Authors: Linda Schmalz
Julia took in the meager surroundings. Her high school auditorium was at least three times this size. She hoped Sam could take a joke. “And you wonder why the BBC hasn’t called?”
To her relief, he laughed, deep and hearty. “Yes, I know this theater doesn’t look like much, but that was the thrill of it, you see? We literally had to bring the play to life on our own, with little in the way of the lavish theatrical sets and props of today.”
Without warning, Sam recited a short, impromptu speech from Hamlet. Julia stood captured by his skill and intensity. At his conclusion, she instinctively applauded. “You’re great!”
Sam bowed and extended a hand. “Your turn.”
She hesitated. “No, thank you, Sam. I can’t.”
“Can’t what? Come on. I’d love to see you perform.”
“No.” Her response flew from her mouth before she could think. Why was she suddenly petrified of doing the one thing she loved the most?
Sam withdrew his hand. “Okay then. Would you please just come up on the stage?”
Julia ran her hand through her hair. Her heart desired to perform again, yet her legs felt leaden. “What are we going to do?”
Sam put his hands on his hips and rolled his eyes in faux exasperation. “Well, I can guarantee it won’t be disco.”
Julia laughed and her nerves melted in the warmth of his humor. “Okay, okay. But remember, I performed in high school. I’m not a professional. Don’t expect much.”
She joined him on the stage, but to her chagrin he jumped off and sat in a folding chair. “Now, Juliet, show me what you’ve got.”
“Excuse me?” Julia felt her face burn scarlet. What did she get herself into?
“Do a monologue or something.”
“Oh.” She drew a deep breath. It felt oddly wonderful to be back on stage, if only in this little theater with an audience of one. “Okay.”
Selecting a scene from “The Children’s Hour”, a dramatic interpretation she performed on her high school’s speech team, Julia lost herself in the work, words and drama. As she concluded, Sam stood and applauded like a madman.
“Bravo, Julia! Brilliant! You are a fabulous actress.”
Sam’s praise meant so much. And yet, her heart grew heavy. She missed this so much. Acting again almost hurt, for she knew theater was not her future. She sat down on the stage edge. “Thanks for the kind words.”
“It will be a waste of your talent if you stop acting.”
Julia sighed. She didn’t want to go at this again, but he must understand. “Look, Sam. I’m not like you. I can’t stand up to my father and even if I did, I don’t have any rich relatives or entitled heiresses to run to when he cuts me off.”
Sam’s eyes grew wide and his smile faded.
Julia’s hand flew to her mouth. She said too much. Where was her brain when she needed it? Just because Sam couldn’t understand her situation didn’t give her the right to hurt him. In one angry moment she broke Polly’s confidence and embarrassed Sam.
She jumped off the stage and headed for the door. But the obstinate handle thwarted her escape efforts. She couldn’t open the door. “Damn it!” she said, aloud.
“Julia, don’t go.” Sam stood beside her in an instant. Tears streamed down her flaming cheeks, but she allowed him to guide her back to the chairs.
She spoke between sobs as she sat. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that. You’ve been so good to me.”
Sam sat beside her and offered her his hanky. “I suppose Polly told you all about me, then?”
Julia wiped her tears. “Yes, I guess.”
Sam spoke, but Julia found no anger in his words. “You guess? Come on now, love. I lived with Polly, you know. I know she talks about me. She told you about my departed parents and pauper poor life?”
She shifted in her seat, and glanced at him through wet lashes. “She mentioned that your parents died. I’m sorry.”
“So now you know my wicked history.”
Julia sniffed away a remaining tear. She sat back in her chair and glanced sideways at Sam. “Yes, so I don’t understand why you would keep encouraging me to go against my father’s wishes. I mean, granted, you went against your father and things are working out, but all your money went to this Deirdre person and you can’t touch it. You gave up a lot for your dream.”
Julia felt Sam stiffen beside her. Had she struck a nerve?
Still, his voice stayed calm. “So Polly told you about my inheritance as well?”
“Yes. That is now Deirdre’s.”
“I see.” Sam paused for moment. “Well, yes, my financial state leaves something to be desired but still, at least I went after the career I wanted and I think you should too.”
How did he always manage to turn the conversation back to her?
“I’m being forced out.”
“Whatever.”
Julia bristled at his response and a silence fell between them. She felt as if she let Sam down in someway, but she convinced herself she didn’t care. After all, she barely knew him.
Suddenly and to her relief, he spoke again. “What about community theater? Or maybe your college will have a theater department and you can take a class?”
Julia contemplated Sam’s idea. Why hadn’t she thought of this? She could major in nursing, keep her father happy, and enroll in a theater class or two. Was nursing school that taxing that she thought she wouldn’t have any extra time? And her father wouldn’t even have to know. She’d be away from home. She could take an acting class here or there and maybe one day…
Julia’s face lit up like a child’s on Christmas morning. “That’s a good idea! I hadn’t even thought of what to do in my spare time. I thought it nursing or nothing.”
She reached over and spontaneously hugged him. “Thank you, Sam. Thank you for England, and for being my friend.” Suddenly aware of her actions, she quickly pulled away, her face once again burning a deep crimson.
Sam didn’t seem to mind however as he answered with a smile. “And you’re most welcome.”
Julia stared at the floor, hoping it would open up and swallow her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Sam stood. “Not to worry, love. Can’t say I receive many hugs as of late. It’s good to see you happy and comfortable with me.”
Julia smiled, happy he didn’t find her a fool. “You’re a nice guy.”
Sam pulled her to her feet and winked. “Well, don’t let on about it. I have a reputation to uphold you know.”
He took her by the hand. “Shall we get a bite to eat and then go to my friend’s party?”
Julia relaxed as her hand melted into Sam’s. “I’d like that. Are your friend’s parties pretty fun?”
“Oh, Spencer usually cooks up a good surprise for one of the guests each time,” Sam said, with a laugh. “Thank goodness it’s never me.”
Julia shifted nervously from foot to foot as she stood beside Sam on the porch of Spencer’s two-story brownstone. She enjoyed parties, but tonight a swarm of butterflies alit in her stomach as Sam rang the bell. What on earth would she have in common with Sam’s friends? She prayed that Sam wouldn’t want to stay too long.
The door opened, and a tall, good-looking guy about Sam’s age peered out. A look of relief filled his face.
“Sam! Where the bloody Hell have you been all day? I’ve been trying to call you about-”
“Spencer, really. Is that any way to greet your guests? Jolly good to see you too.” Sam patted Spencer on the shoulder as he led Julia by the hand and pushed through the entryway.
Once inside, they stopped and waited as Spencer closed the door. Julia looked around the small, tiled foyer. A staircase rose to the left and a hallway led to a kitchen at the back of the house. To her right was a living area.
“Hello, I’m Spencer.” Sam’s friend extended his hand to Julia.
She returned the handshake. “Nice to meet you.”
“Are you the friend from Germany then?” His eyes darted back and forth between herself and Sam.
Sam laughed. “Yes, and if you would let her talk, she’d tell you her name is Julia.”
Spencer shot Julia an apologetic look. “Sorry. Quite rude of me.”
Julia tried to speak, but Spencer cut in again. “Sam, there’s something you need to know.”
“I’m sure it can wait,” Sam said. “Spencer’s an old chum of mine from school days, Julia.”
“Yes, yes, I am.” Spencer brushed Julia off with little more than a nod. “But Sam, you should be aware that-”
“I need to be aware that there’s a cold pint waiting for me in the kitchen, Spence.” Sam placed a hand on Julia’s shoulder. His warmth calmed her. “Let’s go find it, shall we?”
A noise at the top of the stairwell suddenly distracted them from their venture. Julia looked up to find a beautiful blonde woman on the landing.
Tall and poised with one hand on the banister, the other on her hip, she stared at the trio, her expression, amused. Her short, pink skirt rose above long, toned legs, and a matching jacket flattered her model-thin frame.
“
Deirdre
.” Sam’s icy tone as he mentioned the woman’s name sent a chill up Julia’s spine.
“Surprise,” the woman said, her voice flat and cool.
“I didn’t realize you’d be here.” Sam shot Spencer a questioning look.
The woman’s gaze fixated on Julia. “Obviously.”
Silence fell over the foyer. Out of the corner of her eye, Julia noticed Spencer cross and uncross his arms, but Sam remained still as death.
Deirdre descended the stairwell. “I had no idea you were back in London, Sam. Spencer had to inform me of that little secret. Imagine that.”
No one said a word. Julia felt as awkward as a turnip in pumpkin patch.
Obviously Spencer did too, for he took her by the elbow and headed toward the living room. “Let’s go introduce you around, shall we?”
She hesitated, not wanting to leave Sam’s side. But Sam followed, Deirdre at his side.
“What do you drink, Julia?” Spencer said as he led her into a spacious and comfortably furnished living room, complete with a cozy area rug, several overstuffed chairs and a sofa. Potted plants added ambiance, and an inviting fireplace lined the furthest wall.
“Just pop,” Julia said, as she observed the other guests, a crowd of men and women she guessed to be Sam and Spencer’s age. They drank champagne from elegant fluted glasses and dressed as if ready for a formal, sit-down dinner. She glanced down at her own jeans, sneakers and blouse and wanted to hide in a closet.
Spencer introduced her to his friends who smiled and nodded dismissively in her direction. Their interest piqued however, on hearing she was Sam’s guest. Eyebrows then raised and glances flew from herself to Deirdre. Julia’s face burned, the air in the room suddenly stilted and stuffy. As if sensing her discomfort, Sam returned to her side, Deirdre in tow.
“I’ll go get that drink for you, Julia.” Spencer dashed for the kitchen.
“So.” Deirdre addressed her, nearly sidestepping Sam to reach her. “You are Sam’s little ...friend.”
“She’s an acting colleague,” Sam interjected. “Julia is from the States.”
Deirdre’s ice blue eyes roamed up and down Julia as if she were a rare museum piece.
“Really? And to think I thought I knew all your friends, Sammy. Just where in the States are you from, Julia?”
“Illinois,” she said, happy to finally speak for herself, even though her voice cracked and revealed her awkwardness.
She couldn’t help but compare herself to Deirdre, the woman who wanted Sam. How could he not fall for this lovely, rich lady? Where Julia’s butterscotch colored tresses lay long and stick straight, Deirdre’s silver-spun blonde hair cascaded to her shoulders in soft waves. Julia’s blue eyes reflected the color of the summer sky, but Deirdre’s boasted clear crystal lakes. And although Julia usually prided herself on her squeaky-clean, peaches and cream complexion, she now paled beside Deirdre’s porcelain, silky smooth skin. Standing beside this beautiful and lithe gazelle of a woman, Julia felt like a stout country mare.
“Illinois.” Deirdre rolled the word on her tongue as if it were a fine wine to be sampled and rejected. “Can’t say I’ve ever been. To New York, yes, of course, for fashion. Have you?” Deirdre’s gaze fell to Julia’s faded jeans and simple blouse. “No, never-mind. You seem more like those artsy types, I think.”
“Couldn’t help overhearing the conversation,” Spencer said, as he rejoined the group and handed Julia a Coke. “Sam isn’t “artsy” Dee, he’s an actor. There’s a difference, so I hear.”
Spencer raised a glass to Sam, and Julia somewhat relaxed, grateful for a change of topic. “Anyhow, now that our fine actor Sam has arrived, we can start a game of Charades.”
“Bloody hell,” Sam said. “Not that game again.”
“Dear God,” Deirdre piped in. “No wonder I never attend your parties, Spencer.”
“You both know you love it,” Spencer said, turning his attention back to Julia. It may seem odd to you that we thirty-somethings sip wine and play Charades, but it’s a tradition from when we were all devastatingly broke back in school.”
“Some of us still are,” Sam added.
“And some of us aren’t.” Deirdre said her eyes locked on Sam’s as she shoved her glass towards Spencer. “I need another drink.”