Love Finds You in Camelot, Tennessee (16 page)

Woody piped up. “How about the one where Lancelot has to bare his soul to the fair Guinevere? That’s the most intense scene and will give me an idea of your capabilities.”

“Oh, the scene where Lancelot confesses his undying love?” Jackson reached into his briefcase and pulled out a script. “That one?”

Woody nodded and took a seat. “Sure.” He looked at Amy. “You mind joining him? It will be good to hear the two of you together, to make sure the balance of voices is right.”

Off in the distance Steve looked on, the concern in his eyes more than evident.

“I—I guess so.” Amy took her script and entered the makeshift stage area standing next to Jackson. Maybe she’d better not look directly at him. She’d never make it through if those eyes—those mesmerizing eyes—caught her in their trap once again.

“Page forty-three,” Woody hollered out. “Start with Lancelot’s line at the top.”

Jackson opened his script and glanced at the page, not saying anything for a moment. Or two. Or three. After a bit of awkward silence, Amy began to panic. Did he have stage fright? Maybe he couldn’t act. Maybe Sarge’s bragging had been exaggerated just like his war stories.

Jackson tossed the script onto a chair and flashed a confident smile. He spoke his first line and a holy hush fell over the room. His lyrical voice had the perfect cadence for the scene, and all traces of a Southern accent disappeared as he took on the role of Lancelot. Amy found herself captivated—not just by his good looks, but his posture, his expression, his tone of voice. The words he spoke to her—er, Guinevere—sounded so genuine that for a moment she forgot she was supposed to be Guinevere listening to Lancelot. No, in this moment, she was just Amy Hart, junior high-wannabe, completely and utterly swept away by Jackson Brenner, the most handsome boy in the class. The one every girl wanted to date. And marry. And grow old with.

From the back of the room, someone cleared his throat. Sounded familiar.

“Um, Amy?” Steve drew near with a concerned look on his face.

“Y–yes?”

“It’s your line.”

“O–oh?” She stared at the script, completely lost. Where were they again? Was it really time for Guinevere to speak?

“You’re supposed to respond with the line about how torn you are between Arthur and Lancelot,” Jackson said. “It’s about a third of the way down the page.”

How did he know that? Had he memorized the whole scene? This guy wasn’t kidding when he said he’d been practicing.

She managed to speak Guinevere’s lines, feeling more like a giddy schoolgirl than an accomplished actress. Still, if Jackson was disappointed in her performance, it did not show. No, as she spoke, he stayed in character. Completely and totally in character.

They finished the scene and most everyone in the room erupted in applause.

Grady’s voice broke through. “Okay, so he can act. Big deal. But can he sing?”

“Let’s see.” Eula Mae entered the stage area and grabbed Jackson by the hand. “Come with me, if you please.” She led the way to the piano, where she flipped open the music score to Lancelot’s solo, “C’est Moi.” “Give it all you’ve got, kid,” Eula Mae said as her fingers hit the keys. “These folks are merciless. You’ll never live it down if you stink.”

Jackson gave it his all, all right. And what he had—much to everyone’s astonishment—was probably the best voice any of them had ever heard. Sort of an Andrea Bocelli–meets–Pavarotti kind of talent. Completely unassuming, though. In fact, he didn’t come off as a showboat at all, only as one who truly loved to sing.

Amy did her best not to let her excitement show too much. Still, she could hardly believe her good fortune. Surely the Lord had sent Jackson to Camelot for such a time as this…to save the day, no less.

“I think he’ll do fine,” she said after the crescendo of his last note came to an end. “And having him here completes our cast. Yes, I think he’ll do
just
fine.”

Steve stood off to the edge of the room, watching the exchange between Jackson and Amy. He fought the temptation to interrupt them, though it took every ounce of willpower within him. What was it about that guy—that practically perfect guy—that got him so rankled?
Deep breath. Don’t overreact.
Jackson leaned in close and Amy giggled. Steve felt his blood pressure rising. He glanced at his watch and was startled by how much time had passed.

“Amy.” He called her name but she didn’t turn around, so he tried again, this time a little louder. “Amy?”

“Oh.” She turned to face him, her cheeks blazing pink. “I’m sorry. W–what?”

“It’s five thirty,” he said. “We’ve only got an hour and a half to read through the script. Don’t you think we’d better get busy?”

“Right.” She nodded, and the glazed look in her eyes appeared to pass. She sprang into action, clapping her hands. “Okay, everyone. Let’s pull the chairs into a circle. We’re going to begin with Act One, Scene One, where King Arthur is alone in the forest, hiding out because he’s afraid to meet Guinevere.”

Steve sighed. They would have to start with something that made him look like a wimp. Well, better to get this over with. Before long they’d move on to another scene—hopefully one where he could come out looking and smelling like a champ, not a chump.

Not that anyone would notice. No, the eyes of every person in the room remained fixed on Jackson, even as a few of the cast members pulled their chairs into place. And from the way things were going, it would probably be quite some time before life in Camelot shifted back to normal.

There’s nothing more boring than actors talking about acting.

J
AMES
C
AAN

In spite of her attempts to the contrary, Amy’s heart gravitated to her throat every time she gazed Jackson Brenner’s way. For one thing, the man was downright beautiful to look at. Er, handsome. For another, he knew more about theater than all the other people in the room combined. And what a talent! She’d never met anyone firsthand who could sing like that. Talk about a godsend. And yet she got the distinct feeling he wouldn’t rub his experience in anyone’s face. No, the guy would likely prove to be helpful. And even if he didn’t, he’d already lifted the morale of the group.

Well, the female morale, anyway. Some of the guys didn’t look so enthused. Steve, for instance. As he drew near, she could sense the tension in the little wrinkles around his eyes. Not that she blamed him. If the shoe were on the other foot—if, say, a gorgeous, shapely Guinevere had sashayed into the room and caused the men to go gaga—Amy would probably be a little miffed too. Okay, more than a little miffed.

She offered Steve a bright smile. “I think we’re ready to roll now.”

“Good.” His gaze narrowed, and for a moment she saw a look of pain in his eyes. Her thoughts shifted back to that wonderful kiss they’d shared the other morning, and shame washed over her.
Lord,
forgive me. This relationship thing is new. I’m on a learning curve. I guess it’s not okay to flirt with one guy when the one you just kissed is standing in front of you.
She sighed. Truthfully, it wasn’t okay to flirt with Jackson even if Steve
wasn’t
standing in front of her. How she’d allowed herself to slip, even for a moment, was beyond her.

Oh, but those eyes. And those lashes! What kind of guy had lashes like that? Were they real?

Help me, Lord.

By now, nearly everyone in the room had taken to chatting. No one seemed to be paying much attention to the matter at hand—the round-table reading. Amy called them to order once again, and before long, everyone was seated with script in hand.

“Okay, I’m sure you’re familiar with the story,” Amy said. “So we’ll just dive right in. If you have any questions, please leave them for the end. As we read, Woody and I may stop you occasionally to give some direction.”

Seconds later, they were off and running. Amy listened with amazement as Steve read the opening lines of the production. The British accent might be lacking, but the lyrical tone of his voice was not. Could it really be that he was born to act? Maybe he would give Jackson a run for his money. Sounded like he planned to try, anyway.

Amy’s first lines were delivered with an undercurrent of nerves. Her voice initially trembled all over the place as she and Steve began the scene depicting Arthur and Guinevere’s first meeting. But shortly thereafter, she started to relax. As the lines went back and forth, she found herself caught up in the moment, loving the sound of their two voices, the rise and fall of emotions, the beauty of the words. She could get used to this, especially the part where Steve—er, Arthur—spoke with such tenderness that she truly believed the words were written for her. Maybe they had been. If the Lord had orchestrated all of this, then she had to believe that He knew she’d one day be sitting right here, reading these lines.

Amy felt her cheeks turn warm and was grateful for the change of scene. As they reached the midsection of the story, the various other actors and actresses delivered their lines, some with more grace and finesse than others. Thank goodness Grady only had a couple of them. And thankfully Darrell seemed to take to the Mordred role with ease. Even Lucy excelled with her few lines. Amy’s father seemed a little over-the-top as Pellinore, but he simmered down after the first few minutes.

But Gwen…Amy sighed as Gwen wriggled in her seat and messed with her cell phone. It frustrated Amy to see her so bent out of shape, but it frustrated her even more when she thought about how much things had changed over the years. Was there really a time, all those years ago, when she and Gwen had been best friends? They’d played dress-up and gone to sleepovers together. What in the world had happened to put an end to all that? In her heart of hearts, she missed her old friend and wondered if things would ever be different. She hoped so—prayed so.

Before Amy knew it, they were at the point in the story where Lancelot made his entrance. Out of the corner of her eyes, she watched Jackson as he delivered his opening lines. They sounded even stronger than the ones he’d shared earlier. She whispered up a prayer of thanks, grateful to the Lord for bringing him here.

For the first time, she actually felt confident in the outcome of the show. People would come…and with the caliber of talent that Jackson and Steve both provided, the audience would leave satisfied—their pockets a little emptier but their hearts a little fuller. At least that was the idea. Ultimately, the town of Camelot would rise from the ashes, financially sound and ready to face the future.

Amy found herself so lost in her thoughts that she almost missed her next cue. She jumped into her lines, feeling a little flustered. Not that anyone else seemed to notice. No, everyone in the place had his or her nose buried in the script.

Okay, maybe not everyone. Lucy, Annabelle, Blossom, and Gwen occasionally peeked over the edges of their scripts at Jackson, who, thankfully, remained oblivious.
Hmm.
She would have to keep an eye on that. No backstage romances during this play. They simply didn’t have time.

Well, no backstage romances except the one between her and Steve. She couldn’t stop that ball from rolling down a hill if she wanted to. Not that she wanted to. No, more than ever, she wanted to follow her heart. Surely it would lead her straight into his arms…if he would still have her, after she’d practically swooned over Jackson.

Amy found herself caught up in yet another daydream and nearly missed King Arthur’s last line. Only when the others began to cheer did she startle to attention.

“We did it,” Woody said with a contented smile. “We made it through the whole show.”

Applause sounded across the room and Amy looked around the circle at her cast, thrilled for their time and effort and even more thrilled at their enthusiasm.

“You guys were great,” she said. “I feel so…” She started to say
relieved
but changed it to “blessed.” After what she hoped would be perceived as an encouraging smile, she gave some closing directions. “When we meet again on Wednesday afternoon, we’ll start blocking the opening scene.” She paused. “Oh, something else. We’re going to need someone to choreograph the dance numbers. I’ve been wondering if any of you have dance experience.”