North Dakota Weddings (32 page)

“I helped lift the figures and directed you, nothing more.” From behind the life-size Lewis, he studied her.

Embarrassed, Amber wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say. “Thank you?”

He chuckled, then stepped down from the dais. “Which makes you the perfect candidate.”

Uh-oh. Leery, she took a step back. “Perfect candidate for what?”

“Two of the actors for the annual Lewis and Clark reenactment have become ill.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. What’s the matter with them?”

“Stomach virus. They’re not sure if they’ll be well by tomorrow.”

“And that has what to do with me?”

Brandon smiled. “With your passion, I think you’d make a great Sacagawea.”

“What?” Amber backed up farther. “Oh no you don’t. I can’t act.”

“Are you telling me you’d have us canceling after all the work we’ve done, and with the community’s expectations? The museum needs this.”

“I’m not saying that at all. I’m saying find someone else.”

“There is no one else.” He handed a large envelope to Amber. “Here’s the script. Why don’t you look it over and let me know what you think in the morning. The drama isn’t until the afternoon. They have a rehearsal at ten.”

Stunned, Amber took the script from him. How could she say no when he’d been so convincing? “All right, I’ll do it.”

“Good.”

Seeing the smile slip back into his eyes, she knew one thing—she couldn’t stand to see him disappointed. “Who will play the other part?”

A strange look came over his face. “I’m still looking for someone to play Sacagawea’s husband.”

Her husband?
Amber felt the panic squeeze her throat. Would she have to kiss the actor? “Any candidates?”

“Not yet.” Brandon jumped onto the dais again and adjusted Clark’s position, though in Amber’s opinion, he was already perfect.

Watching Dr. Selman, she began to see what he meant about the passion in the display. She saw that same enthusiasm in him, and his words to her came back.

“Which makes you the perfect candidate.”
Should she suggest that Brandon play the part of Sacagawea’s husband tomorrow?

Responding to the urgent need to splash water over her face, Amber excused herself and headed to the restroom.

Brandon stood at the back of the stage, behind most of the actors. After a frantic search, the part had ended up falling to him, after all. Dressed in period costumes, the group of actors presented a short drama regarding Lewis and Clark as they wintered in North Dakota. Brandon played Sacagawea’s husband, Toussaint Charbonneau. He joined Lewis and Clark’s group, the Corps of Discovery, as an interpreter along with Sacagawea, on a journey to find out if the Missouri River met with the Pacific Ocean. Such a finding would have provided a water route from St. Louis to the Pacific.

Fortunately for Brandon, Charbonneau hadn’t been a respected or infamous character, and therefore had no lines in this reenactment. Though feeling out of his element on the amphitheater stage, Brandon enjoyed the opportunity to watch Amber in action. She spoke her lines with confidence. Two long braids on each side of her head, Amber wore a brown leather costume like that seen in artists’ paintings of Sacagawea.

According to history, Sacagawea gave birth to a baby that winter, which she named Jean-Baptiste. Eyes sparkling, Amber held tightly to the swaddled doll, acting perfectly the part of protective mother. Something inside of Brandon stirred. Her lines complete, she took her place next to Brandon while another actor stepped forward. With a quick glance at Brandon, Amber shot him the hint of a smile.

He returned it with one of his own and an approving nod. Her eyes shone much too brightly. And there it was again. That feeling in the pit of his stomach. He both hated and loved the way she affected him.

The short drama ended and the crowd dispersed.

“Great job, Amber!” Peter, who played the part of Lewis, squeezed her shoulder.

“You really think so?”

“Sure I do. Cindy will probably be back by tomorrow, but maybe we can find a way to fit you into the drama.”

Brandon waited nearby, wanting to congratulate her on her efforts as well, but it looked like Lewis had designs on Sacagawea. That stung. But who was Brandon that he should interfere? Needing to head back to the museum, he stepped down the stairs carved from rock.

“Dr. Selman, wait.” Amber rushed to his side. “I’m glad you asked me to do this. I enjoyed it. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. I knew you’d be perfect.” He continued down the steps.

Amber followed right behind. “What should I do now?”

“Excuse me?”

“We never got past the drama. What do you want me to do during Living History Week?”

Brandon wanted to smack his forehead. “You’re right. I was so caught up in preparation….”

“You two made a great couple up there!” Muriel blocked their path while she snapped digital photos. “Let me get a picture of the happy couple.”

Brandon bristled, trying to hide his irritation as he smiled for the camera. Muriel’s playful teasing wouldn’t have bothered him except the same errant thought had brushed his mind as well.

Once Muriel finished taking a couple of snapshots, Brandon distanced himself from Amber.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.” He smiled and turned to descend the steps.

“Hey, too bad the play didn’t include a kiss between Sacagawea and her husband,” Muriel said, softly.

“What are you—in junior high?”

Before Brandon was out of earshot, he’d heard Muriel, and now as he pressed through a group of teens, he could still hear Amber scolding her.

Was she merely shocked as well, or did the idea of kissing him really repulse her?

S
acagawea is one of the most honored women in American history. And that, ladies and gentlemen, ends our tour.” When no one in her group appeared to have questions, Amber rushed to the employee break room to grab a soda and a few minutes alone. Living History Week had filled her days with guided tours and answering questions about history. She rarely saw Dr. Selman except in passing, which was probably just as well.

She’d been mortified when Muriel had made her happy couple comments and wondered if Dr. Selman avoided her for that reason. Even if he wasn’t avoiding her on purpose, though, the week had been too busy for words.

She put her coins into the vending machine. Nothing happened. Frustrated, she pounded the buttons and tried to shake the machine. It was no use. Too tired to remedy the problem, she slid into a chair.

Gladys entered the break room. “Can’t say that I’ll be upset when this week is over.” She opened the fridge and grabbed a cola she’d brought. Noting Amber’s empty hands, she tossed the cola to her. “Catch.”

On reflex, Amber caught it. “Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.” The caffeine would give her a lift, especially with three more hours to go before closing.

“Think we’ll make it through this week?” Gladys asked.

Amber swallowed a swig of the cool carbonation. “I hope—”

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Gladys tugged a slip of paper from her pocket. “A call came into the museum store for you.”

She pushed the paper across the table. Amber slid it the rest of the way and looked at the scribbled name and number.

Michael?
He’d found her. Her stomach dropped as if she were on an amusement park ride. What did he want? She stared at the number. He wanted her to call him back.

“Are you all right, hon? You don’t look well.”

For a moment, Amber had forgotten the world around her. “I…uh…I’ve got to go.” She rushed from the table, needing a quick exit.

Before she reached the door, Gladys called out. “Wait, Amber.”

Amber leaned her forehead against the door, torn between waiting to hear what Gladys wanted and leaving. She needed to be alone. To think. “I really have to go.”

“Hon, I’m worried about you.”

Putting her back against the door, she faced Gladys. “I’m fine. Really.”

“I’ve got a pot roast in the slow cooker. Why don’t you come on over for dinner tonight. You look like you need a good meal. We don’t need to wait until Living History Week is over.” Gladys’s eyes shone with concern, almost pleading.

Amber forced warmth into her smile. “Sure, that would be nice.” She backed through the swinging door, resolving to come up with an excuse later.

She rushed from the museum and out into the open, gulping air filled with the scent of popcorn, cotton candy, and hot dogs. Walking along the edge of the grass, she neared the open field next to the temporary pop-up tents and canopies erected for Living History Week. Marching through the crowd, she crumpled the note with Michael’s number.

Great. This was just great. He’d destroyed her life once. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? And if he were finally free, having served his time, would he stay away?

Please, God, just keep him away from me
. She rubbed her arms, walking through the booths and exhibits, needing composure before returning from her break. A glance at her watch told her she should head back to the museum.

Later that evening, Amber towel-dried her hair after a long, hot shower. Once her shift was over, she’d rushed from the museum, making certain she told Gladys she wasn’t feeling well. Covering her face with the damp towel, she groaned.

Gladys was a wonderful, motherly type. Amber didn’t want to hurt her. Maybe if Michael hadn’t contacted her today, then she’d be able to enjoy dinner with Gladys. In fact, learning more about Gladys and keeping the conversation off Amber might even have been possible.

But Gladys could read Amber’s mood, no matter how big the intern smiled. She’d want to know the reason for Amber’s distress and the conversation would spiral out of control. No, it was best to call and cancel. Gladys had already put the pot roast on before she’d invited Amber, anyway.

“Amber,” Muriel said through the door as she gave a light knock. “Gladys called. She asked how you were, and I told her fine. She gave her address and said to come over when you’re finished getting dressed.”

“What? You told her I was showering?”

“Uh, yeah? What would you have me tell her?”

That she wasn’t feeling well would have been nice. Maybe she wasn’t physically ill but she was mentally and emotionally distressed. “I don’t know.” She finished pulling on her shorts and T-shirt.

“Listen, the address looks pretty far. Do you want me to drop you off so you don’t have to ride your bike?”

Amber swung the door open to face Muriel. She worked to keep the frustration from her expression. Muriel was interfering. First with Dr. Selman, embarrassing her at the drama, and now with Gladys. “Honestly, I had decided I wasn’t going.”

Muriel crossed her arms and slumped against the wall. “Well, that stinks. It’s not every day a person gets to eat Gladys’s pot roast.”

A laugh escaped Amber’s smirk as she pushed by Muriel, heading to her room. “What are you talking about?”

Muriel followed. “Nobody has invited
me
to eat pot roast. I can’t cook one to save my life. What say, I come with you? Maybe you could say you didn’t feel right leaving me behind?”

Amber tossed a pillow at her. “You’re crazy, you know that?” She plopped on the bed. “All right, but as long as you promise to make sure the conversation never turns to my life as the main topic.” She wasn’t in the mood for full disclosure.

Pushing up on her elbows, she eyed Muriel, feeling as if she’d said too much, and given the look in Muriel’s gaze? Oh yeah…way too much.

Amber tugged Josh from his cage and snuggled him. At least
he
didn’t care that her brother was a criminal.

Brandon’s stomach rumbled as he pulled next to the curb at Gladys’s home. He’d been putting off her invitation to dinner for weeks now. Just like he’d put off visiting his parents.

The truth? He was tired and could use a meal that didn’t come from the freezer or out of a can. This week had gone smoothly and surpassed his hopes. If anything, he deserved to treat himself.

An image of Amber McKinsey in her Sacagawea garb, holding a baby, flashed before his eyes. Giving himself a moment, he leaned his head against the seat back. He thought about the young man who’d played the part of Lewis, appearing interested in Amber. Brandon had let it bother him too much, especially since he’d resolved Amber was off-limits. That he had to keep reminding himself was more than infuriating.