Love Finds You in Camelot, Tennessee (8 page)

“Ah.” Amy swallowed hard, trying to imagine how she might handle this. She knew from previous experience that her father couldn’t sing to save his life. Still, his storytelling skills were great.

Help me out here, Lord. Please!

Eula Mae began to bang out the intro for “I Wonder What the King Is Doing Tonight,” and Amy’s father squared his shoulders as he began to sing. As Amy suspected, his vocal abilities were anything but good. Still, he gave it the old college try…in several keys…none of them the key that Eula Mae happened to be playing in. She finally halted the music and turned to him with a grunt.

“Aw, look,” he said, looking deflated, “I know I can’t sing. But maybe we can dub my voice.”

“Dub your voice?” Amy shook her head.

“Well, sure. That’s what happened in the movie version. Franco Nero played Lancelot, but he wasn’t a singer—so they dubbed his voice.”

Confusion registered in Woody’s eyes. “We’re not going to snub you because of your voice, Charlie,” he said. “But we do have to take it into consideration. Arthur has to sing. No way around that.”

“He didn’t say
snub,
Woody,” Amy explained. “He said…aw, never mind.”

“Well, how about this, then.” Amy’s father began a rousing rendition of “Knights of the Round Table” from
Monty Python and the Holy Grail,
making quite a show of things. Woody chuckled and then began to clap along. So did Steve, for that matter. Before long, they were all quoting lines from the movie, one after the other.

Amy drew in a breath and waited until they finished, wondering if she’d ever be able to take control of the audition again.

“Dad, that was…great. But still…”

“Not convinced?” The edges of his lips curled down. “I understand.”

She wasn’t sure he did, but she also wasn’t sure what she could do about it. Honestly, if things didn’t turn around soon, she’d just as soon walk out of here and forget this whole thing. Why, oh why, had she come up with the idea to do a musical in the first place? What was she thinking? Oh yes. She was thinking that, perhaps, she could save her town from ruin.

She gave her father another glance, and an idea registered. Perhaps he could play King Pellinore, Arthur’s friend. Yes, he would be perfect for that part. And there was no singing required. Perfect! Hopefully the idea would settle well with him.

At this point—with no introduction—Lucy Cramden entered the stage, still dressed in her medieval gown and now carrying Fiona. Her eyelashes nearly took to flight, fluttering up a storm. “It’s my turn! Oh, I can hardly wait.”

“O–oh?” Amy fought to keep her gaze off the low-cut dress. She distracted herself by scrambling for Lucy’s audition form.

“If you’re casting Charlie as Arthur, let me try out for Guinevere.” A girlish giggle erupted. “Anything I can do to share the stage with such a
talented
actor.” She shifted her attention once more to Amy’s father.

Amy sighed. “Turn to page twenty-seven of the audition script and read Guinevere’s monologue.”

“Face us, please,” Woody said. “I need to hear you.”

If he managed to keep his gaze on Lucy’s lips, Amy give him a gold star. Thankfully, he turned his attention to the audition form, glancing up only on occasion.

Lucy did as Amy suggested but stumbled over the words. She tried again but botched it once more. Her giggles became contagious, and before long several others in the audience were laughing. Hopefully
with
her, not
at
her. Fortunately, her singing audition went better. Turned out her pitch was pretty good.

“Maybe I could be one of the fair maidens,” Lucy said at last. Eyeing Amy’s father, she added, “But only if you pair me up with just the right knight for the lusty-month-of-May scene.”

Amy’s dad shifted his gaze to the floor, muttered something about the weather, then shot out the door at the back of the sanctuary. Who could blame him? If Amy had her way, she’d run out the back door too. In the meantime, she’d just pretend she’d dreamed all this.

Her eyes misted over, and she swiped them with the back of her hand, determined to keep going.

“There’s no crying in theater, kid,” Steve whispered from the seat to her left.

“I thought that was baseball,” she whispered in response.

“That too.” He flashed that boyish smile and then winked. Her heartbeat skipped a beat.

Stay focused. Stay focused.

“Why are we talking about baseball?” Woody turned to them, the wrinkles in his brow deepening. “Someone hit a home run? Is that why your dad took off so fast?”

“Um, no.” She sighed. “I think he had an emergency of some sort.”

Steve buried a laugh that ended up sounding more like a snort.

“Are you done with me?” Lucy asked. “Because if you are, Fiona wants to audition.” She lifted the ferret, showing off a frilly pink outfit. “She dressed for the occasion.”

“What part, exactly, is she auditioning for?” Amy asked.

“I felt sure Guinevere would need a pet.” Lucy cradled Fiona near her cheek. “And who better to play the part?”

“I’ll think about that.” Amy offered what she hoped would look like an encouraging smile, and Lucy nodded. Then she took off toward the back of the auditorium, muttering something about finding Amy’s father.

With Lucy gone, Amy and Steve turned their attentions to the only auditioner left in the room, Steve’s older brother, Darrell.

“What’s it gonna be, Darrell?” Steve asked.

“Shoot, I don’t care.” Darrell pulled off his baseball cap and shrugged. He stuffed the cap in his back pocket and ambled toward the stage, the heels of his cowboy boots clicking against the floor. “Whatever you think, as long as I don’t have to sing. I couldn’t sing my way out of a paper bag.”

“Hmm.” Amy flipped through the script, trying to come up with the right part. “Oh, I know. Why don’t we have you read for Mordred, Arthur’s wicked son?”

“That sweet boy doesn’t have a wicked bone in his body,” Caroline said, slipping into the seat behind Amy.

“We’ll see if he can pull off the part of the evil son,” Amy said. “If so, then we’ll know his acting skills are really good.”

Darrell sighed. “I always have to be the bad guy.” He chuckled as he looked Steve’s way. “It’s been that way since we were kids. He was the good brother, I was the bad one.”

“Hey, now,” Steve said. “It’s not my fault I’ve always been a mama’s boy. I’m the youngest, after all.”

“I have it on good authority that you were both mama’s boys,” Caroline said. She chuckled as she leaned back in her seat. “Still are, in fact.”

“Yeah.” Darrell chuckled. “I spent a half hour on the phone with her last night. She misses us. In fact, she misses the whole town. Wishes she and Bob could be here to try out for the play.”

“Acting runs in the family,” Caroline said.

“Hmph. We’ll see about that.” Darrell took the script that Eula Mae offered him, still looking a little uncomfortable.

“Turn to page forty-two,” Amy instructed. “And give us your most evil voice as you deliver the lines, okay?”

“Will do.” He laughed. “I’ll just be thinking about that time Steve got me in trouble with Mom back in the eleventh grade when I borrowed her car without asking. That should help me get into character.”

“I remember that day,” Steve said. “You drove into Knoxville to see a girl you’d met at church camp. Nearly gave Mom a heart attack.”

Darrell—likely frustrated by all of this attention—lit into Mordred’s lines, delivering them perfectly. Every evil inflection. Every wicked nuance. By the end of his speech, Woody, Amy, and Steve were on their feet, cheering.

“Finally!” Amy clutched her script to her chest, overcome with relief. “Someone with acting abilities.”

“My brother can act too,” Darrell said as he pointed at Steve. “You wouldn’t believe the great acting he did every time he got caught doing something wrong as a kid. Very convincing. Mom bought it every time.”

“Very funny.” Steve gave his brother a stern look.

From the seat behind Amy, Caroline chuckled. “Boys will be boys.”

Amy looked at Steve, an idea percolating. “Steve, why don’t you read Arthur’s lines on the next page? Just for fun, of course—to give Darrell someone to read against. That way we’ll know if he can handle the back-and-forth movement from line to line. There’s a really intense scene between Arthur and Mordred, and I’d love to see him tackle it.”

“Oh, I really don’t act.” Steve shook his head. “Seriously. He was just kidding. Right, bro?”

Darrell shrugged. “How do you know unless you try?”

“Yeah, how do you know unless you try?” Amy pressed her script into Steve’s hand. “Besides, you’re just doing this to help out your brother. Give him someone to play against.”

Steve rose and sighed then made his way to the stage to join his brother, mumbling something about how it didn’t make sense that Darrell would read the part of his son, even if they were just messing around.

“Pick up with the line at the top of page forty-three,” Amy said. “Let’s see how this goes.” She leaned back against the chair, praying that this little scheme of hers would work. And praying that Woody and Steve would go along with it, if it did.

Darrell delivered the opening line, and Amy held her breath as Steve countered with his. Not bad. His next line was even stronger, though the British accent could use a bit of work. By the time Steve got to his fourth or fifth line, he had it.

Amy closed her eyes and listened to the exchange between the brothers, believing, truly believing, that they were Arthur and Mordred. And for the first time all day, she believed something else too. They could pull this off. The town of Camelot really
could
put on a musical, and folks would pay to come see it. Before long, the town’s residents could breathe freely again.

Leaning back in her chair, she released a sigh. A loud snore from the seat next to her startled Amy back to attention. She giggled as she glanced Woody’s way. Poor guy. Looked like he’d slept right through Steve’s audition. He must be exhausted from the day’s proceedings.

Well, never mind all that. He would surely be tickled that they’d found their Arthur. Perhaps the land of Camelot would be saved after all.

She prayed so, anyway.

I have only one rule in acting—trust the director and give him heart and soul.

A
VA
G
ARDNER

The following morning, Amy drove to the Camelot Diner to meet Steve for breakfast. Though exhausted, she also felt more encouraged than the day before. She prayed he would concur with her decisions related to the cast list, one in particular. Would he go along with the idea of playing King Arthur? Hopefully she could convince him to do so. Steve knew how important this was to the town—and to her.

She entered the diner and was surprised to find Steve seated in a booth across from Gwen. A ripple of jealousy ran through Amy, but she pushed it aside. As she drew near the booth, Gwen looked up. Her expression hardened.

“Oh, hey, Amy.”

“Hey.” Amy looked back and forth between Steve and Gwen, trying to decide where to sit.

“Here, sit by me.” Steve moved over on the bench, making room for her. She slid into place, noticing at once the frown on Gwen’s face.

“We were just talking about the auditions yesterday.” Gwen laughed. “Honestly, have you ever seen so many talentless people in one room? The whole thing was a joke. Too funny, really…in a not-so-funny sort of way.” She rolled her eyes then took a sip from her cup of coffee.

“What?” Amy found herself stunned at Gwen’s bluntness. “Actually, I thought a few of our townspeople did a great job. Some better than others.”

“Surely you don’t actually think we can pull off a professional show, Amy. One people would pay money to see?” Gwen leaned forward with her elbows on the table. “It’s ludicrous. You need to stop this before people get hurt and it destroys the reputation of our town.”

“What?”

“Yes.” Gwen gave her a pensive look. “People are going to get their hopes up and then dashed when this thing doesn’t work out. It’s not fair—to them or to the people who are going to pay money to see the show.”

“But that’s always how it is in theater,” Amy said. “Things are rough at first, but the show must go on. Everything works out in the end.”

“How would you know?” Gwen leaned back against the booth, crossing her arms. “Exactly how many shows have you been in, again? Since junior high, I mean.”

“Well…”

“Exactly. Look, Amy, this was a clever idea, and we all know how you love to come up with clever ideas. But this one’s just a little too much. You need to let it go.”

Steve shook his head. “Gwen, I disagree. I think it’s one of the most brilliant ideas Amy’s ever come up with. And most everyone agrees. As for ruining the reputation of the town, I don’t think it’s possible. Camelot is such a small place that most folks haven’t even heard of it.”

He emptied his coffee cup and leaned back against the seat, his shoulder rubbing against Amy’s. She tried not to let his closeness distract her from the conversation at hand, but, man! Being this close to him was getting harder every day. She tried to focus on Gwen, who continued to talk.