Love Finds You in Camelot, Tennessee (10 page)

Steve stared at Amy, his thoughts tumbling madly as he struggled to come up with an adequate response to her request that he play the role of Arthur.

“Oh, no no no.” He rose and began to pace the room. “It was one thing helping my brother audition. But you knew I was just doing that to be nice, right? I didn’t really plan on trying out, myself. Not for real. I think we all just got carried away in the moment. Playacting. You know?”

“Yes, but…”

“It’s enough work just being the mayor. And I’ve already agreed to oversee the production, to make sure we’re covered financially and otherwise. I’m your production director, not your star.”

“Right. I’ll still need you to do that,” she said. “And there will be a thousand details to iron out along the way. I figure you’ll be in the thick of it. But I need you to do this for me, Steve.”

“You need me to put myself on display? Total strangers will be watching. Not to mention, all my friends and neighbors.”

“They’re going to love you.”

“And you made a random decision—even though I didn’t technically audition—”

“Yes, you did,” she argued. “You were great, by the way. By far the best man there.”

Steve couldn’t hide the smile that followed. “Thank you. But I didn’t technically try out. Besides, Arthur is the one who’s betrayed by Guinevere and his best friend, Lancelot. Not exactly a happy-go-lucky part, if you know what I mean.”

“Steve, you’ve got to do it. I need you to…” She paused, and tears filled her eyes.

He took her by the hand, his eyes riveting into hers. Would the trembling in his hands give him away? “Need me to what?”

“Pull the sword out of the proverbial stone,” she whispered. “Save the day. For the town…and for me.”

“Ah.” He chuckled and brushed a loose hair out of her face, happy to be of service. “Looking for a hero, are you?”

Amy nodded. “Yeah.” Tenderness filled her eyes as she added, “And you’re the best possible choice. I really mean that.”

Oh, how he wanted to sweep her into his arms! To tell her that he’d gladly slay giants on her behalf. For now, though, he’d better stick to the topic at hand.

“Arthur is the lead in the show,” he said. “It’s a huge part. A big commitment. How in the world am I going to balance that against my workload? That’s why I didn’t officially audition, Amy. It’s going to be impossible to oversee this production and play a role in it too.”
Keep talking, though, and you’ll eventually win me over. Anything to keep the light shining in those beautiful eyes of yours.

“I don’t know if it’s going to work, Steve,” she said. “But if you don’t agree to do this, we don’t have a soul who can play the part of Arthur.” Amy’s eyes lit up. “Oh, but I did have some thoughts about Guinevere. I know Annabelle’s not physically right for the part, but maybe by the time the show gets here she will be slim and trim. She’s on a diet, you know. Lost two and a half pounds already.”

“With fifty-seven and a half more to go. And I don’t see that changing anytime soon. Did you see the cookies she put away at the last meeting?” Steve shook his head. “I daresay she won’t be any trimmer by the time we put on the show.”

“Well, even if she’s not, it won’t matter. Whoever said that Guinevere had to look a certain way? Annabelle will do just fine.”

Steve struggled to find the right words. “I’m not judging her because of her weight. It’s not that. I just don’t think she’s right for the part.” He shook his head, determination setting in. “No, if I’m going to be Arthur—and I’m not saying I am—I want the right Guinevere.” His heart quickened, but he did his best not to let it deter him.

“The right Guinevere?” Her brow wrinkled. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to waste the next season of my life romancing the wrong woman. If we’re going to do this, it’s got to be right in every conceivable way. We want this to be believable to the audience, and that’s going to require more than good acting on my part. We’ve got to have chemistry.”

“Chemistry. Hmm. I see.” She bit her lip. “Well, it’s clear you and Gwen have a lot of chemistry. And her audition wasn’t really bad. Just…odd. She’s convinced we’re giving her the role, anyway, and I know you two are close.” Amy’s gaze shifted to the ground.

“Close? To Gwen Meadows?”
Good grief.
Either Amy was really bad at taking a hint, or he was lousy at giving them. Didn’t she realize the only Guinevere he wanted…was Amy herself? Steve shook his head. “Gwen would think we were acting out a real-life scene, and I can’t risk that. Trust me when I say that’s the last thing I want.”

A look of relief flooded over Amy’s face as she looked into his eyes. “I’m glad.” A hint of a smile followed. “Okay, well, what about Prissy Parker, then?”

A shiver ran down Steve’s spine. “She’s what…sixteen? And you were there. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

“Notice what?”

“She’s totally flat.”

“Excuse me?” Amy’s eyes widened.

Steve chuckled. “Her
singing
voice,” he explained. “Flat as a pancake. She can’t possibly carry the role musically, despite her mother’s best-laid plans.”

“Ah. Well, there is that.” She paused. “What about Lucy?”

“Lucy Cramden? As Guinevere? Are you kidding? She’s a little old for the part, don’t you think? And can you even imagine what she’d try to wear? It would be too risky. And weird.” Another shiver ran down his spine.

“True.” Amy held up her index finger in teacherly fashion. “But she’s certainly got the flirtatious part down. And you saw her rendition of ‘The Lusty Month of May.’”

“Oh, it was something to behold, all right. But, Amy, she’s fifty years old if she’s a day. I’m only thirty. You don’t think that would be a little…?”

“Creepy?” Amy paused. “Yeah. Might not be our best bet, and we don’t want to encourage her already-flirtatious behavior.”

“Exactly. And she’s insisting Fiona play a role too.”

“I can’t believe she expects us to cast a ferret as a muse. Crazy.” Amy paused. “I don’t know, Steve.” She sighed, and all of the energy seemed to drain out of her. “With Natalie out of the picture and Gwen’s audition being so over-the-top, Annabelle is really the only one who makes sense. Like I said, she’s not exactly what I had in mind physically, but she can sing and her acting skills were the best. And she has some experience from her college days. Probably more than everyone else put together, in fact, which could be very helpful.”

He finally worked up the courage to speak his mind. “I know one thing that would be helpful.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, for one thing, I think it would be helpful if I tell you how I really feel.” He swallowed hard and tried to collect his scattered thoughts. No point in botching this up. Not when he’d waited so long to do it. “If I’m just honest with you, I mean. It’s about time, after all.”

“How you really feel?” Her eyes filled with tears. “You mean, about putting on the show in the first place?”

“No, I—”

“Oh, Steve, you think I’m an idiot, don’t you? You think this play is another one of my lousy ideas. Another dumb idea by Amy Lyn Hart. It’s going to be a total and complete flop. Is that it?”

“No.” He took his finger and placed it over her lips. “Did anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?”

“Only every day for the last twenty-nine years.” She sighed.

“Exactly.”

Her mouth opened and then promptly shut. Looked like he’d stopped her from whatever she might say next. Not that he minded. With the tip of his finger, Steve traced her lips until they curled upward in a contented smile. He slipped his free arm around her waist and drew her close. His heart felt as if it had gravitated up into his throat, but somehow he managed to speak. “I’ve been wanting to say this for months. Don’t know what took me so long.”

“Say what?” she whispered, her eyes now fluttering closed.

“This.” He leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. She responded by wrapping her arms around his neck, a wonderful sign. As the kiss intensified, every emotion he’d kept bottled up for the past several months poured out. “You’re the only Guinevere for my Arthur,” he whispered when the kiss ended. This was followed by another tiny kiss on her nose.

“W–what? What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I can’t imagine entering into this venture with anyone other than the one fair lady I’ve had my eye on for years. You.”

“But—” She grinned, but he felt her trembling in his arms. “Are you serious?”

More so than I’ve ever been in my life. And if I can figure out how to go about it, I’m going to tell you just how crazy I am about you.

“What if your Guinevere can’t act or sing?”

“I know for a fact that you can act,” he said, his heart still pounding out of control. “You’ve been acting for months like you just wanted to be my friend and nothing more. You could win an Academy Award for that performance.” When Amy sighed, he paused then gave her a little kiss on the cheek and tried to quiet his heart. “I almost fell for it, by the way.”

“O–oh?” She gave him an embarrassed smile.

“So don’t argue with me about your acting abilities,” he said. “Or your singing abilities, either. We all heard you belt out that song. You were amazing.”

“I was just playing around, helping Pete. Or trying to, anyway.”

“Well, you’ve got the best singing voice of any of the women in Camelot,” he said, every word the truth. “And then there’s the fact that you’re beautiful. Guinevere has to be beautiful.”

Amy’s cheeks flushed pink. “That’s sweet.” She didn’t say anything for a moment. “I just wonder what people will think.”

“About what?”

“About the director taking one of the lead roles. It won’t seem fair.”

“Amy, just so you know, the decision to place you in the role of Guinevere came from Woody. We talked it through first thing this morning. He called me at six a.m. The decision has been made—from the top. He and I both agreed. There’s no one else to play the role but you.”

“What?” She stared at him, eyes wide. “When did he decide this?”

“The minute you sang that song. You should have heard him singing your praises.”
And vice versa.

“Wait a minute.” She shook her head, confusion registering in her eyes. “He called me last night and said that you should play Arthur—and then he called you this morning and said that I should play Guinevere?”

“Looks that way. I just know the man is convinced you’re the greatest thing since sliced bread, and I couldn’t argue the point. Putting you in that role is the right thing to do…not just for me, but for the town. We’ve got to pick the strongest possible cast, and none of the women who tried out yesterday are even close. And that includes Annabelle. Yes, she sings relatively well, but she’s got to realize she doesn’t look the part. You do. Besides, you’ve got star quality, something none of those other ladies have.”

“Star quality?” Amy chuckled. “I do? What makes you say that?”

“Because every night when I close my eyes, you’re center stage. Have been for as long as I can remember.” He pulled her close once again and planted several tender kisses along her hairline.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Amy whispered.

Steve sighed. “Because I’m more like the real Arthur than you know. Nervous. Shy.” He paused, deep in thought. “Remember that scene at the beginning of the movie where Arthur hid out in the woods, too nervous to face Guinevere?”

“Yes.”

“That’s me. I don’t know that bravery is one of my strong suits. It takes me longer to say what I’m feeling.”

“Well, you’ve been pretty brave today.” She kissed him on each cheek.

“Guess it’s about time.” He squared his shoulders. “But the need for bravery is just beginning, Amy. What we’re about to do is huge—the biggest thing we’ve ever tried to pull off. So we’re going to have to make a pact that we’ll be tough, even when things get difficult. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” She stuck out her hand and he shook it.

Then kissed it.

Then kissed her.

Amy felt light-headed as she melted once again into Steve’s embrace. Was she only imagining it, or was Steve actually kissing her? Surely this whole thing was a dream. No girl could be this blessed. Especially not a girl like her, who’d made such a fool of herself in front of so many, time and time again.

The kiss ended and he looked deep into her eyes. “Just one question,” he asked. “And it’s an important one.”

“Sure. What is it?”

“Arthur’s costume. Do I—I mean, does he really have to wear tights?”

Amy laughed, caught off guard by his question. “Steve, is that really what you’re most worried about? Seriously?”

“Yeah, actually.” He shrugged, a panicked look in his eye. “You have no idea what this could do to a man’s psyche.”

“Well, in that case, we’ll call them pants, not tights. But whatever you call them, you’ll have to wear them. You don’t want to stand out in the crowd.”

“That’s just the problem,” he argued. “Every man in town will make fun of me.”

“No, they won’t,” she countered. “Because they’ll all be wearing them too. But don’t get hung up on the costuming yet, Steve. We’ve got so many other things to think about first—the stage, the set, the props, the acting, the food, the tickets, the programs, the orchestra, the promotion….” Amy suddenly felt a little nauseous. She leaned against him. “What was I thinking?”