The Hourglass Door (4 page)

I blinked myself back to the present. “That would be great, Jason. Thank you.”

“No problem,” he said. He leaned close to whisper in my ear, “Don’t forget to count.” His breath was warm against my skin. He hesitated for an instant, then his lips brushed a quick kiss across my cheek.

Jason’s counting trick. The summer Jason and I were nine, our families had gone camping up in the mountains for the first time. We had followed a stream upriver, collecting rocks and pinecones. Night had fallen without us noticing, and the wind moaned through the high trees, rustling the leaves like bones. Disoriented in the dark, I stood frozen on the bank of the river. Part of me knew that if I just followed the river it would lead me home, but the rest of me was petrified, suffocating in the darkness. Jason had slipped his hand into mine and told me he knew a way to be brave. “Feel the fear ’til the count of ten, then count once more to be brave again,” he had recited in a small, singsong voice. Together we had counted from one to ten and back again and together we had walked along the river back to camp.

I closed my eyes and counted as fast as I could under my breath, “onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineten.” As I exhaled, I counted backwards from ten. When I hit “one” it was like a switch suddenly flipped inside of me. My lingering fear evaporated. I could do this. I
would
do this.

Live without limits,
I thought suddenly. If I was brave enough to apply for the school of my dreams, I was brave enough for this.

I straightened my headset and squared my shoulders.

“Dave will be here later. For now, let’s set up for Act One, Scene One,” I barked, surprising myself at how professional I sounded, how easily I slipped back into my familiar cloak of confidence. I consulted my clipboard, my hands steady and calm. “Rachel, turn up the stage lights, please. Sarah, are you ready with the intro? Good. I need Leonato, Hero, and Beatrice center stage.” I pointed to the marks taped on the floor. “Allyson, where’s the letter? We can’t start the scene without it.”

“Coming,” Allyson called, dashing up the stairs, holding out a small white envelope. “Here it is.”

“Perfect. Hand it off to Scott, please. Oh, and Allyson, if the rest of the props for Act One are set and ready, would you check with Jason to see if he needs any help with the porch before Scene Two?”

Allyson nodded, crossed to stage left where Scott the Messenger waited in the wings for his big entrance, and handed him the envelope.

I took a step back as the actors scurried to their places on stage and the crew assumed their roles behind the curtains. My heart beat faster with surprise and anticipation. It had worked. People were doing what I said. Maybe I couldn’t sing or dance, but maybe I had finally found my hidden talent—bossing actors around. I giggled, but when I heard it echo through my headset, I quickly covered it up with a cough.

“A glass of water for you, oh great-and-powerful director.” Valerie held out a cup to me, curtseying as low as her costume would allow.

I pushed the headset mike away from my mouth and drank the water in two large gulps. “Thanks, Val. I needed this. You’re the best.”

“I cry your pardon, sweet gentlewoman. I know not of this ‘Val’ of whom you speak. ’Tis only simple Ursula, here to attend to your needs and to the needs of my mistress, Hero.”

I laughed. “You’re impossible.”

Valerie shrugged, dropping her persona as quickly as she had assumed it. “Tell me something I don’t know, darling.” She gave me a quick hug. “Sorry I was late. This corset is beastly. I swear I’ll hang Amanda up by her heels with her own sewing thread if she can’t figure out a way to let me breathe in this thing.”

“Please don’t kill her. I still need her to finish Benedick’s costume for the masquerade scene.”

“As you wish,” Valerie said with a deep sigh. “I’ve got to get back to my mark. I hear the assistant director is a positive
witch
if the actors don’t do as they’re told.” She winked at me. “You’re a natural, by the way.”

“Thanks. I think I might like this directing gig.”

“I meant at being a
witch.
” Valerie danced out of my reach before I could whack her with my clipboard.

“I hate you so much it hurts,” I called after her instead.

“I love you too,” she sang back and blew me a kiss over her shoulder.

Grinning, I pulled the headset down to my mouth. “Okay, people, let’s see how we do with Act One, Scene One. Action!”

I settled down in the front row to watch the play unfold.

Scott the Messenger stepped on stage and handed Leonato the letter.

“I learn in this letter that Don Pedro of Arragon comes this night to Messina,” Leonato declared, brandishing the envelope like a flag.

I sighed and wrote a note on my clipboard for after rehearsal:
Remind Leonato to open the letter
before
announcing what’s inside.

~

“Okay, everyone, take five,” I said, gathering up my clipboard, notes, and headset. “So far so good, but I’d like to see Scene One again after the break.”

I heard groans from the cast and smiled a little to myself.

Most of the cast pushed through the backstage doors, no doubt in search of cold water, fresh air, and some free time to check e-mail and text messages. A few cast members simply collapsed in the auditorium seats behind me. I saw Valerie corner Amanda and demand a looser corset. Amanda waved her hands in surrender and started rummaging in her sewing kit for a pair of scissors. I shook my head. Valerie always got her way; she was a daunting person to cross. It was the main reason I had been reluctant to tell her about my plans for Emery.

“Hey,” Jason called softly. I turned to see him squatting on his haunches at the edge of the stage, his large hands resting on his knees. His eyes were in shadow, but the stage lights lined his hair with white fire. His shirt was open at the throat and I saw the glitter of sweat on his skin. I caught my breath at the sight of him. He looked like something primeval, something elemental.
And he’s
my
boyfriend,
I thought with a secret thrill.

A smile curved his lips. “C’mere,” he said, crooking a finger in my direction.

I set down my clipboard and headset. I pulled free the elastic that held my hair back and ran my fingers through my dark curls. I knew Jason liked my hair loose. He said when I wore it up, it made my face look pinched and stern. That was Jason, though—honest to a fault.

I sauntered over to the stage, leaned my elbows on the edge, and looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure we should be fraternizing like this? I mean . . . I
am
the assistant director, after all. And you’re the”—I wrinkled my nose in mock disgust—“stage crew.”

Now that I was closer I could see the stage lights reflected in his hazel eyes. He blinked in surprise. “I thought you liked it that I was on the stage crew.”

I swallowed a sigh. That was Jason, too—impossible to tease. “I do. I was just kidding around.”

“Oh,” he said, standing up. “Anyway, I wanted to show you something. Do you have a minute?”

“For you? Absolutely.” I reached up a hand and he bent down to pull me up on stage. “What is it?”

“It’s back here.” Jason kept hold of my hand as he led me backstage.

His hand was warm and slightly damp with sweat. His leather work gloves were tucked into the back pocket of his jeans. I suddenly felt a surge of irrational affection for those gloves. They looked like they had never been worn, but I knew that was just because Jason took such good care of them. The same way he took such good care of me.

I squeezed his hand, and when he looked back to smile at me, I felt a tingle of joy race along every nerve.

“Here.” Jason pushed back a black curtain to reveal the porch he had been working on during rehearsal. “Do you like it?” he whispered, though we were alone in the half-lit area.

Leonato’s house was the main set piece. The shop teacher, Mr. Frantz, had designed it to break into pieces and rotate so it could be used for both the interior and exterior scenes of the play. A partially finished porch ran along the entire front of the house, which had a simple roof of slanted slats in parallel rows. The design called for grapevines to be woven through the slats above the porch in honor of the play’s Italian setting, but, until opening night, they would remain bare.

“Wow. I didn’t think you guys were this far along. It looks great, Jas,” I said.

“I wanted to show you this.” Jason led me onto the porch. He pulled out a small flashlight from his tool belt and directed the white beam to a narrow corner of the wall.

I caught my breath. Carved into the wood a small butterfly floated next to the initials “AE.” Reaching out, I traced the curved lines of the delicate wings. “Oh, it’s beautiful.”

“I know you like them.” Jason ran his hand through his hair, exhaling with relief. “I know no one will see it, but I’ll know it’s there. And so will you. And we’re the only ones who need to know.”

My eyes couldn’t stop tracing the initials Jason had carved into the wood. “Thank you. It’s perfect.” I turned toward him and held his face with my hands. I ran my fingers along his jawline, then traced his eyebrows and the slope of his nose. “
You’re
perfect.”

He grinned and clasped his hands around the small of my back. “I know it’s early, but . . . happy birthday.”

He rested his forehead against mine, our noses touching.

I swallowed, closing my eyes, breathing in his smell. The smallest part of me dared to hope that he would kiss me on the lips.

Before we had started dating, Jason had told me that he thought we should date at least four months before we kissed. Those months would be up this Friday, our seventeenth birthday. That was Jason to his core—scheduling everything, even romantic interludes.

But this small carving was a side of Jason I hadn’t seen before. It was a side I liked.

I wanted to kiss him. I wanted him to kiss me back.

I shifted my weight forward ever so slightly, balancing on my toes, ready to close the distance between us and—

Jason stepped back. He hooked my hair behind my ears. “Tomorrow,” he whispered. “Don’t you want our first kiss to be special?”

This is special!
I thought, leaning closer.

“We’ve made plans and everything.”

I sighed. “I know.” I leaned back on my heels and stepped out of the circle of his arms. “Listen, about tomorrow—”

“Where is everyone?” Dave’s voice suddenly crashed through the auditorium speakers. “I thought we were rehearsing a play! Abby! Abby, where are you? I thought I’d left you in charge.”

I grimaced. “Sounds like my cue.”

Jason caught my hand as I turned to leave. “I’m sorry. It’s just . . . see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Abby! Where are you?” Dave, never the most organized person, had an edge of panic in his voice.

“Sorry. I gotta go.” I pulled free from Jason’s hand. A cold, clammy sweat coated my skin and a wave of frustration coursed through me as I walked away from him.

I’d known Jason almost my entire life, and he was still living his life according to routines and schedules. So why did I still expect him to be someone different? Someone romantic and passionate and spontaneous? I had thought maybe the carved butterfly was a signal that our relationship was changing. But honestly—skipping the perfect kiss because it wasn’t
scheduled?

I sighed and pushed the troubling thoughts from my mind. What did it matter? Jason was my boyfriend. I’d known him forever. That had to count for something.

Didn’t it?

Chapter

3

I
ripped back the curtain with probably more force than necessary. The cast and crew had returned from the break and I saw Valerie as Ursula practicing her lines with Lily as Hero.

Dave was flipping through my notes on the clipboard, muttering to himself.

“Sorry, Dave. Were you looking for me?”

“Abby! Where were you?” He didn’t wait for my reply; Dave never waited for anyone’s reply. “It doesn’t matter. I was just looking through your notes and, Abby, they are brilliant! You really have a gift. I am so impressed. I can’t tell you what a relief it is to come back and see how much you’ve accomplished. I thought for sure I’d find the whole lot of you lounging around, but instead—”

Dave paused to catch his breath and I seized the moment. I had learned early on to interrupt if I wanted any kind of conversation at all with Dave. “I’m glad you’re back. We were getting ready to run Scene One again. Do you want me to do it, or do you want to jump in?”

“Oh, you go right ahead. You’re doing fabulous with Act One. But maybe, if I could steal Benedick and Beatrice for a moment, we could rehearse the last scene in the play. We’ve been over it a thousand times but it’s still missing something. And, Abby, you know, it’s one of the most important scenes in the whole play. It’s
the
kiss—the
ado
the whole play is based on—and it’s just not working. I just don’t know
what
I’m going to do—” Dave stepped up on stage and clapped his hands for attention. “Isaac. Cassie. You’re with me. The rest of you—”