Love Finds You in Camelot, Tennessee (20 page)

Amy stared at Steve, trying to figure out where he was headed with that “fly to the moon” statement. Kidding around, most likely.

No, as he swept her into his arms for a memorable kiss, she had to conclude that he wasn’t kidding around. The fiery passion left little to her imagination.

“Wow,” she said when the kiss ended. “I don’t know what you and Eula Mae were talking about in here, but if it prompted this, I’d like to hire her to counsel you every day.”

“She’s pretty witty,” he said, “in her own oddball sort of way.”

Amy chuckled. “Must’ve said something to get you stirred up.”

“The only person who gets me stirred up is you,” he whispered.

“In a good way, I hope,” she echoed. “Because I somehow manage to get everyone else worked up in a not-so-good way with most of my crazy ideas.”

“Oh, you get me stirred up in a good way, I assure you.”

Steve pulled Amy close once more and planted a kiss on her lips that answered any lingering questions she might have about his feelings for her, whether she happened to be crazy or not. And right now, wrapped in his arms, she decided she would gladly trade every moment of sanity for one more sizzling kiss like that.

If all the world’s a stage…I want better lighting!

A
NONYMOUS

Just three weeks after the first rehearsal, Amy drove to the Civic Center, her Jeep Liberty loaded with props and costume materials. Her mind reeled with thoughts and ideas related to the show. Much progress had been made, especially in the last couple of rehearsals, but they had a long way to go before this musical could debut. A shiver ran down her spine as she considered what the critics might say if they stumbled across a rehearsal. And critics weren’t the only adversaries on her mind. She pondered Steve’s suggestion that they invite Fred Platt—the county official—to a rehearsal.
Why would we want to do that? So he can see what screwballs we are?

“Rome wasn’t built in a day,” she reminded herself as she made the familiar drive. Indeed, all good things took time to build.

Oh, but they had come a long ways, hadn’t they? She smiled, thinking of the more humorous moments in their last rehearsal—say, the part where she and Steve had learned the choreography to “What Would the Simple Folk Do?” And the moment when Grady had—thanks to Jackson’s gentle coaching—finally spoken his lines without a serious twang. Yes, with Jackson at the helm, most of the other knights were in pretty good shape too. Better than she’d dared hope, actually. And the work they’d done on the set pieces took her breath away. Camelot was starting to look like a real place.

She giggled, realizing, of course, that it
was
a real place. Her home. Her own private kingdom. A town worth saving.

Thank goodness for progress. And the theater build-out was coming along nicely too. She whispered up a prayer that Camelot would stay the course. And that she would have the stamina to see this thing through, even if she hit a few bumps in the road.

Amy pulled into the parking lot of the Civic Center, deep in thought about today’s upcoming rehearsal. They’d finally arrived at the one scene she’d most dreaded—the lusty month of May. Today she and Annabelle would officially pair up the knights and ladies-in-waiting to begin choreography. Another quick prayer helped quiet the anxiety over their decision. Who should be paired with whom? It could be catastrophic if she mismanaged this scene. Maybe Woody should be involved in the decision. Yes, surely he would know.

As Amy slipped her car into P
ARK
, she paused to whisper a prayer of thanks that things would continue to go smoothly. Across the parking lot, Steve got out of his truck and waved. Her heart did a little flip-flop thing as she remembered their last kiss.
Mmm.
Every day her heart entwined a little more with his. Sure, he hadn’t really opened up and shared his heart. But his kisses spoke volumes. Right? Surely the words would come in time.

Amy had just started in Steve’s direction when something caught her eye. Officer O’Reilly pulled his patrol car into the parking lot and stopped. Strange—the good sergeant usually parked his car in front of the diner or in the City Hall parking lot. Sometimes he sat perched just beyond the bend in the highway, hoping to catch would-be speeders.
Hmm.
Must be some reason he’d shown up here today.

Amy approached and peered through the open window of his patrol car. “Joe, what’s up? Something happen?”

“Not yet.”

Steve drew near, slipping his arm around Amy’s waist. He gave O’Reilly a curious look. “What do you mean?”

O’Reilly shook his head, his eyes narrowing. “I’ve been keeping a close eye on Woody.”

“Woody? Why?” Not quite what Amy had expected him to say.

“He’s got no business driving that old car of his,” O’Reilly said. “The inspection’s been out for years, and it won’t pass emissions testing. Not even close.”

She sighed. “I know. But Joe…”

“Don’t ‘But Joe’ me. The man is a hazard on the road. Besides that, he can’t hear a thing. If an ambulance went blazing by him, he’d never know it. I’ve given him dozens of warnings, but he’s just not taking any of them seriously.”

“We’re planning to buy him a new hearing aid,” Steve said. “We’re going to vote on it at the next city council meeting.”

“But until then, the man can’t hear a train coming around the bend. And he obviously can’t hear my siren. I’ve tried stopping him on three different occasions when he just whizzed right past me. If it had been any other officer”—Joe shook his head—”he’d be in jail right now for evading arrest. That’s all I’ve got to say about that. And the few times he did stop, I found myself in a predicament.”

“What kind of predicament?” Amy asked.

“He’s got a couple of outstanding tickets on file. One for speeding, another for the registration and inspection issues. But he refuses to pay. Says he doesn’t have to.”

“Refuses?” Amy sighed, wondering what possessed Woody to be so stubborn.

“Is it the money?” Steve asked.

“No. The old guy’s got a lot of money. It’s not that. He’s just set in his ways. And he seems to have some sort of issue with authority figures. Said he wants proof that I clocked him going eighty in a forty-five. That kind of thing. He doesn’t have a leg to stand on, and I think he knows it. But he still won’t deal with it. Just prideful and stubborn.”

Amy released a breath. “I don’t know what to tell you, Joe. I will talk to him, though. Maybe I can get through to him.”

“Someone needs to.” O’Reilly fidgeted with his badge. “Because I’m going to have to put out a warrant for his arrest if he refuses to take care of the tickets.”

“A warrant?”
Yikes.
Amy swallowed hard. “Does he know that?”

“I tried to tell him, but, again, he didn’t believe me. Told me to take it up with his attorney.”

“Does he have an attorney?” Steve asked. “I don’t know of any in town.”

“Who knows?” O’Reilly sighed. “I just know that he’s a crusty old soul who’s getting on my nerves.” He muttered something under his breath about a few others in Camelot who also got on his nerves. “He thinks he’s above the law, and that’s never good. Frustrates me to no end.”

“You’re right.” Steve shook his head. “He’s got to take care of this.”

“So I can count on you to say something to him?” Joe gave him a hopeful look.

“I’ll do my best.”

“Thanks. I’m counting on it.” With a nod of his head, Joe slipped his car back into gear and headed out to the road.

As the officer disappeared around the bend to the east, Amy looked at Steve and released a slow breath. “It’s like a soap opera around here, isn’t it?”

“Yep.” Steve chuckled.
“As the Stomach Turns.”

Amy laughed. “No kidding. Definitely filled with quirky characters.”

“We are an interesting lot. No doubt about it.”

She nodded. “Yes. A lot of
what,
I’m not quite sure.” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “If anyone had told me I’d be working with a cast like this…” Her words drifted off as she found herself distracted by something off in the distance. “Um, Steve?”

“Yeah?”

She gestured across the parking lot. “Is it my imagination, or are Sarge and Jackson unloading a mule from the back of that trailer?”

Steve squinted and put up his hand to block the afternoon sun. “Hmm. Yep. Looks like a mule to me.”

Amy squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to erase the image. When she opened them again, Jackson was leading the animal down a ramp and heading their way.

“Sarge, what in the world?” Steve stared at the stubby swaybacked mule, dumbfounded. “You brought your donkey to the rehearsal?”

“Well, sure.” Sarge shrugged and squinted his eyes. “Don’t look so surprised.”

Steve had barely started collecting his thoughts for a response when a squeal of tires in the distance alerted him to Woody’s arrival from the west. Driving way too fast, of course. He pulled into the spot next to Amy and got out of the car, moving as slow as molasses. What a strange contrast.

“What have we got here?” Woody asked as he joined them. “Acting out the stable scene from the Christmas story or something?”

“No.” A look of confusion registered on Jackson’s face as he faced Woody. “Gramps said you guys needed B-52 for the jousting scene. I questioned him about it, but he was adamant.”

“Wait.” Steve shook his head. “Jousting…on a donkey?”

Jackson shrugged. “Seemed a little odd to me, but that’s what he said—that you and Amy specifically asked for the donkey.”

“Jackson is going to ride my mare, Katie Sue, for his jousting scene,” Sarge said. “I’ll use B-52. Things might go a little easier on my backside if I do.” He rubbed his rear and headed back to the trailer, returning with a mare that had to be older than Methuselah. The poor old thing appeared to be nervous around people too. The minute she saw Woody, she began to stomp and whinny. And by the time Lucy, Annabelle, and Blossom had arrived, the skittish mare looked as if she might just take off running across the parking lot. Not that she could really run—not in that shape.

Steve watched it all, mesmerized. How would Amy deal with this? Had she and Woody really told Sarge to bring a donkey? If so, why? Hopefully they had a plan. He glanced her way and immediately picked up on the look of terror in her eyes. Nope. She didn’t have a plan.

An approaching car caught his eye. Steve looked over to see an unfamiliar white SUV. The fellow who climbed out of it was just as unfamiliar—a scrawny guy wearing a baseball cap, T-shirt, and jeans, with a camera hanging around his neck. Steve instantly went on the alert.

Apparently the others sensed a problem with this fellow as well. Everyone stopped talking as the man drew close.

Steve gave him a nod. “Can we help you?”

The fellow nodded. “This the group putting on that play?” He glanced at a scrap of paper in his hand. “The Camelot Players?”

“Camelot Players?” Steve shot a quick look Amy’s way, and she gave him a frantic nod. Hmm. So, she’d named their ragtag group. Interesting. “Um, yes. That’s us. The Camelot Players.”

“Good.” The fellow reached inside a worn bag and with a notepad. “Got a few questions for you.”

“Are you from the county?” Woody interjected. “’Cause if you are—”

“No. Well, not officially.” The guy rubbed his nose. He looked around, his brow wrinkled but focusing on Lucy Cramden, as she approached with a hatbox in hand. “I–I–I–choo!” Several dramatic sneezes followed. “Sorry.” He wiped his nose on the edge of his sleeve after the last one. “Don’t know what came over me.”

Steve shifted his weight and gave the man another once-over. He didn’t look familiar at all. Who was this guy? “Excuse me. Who did you say you are, again?”

The fellow offered a crooked grin. “Name’s Mickey James. I’m with the
Knox County Register.
Heard you all were doing a play, so I came to write about it. Hope you don’t mind a few pictures.” He started messing with the lens cover on his camera.

“Well, I guess that would be okay.” Steve paused to think about it. “We can use all the PR we can get, but I’d like to see whatever you write before it goes to print. I’m the mayor of Camelot. Steve Garrison.” He extended his hand, and the reporter gave it a firm shake.