Learning Her Lines

by Amelia C. Adams

  “I will do my best not to let it,” Melvin said. “First, though, I need to convince Catherine that I’m sincere—our last conversation on the topic didn’t go so well.”

  “I hope your next conversation is nothing like the first.”

  “Oh, it won’t be. Trust me.” He stooped and surprised them both by giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Mrs. Van Dyke. You’ve been a blessing.”

  “You’re welcome,” she replied. “Now, why don’t you go talk to her before tonight’s rehearsal begins? She’ll be done changing right about now.”

  “Excellent idea. I’ll go right now.” Melvin dashed up the aisle, out into the hallway, and toward the dressing room door. Some things just couldn’t wait.

  ***

  Catherine was still behind the dressing screen when a tap sounded at the door, so Alice answered.

  “Oh, hello, Mr. Westcott,” she said. “Did you need something?”

  “I’d like to speak with Miss Ross, please.” At the sound of his voice, Catherine found her insides turning to jelly. It had been three whole days since they’d spoken—he hadn’t even come in for a meal. She’d missed him, and if she got the opportunity, she’d tell him right to his face.

  “I can send her out when she’s finished changing,” Alice was telling him.

  “That will do. Have her come to my office.”

  His office? She’d been hoping for some kind of reconciliation, but the office was where two people would go to discuss business. She sighed. Maybe he had more changes to her script or wanted to discuss a scene in act two. That was certainly nothing to get excited about.

  She fastened her regular dress and smoothed it, then unpinned her hair where the costume had mussed it and combed through it with her fingers. She was in no rush—business matters could wait where matters of the heart could not.

  At last, she exited the dressing room and walked up the hall. She remembered the first time she’d stepped on this carpet, how lush it had felt, but now this walk felt like a trudge to her doom. If he cared for her, his behavior would be different. Oh, well. At least she knew what to expect.

  “Come in,” he called out when she rapped on his door.

  “You asked to see me?”

  “Yes. Please, come have a seat.” Melvin seemed nervous. He met her halfway across the room and guided her to a chair, then sat down behind his desk. As soon as he’d done that, though, he stood up again and took the chair next to hers.

  “Is something troubling you?” she asked. She hoped so. She hoped a great many things were troubling him—like his conscience, for one.

  “Yes, actually. But first, these are for you.” He sprang from his chair again and snatched up a bouquet of lilacs that was lying on the bookshelf just behind her. That was odd—Catherine hadn’t noticed them there when she walked in, but now their heady fragrance filled the whole room. He placed them in her arms, then sat down again.

  “Thank you. These are lovely.”

  “You’re welcome. The idea just came to me.” He sat back and regarded her. “How have you been, Catherine?”

  “Very busy, but good. Mrs. Van Dyke and I have been working extensively, and my cousin Titus has lent us a hand as well. I feel that I know all my lines, and I’m ready to piece them together with the rest of the cast.” She paused. “And how have you been?”

  “Terrible. Utterly and completely terrible.”

  “You have?”

  “I have. Do you recall last week, when I lost both my director and my leading lady on the same day? How distraught I was?”

  She smiled. He liked bringing that up. “Yes, I remember.”

  “Well, this is even worse.”

  “Oh, no! What happened?” She hadn’t heard any news, and Mrs. Van Dyke would have said something—wouldn’t she?

  “Because of my prideful blundering, I’ve endangered one of the dearest friendships I have, and I’ve been unable to think about anything else. Consequently, the play is going to fail, the cast is going to hate me, and we’ll lose money hand over fist. Tell me if that isn’t the saddest thing you’ve ever heard.”

  “It’s very sad, to be sure.”

  “Quite. And I don’t know how to solve this predicament.”

  “Hmm.” She lifted the lilacs to her nose to hide her smile. “Have you thought about apologizing to this dear friend of yours?”

  “I’ve thought about it, and yet I’m worried that it will seem trite and insufficient.”

  “I don’t recall any particular set of instructions or rules for offering apologies. I just know they should be sincere.”

  “Well, I am truly sorry. I don’t think I’ve ever been so sorry in all my life.”

  “Then you’re off to a good start.” Catherine pretended to study him. “Once you’ve apologized, you might see about setting things back to rights. Making changes, for instance. Safeguarding that the mistake doesn’t happen again.”

  “That’s an excellent idea. Let’s see. I made a mistake in telling a young lady that I’d been counseled to court her, but that I wasn’t going to do it.”

  “My goodness. You certainly made that sound harsh.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

  She lifted a hand. “No, it’s all right. We should look at the facts. You told her you weren’t going to court her.”

  “Correct. Then I said I might do it later, but not right now.”

  “I see. So, how would you go about setting that to rights?”

  He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “First, I would tell her that I was an absolute fool. She was sent into my life like a gift from an angel, and for me to behave as I did—it’s unthinkable.”

  “A gift from an angel? That’s a very nice way to phrase it,” Catherine told him.

  “Well, it’s the truth. Then I would tell her that asking her to wait was the most foolish thing I’d ever done. I should be snatching her up in that very moment and not wasting any more time.”

  “That very moment? Mr. Westcott, isn’t it true that you barely know this young lady?”

  “I wouldn’t say that. She’s been bringing me steak for months—we’re practically engaged already.”

  Catherine shook her head and smiled at the same time. Annoying man. “And then how would you complete this apology?”

  “The best thing to do, and the thing I most want to do, would be to kiss her.”

  Catherine’s heart thumped. “You’d kiss her?”

  “Yes. It seems appropriate once I’ve told her that I love her.”

  “Well, you didn’t tell me about that part.”

  He seemed surprised. “I didn’t?”

  “No. I think you were just going to let me assume.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I would tell her that I love her, and then I would kiss her.”

  “I see. Well, it sounds to me like you’ve laid things out in a nice, orderly fashion. I see no reason why this wouldn’t be effective.”

  “That’s good to know. Thank you for your input.”

  “You’re welcome. Any time.”

  They sat there quietly for a moment, Catherine wondering what she was supposed to do now. But then she didn’t have to wonder anymore. Melvin came to his feet, pulled her into his arms, and whispered, “I love you, Catherine, and I’m so sorry.” Then he kissed her.

  It wasn’t the sort of sweet, breathless kiss she’d always dreamed of. It didn’t tickle her lips or make her giggle. Instead, it enveloped her, wrapping itself around her just as Melvin had wrapped her up in his arms. So many thoughts and feelings swept through her, it was no use trying to make sense of them. Instead, she clung to him, counting on him to bring her back to reality when it was time, and he did. She opened her eyes and looked into his, smoky gray and filled with intensity.

  “Oh, my,” she said, feeling behind her for her chair and sitting down again with a thump. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

  “I wasn’t either.” He backed up and leaned
against the edge of his desk. “I’m sorry about the flowers.”

  “The flowers?” She realized she wasn’t holding them anymore—sure enough, when he’d lifted her into his arms, the flowers had dropped to the floor, forgotten. That was all right. They’d given their lives for a good cause.

  “Miss Ross, I believe this is the point in our conversation where I ask you to marry me.”

  “Mr. Westcott, after a kiss like that, if you didn’t propose, you’d have both my uncle and my cousin down here to talk some sense into you.”

  He grinned. “Is that a yes?”

  “If I hope to maintain my reputation, yes. It’s a yes.” Then she grinned in return. “I would have said yes anyway. You just made your argument even more compelling.”

  “I’ve been told I can be rather persuasive.”

  “By whom? How many other women have you been trying to persuade?”

  “None. None whatsoever.” He stood up and held out his arm. “Well, my dear? Shall we go tell everyone the good news?”

  “I don’t know if now’s the time to share the good news, but we definitely need to get back to rehearsals. I’ve got an entire balcony scene to work over with Gerard.”

  Chapter Ten

  “I must know the secret behind the lilacs.”

  Mrs. Van Dyke looked up from her chair in front of Melvin’s fireplace and smiled. “You liked that, did you? I hope you don’t mind my choice of flower—they’re my personal favorite.”

  “It was a very nice surprise. Catherine liked them too. But how did you get them into my office at that exact moment?”

  “Oh, I’m so glad. And it was simple, really. I just told them where they were the most needed, and off they went.” She gave a modest shrug.

  Melvin shook his head. “You’re something else, Mrs. Van Dyke. And you know what? I’ve decided I believe you. No one but an angel could have pulled off what you did here.”

  She beamed, actually looking a little bit bashful. “Oh, that’s sweet of you. You should know, however, that it was really my pleasure. I can’t even remember the last time I’ve had this much fun, and I don’t know when I will again.”

  Something in her tone of voice sounded final, like a farewell. “Are you leaving?” Funny how the thought made him feel sad.

  “I’m afraid so,” she told him. “I stay with an assignment as long as I’m needed, but I’m no longer needed here. Your play will be a great success, but even more than that, you and Catherine have found what you need in each other. As a rather nice side benefit, Uncle Samson has had some positive realizations, and Titus is reading Shakespeare. I’ve not only done my job, but I’ve done it very well.” She paused. “I don’t mean to give the impression that I caused the supply train to derail—I meant that some good was able to come out of the tragedy. I’d never dream of derailing a whole train.”

  Melvin smiled. “Yes, I’d say you were quite successful with your task. Thank you, Mrs. Van Dyke. I’m sorry I was too stubborn to accept you at first.”

  “Well, someone has to keep me on my toes—and remind me from time to time that it’s important to be humble.” She stood up and gave him a quick hug, which he returned gladly. “And now I have one more surprise for you.”

  “Oh? What’s that?”

  She grinned at him. “This is not an honor I bestow upon everyone, but I’ve decided to let you watch me poof.”

  “Really?” He didn’t know why, but that made him happy. As though he’d earned a great reward.

  “Really. Goodbye, Melvin. I’ll never forget you.” She waggled her fingers in farewell, and then, as he watched, she disappeared. Just vanished. As though she’d never existed at all. He’d never seen—or rather, not seen—anything like it.

  He blinked a few times, and then he laughed. “Thank you,” he called out, not knowing if she could still hear him. “It was everything I hoped it would be.”

  ***

  For the first time in the Iron Skillet’s history, it was closed on a Friday night. It meant they’d lose a significant amount of business for the day, but Uncle Samson considered it worth the sacrifice so the entire Ross family could be present for Catherine’s opening night. Knowing what had been put on the line, she felt an extra obligation to do well, and that obligation definitely didn’t ease her nerves.

  She stood behind the heavy curtains, her hands shaking, wondering how she would ever get through this. Alice kept patting her forehead with a handkerchief, but she knew it was hopeless.

  “I’m going to ruin this whole thing,” she said at last. “I’m going to single-handedly ruin everything Melvin’s been working for this whole time.”

  “You’ve been working just as hard—no, harder,” Alice told her. “And you’re going to be brilliant. I watched dress rehearsal yesterday, and I couldn’t believe this was your first play. You looked as though you were born to be up there.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. And I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.”

  “Thank you.” Catherine exhaled. “All right. I can do this. I just need to stay focused.”

  “Exactly. You have what it takes—and now you just need to believe that about yourself.”

  Alice was a sweet girl—Catherine was so grateful for the support she’d lent over the last two weeks. She’d certainly relied on it.

  The overture started, and Catherine focused on each note. Then on the curtain being lifted to the rafters. Then on the actors and actresses who appeared on stage before her. They all seemed so calm, as though there was nothing unusual at all about what they were doing. Of course, for them, this was second nature. They all had so much more experience than she did.

  When at last it was her turn, she threw a panicked look at Alice, who smiled in return, and Catherine stepped onto the stage—she stepped into the light of her destiny.

  For the first few minutes, she was a trembling mess, but Gerard kept smiling at her or touching her hand, encouraging her, and she pulled strength from his belief in her. The lady who played her nurse offered her the same kind of support, as did the friar, and as she moved from scene to scene, she realized that in the theater, you’re not a single person battling the fear alone. You’re part of a family, and you’re there for each other. She nearly cried as she thought about this, and again as she understood just how very loved she was by all those around her. She had no reason to be afraid—she wasn’t just among friends, but among family. When she looked into the wings and saw Mrs. Van Dyke applauding her, she teared up again.

  With each passing scene, she grew more and more confident, and by the end, she’d almost forgotten she was merely acting on a stage. She could believe that she was mourning the loss of her love, and that only one possible solution existed to end her suffering.

  “You were magnificent,” Melvin said as she came off the stage following the encore. He took both her hands in his and squeezed them. “You amazed me with every word.”

  “I’m so glad I made you proud,” she told him. “That’s all I wanted—well, and to make Mrs. Van Dyke proud too. She gave me a standing ovation here in the wings, so I suppose I did all right.”

  “She was here in the wings?” Melvin asked, glancing around.

  “That’s right.”

  “Oh. I must have missed her.” He had a curious look on his face, but she decided not to ask him about it.

  He must have thought it unimportant too. He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. “This has been the best opening night I’ve ever experienced, Catherine, and I have you to thank for it. I’m so glad you took a chance on me.”

  “And I’m so glad you took a chance on me. I had no experience at all, and yet you believed in me enough to let me give it a try.”

  “I seem to recall badgering you into giving it a try.”

  She laughed. “Well, however it happened, I’m glad it did.”

  “Me too.” He brushed his lips across hers. “And since this collaboration has gone so well, what do you s
ay? Shall we take another chance on each other and get married?”

  She was about to tease him once again about how very little they actually knew each other, but that joke was getting old, and she wanted the question settled once and for all. “Yes, Melvin. I will marry you.”

  He studied her eyes as if to see if she was joking. He must have found whatever he was hoping for because he smiled, and it lit up his whole face.

  “All right—now tonight really is the very best opening night we’ve ever had.” He bent down and kissed her again, nearly knocking her clean off her feet. Just how a kiss should be, both on the stage and in real life. Most definitely in real life.

  The End

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  About Amelia C. Adams

  Amelia traces her family tree right back to the settlement of the Old West—her great-great-grandmother even drove a wagon to her new home. Amelia is a wife, a mother, and a novelist. She spends her days dreaming up stories and her nights writing them down. Her biggest hero is her husband, and you might just see bits and pieces of him as you read her novels. She loves all things historical and enjoys learning about days gone by, but she's glad she was born in modern times because the Internet is awesome, and she's glad she doesn't have to wash her clothes by hand in a galvanized tub. She’s an eater of tacos, a taker of naps, and a dreamer of dreams.

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