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A Time to Mourn and A Time to Dance
June – Taming of a Shrew
– Auditions
“Marry
you?” she screeched. “Are you crazy?”
Peter gazed at the shapely
woman standing before him. Blue fire burned deep in her wide-set
eyes. “I assure you, Kit, I am quite sane. I want you to be my
wife.”
“No!”
“No?
NO?” he barked.
Her voice shifted from alto to
a high soprano as she spoke. “Heck, no! Heavens, no! Absolutely,
positively, unequivocally no!”
Dark brows arched over his
chocolate-brown eyes and a smirk curved his mouth. “Unequivocally?”
“NO,
by any other name is still NO!”
Peter shook his head as if
each 'No' she'd spat at him was an adamant declaration of her love
and everlasting devotion. He stepped closer.
She
jumped back. “I refuse to spend my life chained to a domineering
male.”
“But
Kit, I've already spoken to your father. It's all arranged.”
She slammed her fists on her
hips, bent forward and hissed. “Talked with Daddy Dear, have you?
And just how much did my sweet old man offer to pay you to take his
eldest daughter off his hands?”
Peter laughed. “Are you
saying a man must be paid to marry you? You do yourself an
injustice.”
“Ha.
It's not I who commit injustice, but men like you. And my father.”
She pointed one, long, slender digit to the nether regions. “Go!
Get out and leave me alone.”
“Well,
Kit, it's like this. Your father and I have come to an agreement.
We've made a deal – signed and sealed. My plans are made and set in
place.”
“Erase
the sign, unseal the deal and unmake your plans, or find some rich,
witless wimp of a woman to marry you. That's what you want anyway.”
Peter daringly ran a finger
down her soft, pink cheek.
Kit batted his hand away and
glared fiercely at him.
He
ground his molars – the woman was a termagant. Remember
her Daddy's money. Forcing
his mouth into an adoring smile, he gazed at her as if he'd found
treasure beyond measure. “No, my Kit, I want you – beautiful,
sweet spoken, gentle. And...submissive,” he growled.
Kit threw back her head and
laughed, unaware of how tempting she looked with her long hair
flowing to her waist and the white column of her throat glistening
like polished marble. “Well, I don't want you, regardless of how
tall and handsome you are.”
A full-bodied laugh erupted
from deep inside his broad chest. “So, you find me handsome, do
you?”
“Looks
are totally irrelevant. Hunk or not, I don't need a man.”
Peter heaved a frustrated
breath. He wanted to shake her until she acquiesced, but had a
feeling such actions would be a huge mistake. Showing anger and
impatience would probably spur on her resistance. With incredible
control, he gently wrapped his big hands around her upper arms.
Surprised at the lean muscles flexing under baby-soft skin, he turned
her to face him.
She fought to pull away.
“You
need ME, Kit. You require a strong man, one that won't let you lead
him around like a pet poodle. You need a man who will make you feel
like a...woman.”
“Peter,
take your hands off of me this instant, or you will find I am woman
enough to make you regret it.”
Relaxing his grip, Peter let
his fingers trail sensuously down her smooth arms. “I think not, my
sweet.”
SMACK
Peter jerked back. His cheek
stung and all signs of patience fled. Taken totally off guard, he
hadn't seen the blow coming. He glowered at the dainty warrior who'd
had the gall to physically attack him. He held onto the last vestiges
of his control by a Herculean effort. “I can't believe you did
that.”
Kit's chin lifted in
rebellion. “Believe it! I don't spout idle threats.”
Peter leaned down and growled
through gritted teeth.“Woman, if you slap me again, I shall return
it in kind. And you can believe me...I, too, issue no idle threats.”
He delighted in the battle he could see raging in the beautiful blue
eyes of the woman he fully intended to marry. The feminine mind was a
scary thing, but sensing his ultimate victory, he allowed a smile to
curve his mouth. Victory was sweet.
SMACK
Shock triggered his response
and he automatically raised his hand.
“That's
right, big strong man. Go ahead. Hit the little woman, the weaker
vessel. Let the whole world know that you're no gentleman.”
Peter reared back at the
taunting voice. Then like the strike of a snake, he cupped Kit's face
between his hands and lowered his lips to hers. There was more than
one way to tame a shrew.
Silence was quickly followed
by clapping.
“Bravo!
Bravo. I believe we have found our Katharina and Petruchio,”
shouted Janice, the theatrical director.
Applause broke through Gabriel
Winston Churchill's focus and he suddenly realized he still held a
struggling woman in his arms, his lips devouring hers. Hmmm. This
might turn out to be his favorite play.
A dainty foot housed in camo
boots suddenly slammed into his shin.
He flinched. “Ouch!”
“The
audition is over, P.E.T.E.R. Can the he-man stuff.”
Oops! He might be dazzled by
enormous blue eyes, but evidently the lady wasn't as enamored of his
dirt-brown orbs. She too closely resembled Shakespeare's Kate –
bossy and definitely not interested.
“Okay,
people. Please take a seat in the first two rows,” yelled Janice.
Gabe started to exit the stage
when Janice Coggins, the blond-haired, forty-something director,
grabbed his arm.
“Wait,
Gabe. I'd like you and Lori to stay here for a minute, please.”
At six feet four inches, Gabe
Churchill towered over the diminutive director, giving him a clear
view of the tall, slender beauty on Janice's other side. A view he
could get used to all too easily. Suddenly realizing he was missing
half of what Janice was saying, he dragged his attention back to her
words.
“As
you all know, we are writing our own modern-day version of The
Taming of the Shrew.
Instead of the customary auditions, we've tried a new approach to
casting our play. Each of you committed to familiarizing yourself
with Shakespeare's play, then you selected a part you liked and
ad-libbed the lines.”
Laughter rumbled around the
theater.
“Yes,
auditions have been unique and very entertaining. I'll now let you in
on a little secret – my sweet husband got every laugh, grimace,
flubbed word, smack and kisssss on video.”
Gabe groaned along with the
rest of the company. “How much for the original, Jerry?” he
yelled.
A voice from the back called
out. “More than you make, professor.”
Cat-calls and teasing quips
filled the air.
Janice turned to the newcomer
at her side and nodded. A whistle, more piercing than a smoke alarm,
cut through the noise, bringing immediate silence.
Janice laughed. “Thanks,
Lori. You've got to teach me how to whistle like that. I've struggled
for years to find a way to quiet this rowdy bunch.”
Gabe's breath caught in his
throat as a smile of earthshaking impact curved Lori's soft lips –
lips he had recently kissed. He wouldn't mind running through that
scene again...though his cheek did sting a bit.
Janice raised her hand. “Now,
let me introduce to you the main characters of our production. You
all know Gabriel Churchill, my assistant director and the favorite
history professor of every student at NASU. Gabe will be playing the
part of Petruchio or Peter.”
Gabe
bowed and generally hammed it up for the cast, then spoke in a voice
that carried across the hundreds of seats and rebounded to the stage.
“And, what is The
Taming of the Shrew
without – a shrew?”
Gabe stepped to Lori's side.
Then he and Janice dramatically swung their arms out to bracket the
young woman in the middle.
Gabe
smiled and his baritone pealed as a clarion across a mountain valley.
“I'd like to introduce you to Shakespeare's Kate, Lorilee Talbot.
Lori is new to our fair city and will be teaching some of your
kindergärtners this fall. Be careful what you say and do at home,
friends, or those little five-year-old thespians will share
all
with Lori at Show and Tell. Now, let's make her feel welcome.”
The rest of the cast and crew
swarmed the stage, laughing, teasing and pulling Lori into their
tight-knit group. Gabe noticed no residual signs of her “shrew”
persona. It had totally faded away. She bubbled with friendliness and
joy, her pretty face never losing its smile. She would have no
trouble fitting in at FLiT...Flagstaff Little Theatre.
Janice slipped backstage then
reappeared pulling a rolling cart loaded with snacks, soft drinks and
bottles of water. “Party time. Come help yourselves.”
Gabe
grabbed a bottled water and began making the rounds, congratulating
each person on his or her performance and encouraging them to keep
working on bringing their parts into the present time period.
This
play would present some very unique challenges, but it should be
great fun. It would be a perfect vehicle to stimulate individual
creativity.
Listening in on a discussion
about set designs, Gabe spied his roommate across the stage. He
excused himself and stepped back, intending to circle around the
group and go catch up with his friend. A muffled yelp brought him up
short. He turned just in time to see Lori stumble backward. Her
wind-milling arms corrected her balance but the bottle of water,
loosely clasped in one hand, went flying over her shoulder and off
toward the wings.
“Oh,
man, Lori! I'm sorry. Are you okay?”
She looked up at him and Gabe
saw her smile falter.
“Didn't
mean to tromp all over you. I didn't see you.” He rolled his eyes.
“Of course I didn't see you – you were behind me. And though my
students claim I have eyes in the back of my head, that phenomenon
only works in the classroom.”
Her
smile returned, accompanied by a soft chuckle. “I, too, have been
accused of having the power to see anything happening in a 360°
circle.”
“God
must have gifted teachers with that special talent.” Gabe decided
he could stand and soak in Lori's smile for hours on end. Then he
noticed her massaging her elbow. “Say, I didn't hurt you, did I?”
He sent a glance from the top
of her glossy, auburn head to the toes of her trendy combat boots and
didn't see any obvious damage. At the sight of her footwear, his shin
throbbed with remembered pain. That pain reminded him of his stinging
cheek. He grinned down at her and rubbed his jaw. “You pack quite a
wallop.”
“You're
no slouch, yourself,” she said, putting her fingers to her lips.
Gabe saw the pink stain of
embarrassment paint her creamy complexion the instant she realized
the inference of her statement.
Satisfaction puffed up his
male ego like hearty breaths filling a birthday balloon. “'We are
masters of the unsaid words, but slaves of those we let slip out.'”
“What?”
Gabe couldn't stop his grin.
She was so cute, even with embarrassment and confusion dancing across
her pretty face. “Churchill.”
“Churchill?
You're Churchill, but what does your name have to do with anything.”
Gabe dramatically grabbed his
chest and groaned. “Woman, you wound me. After the Bible, Winston
Churchill is the greatest purveyor of wisdom and truth.”
A big hand slammed onto Gabe's
shoulder as a blond, bearded face peered around him. “Don't worry,
Lori, he's crazy but not certifiably so. Harmless, really. You must
remember the name says it all – Gabriel Winston Churchill.”
Understanding slowly crept
across her face and her smooth soprano slipped up an octave.
“Ohhhhh.”
Mark continued his commentary
on Gabe's quirky character. “Gabriel, the angel, is a trumpet
blower. Our Gabriel blows the trumpet for Winston Churchill.”
Gabe
planted a mock punch on his friend's bulging bicep. “Lori, meet
Mark Worth. His only claim to fame is he's one of my housemates. He's
lesser known for owning and operating For
All You're Worth.”
A smile lit Lori's face. “The
health club?”
Mark elbowed Gabe in the ribs
and puffed out his chest. “That's me. Owner and number one trainer.
Come in sometime and I'll give you a free tour and assessment.”
A pretty blond slipped in
front of Mark and slapped both hands against his chest. “Down, boy.
Down!”
Gabe burst out laughing then
leaned over to buzz the cheek of the new arrival. “Keep him on a
tight rein, Brittany.”
“Don't
egg her on, buddy. She's got me wrapped around her little finger as
it is.” Mark bent down to slide a quick kiss onto Brittany's
smiling mouth. “I'm just trying to drum up business, honey.”
“Keep
it that way, schweethawt, or you'll be swimming in concrete
galoshes.” Brittany's feminine version of Humphrey Bogart sent them
into gales of laughter.
Gabe loved the musical sound
of Lori's laugh and enjoyed watching her expressive face as she took
in the interaction between Brittany and Mark. He sympathized with
any confusion she might feel. He was accustomed to the wild bantering
of his two friends, yet at times, it was a struggle to discern the
difference between their fussing and their teasing. Both were
excellent actors and horseplay was part and parcel of their
relationship.
“Lori,
this is Brittany George, Mark's fiancée. She's also going to play
Bianca to his Lucentio.” Turning to the couple at his side, Gabe
asked, “What names have you picked for the play?”
“Bea.”
“Luke.”
“Very
original.” Sarcasm oozed from his words even as a smile curved his
mouth. “I'm really looking forward to this production. However, I
already foresee a problem.”
“What's
that?”
“Staying
in sync with modern-day times. I don't know about you, but I find my
mind reverting to Shakespearean words and style of speech.”
“Yeah,
that will be a problem,” said Mark.
Gabe shook his head. “You'd
think it would be easier to speak the way we do every day, but for
some reason, it's not.”
Lori nodded in agreement. “The
fact that the play is so well known to us in its original form, will
be both a help and a hindrance.”
Brittany looped her arm
through Mark's. “I agree. It has always been more difficult for me
to learn a new arrangement of an old song than to learn a piece I've
never heard before.”
“That's
for sure. I have the same problem.”
Brittany waved a hand in the
air. “But, don't worry, guys, we girls will keep you in character;
won't we Lori?”
Gabe's
breath stalled in his chest as a mischievous smile suddenly lit
Lori's face and her blue eyes sparkled like sapphires. Whoa!
Help me, Lord.
Lori spoke in a solemn voice.
“'Difficulties mastered are opportunities won.'”
A
huge smile split Gabe's face, slicing from ear to ear. “Well said,
Lori. Well said.” Lord,
she must be meant for me. She quotes Churchill.
*****
Lori Talbot looked at the
faces grinning at her in amazement. Oops! Why had she done that? Why
had she thrown out the ONLY Churchill quote she knew? Now they'd
expect her to do it again, when, in actuality, she was more likely to
spout Dr. Seuss, Winnie the Pooh or any number of animated movie
characters. Famous historical world leaders didn't figure into her
kindergarten lesson plans all that often.
Maybe she should look up a few
Churchill quotes and memorize them. She could save them in hopes an
appropriate opportunity would come along when she could nonchalantly
pitch them into a conversation. Kind of like picking a word from the
dictionary and using it in five sentences on any given day – then
claiming it as your own.
At five feet eight inches tall
she was hardly petite, but she still had to tip her gaze up to meet
Gabe's. He was sporting a somewhat stupefied expression, while
grinning at her as if he'd discovered the eighth wonder of the world.
She had to confess...and now. This scenario reminded her too much of
her graduation trip to Italy. She'd confidently rattled off one of a
half-dozen Italian phrases she'd practiced, then ended up trying to
explain to the carabinieri, the Italian police, that she wasn't
really planning to rob the bank. She'd simply mutilated the Italian
language and misspoken a few words. Innocent mistake. Yeah, but, it
had led to trouble...big, embarrassing trouble.
It was time to own up to her
limitations. The people around her weren't the police, but they would
be – she hoped – friends, good friends.
Why be worried? She was
comfortable in her skin. She liked how God had wired her and was
usually quite confident. However, being the “newbie” resurrected
a certain amount of earlier insecurities.
She had no reason to think
this group of thespians would find her lacking. They seemed friendly
and welcoming. Now it was her turn to be up front and honest. Give
them a chance to like her as she was – as God had designed her.
“True
confession time.” Lori sent a pleading grin at Brittany, then Mark
and finally to Gabe. “I confess, you just heard my one and only
Churchill quote.”
Indrawn breaths preceded a
long silence. Had she blown it? Had she totally misread these new
acquaintances?
“Praise
the Lord!” Mark suddenly chuckled and slapped Gabe on the back.
“There is room in this town for only one Churchill-quoting
fanatic.” He tucked Brittany under his arm.
“We're
convinced that Gabe was born with a thorough knowledge of the famous
statesman's words. He's probably a long lost relative, many times
removed.”
The
engaged couple smiled at Lori, then gazed at one another with
adoration.
A
tiny green spear of jealousy poked Lori. Lord,
someday, please. How
she'd love to have a man look at her the way Mark gazed at Brittany.
Send me a
special man. Your pick, not mine.
Mark and Brittany soon
strolled off to join another noisy group, leaving Lori with Gabe.
Alone.
She heaved a resigned sigh and
lifted her gaze from the floor way up to his dark-chocolate-brown
eyes. For some reason, the guy short-circuited her brain which in
turn misfired every synapse in her body.
Since first laying eyes on the
man, she had been acting crazy. She felt like a badly illustrated
cartoon or a cheap carnival toy – stumbling and bumbling and
fumbling. Tonight she'd stumbled over her own feet as she'd
approached center-stage to begin her audition. Then she'd bumbled
her one prop. And, she'd fumbled her lines. Thank goodness everyone
had been ad-libbing so dropping or adding a line wasn't an issue.
Looking back, she was amazed
that she'd managed to carry off the audition at all. Snagging the
part of Katarina was an added bonus, and playing opposite Gabe? Well,
that sent tingling vibes zipping along every nerve in her body. A
grin she couldn't hold back blossomed on her face.
“So,
you're not a fan of Churchill?” Gabe sounded like a little boy
whose best friend had just said his new puppy was “dumb and ugly.”
“Gabe,
to be perfectly honest, my knowledge of the great statesman is
extremely limited. I'm more familiar with kiddy-characters. If I
quote someone it will most likely be a character from Land
Before Time or
Mulan, Little Mermaid, Toy Story, Enchanted, Frozen. Understand?”
“No.
I can't say I do, but hey, you're forgiven if I am. We all have our
niches, our areas of expertise. God didn't make carbon-copies.”
“You're
right. Thanks for being so gracious.”
“I'm
all for furthering education. I'd be happy to exchange some tutorial
time with you. I'll teach you about Churchill and you teach
me...what? Fairy-tales?”
Excitement
zipped along Lori's nerves. Gabe was flirting with her and she loved
it. “Not simply fairy-tales. As a child, you probably read all the
same stories I did. As an adult and in my line of work as a
kindergarten teacher, I've developed a taste for animated movies. The
new ones are so well scripted that they appeal on multiple levels.
Both young and old and in-between find them entertaining, and the
music is extraordinary.”
“I
believe the last animated movie I saw was Cinderella. Is that what
you mean?”
“Not
exactly. That's just the beginning. I think you have a long way to go
in your education, Mr. Churchill.”
With a cheesy grin, Gabe stuck
out his hand. “I'm ready to sign up for tutorials, Miss Talbot.
Lead on. I must warn you, however, it will probably take a long time
to bring me up to scratch.”
Lori shook Gabe's hand, her
whole body tingling at his touch. “Then fasten your seat belt;
you're in for an exciting journey. I'll take you 'to infinity and
beyond'.” Now who's flirting – and enjoying it?
“Whoa!
I can hardly wait. This sounds like a real trip.”
“We'll
need to watch a lot of movies,” said Lori with a hint of question
in her voice.
Gabe arched both brows and
twirled an imaginary mustache in a perfect Snidely Whiplash
impersonation. “We shall snuggle many hours in the dark theater.
Wonderful.”
Lori couldn't help but laugh.
“Good try, but a change in venue is mandatory. How about you
provide the drinks and I'll provide the couch, popcorn and the DVD?”
“Lovely
lady, I am yours. Take me to...where is it you offered to take me?”
Gabe held up his hand. “Wait, wait, don't tell me.” He rolled his
eyes as if in ecstasy. “To infinity and beyond! Yes?”
Their laughter joined in
harmony.
“Say,
do you know how to paint and roller-blade?” asked Gabe.
“Paint
and roller-blade?” Talk about a fast conversational switch. How had
they segued from ignorance to tutoring to painting and skating?
“Next
week, Saturday morning, a group of us are going to paint a house for
Habitat For Humanity. Then we'll grab lunch and go roller-blading.
Game?”
“Game?”
Gabe chuckled and shook his
head. “I'm a little rusty in the dating arena. Sorry. Let me start
again. Will you go with me Saturday on a work-n-play-date?”
Lori grinned and her heartbeat
quickened. Gabe had asked her on a date – a group date – which
she preferred when meeting a new guy. “Now, play-date is a word I
understand; it's a regular in my vocabulary. My kindergärtners have
lots of play-dates.”
“Wonderful.
So...will you go? With me?”
Shyness
suddenly overwhelmed her and she ducked her head. “That would be
great.” She hoped she didn't sound like a giggly freshman
conversing with the senior captain of the football team. Grow
up, girl. Act your age.
“I
have your address from the paperwork you filled out for the theater
group and I can swing by and pick you up. Will 8:30 in the morning be
too early?”
Cutting another quick glance
at Gabe, Lori wondered at his appeal. What was the attraction? Sure,
he was good looking, very handsome, in fact, but in the past she'd
taught and acted with some gorgeous guys.
No, it wasn't simply
appearance.
She looked at his
close-cropped dark hair and the five-o'clock shadow enhancing his
square jaw. One dimple winked in his chin when he laughed, and he
seemed to laugh a lot. Each time that deep rumble raised goosebumps
on her arms. But, there was something more. Something she couldn't
quite put her finger on – a hidden element, not yet revealed.
He drew her.
She'd felt an instant
connection when they'd met – like God had tied a string from Gabe's
heart to hers. Strange.
Lord, guide me. Protect my
heart and don't let me run ahead of you.
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