Finally, I think as I grab the script from my bag. I have it memorized, with each part tabbed with a different colored flag. I stayed up all night, reading and making slight changes, wanting this to be perfect.
Standing in front of a couple dozen students, all staring back at me, is worse than a stressful audition. Each one is focused, waiting for me to say something or stumble and fall on my face. No, they wouldn’t want that, right? I swallow hard, clear my throat and inhale deeply as if I’ve never breathed in before. I smile, but it feels weak, forced even, as most of the students keep me pinned under their watchful gaze.
The young Pavarotti raises his hand. I nod and squeak out a measly, “yes.”
“My father says with you directing our play, people from all walks of life will be at the festival.”
All walks of life? What does that even mean?
“Tell your father thank you.” I think. “Okay, if I could have Betsy and Michael come forward, we’ll get started.” I read from the cast list Mrs. Winters has provided for me. When the students step forward, I feel a sense of relief. I don’t know if it’s because they’re here or if it’s because I’m really doing this. I’m going to help direct the winter play.
The play we’re doing is one Mrs. Winters wrote. It’s about a young child who is adamant his parents choose the smallest tree with as few branches as possible, after hearing the tree farmer is going to chop it down and turn it into mulch. Of course, his parents want the big full tree, but the young boy is determined.
“Betsy, if you’ll take it from page one, and Michael you’ll follow right after.”
“We know, Ms. Du Luca, we were practicing before you arrived,” Betsy says. I nod and bite my tongue from the harsh response that’s sitting there. No need for snark is what I want to say. Instead, I motion her to start. Actresses!
Throughout the hour, children come and go for rehearsal. It won’t be until a night or two before the festival when the cast will be together. Mrs. Winters says children are so busy these days, getting them to volunteer for school functions has become harder and harder, until she implemented the winter play into the choir program and held try-outs for those not in her class. Still some students have other activities, which makes it difficult. Back when Dominic and I were in school, our parents made sure we stayed active, but committed.
When the last round of elementary students strolls in, the tiny gasps get my attention quickly. Two girls are huddled together and not hiding the fact that they’re pointing at me. I wave, which starts a round of giggles.
I go to them and crouch down. “What are your names?” I ask.
“I’m Shawna and this is my bestie, Holly, but she’s shy.”
Holly… Aiden’s Holly. I can tell immediately it’s her. I don’t know if it’s because she’s Aiden’s daughter or if it’s because of the way her blue eyes sparkle, but I’m completely taken by her. There’s something about her that reminds me of myself when I was her age. My hand immediately goes out and Shawna shakes it. Holly is hesitant, but eventually sets her small hand into mine. “Hi Holly, I’m Delaney.”
Once I get the younger kids situated, we practice their songs and stage placement. For the most part, they will be in the background singing, holding and even being props, and a few will have a line or two. Fortunately, Mrs. Winters has already chosen who will speak. I say this because I already know I’d play favorites and pick Aiden’s daughter, which already makes me a crappy director.
After fifty minutes of practice, the bell finally rings. Everyone lines up at the door, waiting for their teacher to come back. When the last child is out, I slump in the chair. “That was exhausting.”
“Says the actress who does this for eighteen hours a day,” Mrs. Winters points out with a laugh.
“It’s not the same. I get breaks every few takes. A nap if I want one. Food when I need it. I can walk off set and use the restroom even though the director will get angry; they can’t really say anything to me. But here—”
“Here is different. Here means always being on your best behavior even when a child is telling you ‘all walks of life will be in town.’”
“What did he mean?” I ask her.
Mrs.
Winters sits down next to me and pats my leg. “I suppose your parents stay quiet on the town gossip, although with you being back, I’m surprised you haven’t run into Leo’s parents.”
I chuckle at his name. It’s wrong and unprofessional, but considering I called him Pavarotti, I can’t help it. “Honestly, they try to shelter me from everything, especially since my father became mayor.”
“As I suspected. Leo’s father ran against your dad a few times. He’s determined to unseat him.”
“And his father thinks I’m going to what, bring the degenerates out?”
She shrugs. “Doesn’t matter what his father thinks. Everyone in Ramona Falls is happy you’re home. I heard you’ll have a booth at the festival.” She looks at me with a gleeful smile.
“I tried for a kissing booth, but he wouldn’t go for it.” We both laugh. Even when I suggested it, I knew it’d be a long shot. “You know, that was the first time my dad ever asked me to do something like that; use my career in such a way.”
“How’d you feel?”
I shrug. “Oddly, I don’t seem to care.”
The drive to the airport took longer than expected, and by the time I pull in I don’t have to park because Calvin is already standing outside. He’s six foot five and sticks out like a sore thumb. I park along the curb and hop out, running up to him. “I’m so sorry I’m late. The roads were crap and I had to drive slowly.” My arms try to wrap around his waist, but the truth is, he’s like ten times my size.