Spellcrossed (24 page)

Once everyone was seated, I took a deep breath, flashed a winning smile, and said, “I’d like to offer Daddy Bill’s role in
Into the Woods
.”

For a moment, they just stared at me. Then Mei-Yin exclaimed, “Are you NUTS?” and everyone began talking at once.

“Wait! Listen!” I had to shout to make myself heard. “This is supposed to be a place where people can heal.”

“It’s supposed to be a professional theatre,” Janet remarked.

“And Daddy’s a professional actor.”

“Was.”

“He needs a purpose. And the only thing he knows is acting.”

“Wasn’t he a teacher?” Alex asked.

“He taught. There’s a difference. Look, I know it’s a risk. But he needs…something!”

“What role?” Rowan asked.

“Roles,” Reinhard corrected. “The Narrator and the Mysterious Man.”

Rowan shook his head. “The Narrator, perhaps. But not the Mysterious Man.”

“It’s the perfect role for him,” I said.

“That’s why you can’t ask him to play it.”

“You always talk about casting people in the roles they need. Well, Daddy needs—”

“Is this about Jack’s needs or yours?”

I hesitated. “Both.” As Rowan shook his head again, I added, “So leave me out of the equation. Don’t
you
think he needs this role?”

“A character who abandons his wife and child? Who runs mad in the woods? Jack may be damaged, but he’s not stupid. He won’t even discuss his past with me, Maggie. You’re asking him to act it out in front of the world.”

“You asked Nick to do that in
Carousel
,” Bernie noted.

“And look how that turned out,” Rowan replied. “Jack’s just not ready.”

“Why not let
him
decide?” I asked.

“Because just offering him the role will bring up all the issues he wants to avoid. Trust me. It will be victory enough if he can play the Narrator.”

It was not what I’d hoped for, but it was better than nothing. And maybe the show would help us connect as father and daughter as well as actor and director.

“It’s been a long time since he’s performed,” Alex said. “Suppose he’s not up to it? Or something happens to set him off?”

“I could understudy the part,” Bernie said.

“Oh, Bernie, would you?”

“If Bernie understudies the role, he goes on for the matinees,” Reinhard declared.

“What are you?” Bernie demanded. “My manager?”

“If you are going to add that to your long list of responsibilities, you deserve the chance to perform.”

“You’re right,” I said. “We can split the role.”

“What about the box office?” Javier asked.

“I could work the matinees,” Catherine said. “If Bernie handles advance sales.”

“You’re working way too hard as it is,” I replied.

“I can do it,” she insisted.

“I’ll run the damn box office,” Janet said.

I swallowed hard. Everyone was working long hours to make this season a success. And now I was asking them to do more.

“I’m being completely selfish. You all have more than enough to do. The Follies is plenty for Daddy to deal with.”

“And when the Follies is over?” Lee asked.

“Lee’s right,” Catherine said. “Jack needs more. And if we have to work a little harder to give it to him, we can.”

It took longer to dislodge the new lump that formed in my throat. For the gazillionth time, I thanked God for giving me this staff.

“Then we are all agreed?” Reinhard asked.

One by one, every head nodded.

“That still leaves us without a Mysterious Man,” Hal said. “Bernie can’t play both roles. Not with all those quick costume changes.”

“I must have made a dozen calls after Bill left,” I replied. “The professionals all turned me down. And the locals were already committed to another show or a family vacation or—”

“I’ll learn it,” Rowan said. “If you find another actor before rehearsals start—”

“Why bother looking?” Hal exclaimed.

“Because it might make Maggie uncomfortable to direct me.”

I hesitated, knowing Rowan had directed the show before. But if we could deal with the “king and his courtiers” issue, we could deal with this, too.

“Thank you. It’ll be great having you in the show.”

“You just want to order me around the stage.”

“Well. That, too.”

We shared a smile. Then Janet asked, “And what about Alison?”

“She has to find out about Daddy eventually.”

“We’re not talking eventually. Opening night is a month away. If Jack is too traumatized to consider the role of the Mysterious Man, do you think he’ll be ready to see his ex-wife?”

“Who knows what he’ll be ready for in a month?”

“I could always go on while she’s here,” Bernie said.

“But she’ll still see Jack’s name in the program,” Janet noted.

“So I’ll pay to have extra programs printed. And just list Bernie’s name.”

Mei-Yin groaned. “This is a recipe for DISASTER.”

I shot a pleading look around the circle.

Reinhard sighed. “We will work it out. Somehow. I would suggest, however, that we avoid the term understudy when we broach this to Jack.”

“Tell him I asked for someone to share the role,” Bernie suggested. “Because I’m too old and feeble to handle all the performances. Then he’ll feel like a hero.”

“Feeble, my ass,” I said. “
You’re
the hero.”

I
LEFT THE MATINEE AT INTERMISSION and raced up to the Bates mansion to help with final preparations for the barbecue. There wasn’t much to do. Alex and Janet had supplied enough meat to satisfy the most raging carnivore. Bernie, enough beer to float a battleship. Catherine was bringing her Mexican bean salad, Mei-Yin, her German potato salad, and Hal, the fruited Jell-O with mini marshmallows that was a hideous—if hallowed—tradition at our gatherings. All that was left for me to do was throw some leafy green stuff together and set out the silverware and plates. At least Rowan wouldn’t have to bring his own utensils; Janet always used real silver, too.

Mei-Yin fired up the grill with such maniacal enthusiasm that we all feared she would go up in flames. Self-immolation narrowly averted, we settled ourselves on the patio with pitchers of lemonade and daiquiris.

The rest of the staff began trickling in shortly after the matinee let out. But still no sign of Rowan or Daddy.

“The invitation was for 6:00,” Janet reminded me.

I couldn’t help hovering anxiously on the front porch. At 5:58, I saw them marching up the hill.

The screen door creaked, and I turned to find Janet observing me with a sardonic smile.

“What’s wrong with being punctual?” I demanded.

“Not a thing.”

The two men hesitated at the foot of the steps, then held up their containers.

“We brought dessert,” Rowan said.

“Blueberry pie, apple pie, and peach cobbler,” Daddy declared. “We baked them ourselves.”

I suspected Rowan had done the baking, but I just smiled, happy to see his enthusiasm.

“The faery Betty Crocker,” Janet noted.

“No more Fae comments,” I whispered. “Bernie’s here.”

Daddy nodded solemnly, then marched up the steps and peered through the screen door. Rowan just looked up at Janet. She stared back at him for a long moment, then gargled something, which I took to be Gaelic. Rowan gargled something in reply. Her sardonic smile returned, but she merely ushered us inside.

“What was that all about?” I whispered.

“A Scottish tradition,” he replied just as softly. “Janet offered me one hundred thousand welcomes. I wished her good health and every good blessing to those under her roof.”

“You do this every time you go visiting?”

“Janet’s never invited me to her home before.”

“What are you talking about? She invited you here today. And to all the cast parties. Which you refused to go to until I dragged you.”

“The cast parties don’t count. She knew I wouldn’t attend. And
you
invited me here today, not Janet.”

“But you’ve been inside the house. After Helen’s heart attack. And—”

“This is the first time Janet has ever personally invited me into her home. Asked me to sit at her table and break bread together.”

“So it’s a really big deal.”

“It is to me.”

I touched his arm lightly, and he smiled. Then we hurried after Janet and Daddy.

Rowan gazed longingly at the library, but when he entered the enormous country kitchen, his eyes widened.

“Kitchen envy?” Janet inquired.

“Kitchen lust,” he admitted, placing his containers on the counter. His fingertips skimmed lightly over the marble while his gaze roamed from the stainless steel appliances to the gleaming white cabinetry to the terracotta floor.

“Pretty ritzy, huh?” Daddy remarked. “Janet must be loaded!”

Rowan grimaced. Janet just laughed. “That’s me. The wealthy widow.”

“A widow?”

I was appalled to detect a speculative gleam in my father’s eyes.

“And determined to remain one,” Janet said firmly.

As she led us into the sunroom, Daddy’s head came up like an animal scenting the air. “Charcoal!” he exclaimed. Then rushed outside and trotted down the steps to the lower patio.

“The lure of the grill,” Janet remarked. “Men can’t resist it.”

Apparently, Rowan could. He just continued to survey the sunroom: the hanging plants above the white shutters, the flowered upholstery on the love seat, the crockery vase filled with fresh-cut flowers.

“This room reminds me of Helen.”

“It was her favorite place,” Janet said.

“I can almost feel her here.”

“I think I
have
felt her,” I said.

I told them what had happened in Rowan’s apartment and in my bedroom, the countless times I’d seemed to sense Helen’s presence in the Bough. Always, I suddenly realized, when I felt sad or troubled or needed reassurance.

“That’s when I feel her, too,” Janet said quietly.

“Is it possible?”

“I don’t know. I’d like to believe that she’s watching
over us. Offering us reassurance when we need it. Just as she did in life.” Janet blew out her breath impatiently. “First faeries. Now ghosts. Next, we’ll have werewolves roaming the woods.”

“Helen wouldn’t allow that,” I said.

“No. She never liked hairy men.” Janet’s gaze slid over Rowan. Then she strode onto the patio.

I started to follow her, then noticed Rowan’s troubled expression. He rarely spoke of Helen, but I knew how much he must miss her. She had been his friend and confidante and—briefly—his lover. The one person on the staff with whom he could let down his guard.

“It must be a comfort,” he said. “Living in this beautiful house. Feeling her presence.”

I nodded.

“Even if—when—I get a real identity, I’ll never be able to give you a home like this.”

Dumbstruck, I just stared at him. “Who’s asking you to?”

“I know you’re not asking, but—”

“I lived in a shoebox in Brooklyn.”

“You lived there. It wasn’t your home.”

“Yes. But the home I grew up in wasn’t much bigger than your apartment.” I shook my head, still reeling. “Jesus, Rowan. If all I wanted from life was a big house and a fancy car and expensive vacations, I would have set my cap for Long!”

“I just don’t want you to be…disappointed.”

“I
am
disappointed! You say you know me and you still think that I need that kind of stuff to be happy!”

His frustration stabbed me. “Of course, you don’t need it. But I need to feel I can take care of you.”

I resisted the urge to shout, “I can take care of myself!” This was about his pride, his sense of self. I’d been so consumed with helping Daddy find his place in the world that I’d overlooked Rowan’s struggles. And clearly, he
was
struggling, although he had hidden it from me.

“You helped me rediscover my past. You helped me
find my path. You gave me my father and $50,000 to start a new life. Most of all, you loved me enough to come back and share that life. From where I stand, you’ve given me an awful lot.”

Some of the tension drained away, but he still looked troubled.

“You’ve done everything you can to support me when it must kill you to see all the changes at the theatre you built and ran. I can’t promise it’s going to get easier any time soon. But I swear you won’t have to keep hiding in the shadows and watching from the sidelines. You’ll direct again. And we’ll work together and live together—and take care of each other.”

His arms came around me. “You make it sound so easy.”

“Hell, no! It’ll be hard work. Even you might have a few gray hairs before this is over.”

“Well, Bernie would find that reassuring.”

I molded my body to his and whispered, “I don’t want the house or the car or the vacations. I just want you.”

And he obviously wanted me. He might be able to control his power, but the hard ridge in his pants was difficult to disguise.

“Get a ROOM!” Mei-Yin called from the patio.

We jumped apart. Rowan glared at Mei-Yin. As he started toward the patio, I caught his hand.

“I have a room, you know. Maybe we could…?”

He hesitated, desire warring with discretion. Then he shook his head. “We’ll find a time and a place to make love. For now, we’ll just have to enjoy each other from a respectable distance.”