Stage Fright / Goodbye, Sweet Prince / Brotherly Love

by Catherine Marshall

  Oliver’s shoulders slumped. “It’s no use. I tried to give it another shot, but clearly, if I’m not wanted . . .”

  “Of course you’re wanted,” Aunt Cora soothed.

  “No, he isn’t,” snapped the dark-haired woman.

  “Fine. Then I quit—for real this time,” Oliver cried. With that, he stomped off stage and disappeared.

  “Arabella,” Aunt Cora said, “you didn’t have to be so cruel.”

  “I wasn’t being cruel—just truthful,” Arabella said. “Oliver’s fine as an assistant director, Cora. But whenever you put him in charge, he goes mad with the power.”

  Aunt Cora climbed the steps to the stage. “Well, I guess the important thing to do right now is get down to business. First of all, I want to introduce you to Miss Christy Huddleston and Doctor Neil MacNeill. Both are from Cutter Gap, Tennessee. Some of you may already have met Neil, my nephew. Miss Huddleston is a budding actress and director in her own right, in addition to being a fine teacher. She’s here to help out with the production, and perhaps take a walk-on role.”

  Arabella cleared her throat loudly. “Speaking of roles, Cora. Now that Sarah’s lost her voice, I really think I’m perfect to step into the role of Juliet.”

  “Arabella, we’ve been through this already. You’re the set and costume designer. Not an actress. Besides, we have a wonderful Juliet at the ready, in the person of Pansy Trotman, her understudy.”

  “But I’d be perfect for the role,” Arabella argued. “Just watch.”

  Arabella put her hand to her heart, sighed, and crumpled to the ground in a heap.

  “Arabella, I’ve seen your crumple before. You are an excellent crumpler. But the part belongs to Pansy.” Aunt Cora turned to Christy and the doctor. “The excellent crumpling you’ve just witnessed was performed by none other than our own Miss Arabella Devaine. She’s been designing costumes and sets for us for years.”

  Arabella got to her feet, clearly pouting.

  “That handsome young man over there is Mr. Gilroy Gannon, our fine Romeo,” Aunt Cora continued.

  Gilroy, the curly-haired man who’d spoken earlier, waved to Christy and Doctor MacNeill.

  “Over there is Miss Pansy Trotman, our new Juliet. And painting away on the balcony set back in the corner are Miss Marylou Marsh and her brother Vernon.”

  The pretty girl with the paintbrush gave a nod. She was thin, with long blond hair and a shy smile.

  “Marylou?” Doctor MacNeill asked. “Is that really you?”

  Marylou took a few steps forward. Her smile broadened. “Hi, Neil. You look different too. As I recall, you were rather scrawny.”

  “I met Marylou one summer when I came here to visit Aunt Cora,” the doctor explained to Christy.

  “Well, I should get back to my painting,” Marylou said softly.

  “We’ll have to get together and talk over old times,” the doctor said.

  “That’s an excellent suggestion!” exclaimed Aunt Cora. “Listen up, everyone! I’ve just decided to have a party at my home tomorrow evening. We’ll call it an early cast party. That way my nephew and Miss Huddleston can get to know everyone. You’re all invited, and I expect you all to come!”

  “Already she’s giving orders,” Gilroy said with a smile. “You’re as bad as Oliver, Cora.”

  “No one’s as bad as Oliver,” Arabella muttered.

  “Enough of this,” Aunt Cora said. “We’re here to rehearse, not complain. Let us begin, as they say, at the beginning. Act one, scene one! Places, everyone!”

  Nine

  So, Christy,” Aunt Cora said at the party the following evening, “what do you think of theater life so far? You’ve been with us for two days now.”

  “I think,” Christy replied, “it’s a lot more like a schoolroom full of unruly children than I’d ever imagined.”

  Aunt Cora laughed. “Dear, you’ve hit the nail right on the head!”

  The party had been a wonderful success. Aunt Cora’s home was filled to overflowing with the cast and crew. After dinner, some of the stagehands had moved Aunt Cora’s furniture into the corners so that people could dance. Three musicians had brought their instruments along, and now they were playing a lilting waltz.

  Christy already felt as if she knew most of the cast. Gilroy was the shy, clumsy, loveable Romeo. Pansy was the sweet understudy who was now playing the role of Juliet, so emotional she could instantly cry on cue. Arabella was the sharp-tongued designer. Oliver was the assistant director with a flair for the dramatic.

  “I’m surprised Oliver came tonight,” Christy whispered to Aunt Cora. They were standing near the fireplace, watching the others come and go.

  “I’m not. Oliver loves us all, and we love him, in spite of all the complaining. He’s still nursing a grudge, though. You’ll notice how he’s hovering in a corner, looking forlorn and resentful.”

  “I haven’t seen Pansy tonight,” Christy said.

  “Nor have I,” said Aunt Cora. “She seemed rather distracted today. Perhaps it’s the strain of taking on the lead role.”

  Christy nodded. “That would be enough to make anyone distracted!”

  “My, isn’t that Marylou that Neil’s dancing with?” Aunt Cora asked. “He’s quite light on his feet, isn’t he?”

  “Were they . . . good friends?” Christy asked, trying very hard not to sound jealous.

  “Very good,” Aunt Cora replied.

  As the waltz came to an end, Christy couldn’t help wondering just what very good meant. Was it possible that Neil and Marylou had been sweethearts once upon a time?

  She watched as the doctor bowed politely to Marylou. He paused at the refreshment table, then strode over, munching on a cookie. “You ladies look lovely this evening.”

  “And you looked lovely on the dance floor,” Christy said, a bit frostily.

  “You’re too kind, Christy. After all, you’ve had the painful experience of dancing with me.”

  “What did you do today, while we were at the theater?” Aunt Cora asked. “I do hope you haven’t been too bored, dear.”

  “Nope. Looked up ol’ James Briley. He’s that old friend of mine from medical school, Christy. The one who invited me to come to Knoxville to work a while back?”

  “I take it you said no?” Aunt Cora asked.

  “I was sorely tempted,” Doctor MacNeill admitted. “But in the end, Christy helped me see that I belonged in Cutter Gap.”

  “My loss,” Aunt Cora said with a sigh. “But Cutter Gap’s gain. In any case, you’re always welcome to join us at the theater. Or perhaps we could get you started on those art lessons you’ve always wanted. I’ve got a neighbor who’s a wonderful artist. I’m sure she’d be delighted to teach you the basics while you’re here.”

  Doctor MacNeill laughed. “I’ll find some- thing less challenging to do with my time, Aunt Cora!”

  The musicians began a new waltz. “Would either of you ladies care to dance?” Doctor MacNeill asked.

  For a moment Christy hesitated. “I’d be honored,” she replied at last.

  It was difficult dancing in such crowded quarters, but somehow everyone managed. Christy and the doctor swept around the room in tight circles, spinning to the lilting music.

  “Having fun so far?” the doctor asked.

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Glad you decided to come?”

  “Absolutely,” Christy replied.

  “By the way, I have a feeling Romeo has a long-distance crush on you,” the doctor said. “I’ve noticed him watching you from afar.”

  “Gilroy?” Christy cried. “He’s hardly said two words to me. But speaking of crushes, I noticed Marylou is over by the piano, sneaking rather dreamy-eyed peeks at you. Maybe you should ask her for another dance, Neil.” She gave him a rather shy look. “After all, you said you two were old friends.”

  “I’m not sure ‘friends’ is quite the right word,” the doctor said with a wry grin. “Marylou used to beat me up on a regular
basis.”

  “Marylou? That sweet, tiny thing? Used to beat you up?”

  The doctor nodded. “Pummeled me into the ground on a regular basis.”

  Christy couldn’t help laughing. “But why?”

  “I couldn’t tell you. You know how children are. But it was very humiliating. I couldn’t fight back, because, of course, my mother had taught me never to hit a girl.”

  “Come to think of it, I did hear Marylou ask if you ever learned to fight back. It sounds to me like you could have been too scrawny and weak to fight back. Are you sure you could have fought back?”

  The doctor rolled his eyes. “It’s a good thing this waltz is coming to an end. I can see where this conversation is going. You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

  Just as Christy started to respond, Arabella came rushing into the room.

  “I have terrible news!” Arabella cried. “The most dreadful, terrible news!”

  Everyone fell silent. Arabella ran to Aunt Cora’s side. “Come, Cora. I think you should be sitting down when you hear this.”

  Aunt Cora shook her off impatiently. “Goodness, Arabella! Will you just tell me what’s happened? Has someone died?”

  “She might as well have.” Arabella fanned her face with her hand, as if she were in danger of fainting. “It’s Pansy.”

  “Pansy? What’s happened to Pansy?” Aunt Cora demanded.

  Arabella paused, glancing around the room to be sure she had everyone’s attention. “When dear little Pansy didn’t show up for the party, I felt compelled to call her at home to be sure she was well. After all, you know how Pansy loves a party.”

  “The point, Arabella,” Aunt Cora grumbled. “Get to the point.”

  “Well, her mother answered, and she was positively beside herself, poor woman. Of course, who could blame her? I mean, if Pansy were my daughter. . . . Not, mind you, that I’m old enough to have a daughter Pansy’s age, but still—”

  “The point, Arabella!” Aunt Cora cried.

  Arabella took a long, dramatic pause. “Pansy,” she said softly, “has eloped!”

  “Eloped!” Aunt Cora cried. “With whom?”

  “The butcher on Pine Street. You know the one. Mustache, big ears? A nice enough man, but still . . .”

  “I told you this play was doomed!” Oliver declared triumphantly. “And now you have the proof. Juliet number one loses her voice. And now Juliet number two runs off with a butcher, without so much as a proper farewell! If that’s not doomed, I don’t know what is! We are officially Juliet-less!”

  “Settle down, Oliver. I’m sure we’ll think of something,” Aunt Cora said. Still, for the first time since Christy had met her, Aunt Cora looked genuinely worried.

  “Speaking as Romeo, this is very hard to take,” Gilroy said. “I can’t keep falling madly in love with a new Juliet every other day.”

  He sighed. “It’s much too confusing.”

  “How are we ever going to find another Juliet on such short notice?” Aunt Cora asked.

  “Look no further, Cora,” said Arabella. “I shall rescue us from the jaws of defeat. It will be a terrible sacrifice, to be sure—long hours, terrific pressure, even the jealousy of my peers. But through it all, one guiding philosophy will sustain me.” She clasped her hands together. “The show, my dear friends, must go on!”

  Aunt Cora thoughtfully considered the situation. “That’s a fine offer, Arabella. One might even say a noble sacrifice. However, I have just one question for you. Do you know the part?”

  “Do I know the part? Do I know the part?” Arabella cried. “Just listen!”

  She dropped to her knees while the others stared. “O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?”

  Arabella paused. She looked around the room, biting her lip. “Um, the rest slips my mind for the moment. I think it’s something about love.”

  “That’s a pretty safe guess,” the doctor whispered to Christy.

  “Arabella,” Aunt Cora said patiently, “I know how much you want this part, dear. And maybe, if we had more time to prepare you. . . . But right now, we need someone who already knows all the lines. Someone who can learn the staging quickly, and be ready to go on opening night.”

  Arabella jumped to her feet. “And where exactly are you ever going to find someone like that?” she demanded.

  It was a good question, Christy thought. A very good question.

  Suddenly, she realized Aunt Cora was staring directly at her.

  So was Doctor MacNeill.

  And she had a very good idea what they were both thinking.

  Ten

  Christy!” Aunt Cora exclaimed.

  “Christy,” Doctor MacNeill said.

  “Christy?” Oliver asked.

  “Christy!” Gilroy cried.

  “Christy?” Arabella screamed.

  Christy took a step backward. All eyes were on her.

  Aunt Cora looked hopeful. Doctor MacNeill looked encouraging. Oliver looked doubtful. Gilroy looked happy. Arabella looked shocked.

  “Christy has performed the role of Juliet on stage,” Aunt Cora said.

  “In a high school gymnasium, Aunt Cora,” Christy added quickly, “not on a real, professional stage.”

  “What’s the difference?” Aunt Cora said. “An audience is an audience.”

  “B-but it was just an amateur production,” Christy argued. “Halfway through the balcony scene, Romeo’s little brother, Harry, jumped out of the audience, climbed onstage, and joined me in the balcony.”

  “And what did you do when Harry showed up?” Aunt Cora asked.

  “I made up an extra line. I told Romeo I had to go because it was past my little brother’s bedtime.”

  “The mark of a true professional!” Aunt Cora said. “The theater is always full of surprises. That’s one of the reasons we love it so.”

  “I think Christy would make a lovely Juliet,” Gilroy said.

  “Told you he has a crush on you,” the doctor whispered to Christy.

  “But she’s from Cutter Gap!” Arabella objected.

  “So?” asked Gilroy.

  “Well, we’re the Knoxville Players, Gilroy.”

  Gilroy groaned. “I was born in Virginia, Arabella. This isn’t about where you’re from. It’s about finding someone who can do the job.”

  “Gilroy is right,” Aunt Cora agreed. “There are plenty of people in this room who know some of Juliet’s lines. But there’s only one person in this room who knows all of them.”

  “It isn’t fair,” Arabella pouted.

  “Life isn’t always fair, Arabella,” Aunt Cora said. “And speaking of fair, we haven’t even asked Christy how she feels about all this.”

  A long pause followed. Everyone was waiting for Christy to respond. She tried to answer, but her mouth refused to make a sound.

  See? a voice inside of her taunted. You’re tongue-tied in front of these people, Christy. It was one thing to play Juliet in front of your friends and family. It’s quite another to perform in front of strangers in a professional theater.

  “I-I couldn’t,” Christy stuttered at last. “I mean, I’d love to help, I really would. But I just couldn’t. I could do a walk-on part, maybe—one without any lines. I couldn’t play Juliet.”

  “Christy, at least think about it,” Aunt Cora began, but Christy didn’t need to think about it. Her mind was made up. She quietly excused herself and went upstairs.

  Behind her, she could hear Oliver’s sad pronouncement: “I told you this play was doomed.”

  Later that evening, there was a firm knock at Christy’s bedroom door. “Christy? It’s Neil. Did you find the party too boring?”

  “It certainly wasn’t boring.” Christy opened the door.

  The doctor leaned against the door jamb, arms crossed over his chest. “Everyone was sorry to see you go.”

  “Sorry,” Christy shrugged. “I didn’t know what else to do. I hated to let them all down, but I just can’t do it,
Neil. I was nervous enough about coming here and helping out in some small way. I didn’t expect to be forced to take the starring role in a play.”

  “I understand. Aunt Cora said they may just cancel the play for the time being.”

  “Is she all right?”

  “Oh, sure. She’s a little disappointed, maybe.” The doctor chuckled. “She’s not as disappointed as Arabella, certainly.”

  Christy sighed. “Aunt Cora would be even more disappointed if I went out on stage, opened my mouth and nothing came out.”

  “Personally, I’ve never found you to be short of words.”

  “You don’t understand. I don’t even know if I remember all the lines, Neil! It’s been a long time. And how do I know I wouldn’t freeze up in front of all those people? Just stand there like a stone statue?”

  “You don’t. I guess you won’t ever know unless you try.” The doctor thought for a moment. “Seems to me you have to ask yourself if you’ll look back on this moment someday and regret not having taken advantage of the opportunity. At least, that’s what Aunt Cora told me tonight, after I refused her offer of art lessons again.”

  “Why don’t you try your hand at painting, Neil? If Aunt Cora knows a good teacher, this would be the perfect chance for you. It’d be a shame to pass it up . . .” Christy’s voice trailed off. “I guess that sounds kind of silly coming from me, doesn’t it?”

  “I’ll make you a deal,” the doctor said. “I’ll try my hand at painting, if you’ll try your hand at playing Juliet. Just a day or two. No commitment.”

  Christy didn’t answer. Her heart felt as if it were in her throat. She walked over to the window. Stars were scattered across the night sky, like glittering wildflowers in a field of endless black. Back home in Cutter Gap, her students might be looking up at this very sky right now—mischievous Creed, or gentle Little Burl, or fast-talking Ruby Mae.

  What would they say, if she went back and told them about her adventure in Knoxville? How would they react, knowing their teacher had been too afraid to take a chance?