A Cowboy for Lynne: Cameron Family Saga

by Shirley Larson

  By this time, Susan, Alex’s wife, and Anne, Justin’s wife came to welcome me, hug me and kiss me.

  “What a coincidence,” I said wryly. “I walk in the door and everybody in the family is here.”

  “Pure coincidence. Come here, pretty girl,” Susan said. “Let your Aunt Susan have some Madeline time.”

  “What’s Madeline time, Mommy?” the little girl said, as I handed her over to Susan.

  “Madeline time is when you share your hug with Aunt Susan,” her mother told her.

  I gave Liz my I know what you’re up to stare. “You’re all here to cheer me up.” Her response was to ignore me, glance at Susan and say, “She’s not too heavy for you, is she?”

  “No, she’s not too heavy,” Susan said.

  Those few words teemed with information, information they thought they weren’t going to share with me till later. They might have thought they were fooling me, but as Susan sat down carefully at the kitchen table, I said, “When are you expecting, Susan?”

  Susan laughed and petted Madeline’s curls. “Can’t fool you, can we? October.”

  I leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Congratulations, sis. How’s the father-to-be taking it?” Alex had the same condition our father had, but since it was caught early and treated with medication, Alex, unlike our father, had a good chance of living to a ripe old age.

  “It was a little rough at first. But his family and I talked him through it.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help.”

  “You’re here now. We can celebrate this evening.”

  “Where are the guys?” In the kitchen, I settled into what was “my” chair, the one closest to the left of Hunter’s place at the head of the table.

  “They’re in the library going over business stuff,” Liz said quickly in a nonchalant tone that made me quite sure I was the “business stuff.”

  Hunter tilted his desk chair back and stared at his brothers. “If she goes haring off to Los Angeles or Chicago, she could be in as much danger from Haines as she was in New York. She needs to be where we can protect her.” He’d called the war counsel as soon as he’d flown in. Now he sat ensconced in Philip’s old leather chair behind the desk, tapping the end of a pencil on the desk mat.

  Justin hefted a hip onto one corner of the desk. “How the hell are we going to pull that off?”

  Alex paced. “This isn’t going to be easy. She never did call you for help, did she, Hunter? You were finally tipped off by that guy in Florida?”

  “Don’t remind me. I felt like an idiot, learning from some guy at the opposite end of the country that Lynne was being stalked. She’s got too damn much pride, our sister.”

  “Wonder where she gets that from.” Justin caught up a glass paper weight and tossed it from one hand to the other.

  Alex stepped in and neatly intercepted, catching the glass globe away from Justin. “Will you stop? If you dropped that paperweight of Dad’s, Mother would be heart broken.”

  “I wasn’t planning on dropping it.”

  “Guys, for Pete’s sake.” Hunter took the paperweight from Alex and placed it back on the desk out of Justin’s reach. “This is our sister’s life we’re talking about here.”

  “Well, unless you want to tie her to the chair for the rest of her life, I don’t see what we can do.”

  “How come that guy from Florida had your phone number?” Alex asked.

  “He had my business number because we’re scheduled to do a theater renovation down there in a couple of weeks. They‘re getting it ready to stage live shows. They need a producer-director…”

  “Really?” said Justin, leaning across the desk to put his face in Hunter’s.

  “That’s right,” Alex said with a gleeful grin. “Looks like the ball’s in your court, big brother.”

  Later, at the dinner table, the six-hundred pound elephant, that is, my situation, was in the room, but everyone did an excellent job of ignoring it, I’ll give them that. From Susan, it was: “Would you pass the brown rice, Alex? I’m eating for two remember?” And from Alex, “Brown rice. Broiled chicken. Spinach salad. Fresh fruit. Your cook is going to kill me with this health food stuff, Mom.”

  “It’s good for both Alex and I…and it can’t hurt the rest of you. I don’t see anybody else complaining.”

  “They’re too…” he waited, an elaborate comic pause, “chicken.”

  While everyone else at the table groaned, Justin held up his fork for silence and said, “We’re just counting the minutes till we can run out to a fast food place and get some French fries.”

  Anne gave him a playful swat on his knee. “That’s not true and you know it. This isn’t any different than the food I serve you.”

  But not as a steady diet. You do manage to slip in a pizza here and there. And you make one mean lasagna.” Justin raised the hand Anne had placed on his thigh and brought it to his lips. Beside Justin, one year old Josh banged his spoon on his high chair tray and giggled.

  There was a sudden awkward quietness around the table that bothered me. I wanted to rush into the silence with some anecdote of my own before my family started to discuss my situation. I really hoped we wouldn't get into it, first of all because I didn't think Natalie should be hearing any of it, and secondly because it felt so good just to be at a table with three generations of my family.

  Anne sat spooning mashed potatoes into Josh's cute little bow mouth. He promptly used his tongue to eject them and send them dribbling down his chin. Madeline laughed and said, "Look, Mommy. Look what Josh is doing. He's eating his food from the outside."

  The adults at the table all laughed but not my mother. She came to Josh and wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin. "That's all right, sweetheart. You let Grandmamma take you." Ignoring the protests of both Anne and Justin who in unison said, "He's too big for you,” she lifted Josh out of his chair. A definite odor drifted in the air. “On second thought,” Amelia held the child with his smelly diaper at arm’s length and said, “Maybe you better take him, Anne.”

  Natalie jumped up from her chair. “I'll change him, Anne. You sit and finish your meal.”

  Amelia relinquished Josh to Natalie's arms. “You are a joy and a treasure, Natalie.”

  “Oh, Grandmamma, you say that every time you see me. You just think I'm special because you love me. You're the one who is special.” She turned and went out of the room, carrying Josh draped over her shoulder.

  Anne's eyes held the beginnings of tears. “I keep waiting for her to turn into the teen age monster that's supposed to come with this age. It hasn't happened.”

  “She hasn't said anything to me about the theater. Has she given up that idea?”

  “I think she has. She's been volunteering at the hospital in the children's wing because she thinks that's where she wants to be. She says so many people helped her when she was sick, she thinks she should try and give back.”

  “She's pulling down high grades in all her subjects. She's smart as a whip, takes after her sister.” Justin put his arm around Anne and squeezed her shoulders. “Natalie could do anything she wanted to.”

  “Not too proud of your women, are you, Justin.” Alex said, smiling.

  “I am very proud of them. Lucky for me that Josh came along or I'd outnumbered by two very smart females.”

  “Perhaps her sensitivity comes from having had leukemia. She knows much more about the fragility of life than most girls her age,” Anne said.

  “She’s still in remission, isn’t she?” asked Susan, a bit anxiously.

  “Yes. At her last check up, she was pronounced clean. We feel so very fortunate.” Her husband Justin brought her hand to his lips and said, “Very fortunate indeed.”

  There was another one of those silences where everybody seemed to look down at their empty plates and then up at Hunter. My eldest brother cleared his throat, a sign of insecurity I didn’t often see in him.

  “I think it’s time we talked about Lynne’s situation,”
said Hunter.

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” I said firmly. “I’ll stay here a few more days and then I’ll fly to Los Angeles. There are theaters there…”

  “Lynne, I know you want to be independent. But I’d like you to listen to an idea we had…and give it some consideration. We know,” he gestured at Justin and Alex, “of an opportunity in Florida. We’ve been hired to renovate a theater down there. It’s an old vaudeville theater built in 1924. They have a collection of prominent people who have agreed to serve on the theater board, and they have the non-profit status in place. They’re looking for someone to head up the theater, to produce and direct musicals.”

  “I don’t know anything about producing and directing.”

  “You’ve worked on Broadway. You know what goes into making a show. You’ll have people to help you. They’ve already hired a set builder. We think you should go down and apply for the job.”

  “We, as in my overbearing brothers?”

  “We, as in the family who cares for you.”

  “In other words, kiss performing goodbye.”

  “I’m not sure it would be that definite. You could try it for a year. If it didn’t suit you, you’d say sayonara and leave. But while you were there, you’d be your own boss.”

  Leave it to Hunter, the skilled negotiator. He knew how I’d railed against being instructed by a director to do something that I felt wasn’t in keeping with the character. “Not exactly. I’d have to answer to the board. And the community.”

  It was Justin’s turn to persuade me. “It will be something different, sis. A challenge. You’ve always liked a challenge.”

  “What do you think, Liz? You’ve been on Broadway.”

  “Yes. And I know how all-consuming it is. This job might give you a chance to meet people, have a life. But it comes down to this; are you willing to give up appearing in front of the audience and step behind the scenes? That’s the question you should be asking yourself.”

  I turned to my big brother. “What’s the real reason you want me to do this, Hunter? Is it because you and your crew will be down there working?”

  “It had crossed my mind,” Hunter admitted. “We don’t know what this Richard maniac will do. I just think it’s a good idea if you are somewhere close to family, not off in California.”

  “Even if I do agree to apply for the job, there’s no guarantee I’ll get it.”

  “That’s true,” Hunter agreed. “But you won’t know until you try.”

  That night, I lay in my bed in my old room and contemplated my life. I was just seven when my father died and left us without any money. Hunter became the head of the family and at seventeen, searched for a way to support us. He ended up in construction work, working for someone else at first and then striking out on his own, taking a great risk by going into business renovating properties. I suppose that’s why he felt it would be good for me to take this job and essentially be my own boss. He’d been my father in other ways, too. When I was in my second year of college and got the opportunity to appear in the chorus line of a Broadway musical, Hunter told me to forget about getting a degree in musical theater and take this golden opportunity. That had been a good decision. It had led to the career that I could look back on with pride. But Liz was right. I had to make the decision that I was willing to give up performing if I was going to take on this gigantic job. Was I afraid I’d fall flat on my face? Heck yes. Was that going to stop me? Heck no. Hunter was right. I wouldn’t know if I could land this job until I tried.

  Before I left for Florida, I caught Hunter in the library. “I need to know how you found out about Richard.”

  He stood leaning against the mantle. When he turned around, I caught the full force of my brother’s magnetism. He was a mature, handsome man, a man to be reckoned with. “I’m not at liberty to divulge that information.”

  “Oh, come on, Hunter. This isn’t a Senate hearing. How did you know?”

  “I’m not going to tell you, Lynne, so stop asking. I have my sources. That’s all you need to know.”

  “You were on to Richard long before it hit the tabloids.”

  He came to me and wrapped me in his arms. Then he held me back to look me in the face. “I appreciate that you want to be your own woman. But sometimes, it doesn’t hurt to have a little macho backup.”

  I stood in his arms and remembered how he had held me when our father died. With tears in my eyes, I tipped my head to look up at him. “All right, big brother, keep your secrets. I just…I wanted to thank you and tell you that I love you.”

  “I love you, too, sis. Always have, always will.”

  Somehow, my session with Hunter made it easier to say goodbye to my mother Amelia and the rest of the family. I would miss them, especially Natalie. She was my favorite little sister-in-law. I gave her a special hug and told her she would have to come and visit me in Florida after we got the theater up and running. Her eyes lit up like I’d given her Christmas. Her sister Anne wrapped me in her arms and whispered, “Thank you.”

  Chapter 4

  The cherubs

  In an old theater that had seen generations of comedy and drama play out on its stage, hundreds of audiences exploding into laughter or wiping tears from their eyes, magic lingered here.

  When the sun reached the correct degree of reflection to shine through the mullioned windows and cast its rays on the ceiling of the auditorium, two spirits came to life.

  “Sarah. Sarah, wake up.”

  The golden cherub flying on the proscenium above the old stage yawned, stretched her arms and looked across at her brother. “I was sleeping.”

  “You’re always sleeping.”

  “And you’re always talking. What is it?”

  “I overheard one of those men tell the other one that they are going to renovate the theater.” Michael fluttered his wings with excitement.

  Sarah yawned. “They’ve been saying that for twenty years and nothing has come of it. Now go back to sleep.”

  “What if they…get rid of us?” Michael shuddered. It was a thought too terrible to contemplate.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. We’ve been here for a hundred years and we’ll be here for a hundred years more.” Sarah closed her eyes, preparing to drift back to her dreams.

  “But suppose they want to tear us down and put up a piñata or something?”

  Sarah’s eyes snapped open and she sighed heavily. “Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t even know what a piñata is.”

  “I know it hangs from the ceiling.”

  Sarah fluttered her cherub wings, something she often did to keep the dust from building up on them. “You worry too much, Michael. Just go back to sleep.”

  Michael had enjoyed being chosen to be the guardian angel of the theater. But what if somebody decided they were too old-fashioned to be where they were, floating above the stage. What if that same somebody came and tore them down? What if they ended up on a junk pile somewhere?

  In two and a half hours, the weather went from cold and cloudy to sunny and hot. I also went from the relative quiet of an airplane seat to Mickey Mouse mania. Dozens of eager families and their munchkins had come to Orlando to attend Disney World. On the lower level, they got on the bus to Walt Disney’s Kingdom, while I filled out the papers for my rental car.

  The toll way extracted three bucks from my possession but my ride to Caramel was smooth. I checked into my hotel and was given a lovely, already cooled, one- bedroom suite. In the living room, heaven knew why, was a fireplace complete with andirons. I ordered room service, unpacked and went into the bedroom to undress and lay down, and for the first time in weeks, I slept soundly.

  The next day, I wandered through the Avenues on Stadium Road and ended up in Francisca’s, a delightful little boutique with lovely custom jewelry and trendy clothes. I traveled over a causeway, a four lane highway bridging the St. Johns River from the mainland to Merritt Island, and trolled through the Macy’s store. I thought about buying a coup
le of summer dresses, but if I didn’t get the job, I’d be living on my savings. I decided window shopping was the better choice right now.

  It was late afternoon when I got in my rental car to head back to the hotel, the sun setting in front of me. I traversed the causeway, and saw the words, Caramel Village Theater painted on a high wall.

  I turned down Breen Street and approached the historic building in the dying light of the day. Intrigued by the look of the old-fashioned marquee, I pulled into a parallel parking space and climbed out of my car. A man kneeled in front of one of the double doors. He seemed to be working on repairing a lower hinge.

  “Excuse me…”

  He straightened and I nearly had a heart attack. I’ve seen cowboys in the movies, but this, ladies and gentlemen, was a real cowboy. As tall as my brothers, wide of shoulder, lean of hip, the dark hairs on his arms showing below the rolled cuffs of his shirt. He took off his big old hat in a courtly manner that I’d thought was extinct, and his hair was black velvet, cut stylishly short. He wore one of those western shirts with the v on each shoulder in a shade of brown that complimented the velvet darkness of his eyes. And his face. He had the lean chiseled face of a Native American warrior and eyes that missed nothing, including my struck dumb expression.

  As I often did when not on the stage, I began to make a fool of myself. “Hi. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your work. It’s just that I’m interested in this building. I think it’s interesting to find an old building in Florida. I mean, I knew about St. Augustine and all, but this little village just doesn’t seem like a very historic place, so it’s interesting…to find a historic building here,” I finished lamely, thinking that after that babble, he must think I’m a complete idiot.

  He stood there accessing me, just as I had him. He made me very conscious that I was a woman, wearing very feminine clothes, a white sleeveless summer dress, the skirt swirling around my legs. Then that wonderful mouth turned up in a smile. “I’m glad you’re so interested…in historic buildings.” He tossed the screwdriver into his tool box with plunk that made me think he might be irritated at being interrupted.