fair.”

  “I’m telling you, I don’t have a dream,” Miss Ida insisted. She pulled free of David’s grasp and marched toward the kitchen. When she got to the door, she paused.

  “Unless,” she said, turning to look at the group with a little smile, “you count my secret dream to become a tap dancer.” She demonstrated with a couple of quick steps, and vanished into the kitchen.

  “Well, well,” said Doctor MacNeill. “That’s a side of Miss Ida we’ve never seen before!” He consulted his pocket watch. “I should be heading back to my cabin, folks. I want to make a stop on the way home and check on the Millers’ new baby.”

  “Not so fast, Neil.” Christy wagged her finger at him. “You’re the only one who hasn’t revealed a dream. We’re not letting you escape that easily.”

  The doctor shrugged. “These days, I generally avoid dreaming. Real life is complicated enough. Seems to me having dreams just sets you up for failure.”

  “This, from a man who decided to practice medicine in such a remote corner of the world?” said Aunt Cora. “I’d call that quite a big dream.”

  “Come on,” Ruby Mae urged, “just tell us one itty-bitty teensy-weensy dream. Ain’t there somethin’ you always wanted to learn yourself how to do? Like whittlin’?”

  “Or playing the trombone?” Christy suggested.

  “Or attending church regularly?” David added with a sly grin.

  “Nope.” Doctor MacNeill folded his arms over his chest. “Not a one.”

  “You’re not leaving this table until you admit something,” Christy warned.

  The doctor rubbed his chin. “I can see I’m vastly outnumbered. All right. Maybe there is one thing. But you have to promise not to laugh. Especially you, Reverend.”

  “You have my solemn vow,” David responded.

  “I’ve always wanted to . . . well, learn how to paint. The mountains are so beautiful, I sometimes wish I could capture them on canvas forever.” The doctor shook his head. “There. Now that I’ve made a complete fool of myself, are you all happy?”

  “Neil, that’s not the least bit f
oolish,” Christy said gently. “I think it’s a wonderful dream.”

  “And so do I,” pronounced Aunt Cora. “Perhaps I’ll send you some painting supplies when I get back to Knoxville.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t have the time,” Doctor MacNeil said. “Don’t bother, Aunt—”

  “No bother. Who knows? We may have a budding artistic genius in our midst.” She nudged Christy. “Not to mention a budding theatrical genius. Your play tomorrow could be the start of something wonderful.”

  “Well, it’s a little smaller scale than the Knoxville Players. But it’s the finest company of actors in the world.”

  Four

  And now, I’d like everyone in our little theater company to take a final bow!”

  It was the following afternoon. The play had been a wonderful success. Christy watched in delight as all of her students gathered at the front of the schoolroom. Everyone was there— the stagehands, the set decorators, the understudies, and the actors—even Little Burl, the curtain-puller.

  The rest of the room was filled to capacity. Parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, younger sisters and brothers—it seemed as if everyone in Cutter Gap had shown up for the debut performance of Goldilocks. So many people had come, in fact, that many of them had been forced to watch the show through the windows.

  Now they stood on their feet, applauding and stomping and cheering and whistling. Christy held up her hand, and at her signal, all seventy students bowed, just the way she’d taught them. Slowly, Little Burl tugged the curtain across the stage.

  “I want to thank you all for coming to our first performance,” Christy called, but the audience was still applauding wildly and she could barely make herself heard.

  She slipped behind the curtain. “Wonderful job, everybody!” she said to the excited students. She could see the pride shining in their eyes.

  “They’s still a-clappin’ and carryin’ on, Teacher,” Creed exclaimed. “Ain’t it a wonder?”

  “They’re clapping so hard because you deserve it,” Christy said. “You know, I think that after all this excitement, I’m going to go ahead and dismiss class for the day. You all can head on out and find your families. Congratulations, everyone, on a wonderful performance!”

  A few minutes later, David, Aunt Cora, and Doctor MacNeill made their way through the crowd to congratulate Christy.

  “What a turnout!” David exclaimed. “And they were hanging on every word. I wish I could get these people to pay as close attention to my sermons!”

  “Maybe if you dressed up in a bear costume, Reverend,” Doctor MacNeill joked.

  “You did a wonderful job, Christy,” Aunt Cora said. “Those children just lit up the stage.”

  “I’m so proud of them,” Christy said. “Especially children like Mountie O’Teale, the one who played Baby Bear. She’s always been very shy around people. For a long time she even refused to speak. But there she was, out on that little stage, saying her lines like an old acting pro!”

  “Christy,” Aunt Cora said, “there’s something I’d like to discuss with you.” She exchanged a glance with Doctor MacNeill. “Please feel free to say no if you’re not interested. I mean, I know how busy you are here with the school, and the timing isn’t the best . . .”

  “What is it?” Christy asked.

  “Well, as I told you, our production of Romeo and Juliet begins soon. Because I’d planned this trip for so long, I left the play in the capable hands of my assistant director.

  Still, when I get back to Knoxville, there’ll be plenty of last-minute chaos to contend with. I was wondering if you’d like to come back with me and help out with the production. I might even be able to get you a small part in the play.”

  Christy just stared in disbelief. She couldn’t be quite sure, but she had the feeling that her mouth was hanging open.

  “Christy,” Doctor MacNeill elbowed her, “you’re in distinct danger of drooling.”

  “I . . . I don’t know what to say,” Christy managed. “I mean, I’m so flattered that you asked, Aunt Cora. And it would be such an honor to help you. But I have my obligations here. The children, my work . . . I just couldn’t . . .”

  “Ah, but we’re way ahead of you,” said Doctor MacNeill. “The Reverend and Miss Alice have already agreed to take over your teaching duties while you’re gone.”

  “Go on, Christy,” David urged. “It’d do you good. Miss Alice and I can handle things just fine.”

  “I might even go along with you,” said Doctor MacNeill. “I’ve got some friends in Knoxville—doctors I went to school with. And I’d love to spend more time with Aunt Cora.”

  “But I couldn’t begin to afford a ticket—”

  “It’s my treat,” Aunt Cora interrupted. “You’d be doing me a favor, actually. I’d welcome your help. It’s the first rule of the theater: the last few days before a play debuts, things always seem to go wrong.”

  Christy hesitated. “But my going would be so silly, really. I’m not an actress. I’m not a director. I’m a teacher.”

  “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance, Christy,” said Doctor MacNeill. “You can’t pass it up. It’s your dream.”

  “I—I’ll think about it,” Christy stuttered. “Would that be all right, Aunt Cora?”

  “Of course.” Aunt Cora patted Christy on the shoulder. “You take all the time you need. But remember this line from Shakespeare, dear:

  Our doubts are traitors,

  And make us lose the good we oft might win,

  By fearing to attempt.

  Doctor MacNeill grinned. “Translation— what have you got to lose?”

  “Nothing, I suppose . . .” Christy said. Under her breath she added, “except my pride.”

  Five

  I just don’t know what to do, Miss Alice.”

  A week had passed, and Christy still hadn’t made up her mind about Aunt Cora’s offer. This afternoon, after school had let out, Christy had come to Miss Alice’s cabin, hoping to get some much-needed advice.

  “I have to decide something soon,” Christy said. “Aunt Cora’s going back to Knoxville in two days.”

  Miss Alice, dressed in a crisp dark green linen skirt and white blouse, was brewing tea. She turned to Christy, smiling. “Try looking at things this way. What’s the worse thing that could happen if you went on this little adventure?”

  Christy sank into a rocking chair. “The worst thing? Well, I’d be abandoning my students. They might lose ground on their spelling and grammar work. And I’m just starting to get some discipline in my classroom. That could all go down the drain.”

  “In a few days’ time? Don’t you think David and I are competent to handle things?”

  “Of course,” Christy said quickly. “I suppose I’m just feeling guilty about leaving my students. Even if it is for just a little while.”

  Miss Alice poured steaming tea into two china teacups painted with dainty pink roses. She handed one to Christy, then sat beside her. “Well, what else could go wrong? Let’s look a little deeper.”

  “Well, I could just get in Aunt Cora’s way, for one thing. I doubt she really needs my help. She’s just being kind.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I don’t know the first thing about the theater, not really. Not like she does.”

  “I’m sure you could help out in any number of ways,” Miss Alice argued. “And besides, you have had some experience in the theater.”

  “That was in high school, Miss Alice—not professional theater!” Christy sipped the hot peppermint tea. “Or were you referring to my directing debut at the Cutter Gap Community Theater?”

  Miss Alice laughed. “Everyone has to start somewhere.”

  “Suppose I did go to Knoxville,” Christy said, “and I actually managed to land a role on stage. I’m sure I’d end up tripping on my skirt or forgetting my lines. Just imagine how embarrassing that would be!”

  “So the worst thing you can imagine is that you might tr
ip on stage, in front of hundreds of people?”

  “Well, it would be pretty humiliating, don’t you think?” Christy cried.

  “Being embarrassed is part of being human, Christy. We all make mistakes. We all try things and fail. The important thing is that we do try—and keep trying. That’s what God wants from us. That we try. That we do our best. He doesn’t expect perfection.”

  “I know. But still . . .” Christy’s voice trailed off.

  “Do you recall when you first came here to teach?” Miss Alice asked. “Remember how discouraged you were, faced with such a huge class? I told you a story about a baby.”

  Christy nodded. “It was about a baby learning to walk. How he wobbles and falls and maybe even bumps his nose. But he just gets up and tries again. He doesn’t care what anybody thinks. All he cares about is learning to walk. Oh yes, I remember.” She gave a laugh. “You’re saying if I fall on my fanny in front of hundreds of people, I should just brush myself off like that baby and try again?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. As I told you before, we Quakers like to say that all discouragement is from an evil source, and that it can only end in more evil. The important thing is that you will have tried something new and difficult. And you will have learned and grown as a person. That’s all that matters.”

  Christy gazed out the bank of windows across the back of the room. It was a breathtaking view. The towering peaks and lush greenery spread out before them like a gigantic painting. No wonder the doctor wished he could capture a scene like this on canvas.

  She wondered if he would ever try his hand at painting. Probably not. He was too proud, too afraid to fail at something he thought was “silly.”

  Christy pursed her lips. “Are you absolutely sure that you and David can handle things?”

  “Absolutely and positively.”

  “All right, then.” Christy set down her teacup and leapt to her feet. “I’m going to give it a try. I may look foolish. But I’m going to do it!”

  “Wonderful!”

  Christy’s hand flew to her mouth. “I haven’t even started packing! And I’ve got to put lesson plans together, and tell Aunt Cora, and . . . oh, dear, Miss Alice! I’ve got to go!”