The Spiral Path (70 page)

Dame
Judith greeted them with extravagant hugs. "Thank the heavens you're here!
Today has been a nightmare." She frowned at Kenzie. "Would you
consider shaving off the beard?"

"No, I would not," he said
firmly. The heavier his disguise, the happier he'd be.

"I suppose there's no reason why
Benedick shouldn't have a beard." Taking each of them by one arm, Dame
Judith marched them to the back of the theater. "First we'll let the
wardrobe mistress have at you, since she'll need time for alterations. It shouldn't
be hard to costume Rainey, but some improvising will be required for you,
Kenzie. My regular Benedick was rather smaller."

The controlled chaos that always marked
an opening night was multiplied by the food poisoning disaster. Cast and stage
crew members, most very young, buzzed in all directions. Adding two Hollywood
stars to the mix brought the brew near the explosion point. On the whole,
Kenzie was glad for the confusion. It distracted him from his own rampaging
nerves.

After the wardrobe mistress swiftly
devised costumes for Kenzie and Rainey, they walked through the play. It was
less a rehearsal than an attempt to work out blocking and stage business. The
newly recruited friar kept tripping over the hem of his robe, while the very
young Hero's deathlike swoon after being repudiated at the altar led her to
fall off the stage, luckily landing on a well-upholstered musician.

The third time the stately but
inexperienced Don Pedro, Prince of Arragon, ran into another performer, Dame
Judith caught the man's gaze and said in a blood-chilling tone, "The basic
rule is remember your lines and don't fall over the furniture. Do you think you
can manage that tonight?" Blushing beet-red, Don Pedro promised to do
better--and promptly backed up into a large wine jug, which fell over with a
hollow boom.

When the run-through ended, Dame Judith
said with a sigh, "If Shakespeare weren't dead, this production would put
him in his tomb."

Rainey said encouragingly, "A bad
final rehearsal is a good omen for the actual good performance."

"Except when it isn't," Dame
Judith said dourly. "I've booked the two of you a room at a charming
bed-and-breakfast around the corner, but there isn't time for you to go there
to rest before the performance. Since space is rather tight, would you mind
sharing the largest dressing room?"

"Not at all," Rainey said.
"Just point us in the right direction."

A junior assistant stage manager took
them to the dressing room, which was reasonably furnished and had a shower.
When they were alone, Rainey flopped full-length on the sofa. "You were
right--my hormones have made me mad," she said dramatically. "We'll be
lucky to leave Santa Fe alive."

He sat at the end of the sofa and draped
her legs over his lap. After removing her shoes, he began massaging her feet.
As she moaned with pleasure, he said, "Do you have the energy to make it
through the play tonight?"

"I'll be fine." She grinned.
"Actually, I'm having a wonderful time. It's been years since my playhouse
days and I'm frightened half out of my wits, but there are no real consequences
for failure. I can do terribly and still get credit for being a good sport."

The consequences were higher for him,
and they both knew it. Even if he made it through the evening without
disgracing himself, this might be the last performance he ever gave. Acting had
sustained him for years, but he was no longer the same man. Luckily, he could
get through tonight's performance with skill, even if passion was missing. Dame
Judith and the people who paid their hard-earned money for tickets deserved at
least a competent performance.

None of his rationalizations prevented
his muscles from knotting.

Rainey sat up and swung over to straddle
his lap, her long skirt pooling around her. Cupping his face between her hands,
she said, "I have a really good idea for dealing with opening night
jitters." In case he didn't get the idea, she wriggled against him.

He had to laugh. Catching her around the
hips, he asked, "Are you sure this is good for you?"

She leaned forward and kissed him, her
lips warm. "I really do like your beard. It's so lovely and male. As to
your question, one of the books on pregnancy I read said that basically, there
are two kinds of people when it comes to sex during pregnancy: those who like
sex more, and those who like it less. I've figured out that I'm the former
type. How about you?"

"I certainly find you sexy."
He slid his hands under her skirt, caressing her thighs. "Good grief, when
did you abandon your underwear?"

"Advance planning." She kissed
him again. doing interesting things with her tongue. "I figure we have
half an hour before we need to shower and do costumes and makeup."

"Less if we shower together."
He began moving against her.

"Excellent improvisation," she
murmured.

Rainey was right. This was a terrific
way to deal with opening night jitters.

There
was an absolute aloneness before stepping on stage. Kenzie waited in the wings,
and wished he'd had the sense to refuse Rainey's pleas. If he wasn't so close
to being physically ill, he might have walked out of the theater.

Onstage, Rainey as Beatrice, Dame Judith
in a false beard as Leonato, young Hero, and a Messenger were tossing the
opening lines back and forth. Dame Judith was marvelous, of course, her trained
voice pitched to a convincing tenor.

Rainey, a consummate pro, gave her
opening line perfectly, her question about Benedick's survival betraying how
much she cared for him even though their prior affair had come to nothing.
Flanked by experts, Hero gulped, and spoke well.

Then it was time for Kenzie to enter with
the Prince of Arragon and three of the other main male players. As he stepped
out, he felt the pressure of all those eyes staring from the darkness. Dame
Judith had announced to the audience before the performance that food poisoning
had required numerous substitutions. She hadn't mentioned any names, promising
to introduce her performers at the end of the play.

The audience began murmuring, and he saw
people looking from him to Rainey and back again. A piercing whisper said,
"It's Raine Marlowe and Kenzie Scott!"

The murmuring intensified, completely
paralyzing poor Don Pedro. Under his breath, Kenzie prompted, "'Good
Signor Leonato, you are come to meet your trouble: The fashion of the world is
to avoid cost, and you encounter it.'"

After a panicky glance at Kenzie, the
prince managed to croak out his line. Leonato responded, and suddenly the play
began to fall into place.

Kenzie had always loved Benedick, who
hid his feelings behind banter, and the role fit like a well-worn glove. Rainey
tossed her first teasing dart at Benedick, Beatrice doing a preemptive strike.
At the same time she was his wife, who'd had as much trouble trusting as the
character she played.

As the play unfolded, slow joy began to
move through him. He'd forgotten the electric intensity of a live performance,
the excitement of being fueled by the emotions of the people who watched so
raptly. What actors and audience created tonight would never be repeated in
quite the same way. This night was unique and intimate, immediate in a way that
film could never match.

Inspired by Kenzie, Rainey, and Dame
Judith, the rest of the cast members surpassed themselves. Kenzie wanted to
laugh out loud at the sheer pleasure of performing. This was what he'd been
born for, but had forgotten amidst the pressures of Hollywood fame, the
unnatural stop-and-go nature of filming.

Beatrice, like Rainey, must be won by a
man who was her match. At the end, when Benedick had accepted his fate and
proclaimed, "Strike up, pipers," Kenzie caught Rainey around the
waist and swept her high in the air, holding her over his head like a dancer.
Time slowed while he revolved in a circle, looking up into Rainey's laughing
face as her gauzy skirts floated around her slender figure. "Thanks for
making me do this, Rainbow," he whispered.

As thunderous applause threatened to
blow the windows from the playhouse, she gave a smile more intimate than a
kiss. "You're welcome, my love."

There was no exhilaration quite like
that of taking bows in front of an audience giving a standing ovation. The
clamor was beginning to subside when Kenzie stepped forward and raised one hand
for silence.

When the crowd quieted, he said in his
most resonant voice, "Thank you for being here tonight, and reminding me
why I became an actor." He caught Dame Judith's hand and pulled her
forward. "Thanks also to Dame Judith, one of the grandest ladies the
British theater has ever known, who took a chance on bringing in two Hollywood
hacks for tonight's performance."

As the audience rumbled with laughter,
he drew Rainey forward. Her apricot hair was trailing wisps and her cheeks were
flushed with exertion. "Most of all, I want to give thanks to Raine
Marlowe. My wife, now and forever." He bowed and kissed her hand. His
gesture brought down the house again.

Charles Winfield would have been proud
of him.

EPILOGUE