The Jumbee (5 page)

“I watched the auditions today. I’ve rarely seen such a convincing Juliet as yours.”

She cringed, knowing he must have seen the entire thing. “Uh . . . thanks for your help.”

“Did I help?” he asked in bemusement, an intriguing accent touching his words.

“You helped with Juliet,” she said, embarrassed. “My Lady Capulet was awful.”

To her surprise, he burst into laughter. “Not many actresses are so honest. I admire what I’m seeing.”

“It’s pitch-black.” Esti forced a light note into her voice, hoping she didn’t sound as flustered as she felt. “You can’t see a thing.”

“Talent doesn’t require visual cues, especially when speaking Shakespeare.”

Suddenly shy at the unexpected compliments, Esti wrapped a long strand of hair around her finger. “That sounds like something my dad would say.”
Except
, she thought,
my dad wouldn’t have let Lady Capulet off so easily.
“He liked rehearsing in the dark because he could focus better.”

“And what about you? Does the darkness help Esti Legard focus better?”

“It helped a lot when I practiced with him.” She drew her brows together. “So, you know who I am. But who are you?”

“My name”—the voice hesitated—“is Alan.”

“Like my dad?” Chaotic longing surged through her, and she wished she had turned on the lights when she walked in.

“Yes. I studied Legard’s theories in school.”

“Did you go to his acting seminars? He taught at a lot of different schools during his theater tours.”

“Acting seminars,” Alan repeated softly. “Yes.”

“I usually helped him prepare for those.” As Esti’s heart gave an odd thump, she wondered if Alan had ever gotten any of the handouts she’d made. She barely controlled an urge to tell him every last detail about honeyed birthday tartes and lute music.
This is crazy,
she thought.
I have no idea who this guy is. Why would he care about lutes?
“So you met my dad?”

“I did have that great fortune,” Alan said. “Shakespearean actors have rarely influenced American culture, but your father certainly did. His film presence was amazing.”

“Mmm hmm.” Esti instantly grew wary. Just one more fan, enthralled by the Great Legard’s
presence
. She couldn’t escape it.

But Alan’s next words surprised her.

“I imagine it was difficult around your father,” he added. “You’re an exceptional actress in your own right, you know.”

Esti sank back against the edge of the stage, her knees trembling as Alan drew out one of her deepest fears and effortlessly smoothed it away. Where
was
this guy who practically read her mind? His voice seemed close enough for her to touch him, but she could swear she was the only one on the dark stage. “Thou know’st the mask of night is on my face,” she managed with a deep breath, “else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek.”

He burst into another delighted laugh. “I like you, Esti. I’m surprised you don’t have a string of movies under your belt.”

Her knees grew even weaker, and she took a deep breath. “My dad made sure I could audition for parts all over the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. And in my high school theater. Not to mention the occasional Renaissance Faire. He wanted me to have lots of acting opportunities.”

“Mmm hmm.” As Alan repeated her generic reply, she realized how spoiled she sounded.

“It’s not like I didn’t have a blast doing it,” she quickly added. “People loved it when we showed up in theaters all over the country with very little warning. I just haven’t done any acting since . . .” She shoved away the memories of her last performance with her dad. “Since before he died.”

“His death was a terrible blow.” She barely heard Alan’s soft words.

Relief swept through her at the chance to really talk about the loss of her father—a topic she still didn’t dare bring up with Aurora—followed by unexpected fury at yet another stranger pretending to understand. “Yes, it was,” she muttered. “I’ve got an entire notebook of tabloid memorials from people who barely knew him.”

For a moment Alan didn’t speak. “I’m sorry,” he finally whispered. “No one could imagine what it must be like for you.”

“No, I’m sorry.” She took a slow, controlled breath at his genuine sorrow. “Thank you for saying that.”

“I wish I could help.” She almost didn’t hear him.

“You are helping.” As she said the words, she was surprised to realize how true they were. She stared into the darkness, feeling like she could pour out all her anger and hopes and fears, and this stranger
would
somehow understand. “I’m glad so many people respected my dad.”

“Yes.” Alan paused. “And I’m glad you’re here.”

A weird, tingling sense of hope began to grow inside her at his uncanny ability to follow her mood.

“Who are you?” She casually kicked her foot against the stage. “Are you in the play?”

“I’m not a student,” he said.

“So you teach with Mr. Niles?” she continued.

“I’m not a teacher here either. I am merely an actor, like you.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t use the word
merely.
” Esti suppressed a laugh. She felt a sudden giddy empathy for Juliet on the balcony, falling so quickly for a voice in the dark. “I don’t remember my dad talking about any young actors named Alan. What’s your last name?”

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet.”

This time she couldn’t help giggling. “Don’t distract me, Romeo. Tell me you’re not one of those jumbees I’ve been hearing about.”

Soft laughter brushed her like the caress of a silk scarf, and her skin jumped in response. For the first time since she was a child, her easy comfort in the darkness wavered. Rubbing her arms, she rose to her feet.

“I’d better turn on the lights.”

“As you wish.”

“I don’t believe in jumbees.” She felt her way back along the aisle with a calm, measured stride. She
knew
she’d seen light switches somewhere beside the main doors.

“Wise of you.”

Despite her unease, she couldn’t help smiling again as his amused voice followed her up the aisle. Even her dad would have been impressed by Alan’s perfect projection.

“What I want to know,” she said, “is how I heard you this afternoon, when no one else seemed to.”

“Magic.”

She snorted. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Immensely.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-five.”

Esti felt an odd satisfaction at his answer. Boys her own age seemed unable to see past the fact that she was The Great Legard’s daughter, but Alan didn’t seem intimidated. “What does Mr. Niles think about your prompting work?”

This time, however, Alan didn’t answer.

Esti half turned to face the dark stage, her smile fading. “Did Mr. Niles know you were here?”

“This evening has been my greatest pleasure, but I must leave.” Alan’s formality suddenly returned. “Please don’t mention me to anyone.”

“I . . . why not?” She quickly swept her hand along the rough wall beside her.

“I wish . . .” He trailed off, his voice wavering. “I think it was a mistake to talk to you.”

“No, it wasn’t.” She felt the truth of her reply all the way down to her toes. As she finally found the switch, light enveloped the theater in a comforting glow.

She studied the empty stage for a moment. “Alan?” she said uncertainly.

A chill crept over her as the silence lengthened, not broken by even the sound of departing footsteps. Although Alan’s voice still played in her head like fine music, she was very clearly alone.

Act One. Scene Four.

“Trade winds have always been a dominant influence in the West Indies”—Mr. Larsen drew another chalk line on the board—“blowing northeast from the coast of Africa. They are the driving force behind our hurricanes, which are typically born far away in the Sahara desert.”

Ignoring the rhythmic thump of a foot against the back of her chair, Esti scribbled a couple of notes. She wasn’t about to turn around and look, even though Danielle’s friend Steve seemed to have a new focus in life: making Esti Legard miserable. In the three weeks since classes started, he was doing a pretty good job.

“It’s easy to think of a hurricane as a kind of monster,” Mr. Larsen said. “A tropical storm requires food in the form of warm, moist air, and optimal wind. If it finds enough of this food, it will build energy and grow as it moves across the ocean. Trade winds form these optimal conditions, occasionally turning the tempest into a giant monster within a couple of days, or sometimes even a few hours.”

A monster tempest? Cariba Island seemed to be a haven for strange Shakespearean creatures. With a sigh, Esti studied the blackboard. She wished Mr. Niles had chosen
The Tempest
instead of
Romeo and Juliet.
No matter how she tried, she just couldn’t immerse herself in Lady Capulet. She’d been counting on some kind of magical Manchicay motivation to bring her passion back. If not Juliet, then—perhaps—a voice named Alan. But he hadn’t returned since the night of her audition. A mythical creature indeed.

When class was over, she headed to the parking lot to wait for Carmen. They were walking downtown together for some magic chocolate chip cookie ingredients that would absolutely, Carmen insisted, help Aurora feel better about life.

“Jane Doe,” Carmen called out. “Don’t you have any jeans without holes in the knees?”

“More ventilation this way. It’s hot here in the tropics.” Reaching up, Esti twisted her hair into a knot, jamming a pencil through it to keep it in place on top of her head. “I’m even ready to cut my hair, but Aurora would kill me.”

“Wear shorts like the rest of us,” Carmen said. “You need a tan. How were your classes?”

Esti rolled her eyes. “I’ll never be a science major. I like history, but psychology is a waste of time. Did you ace your math quiz?”

“Failing algebra,” Carmen said with a sigh. “No question about it.”

As they walked down the steep road from Manchicay School to Manchicay Bay, Carmen happily complained about math and language arts. They had just reached the grocery store when she paused and pointed down a nearby street.

“Danielle’s mom,” she whispered, “over at that restaurant balcony beside Mr. Niles. That’s Danielle’s younger sister with them.”

Esti knew what Gabrielle Simpson-Graaf looked like from the movies, but this was the first time she had seen Danielle’s mother on Cariba. The glamorous actress laughed and chatted with Mr. Niles. Beside them, a morose girl hid behind a curtain of black hair, sipping a soda and scowling at an incoming ferry.

“I can’t imagine having Danielle for a sister,” Carmen said. “That has to be why Marielle got tangled up with a boy like Rafe.”

“Rafe Solomon?” Esti straightened in surprise.

Carmen snickered. “You’ve already heard of him?”

“Kind of.” Esti shook her head, remembering Danielle’s scorn. “Tell me.”

“Just that he’s been embarrassing the Solomon family since he was old enough to talk back to the jandam. That’s why his mom sent him to school in L.A.” Carmen abruptly stopped, her mouth open. “Your dads probably knew each other. Don’t tell me you’re friends with him.”

“When I was little.” Esti shrugged uncomfortably. “I haven’t seen him since fourth grade.”

“Oh, that’s rich!” Carmen burst into laughter. “I love discovering these little things about Jane Doe. No wonder Danielle is so jealous of you.”

“Danielle likes Rafe?” Esti glanced back up at Danielle’s sister.

“All the girls
like
him. He’s gorgeous, and he knows all the right things to say. That’s the problem. My mama would kill me if she ever caught me alone with him, although I gotta admit I’ve thought about it.” Carmen grinned. “I mean, who hasn’t? He caused a big scandal last Christmas when Marielle’s dad came home and found him and Marielle . . . well, you know. I mean, she wasn’t even sixteen at the time. If he finds out you’re not dating anyone, I can guarantee he’ll be all over you as soon as he gets here.”

“Yikes.” Esti watched the dark-haired girl with a mixture of interest and disappointment. She’d been looking forward to seeing Rafe again, but now she wasn’t so sure. If he was just another cocksure guy, she didn’t want anything to do with him. But she couldn’t imagine shy, devoted Rafe turning into someone like Greg.

“I’ve never met Marielle,” Esti said. “I haven’t even talked to Danielle since the day of auditions. Apparently I’m invisible now.”

“Huh.” Carmen snorted. “It’s all a bunch of stupid theater politics. What do you bet Mr. Niles promised the Graafs that Danielle will outshine the star-studded competition, no matter what?”

“Whatever.” Esti studied the trio on the balcony, still thinking about Rafe. “Nurse does a much better job than Juliet. It won’t be Danielle who scoops up the agents this year; it will be you.”

“Ooh, pile it on.” Carmen’s dark eyes sparkled. “Don’t tell Aurora, but I’m giving you the biggest cookie this afternoon.”