Acting Up (11 page)

“His name was Alan, and I loved him with all my heart. We met when I was nineteen and were engaged within a month. He was so strong and vibrant. And smart. We talked about everything and anything. He could make me laugh harder than anyone I'd ever known. Then he went off to Europe to fight in the war.” She went still.

“He died.”

Aunt Ruth nodded, and even after all this time a thin sheen of tears formed a liquid veil over her eyes.

Addison wanted to howl at the injustice of a senseless death that had robbed her sweet aunt of happiness.

“I'm so sorry,” she whispered.

Aunt Ruth turned her head, and some of the sadness retreated. “After he was gone, I became angry and bitter. I pulled away from my friends and family. Shut myself off emotionally. After a time, other men became interested in me, but I rebuffed them all.”

“You never fell in love again?”

“No one could ever live up to my Alan. I refused to give my heart again. Not if it meant I could be hurt. And not if it meant I had to let go of my fury. At life, at God, even at Alan.”

“You were angry at your fiancé?”

She fingered the blanket on the bed. “He'd left me alone. Of course it's not rational to blame someone for getting killed, but holding onto my rage was much easier than facing a future without him.” Her chin came up. “Anger eats away at you bit by bit until it corrodes your soul.”

Addison leaned back against the wall. “You're saying I need to forgive Merrick?”

“That might be too fresh a wound.”

“What's your point then?”

“Your
mother
. I know she hurt you, but if you can't let go of the bitterness you feel toward her, you will never be truly happy. I don't want you to become the woman I was.”

“You don't know the whole story. What she said after—” Addison broke off and swallowed down the sobs clawing up her throat.

Aunt Ruth held out a hand. “Come here.”

Addison hesitated.

“Come on.”

Addison took the few steps to the bed and perched on the side.

Aunt Ruth took Addison's hand. “I may not know the details of what happened between you two, but I can guess. I can't imagine sending my child away for any reason, but I can't forget that her actions saved my life.”

“What?”

“
You
saved my life,” she said, reaching up to touch Addison's cheek.

Shock replaced confusion. “Me?”

Her eyes were soft as a spring rain. “I lived an empty life for so many years, but you forced me out of a dark hole. Taught me how to love again. You can't know the joy you brought into my life. No matter what awful circumstances brought you to my doorstep, I will always believe you were sent to me for a reason. Which is why I want you to forgive your mother. Because whether you want to trust in God or not, everything does happen for a reason, and someday you're going to realize that.”

The entire production threatened to derail the second week of rehearsals.

“We've got a problem, Addison.”

Marjorie hurried over from the wings. Ethan was with her. Their troubled expressions raised Addison's blood pressure.

“What's going on now?” she asked. “Has there been another round of parental mutiny?”

Marjorie bit her lip as she tried to hold back tears. “It's Michelle Cerillo.”

“Is she all right?” Addison asked, instant alarm shooting through her. “Has something happened to her?”

“Her parents have pulled her out of the production.”

Addison's heart dropped to her stomach. “What? Why? Because of me? I swear I'll walk away if it means she stays in the play. I don't mind vegging out in the back yard.”

“It's not you this time,” Ethan explained. “They didn't even know Michelle was in the show. She didn't tell them.”

“Why not?”

“Michelle's parents are very traditional,” Marjorie said. “They're also very strict and don't approve of movies and theatre. They don't even watch much television.”

Addison tried to massage her instant headache away. “This is unbelievable.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lisa Turney and Nina Walters approach. Both girls were on the verge of tears.

“What is it, ladies?” Addison asked. “Please don't tell me your parents have made you drop out, too?”

Nina shook her head, as a fat tear slid down her cheek. “No, but it's our fault Michelle got in trouble. We found her playbook in her desk after history class. We thought she'd forgotten it.”

“Michelle lives in my neighborhood, so I dropped it off at her house,” Lisa continued.

“But we didn't know her parents would flip out!” Nina cried.

“Of course not.” Addison turned back to Ethan and Marjorie. “How could they make her quit? Don't they know how important the show is to her?”

“They're trying to protect their daughter,” Ethan said.

“What will you do without Michelle?” Lisa asked. “Will you have to recast her part?”

Addison blew out an anxious breath. “I don't know. I can't see anyone else playing Ellie.”

“We might have to think about it, though,” Marjorie said with a sigh. “Lisa could play Ellie, and one of the other girls would take over the part of Bree.”

Addison held up a hand. “Wait. Before we start shuffling cast members around, has anyone tried talking to Michelle's parents?”

“I spoke to them on the phone when they called to tell me Michelle wouldn't be in the play,” Ethan said.

“Did you tell them being in the show would be good for their daughter?”

“They were too upset to listen,” he said. “They were angry we'd allowed Michelle to audition without their permission in the first place.”

“I need to talk to them.”

“I'm not sure how much good it will do.”

“I have to try. Will you take me to their house? At least if you're with me, they won't slam the door in my face.”

He nodded. “Let's go then.”

****

Ethan led Addison to his SUV. Generations of ingrained Southern manners meant he had to open the passenger door for her. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, depending one's point of view, the gesture meant she had to brush against him to get into the car. The brief touch had him clenching his teeth at the sudden rush of sensation.

After two years of walking around in a zombie-like haze, every nerve ending seemed to have come roaring back to life. At least when he was around Addison. Even if he still wasn't sure he was ready for full on living yet. Or why someone like her should be the one to light his fuse.

Addison paused, as if startled by contact. Their eyes met. For a moment it didn't seem to matter that she was a celebrity and he was a nobody. That the very idea of something happening between them was ridiculous. He stepped back and walked around to the driver's seat, telling himself to get it under control.

Addison would never become involved with someone like him. Sure, she might flirt with him. She probably couldn't help trying to charm every man she came across. But she would never have a serious relationship with a small town guy who probably got paid less in a year than she did for one episode of her TV show.

He climbed into his seat, determined to ignore whatever long-dormant instincts she stirred up. Addison grabbed the hand brace and hauled herself up. She winced and reached underneath her, coming up with a plastic action figure. She turned to toss the toy in the backseat, and her eyes widened as she took in more evidence of two active little boys. Hockey sticks, a football, and a variety of other action figures. Ethan was pretty sure several fast food bags were back there, too.

“Sorry about all the junk,” Ethan said with a grimace as they left the parking lot. “I keep meaning to have them clean up, but we always seem to be running late.”

“I'm sure raising the boys on your own is hard.”

Ethan sighed. “You have no idea.”

As they drove, Addison kept her face turned away. With spring approaching, the trees had begun to sport a growth of leaves and colorful blossoms. Addison rested her chin in her hand and inhaled deeply.

“It's so beautiful here this time of year,” she said.

Ethan hit the button to lower her window, and she turned to him in surprise.

“I thought you might enjoy an unobstructed view,” he said.

Her eyes widened, and she continued to stare at him.

“Unless you don't want to mess up your hair,” he said, wondering if he'd read her wrong. How could he begin to understand someone who could go from sincerity to outright manipulation at the turn of a dime?

“I spent too many years with perfect hair to mind a little muss now.”

“My kind of girl.”

Except Jenny had been his kind of girl. She'd been soft and sweet and true. She'd stuck with him even after their whole world changed course following his injury.

“I understand your wife was a teacher,” Addison said, breaking through his reverie.

He started, wondering if Addison had somehow climbed inside his head to read his thoughts. The last thing he wanted to do right now was discuss his wife with the woman who was beginning to take up space in his mind. Except maybe talking about Jenny would help keep thoughts of Addison at bay. Remind him of all the reasons why he shouldn't be thinking about Addison at all.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “She was,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Did you meet at school?”

He shook his head. “It was school, but not as teachers. We started dating in tenth grade.”

Her mouth dropped open. “
Tenth grade
? Wait… you married the only person you ever dated?”

“Shocking but true,” he said.

“And you haven't dated anyone since—”

“No. How many men did you date before you got married?” he asked and then could have kicked himself. He did not need to know her romantic history. To know how many men he could potentially be compared to as she studied him.

To his surprise, color rose in her cheeks. “More than one,” she muttered. “You never felt like you should go out with other people?”

They stopped at a light. “Jenny was all I ever wanted,” he said, reminding himself as much as informing Addison.

Neither of them spoke for the next few minutes, as he drove through town and then turned down a residential street. Ethan parked in front of a sturdy, brick two-story house.

Addison started to open the door, but he reached over and grabbed her hand. “Why are you so determined to keep Michelle in the musical anyway?”

“Ethan, if you could have seen her audition you'd understand. Michelle is scared of her own shadow, but when she goes on stage, she becomes another person. She reminds me of myself. Acting was my salvation.”

Something about her admission struck him as sad. Didn't she know true fulfillment only came from one source? “Putting your faith in something you can get on a stage is hardly the argument Michelle's parents will buy. Especially considering—”

“The mess I've made of my life?” she asked, accusation in her tone.

“No, I was going to say, considering you learned the hard way that an acting career doesn't guarantee happiness. Putting your faith in anything of this world doesn't work.”

“I'm not saying Michelle should run off to Broadway,” Addison said in exasperation. “I think she could benefit from learning to believe in herself, and I think it would be a tragedy if she's made to feel ashamed of her voice. There's nothing wrong with expressing yourself through music, drama, or dance.”

Ethan scanned her face, searching for the truth behind what she'd said. Addison was so good with words. She used them the way a fencer did a sword, and half the time he wasn't sure if he could believe anything she said.

“All right. Let's go,” he said, even as he continued to wrestle with his conscience over this mission. He couldn't help but wonder if Michelle wouldn't be better off safe at home with her parents. Look at what had happened to Addison. What she had become. Where was the girl she'd once been? Where was Alice Jones beneath all the glitz and glamor?

They walked up the drive and rang the bell. A heavy-set woman in her mid-forties answered the door. She eyed them with wariness. “Principal Thomas? Can I help you?”

“We're here to talk about Michelle,” he said.

Her frown deepened. “There's nothing left to talk about. We've made our decision. Our daughter is not going to be dancing around on a stage.”

Apparently impatient with his progress, Addison sidled around him. “Mrs. Cerillo, have you read the play?”

“Who are you?” she asked with obvious mistrust.

“I'm Addison Covington, the director of the musical.”

“The actress.”

Mrs. Cerillo spat the word as if Satan himself had showed up at the door. Addison didn't flinch. “Yes, I am. Right now I'm concerned about Michelle, though. Have you heard her sing?”

“Of course we have. In church.”

“By herself?”

Mrs. Cerillo pursed her lips. “No.”