Breathless (32 page)

"What's it about?" Charlotte asked interestedly.

"It's a play in three acts," Jack told her with a smile, leaning across the table. "About a small American town. The story is told through the everyday lives of the townspeople. The moral of the play is," he said, glancing at Lewis, "that you should never take life for granted. That you should savor every moment as if it were your last."

"So who am I to play?" Charlotte asked.

"Her name is Emily," Lewis told her. Charlotte noticed that Jack looked up in surprise. "It's not too old of a role for you. The story begins when she's a young teenager until she's in her early twenties. She starts as a precocious young girl with a schoolgirl crush, falls in love, gets married, and dies."

Charlotte's eyes widened. "She dies?" she repeated. "Oh, Lewis. I'm not sure I'm right for this role. It sounds so complex, something that someone like Helen could do. Or maybe Lizzie. Have you asked Lizzie? I'm really not sure that I'm ready for something like this."

"Charlotte," Jack interrupted her. She looked across the table at him. He was staring at her with his calm blue eyes, and somehow they were able to relax her. "Charlotte, I've read the play. Over and over. And I know, without question, that you are perfect for this role. No one could play it better."

Charlotte bit her lip and looked over at Lewis, who was looking back at her with an expression of agreement. "I know you can do this, Charlotte," he told her. "I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't think you could."

Charlotte nodded. "I've already agreed," she told him. "I'm not about to back away now."

He grinned at her. "Good. Because I also have wonderful news. The producers have agreed to cast Wesley as George, Emily's childhood sweetheart and husband."

Charlotte's face broke into a grin. "What? That's wonderful news, Lewis! Thank you so much! I can't thank you enough!" She leapt up from the table to embrace Lewis. "I promise that together we're going to make this such a wonderful show! I know I can do it if Wesley is acting alongside me!" She gave Lewis another smile before returning to her seat and picking up her fork. "What?" she asked, noticing Jack's quizzical face.

He paused for a moment but then shook his head. "Nothing," he told her, picking at his food. "I'm really glad Wes is getting back onstage," he said after another moment. "I can tell he loves it almost as much as you do." He gave her a short smile before continuing his dinner.

Charlotte looked at him in confusion, wondering what had changed his mood so quickly. She didn't know what she had done now, when everything had seemed perfect between them, but whatever she had done had left her an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Lewis had given her a copy of
Our Town,
and Charlotte had stolen away from the table before they had even finished dessert. She couldn't wait to read the play that Jack seemed to love so dearly and that Lewis cared about so much. She ran upstairs to her room and shut herself inside, jumping onto her bed and opening the script excitedly. But even after the first few pages, she knew that this wasn't just any play.

"
Good-by, Good-by, world. Good-by, Grover's Corners... Mama and Papa. Good-by to clocks ticking... and Mama's sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new-ironed dresses and hot baths...and sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth, you're too wonderful for anybody to realize you."

Charlotte ran her fingers over the printed words, tears springing to her eyes. This was really the meaning of it all. Everyone kept talking about how tragic Helen's death had been, how she had been too young and too alive to suddenly have it all taken away. But, Charlotte now realized, perhaps it was better this way. Helen had lived every moment the way she wanted to: onstage, in love, happy. That was much better than living a long life of emptiness.

She turned to the front of the script, reading the first lines again, this time with an understanding that she hadn't had before.

"Amazing!" Lizzie exclaimed with a grin after finishing a scene, embracing Charlotte. "I knew you were going to be sensational in this role, but I would never have expected this!"

Charlotte smiled back and squeezed Lizzie's arm thankfully. She had been thrilled when Lizzie had been cast as her stage mother-with the help of some aging makeup and a gray-streaked wig. In fact, the entire cast had been incredibly supportive over the past month of rehearsals and they had sincerely helped Charlotte through such a difficult time.

"She's right," Wesley said, limping over to Charlotte and pecking her on the cheek. "You're doing an amazing job."

"Do you really think so?" Charlotte asked anxiously. "I'm really worried about the ice cream shop scene. It just didn't feel right today. Not...natural enough. And the cemetery scene always throws me off. I can't seem to get it right..."

"Charlotte," Wesley stopped her softly, a gently smile across his face. "Stop. You are brilliant. I can't even imagine Helen herself doing a better job with this role."

Charlotte smiled at the sound of Helen's name. After the past weeks, the name was finally no longer haunted, but instead brought a lightness to Charlotte's heart. "She would have, though," she replied with nostalgic admiration. "You know she would have." Wesley smiled back down at her.

"Wonderful work today, Charlotte!" Mr. Olivier, the new director, announced as he walked up to her. "You too, Wesley. The show is coming along perfectly. Why don't the both of you leave a bit early today. We're just going to be rehearsing the parents' scenes tonight and there's no reason you should waste your evening here watching. Go out and grab an ice cream soda." He gave the pair a wink and walked away, calling to Lizzie and her scene partner.

Charlotte looked up at Wesley and burst out in giggles as their eccentric but cheery director walked off.

"You know he truly believes we're really in love," Wesley said, amused.

"I know!" Charlotte laughed. "I suppose we're doing our jobs right, then! He's such a character!"

"Yeah," Wesley nodded in agreement, his brown eyes sparkling. He had been in such a good mood lately that he was hardly ever seen without his dazzling smile which always overshadowed the scar that would permanently grace his face. "So," he said. "I don't think the ice cream shops are open at this time of night. But could I walk you home? For old times' sake?"

"Oh," Charlotte's face clouded with worry. "I don't know if that's such a good idea, Wesley. Your leg-"

"Is fine," he interjected. "I made it through tonight's entire rehearsal without needing my crutches. It's getting stronger," he said, looking down at his leg. "But I promise I'll use them on the walk home."

"We could just call a taxi-"

"But it will be so much better this way," Wesley insisted with a grin. And he was already grabbing his crutches and swinging himself out of the wings and down the back hallway at a brisk pace. Even with a bad leg, nothing could slow Wes down. Nothing could dampen his mood. Charlotte laughed and ran to catch up with him as he raced out of the building and down to the pavement.

"Alright, alright!" she giggled. "You can slow down now!"

"What? You can't keep up, Martin?" he asked her with a sly smile.

She playfully raised an eyebrow. "I just don't want to hurt you, Crutchie." He laughed heartily. "I'm really glad we're spending time together again, Wes. I feel like...with this show, we're getting the chance to reconnect. Especially after everything that was happening with Jack. But...I missed you." She smiled self-consciously. "I'm just really glad..."

"Me too," Wesley replied. "I like spending time with you like this." As they turned the corner, he changed the subject. "How is Jack? And Lewis? I feel so badly that I haven't gotten the chance to visit as much as I should, but with the show and doctor appointments..."

"No, don't apologize," Charlotte insisted. "We're all busy. My schedule isn't nearly as full as yours is and even I don't see them often. I get home late at night when everyone is asleep and there's always something to do on Sundays. I miss them." She thought of Jack, who would sometimes leave her a quick note under the door for when she got home at night or would send her snacks to the theatre if she were having an especially long day. And Lewis was just as wonderful, leaving new books on her bed and ordering her an engraved nameplate for her dressing room door. Even though she hadn't been seeing them nearly as often, they were still her family. And with how little she had heard of Luc and her mother, they were all she had.

"Come on," she grinned at Wesley. "I'll race you to the end of the block."

Charlotte walked through the front doors of the Carey's home the next afternoon after Mr. Olivier had sent her home early. "Darling," he had told her confidently, "you know your lines. You've memorized the blocking. The emotion is there. I don't want you to overwork it. Go home, take a day off, and I'll see you tomorrow." Charlotte had protested but the director had been adamant. So finally she had made the long, hot walk home in the July heat.

"Hello?" she called as she stripped the gloves from her hands and pulled off her hat. "Is anyone home?" She sighed at the silence that greeted her and set her things down on the side table, noticing a stack of envelopes laying there. "So Lewis isn't home," she murmured to herself, sorting through the stack of letters addressed with his name until she stopped, startled, recognizing the very familiar handwriting across the face of one of the envelopes, addressed with her name. She ran her fingers over the writing, not daring to believe it, but then greedily ripped it open, unfolding the letter with shaking hands.

"
Dearest Charlotte,"
she read to herself, her voice trembling and tears sprouting in her eyes. "
Everyone is well."
She laughed to herself, the tears now freely streaming down her cheeks.
"I'm always wishing, always hoping that we'll be together again soon."
Charlotte shrieked happily, jumping to the tips of her toes at the sight over her brother's scrawled signature, and turned to race up the stairs. She ran down the hallway with a grin on her face. "Jack!" she yelled. "Jack!" She darted to his bedroom and wrenched open the door. "Jack, look what I got-!" But then she stopped dead in her tracks, not quite believing her eyes.

There he stood in his brand new army uniform, his hair perfectly slicked to the side, his posture tall and proud. He had never looked more handsome to Charlotte, but the sight of him in his uniform made her feel sadder than she could ever have imagined. Seeing the startled look on her face, Jack's eyes turned concerned. "What?" he asked self-consciously, tugging at his jacket. "Do I look alright?"

Charlotte opened her mouth but nothing came out. She couldn't find the words. But finally, taking a deep breath, she nodded. "Yes," she breathed. "You look wonderful."

A proud smile bloomed over Jack's face and he bashfully looked down at his hands. "So, uh," he began quietly, "what were you about to say? You got something?"

"Oh, yes," Charlotte remembered, fumbling with the letter in her hands. "Luc. He sent a letter. He says everyone is alright."

"That's wonderful news, Char!" Jack exclaimed, reaching for the letter with a grin. He looked at her, his eyes shining. "I'm so happy for you. Truly." Charlotte smiled back at him, but was afraid it didn't quite reach her eyes. "So what are you doing home so early?" Jack asked quizzically. "We weren't expecting you home tonight at all. Tech week is always so hectic."

"This director...he sent me home early. Thought I should get some rest. A day off." She bit her lip and looked at Jack, his pristine uniform, his shy expression. The days were passing so quickly. She knew her time with him was running low and it pained her to think that she had wasted so much of it away at the theatre. "Would you like to go get some lunch?" she asked him, her voice suddenly much stronger. "I don't have to be back for my costume fitting until later, so I thought..." her voice drifted off but Jack grinned at her.

"That sounds perfect."

"Miss Martin!" a little girl with a bright yellow bow in her hair exclaimed excitedly, prancing up to their table as they sat for lunch. "May I have your autograph?"

Charlotte glanced at Jack who was watching amusedly as he unfolded his menu. He gestured toward the little girl good-naturedly. "Come on, Miss Martin. Grace her with an autograph."

Charlotte smiled and took the program from the little girl's hand. "What's your name?" she asked.

"Lydia."

"That's beautiful." Charlotte quickly wrote a message and signed her name with a flair before handing it back to her with a bright smile. "There you are. Have a nice lunch."

"You as well, Miss Martin. You're so beautiful!" Lydia said enthusiastically before bouncing back to her table.

Charlotte laughed uncomfortably and dropped her napkin in her lap. "Sorry about that. It's still so strange when that sort of thing happens."

"You're never alone when you've been onstage," Jack commented, not negatively. "I should know better than anyone. But it does seem that you have some admirers around here." He raised his eyebrows as he took a sip from his water glass.

Charlotte glanced around and noticed the other patrons taking quick glances in her direction and whispering to their neighbors in low voices. "I still can't get used to it. I don't deserve any of the attention."