Authors: Ruth Logan Herne
“Every day.” Giving him a chiding look, she warned, “But if you call me âma'am' again, we're going to have a serious problem.”
“Yes, mâMs. Morgan,” he amended with a quick grin.
“Connie.”
“All right, then. If you ladies can swing the door for me, I've got the last of the set pieces in my truck. I painted them last night, so they're dry and ready to put in place.”
“Last night?” Amy echoed in disbelief. “You mean, after you worked till eleven at the mill?”
“You needed 'em today.”
His casual response made his effort sound like it was nothing, but to her it was a very big deal. No one outside her family had ever gone to such lengths for her. Not to mention, he'd kept on working when she'd specificallyâand quite rudelyâordered him to stop. She couldn't envision anyone else doing the same, and that he'd persevered in spite of her was remarkable, to say the least.
Mom had discreetly moved away and was making a good show of checking out Arabesque's charming window display. Amy took advantage of the relative privacy to reward her Galahad with her very best smile.
“Yes, I did.” Since they were in full view of anyone on Main Street, she stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”
Leaning in, Jason murmured, “If I go in and set 'em up right now, can I get another one of those afterward?”
“I think that could be arranged.”
That got him moving, and in no time the
Nutcracker
ballroom was complete. Amy went through the wings to the control panel and hollered, “Stand in the audience area and tell me how everything looks from there.”
She dimmed the houselights and flipped all the switches connected to the stage. At first, she didn't hear anything from out front, and she feared something had gone wrong.
Then her mother called out, “Amy, it's absolutely perfect! Come see.”
Amy hurried out to join them and was thrilled to see Mom was right. Sneaking an arm around Jason's back, she gave him a quick hug. Smiling up at him, she said, “It
is
perfect, and it's all because of you.”
“Well, you gave me a book full of detailed instructions,” he teased with a grin. “It's pretty hard to miss when someone lays it all out for you.”
“I hope the show goes as well,” she confided.
“It will,” he commented with a reassuring squeeze. “Just have a little faith.”
Not long ago, she'd have tightened up if someone had said that to her. Now that she'd found her way back to her Christian roots, his advice settled warmly over her and made her feel more confident about tomorrow's performance. God had brought her back to her tiny hometown for this, she realized. He knew all along this was where she'd find the man who could accept her as she was and help her overcome the crushing disappointment that had stripped her of her dream.
Barrett's Mill had come to mean more to her than she could have expected when she reluctantly returned to take over the struggling studio. Jason in particular had shown her there were selfless people in the world who did what they thought was best for those they cared about, even when it hurt.
While Jason and Mom chatted about the upcoming show, it struck Amy that she'd become quite attached to this alternate life of hers. While it hadn't been her first choice, she now considered it a good option for her. Teaching came with none of the stress of performing, not to mention she could pretty much eat whatever she wanted. With an aunt whose scrumptious family recipes consistently won blue ribbons, that was an important consideration.
With Jason's arm lightly around her shoulders, she recognized that she had two good lives to pick from. One included him and this close-knit community populated by down-to-earth folks who looked out for each other and pitched in without a second thought. The other was filled with bright lights and excitement, both onstage and off.
Which was better for her? A few weeks ago, the answer would have been obvious to her, but now she wasn't so sure. Professional success had always taken precedence over her personal life, and she'd been content that way. That was before she met Jason, though, and learned what it meant to step out of the spotlight and just be herself.
Her thoughts were so jumbled, she felt as if she was standing at the juncture of two vastly different paths. Unaccustomed to being confused about the direction she should take, she sent up a quick prayer for guidance. After all, God had gone to a lot of trouble to lead her back here. Certainly, He knew which course was best for her to follow.
Although she knew better than to expect an immediate response, she couldn't deny being a little disappointed not to get some kind of sign. Apparently, as He'd done before, He believed she could handle this one on her own.
If only she could agree with Him.
* * *
Jason had never been so nervous.
Peeking around the side of a velvet curtain, he noticed the seating area in front of the stage was even fuller than it had been the last time he checked. At her post near the door, Brenda Lattimore greeted each person brightly, taking their money and handing them one of the parchment tickets Amy had designed and printed herself. Elegant but understated, just like the woman moving through the crowd, welcoming her guests and wishing them a fun afternoon.
As if they could help it, he thought with a grin. The ballroom behind him glowed with the subtle lighting he'd installed, ready to be cranked up to full wattage once the kids were in their places onstage. For now, classical Christmas music was playing quietly over the speakers, and he checked the notes Amy had given himâagainâwith his cues for switching tracks to Tchaikovsky and when to open and close the curtains.
If he messed this up for her, he'd kick himself until the Fourth of July. Assuming her surgery went the way she hoped, this would be Arabesque's one and only production. While he was usually laid-back about things, this time he wanted everything to be perfect.
He was starting to sound like Amy, he chided himself, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. After one last glance, he folded the paper and slid it into the inside pocket of his only suit jacket. Then he closed his eyes and pictured the kids taking their bows after a stellar performance, the audience standing and clapping in appreciation.
It was a visualization trick Granddad had taught him when he was a young pitcher about to face a particularly tough batter, and it had always worked. That reminded him to check that the tripod and video camera were still centered behind the rows of chairs. Since his grandparents weren't able to attend the show, he'd promised to record it and watch the video with them later. While it was a good solution, it only highlighted how frail his grandfather's health was, and that each day they had with him was precious.
Because it just might be the last.
Pushing those negative thoughts aside, Jason focused on Amy. She'd finished her rounds and caught his eye with an elegant nod. Giving her a thumbs-up, he went into the wings and dimmed the houselights, then brought them back up the way she'd requested. Folding his hands to keep them from shaking, he stood ready while she made her way onto the stage and waited for folks to find their seats and quiet down.
Extending her arms in a graceful dancer's pose, she said, “Welcome, everyone, to Arabesque. For those of you who don't know me, I'm Amy Morgan. My mother, Connie, and my aunt Helenâ” she smiled at the beaming women seated front and center with Fred “ânourished my love of dance from the time I was a child. I'm honored to have had the opportunity to do the same with the group of very talented children you'll be seeing today.”
A ripple of giggles passed behind the curtain, and Jason smothered a grin as he stepped in and made the cut sign across his throat. Kids. What could you do?
“And so, it's with great pride that the Arabesque dance company presents to you our version of Tchaikovsky's beloved holiday ballet,
The Nutcracker
.”
That was his first cue, and Jason pulled the ropes that lifted the velvet drapes to bracket the dimly lit stage. After counting three Mississippis, he gradually increased the ballroom lights with one hand and brightened the tree decorations with the other. Somehow, he managed to accomplish that at the same rate so they all came up together the way they were supposed to.
Glancing across to the other wing area, he got a brilliant smile and the okay sign from Amy. Apparently, the producer was a little edgy, too, he mused. It was nice to know he wasn't the only one.
Since there were no adults in the production, willowy Heidi Peterson took her brightly colored wooden nutcracker from under the tree, floating around the stage with a delighted look on her face. As she went, she tossed in some exuberant jumps that reminded Jason of the pictures of Amy in her younger days. Judging by the nostalgic smile on her face, she was thinking the same thing.
Someday, he hoped to see that kind of joy in her again.
That thought caught him completely by surprise, and he did his best to shake it off and concentrate. Once Amy left for New York, the chances of him seeing her again were remote, at best. She'd be there for a while, rehabbing and then doing whatever it took to rejoin the world she'd so unwillingly left behind.
And he'd be in Barrett's Mill, a million miles from the glitz and glamour she seemed to thrive on. He'd come to the conclusion that they wanted completely different things, and even if he could figure out what she needed to be truly happy, he had no clue how to make it happen.
The best he could do was hit all his marks today and do his part to make the show a success. After that, they'd celebrate the holiday with their families, and too soon it would be time to say goodbye. He'd been through many farewells in his life, and normally he accepted them as being for the best.
But this one would be different. Because hard as he'd tried not to let it happen, when Amy left, she'd be taking a piece of his heart with her.
* * *
The kids were doing a fabulous job. The trouble was, it was only intermission, and there were plenty of things that could still go wrong. First on the list: Brad's solo dance. He attacked it with the aggressiveness of an eight-year-old boy, and his delivery was still more pirate than prince, but Amy had finally decided to let him do it his own way. After all, the audience was made up of friends and family members. They'd love it no matter what he did.
While the show would be a nice end to the studio's fiscal year, to Amy the most important thing was for her students to get a taste of classical dance and discover they enjoyed it. Hopefully enough to continue taking classes and someday expose their own children to what Amy had adored ever since she could remember. Glancing over at the framed pictures on the wall brought to mind the excitement of the lights and being onstage, the fun of exploring a different world for a little while. Those were the elements she recalled most fondly from her own childhood as a performer.
Oddly enough, the photos that used to make her sad now filled her with pride. Was it because she believed the new surgery could bring her back to that place? Orâ
“They're doing great,” Jason said as he hurried out from backstage. “How're you holding up?”
Only Jason would think to ask how she was faring, when she technically wasn't even a part of the show. His unerring thoughtfulness had touched her so many times, she'd lost track of the number. “I'm fine, thanks to you. Have you ever worked in a theater before?”
“Nah, I just catch on fast.”
His hazel eyes twinkled at her with a little boy's enthusiasm, and she couldn't help laughing. “Lumberjack, carpenter, stage manager. Is there anything you can't do?”
“Actually, there is. I never learned how to waltz.”
She laughed again and patted his arm. “I think I can help you with that before I go.”
“I'm good at scaling trees, but music and counting steps aren't really my thing.” Moving closer, he murmured, “I might need more attention than most of your students.”
That sounded promising, she mused with a smile. But they were surrounded by people who were listening in while trying to appear engaged in their own conversations. Not to mention Brenda was at the snack table, and she'd been keeping an eye on them since Jason appeared. “I'm sure we can work something out. After tonight, the studio will be closing for the holidays, and I'll have time for a private lesson.”
“How 'bout two?”
Oh, he was hard to resist, this towering man with the gentle heart. Endearing and determined all at once, with seemingly no effort at all, he'd reached the part of her that had shut down after her accident. The part that still looked eagerly into the future and believed that anything was possible if she wanted it badly enough.
Staring up at this incredibly generous man who'd drawn her out of herself and back into the world, she felt the tug of a new dream. One that had stubbornly wrapped itself around him and refused to let go. In the past, she never could have imagined something being more important to her than dancing. But now, here he was, standing in front of her with undisguised hope shining in his eyes. And in a flash of understanding, it hit her.
Jason wanted her to stay. He couldn't say that in front of all these people, of course, but his silent message was unmistakable. Shaken by that realization, she blurted, “Intermission is almost over. We should round up the kids for the dream scene.”
“You got it, boss.”
Flashing her a confident grin, he trotted up the steps and disappeared backstage. His cavalier behavior puzzled her, but she didn't have time to dissect it right now. Heading to the opposite wing, she gathered her troupe of flowers and sugar-plum fairies together, tweaking their costumes and making sure everyone had their slippers on the right feet.
When she met up with Brad, she stood in front of him and smiled. “You look awesome.”