Curtain Call (19 page)

 

 

I peeked out from behind the curtain to see the seats filling up. My parents, Harlow and Britney, and Hayley were sitting in the front row beside Josh's parents. It seemed like a minor miracle that Harlow had managed to get out of the hospital in time. After her audition, the doctor had put her on strict bed rest with the only sanctioned activity being a trip to the bathroom. She moved slowly but she had her normal defiant air. As I scanned the crowd, I caught sight of Christy sitting a few rows back with another girl. My heart jumped around in my chest as I saw so many familiar faces.

“I'm sorry I've been distant these past few days,” I said.

I could feel Josh shrug against my back. “You've been stressed lately. I get it. Why are you apologizing?”

“Why are you always like this?” I said with a sigh as I turned to look at him.

“Like what?” Josh's teasing grin melted me to my core.

“So good at owning what you're feeling?” I replied.

Josh shrugged again. “Just a gift. Come on, let's finish getting ready. This is going to be fun.”

And he was right. After we had all gotten into costume and applied our makeup, Max went through some last minute instructions. We did some fun warm-ups. Then before I knew it, we were onstage.

The show went off without a hitch. By the time we got to Grandma's cameo, the audience was roaring with laughter. I stood in the wings with Josh to watch the routine. When Grandma came out in her tiny sequined costume, I could hear my mom gasp. The rest of the audience hooted and catcalled as the ladies began their dance.

With a thumping bass line, our show veered completely off course from historical accuracy. And when Millie threw her bra into the crowd our show veered completely off course from decency. I smacked a hand into my forehead and leaned into Josh.

“We told them not to do that,” I moaned.

Josh just laughed. If I hadn't been worrying about my grade, I might have laughed too. Millie had an exaggerated expression of shock on her face. She could give Grandma a run for her money in the drama queen department. That is, until Ethel threw both her bra and skirt directly at our professor.

I edged to the corner of the curtain so I had a better view of the judging panel. My jaw dropped open when I saw that they were all clapping along and smiling. Relief washed over me.

By the end of the show, we were all riding high on our success. When I gazed out into the crowd during my bow, I saw everyone on their feet including the judges. Max hugged me and presented me with flowers. I had never imagined that my senior project could feel like this.

As the applause died down, Josh wrapped his arms around me and pressed a kiss to my head. “Can we go somewhere to talk?”

I flashed him a quick smile and nodded. “Let's go for a walk.”

After we got out of costume and had chatted with our families, Josh nodded toward the door and I knew it was time. Still giddy from the applause, I giggled as Josh and I emerged into the warm May night. A smattering of stars joined the crescent moon in creating the perfect romantic backdrop. Josh took my hand. The contact made my nerves jump. My head was swimming as we started walking. The path toward the center of campus was bordered by lilac bushes, and the air was heavy with their scent.

Josh paused beneath a streetlight. He played with my hand, threading his fingers between mine. I tipped my head back to look up at him. With an intense look passing over his face, he cupped my face with his other hand.

“I love you,” he said, his voice husky.

My breath caught. I swallowed against my suddenly dry throat. “I love you too.”

Staring into his eyes I saw everything that we had built over the years staring back at me. He brushed his lips across mine, and I kissed him back feverishly. All the adrenaline from the past five hours spilled over and into the kiss. Closing my eyes, I let myself get lost in the familiar excitement of Josh's lips. I gripped the front of his shirt and pulled him closer. No longer feeling like we were on stage in front of an audience, I grew bolder and deepened the kiss. I drank him in, feeling completely tipsy.

When we broke apart, Josh grinned. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he breathed a sigh of relief. We stared at each other for a moment, and then we both started laughing. All of the negative emotions from the past four months washed away, and suddenly we were in a new place, a better place.

“So I've been thinking about the future,” I said.

Josh took my hand again as we started walking. He reached over and snapped off a sprig of lilac. When he handed it to me, I inhaled deeply as I thought that this smell would forever link me to this night, to this moment in time.

“You have, huh?” Josh ran his thumb along the palm of my hand, sending delicious tickles up and down my arm.

I nodded, feeling a small smile tug at my lips. “This whole semester I've been looking for someone or something to blame for me being different, and all along it was my own fault. I needed to take responsibility for me and my choices.”

Josh slowed, tugging me to a stop beside him. His brows knit together in what I knew was concern. “I thought we'd been through this already, Han.”

I laughed, the sound light and free. “We have, but I'm trying to tell you that I'm sorry I was so selfish. I thought that I was supposed to want something…else, something bigger. Turns out, all I want is you, us, and whatever future we build together.”

Josh's smile crept over his whole face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Oh.”

We strolled across the ornate brick bridge that went over the little stream that wound through campus. As we neared the quad, a sigh escaped my lips. The fountain at the center of campus was still on, water spouting gently into the air. Every single part of this night had been perfect. We were graduating in less than a week. Grad school loomed large in both of our futures, but I knew that I would be facing it with Josh.

“Gorgeous out tonight, huh?” Josh said as he broke the silence.

“Amazing,” I agreed.

We sat down on the edge of the fountain. A sudden breeze sent a spray of water cascading over us. Another giggle erupted my throat, and I leaned back against Josh. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me close to him.

“I don't think this night could get any more perfect,” I said with a contented sigh.

Josh stilled. I twisted around to look up at him. His face was a mask of concern. Suddenly my perfect night didn't seem so perfect anymore. Had I totally misread what was going on between us?

Carefully Josh moved away from me. I sat up fast, ready to jump up and…what? I was at a loss. Something inside told me that I was missing something. I watched as Josh ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath.

He stood up and started pacing in a small circle in front of me. When he stopped, he cleared his throat. “I've been waiting for the right moment,” he began. “I have something…I mean, listen…We've been through so much this semester. I was going to do this earlier. If you can believe it, I was planning on proposing on Valentine's Day before, well, you know. And I thought that it would kill me in the beginning not to be able to, but now I'm really glad we went through all this. We are stronger than ever, and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you.” He paused. My stomach knotted, and my heart started to race as Josh dropped to one knee. “Hannah, will you marry me?”

His question thundered in my ears as the blood rushed to my head. As I stared into his beautiful brown eyes, I realized that all my fears about ending up like Harlow were irrelevant. Josh was nothing like Britty's father. He was amazing in every way, and more important, he was amazing for me.

“Yes,” I said.

“Yes?” Josh repeated, a look of relief washing over his face.

“Yes. I will marry you.”

Josh let out a whoop and scooped me up in a hug. He swung me around in a circle. When my feet landed gently back on the ground he captured my lips in a kiss. When we broke apart he looked down at me with all consuming tenderness.

“I thought maybe…things had changed. Even with everything going well again, well, I guess I was worried,” he said.

I pressed my hand against his cheek. “Josh, I've always wanted to marry you. I think I just wanted to marry you free and clear. No other obligations. Nothing forcing our hand.”

Josh nodded, his eyes sparkling in the streetlight. “I understand,” he said. “And we'll wait as long as you want before we have kids.”

“That's sweet,” I said. “But I think once we're settled into married life, kids can come along whenever. Life doesn't feel as crazy anymore. I don't need to hold onto control of everything so tightly anymore. Having a plan helps, you know?”

With a sparkle in his eyes, Josh leaned in to kiss me again. I closed my eyes to savor the moment. And when I opened them I could see our future spreading wide open before us. No matter where life took us, we'd go there together.

 

 

Liz Botts
was born, raised, and still lives in northern Illinois with her husband and three small children (two boys and a baby girl). When not writing, she enjoys reading, sewing, trying new recipes, and homeschooling her kids. She is proud to pass her love of stories on to her children, and makes several trips to the library each week. After working with teen-agers for several years, she decided to write stories about them instead.

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

“You have to go, sweetheart.”

I ease the pillow off my head just long enough to glare intensely at my mother before burying my head back underneath.

“No.”

My mom sighs. I hear her pacing the room, her long skirts rustling as she walks. We've been going in verbal circles for hours and nothing has changed. She keeps insisting that I have to go and I keep refusing.

The mattress on my bed creaks as my mother eases her plump posterior down next to me. She runs a soothing hand across my back.

“I understand how scared you must be,” she begins, trying a different tactic.

“No, you don't!” I cry, shoving off the pillow and shrugging off her hand. “Dad picked you. You never had to go convince some guy that he wanted to marry you.”

My mom laughs her soft, tinkling, musical laugh that sounds like a thousand little silver bells ringing on the boughs of a Christmas tree. “You don't have to convince him to marry you either,” she insists.

“That's not what it sounded like to me.”

“Don't be silly, Virginia,” my mom says. “You are already betrothed to the young man. Your only job is to help him believe.”

I gape at her. She just doesn't get it. I say the words harshly inside my head, punctuating each one with an exclamation point.

“Maybe you should go see your father.”

“Yeah, like that's gonna help,” I snipe, crossing my arms as I stare up at the ceiling.

“He's concerned about you too,” she insists.

I snort. “Good one, Ma. But seriously, when has Dad ever been concerned about any of us.”

“Virginia, what a horrible thing to say.” I don't have to look at Mom to hear the quiver in her voice and know her eyes brim with tears. I don't want to make her cry. I just want her to see my point of view and get it through her head that I'm not going no matter what anyone says.

Pushing myself up on my elbows, I sigh. “Fine, I'll go talk to Dad if it will make you happy.”

“I'll let him know,” Mom says, brightening visibly as she stands. After straightening her long red skirt, she tucks some of her white-blonde hair back into her bun. My mother is the picture of prim Victoriana. Too bad we live in the twenty-first century.

As soon as she's gone, I let myself fall back onto my pillow. We had been running in circles ever since Elwyn had barged in at dinner to read the stupid decree. I only heard the first sentence, though, because after he read my name and the words ‘betrothed to' I had gotten a strange buzzing in my ears. Somehow I had ended up back in my bedroom where I've been since. Several of my sisters have crept in to see how I'm doing, but I refuse to talk to them as they were so obviously relieved that it was me and not them going through this crap.

And now I have to talk to my father. I might be the only person on the planet who doesn't want face time with him, but I have a really good reason. Or more like a thousand good reasons. Shoving myself off the bed, I stand before my mirror to give myself a good assessment. Maybe if I look good, I'll feel good. My jeans and my sweater look nice enough, I guess. I run a brush through my long white-blonde hair. Presentable in less than sixty seconds.

I slip out of my room on the second floor and head down the hall toward the workshop. It's November, which means Dad will be there, well in his office, all the time until December rolls around. As I near the corridor that breaks off from our house proper, the noise from the workshop nearly overwhelms me in the whir of machines, the chatter of small voices, and the chorus of carols.