Love Finds You in Camelot, Tennessee (31 page)

“Everything okay?” Amy asked.

“Yes.” He nodded. “We had three funerals this week, and poor Natalie’s run ragged. Have you seen her?”

“Yep.” Caroline nodded. “She’s inside ironing Arthur’s wedding doublet. Looks like she’s ready to pop, so I made her sit down to do the rest of the ironing.”

“She’s not due for three more weeks,” he said, “but she’s miserable.”

“Pretty common in the last month,” Caroline said. “Make sure she puts her feet up when you get home tonight.”

“I’ve been massaging them for her every night.” The sweetest look passed over him. “I do what I can. Sure can’t carry the baby for her.”

“Wait a few weeks, and you’ll be able to do that,” Caroline said. “But by then, Natalie probably won’t want to let go of him. Trust me on that.”

Something about this conversation made Amy feel a little…odd. Sad, even. What would it be like to have the man you loved walk you through a pregnancy? To have him kneel at your feet and massage them, speaking words of love over you?

“A penny for your thoughts.” Jackson’s voice stirred her from her thoughts.

“Oh, hey.” She offered a weak smile.

“Hey yourself. Getting excited?”

“Yes.” She paused. “I was just about to ask how things are going with ticket sales on the website. We’ve been so worried about what will happen if the town is overrun with people, we’ve never stopped to consider the opposite.”

“What do you mean?” Pastor Crane asked.

“What if no one comes? What if we’ve done all of this and can’t sell any tickets?”

“We’re already selling tickets,” he said. “I checked the website last night; we’ve sold a couple dozen.”

“To residents,” she countered. “Probably.”

Pastor Crane reached out and put his hand on Amy’s arm. “Have faith. God’s got this one covered, Amy. Deep breath.”

“It will all work out. You’ll see,” Caroline reassured her. “Although if you could come inside when you’re free, we could see to the hem of your wedding dress and that would be one less thing to think about.” She smiled at Amy and waited for her nod before turning back toward the Civic Center.

As Caroline and Pastor Crane walked away, talking about Natalie’s delicate condition, Amy couldn’t help but feel pretty delicate herself. Not just frazzled. More…run-down. Exhausted. She prayed she would make it through these next few days.

“Did you happen to check the weather report?” Jackson’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“No. Why?” Amy gave him a curious look.

“Well, there’s a storm front coming in from the northwest. It’s supposed to hit us in a couple of days.”

“No.” She dropped into the seat, defeat setting in.

“It’s just a storm, Amy. It will pass.” He took the seat next to her.

“No, it’s not just a storm,” she argued. “It’s another in a long line of interruptions to my plan to put on a show.” She’d no sooner uttered the words “my plan” before conviction settled in. “I mean, God’s plan.”

He reached over and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. “Yes, it’s God’s plan. And because it’s His and not ours, we can rest easy in the fact that He’s got the details ironed out. Even the part where the storm rolls in. So do what Pastor Crane suggested. Take a deep breath.”

His gentle gaze distracted her momentarily. Why was he always so…nice? Why couldn’t he just be snippy every now and again? Why couldn’t he avoid her, like Steve was doing? Did he have to show up every time she needed someone to hold her hand and offer words of comfort?

Shaking off her thoughts of men—Jackson in particular—Amy rose. “I’ve got to gather the troops. We were supposed to start ten minutes ago.” She quickly made the rounds, inside the Civic Center and out, rounding up her cast and crew. After giving a few last-minute instructions to the techies and musicians, Amy gathered the cast together to pray. Her excitement grew as she saw them all in their costumes for the first time. They might be a ragtag lot, but they sure cleaned up nice. Even Chuck, the butcher, looked like a million bucks in his knightly attire.

Instinctively, she looked to Steve to lead them in an opening prayer. Would he still be willing? His warm smile convinced her that he would. And sure enough, his powerful words to the Lord gave her just the courage she needed to move forward.
We can do this, Lord. But You’ve got to help us. Otherwise, it’s just going to be a big mess.

After the prayer, Annabelle led the others in a warm-up, starting with toe touches. Amy chuckled as she watched her father attempt to touch his toes.

“It ain’t happenin’!” he called out. “Either my legs are getting longer as I age or my arms are getting shorter. Either way, I can’t reach the ground anymore.”

Amy laughed. For a moment, anyway. A few seconds later, something distracted her. Looking at Annabelle in her soft blue gown, Amy had to conclude the obvious. The store clerk might’ve started out as a size eighteen, but the dress now hung on her like a sack of potatoes. Looked like this choreography gig had more than energized her spirit; it had taken off a few pounds. Maybe more than a few.

“Annabelle, when you get a minute, let’s talk.” Amy flashed an encouraging smile.

When the warm-up period ended, the cast members were sent to their places backstage and Annabelle approached Amy with a look of concern in her eyes.

“Is everything okay?”

“Oh yes.” She offered a relaxed smile. “No biggie. Just wanted to suggest that you stop in to see Caroline and Natalie before you leave today. You’ll need to change out of that costume so they can take up the seams.”

“Take up the seams?”

“Well, sure. It’s falling off of you.”

“It is?” Annabelle looked down. “Crazy. I’ve been so busy, I didn’t notice.” She tugged at the waistline, which hung loose. “Guess you’re right.”

“If we don’t take it up, you’ll be tripping all over yourself. Might as well take care of it now.” She paused and smiled. “And by the way, you look great. Love the new hairstyle.”

“Oh, thanks.” Annabelle grinned. “It was Blossom’s idea. You know how she is. She’s been wanting to experiment on me for years, but I wouldn’t let her. But something about this show gave me the courage to try new things, so I decided to let her go for it.”

“‘Go for it,’ ” Amy echoed. “I like those words. They seem pretty fitting right now, don’t they? That’s what we’re all about to do—go for it.”

And go for it, they did. The next two hours were spent wriggling and winding their way through Act One. Talk about ups and downs! Just about the time Amy thought she could catch her breath, another catastrophe hit.

They’d just taken a break to eat dinner when Gwen came running Amy’s direction. “Amy, come quick!” The pained expression on Gwen’s face, coupled with her breathless words, left nothing to the imagination. Something terrible had happened.

Turning on her heel, Amy followed her across the stage to the back, where she found Sarge in a heap on the floor. Jackson knelt on his right and Steve on his left. Steve worked feverishly, checking his breathing and pulse.

“I called 911,” Gwen said, her eyes filled with tears. “They’re on their way.”

“What happened?”

“I’m not sure. He was acting a little funny all morning.” Gwen shrugged. “Saying some odd things and looking a little lost. But with Sarge, it’s kind of hard to know…ya know?”

“Right.” Amy nodded but didn’t say more for fear of hurting Jackson’s feelings.

“Then, just before you called us to break for dinner, he started talking kind of crazy. His words were slurred. And the next thing I knew, he said he had to sit down. But there wasn’t time to sit. Down he went.” Gwen’s eyes filled with tears.

Steve looked up, and Amy could read the concern in his eyes. “I’m pretty sure it’s a stroke. I hope the paramedics get here soon.”

“Is—is he breathing?”

“He’s breathing and his pulse is steady,” Steve said with a nod. “But I’d feel better if—” Off in the distance a siren pealed out, and Amy sighed with relief. Minutes later, two paramedics pushed their way through the crowd and went to work on Sarge right away. One of them spoke into the walkie-talkie on his shoulder. In the meantime, the entire cast gathered around, many of them ushering up quiet prayers. Steve asked everyone to step back, his voice commanding authority.

One of the paramedics ran toward the ambulance, returning with a stretcher. Within minutes Sarge was situated on it, his eyes closed and an oxygen mask firmly in place.

“Where are you taking him?” Jackson asked. “I want to come with you.”

“You can follow us,” the paramedic said. “Hope you’re up for a drive. He needs to go to the medical center in Knoxville.”

Jackson’s eyes widened and he nodded.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Amy asked.

“I…” He shook his head. “No. Amy, you’ve got to stay here and keep going. This rehearsal is too important. If the second act doesn’t get knocked out, we don’t have a show.”

“What good is a show when the people in it are hurting?” Amy felt the tears rise.

“I’ll go with him, Amy.” Gwen gave her an imploring look. “If you’re okay with that.”

“Of course.”

She stepped back, watching as the paramedics continued their work. In the midst of the struggle to elevate the stretcher, Sarge seemed to jar awake. For a moment, he looked as clear-eyed as a youngster ready to head outdoors to play. His lips began to move beneath the oxygen mask, and he grabbed at it, pulling it loose. His lips continued to move, the words faint…barely distinguishable.

“Didn’t—mean—to—do—it.” Each strained word sounded weaker than the one before it. Sarge’s eyes fluttered closed once more.

“Do what, Gramps?” Jackson asked, leaning over the stretcher. “You didn’t mean to do what?”

Sarge’s eyes popped open once again, and the oxygen mask trembled as he tried to grip it. “Didn’t—mean—to—shoot—”

“Shoot?” everyone echoed.

“Shoot who?” Jackson asked. “Gramps, who did you shoot?”

The old man’s eyes grew wide and his next words rang out, clear as a church bell on a Sunday morning.

“Bu–Bugsy,” he said, the spark now gone from his eyes. “I—shot—Bu–Bu–Bugsy.”

Acting is like a high wire act. Your margin for error is very slim.

C
HRISTINE
B
ARANSKI

Amy looked over the programs for the show, frustrated by the typos she found there. “These will have to be redone.”

“You think?” her father asked, looking over her shoulder. “They look pretty good to me.”

“Look how Eula Mae spelled Grady’s name.” She pointed to the word
G-r-o-d-y
and winced. “And she only put one
n
in Annabelle’s name. These are little things, but we’ll need to get them ironed out so no one gets offended.”

“Speaking of people getting offended, what’s going on with Pete and Lucy Cramden?”

She gave her father a curious look. “What do you mean?”

“Well, the other day when we had our Come to Jesus meeting in the pest control van, Pete looked pretty upset.”

“Wait.” He’d lost her. “Come to Jesus meeting in the pest control van? What are you talking about?”

“Oh.” He clamped his mouth shut and said nothing.

“Dad, c’mon. What are you talking about?”

“Well, a bunch of the guys—mostly Steve and Pete—wanted to get together to talk about women.”

“Steve…wanted to talk about women?”

“Yeah.” Her father smiled. “He’s crazy about you, you know.”

“No, I don’t know.” She paused. “Well, about half the time I know, and the other half I’m trying to figure out if he knows I exist.”

“He knows. He’s just shy. Like King Arthur. In case you haven’t figured it out, you’ve typecast him, Amy. Steve is a great leader—a wonderful mayor and genuinely kind to everyone he meets, just like Arthur was. He’s just not as good as some people at opening up and sharing. In some ways I think he’s too kind, if such a thing is possible.”

“I guess.” She paused, her thoughts shifting to memories of Steve pouring his heart out for others. “He’s a great guy, Dad. I just wonder if this relationship of ours is going to fizzle out. Things have been so strange lately.”

Her father drew near and gave her a hug. “Relationships are tricky things, honey. One of these days, when things settle down, you and I can have a real heart-to-heart about what makes a relationship work. But today is not that day. We’ve got a dress rehearsal in a couple of hours.”

“Yes.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Still need to take care of about forty-five things before leaving. There’s so much to do.”

“I’m headed out to, um…” He paused and shrugged. “Well, I’ve got a few things I need to do too. See you there. Okay?”

“Sure.” As she watched him leave, Amy tried to figure out what he was up to. Maybe he planned to pull some sort of prank during the rehearsal. She’d heard a couple of rumors indicating the guys were up to tricks. She prayed they’d forgo any antics and just focus on the show.

Her cell phone rang and she smiled as she saw the number. Jackson.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” He sounded positive. Upbeat. “Wanted to let you know Gramps is doing a little better today. They’ve got him talking a little bit. And he ate some Jell-O.”