Chapter Eleven #2
“Better,” Dr. Hitchings says. “Still a little stiff. I want more. More! Again, from the top.”
Deep breath in, out. I am Liesl Von Trapp. I’m innocent, but I am no angel.
When I open my eyes, I’m seeing Rolf, not Noah. When I kiss Rolf, I put my arms around his neck and press that kiss on him with gusto—as Liesl, not Faith.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Dr. Hitchings exclaims. “One more time!”
We reset. By the fourth time through, the rest of the cast has departed for the evening. The next “one more time” is literal, and this time, I’m confident we nailed it. The only people left in the audience are Dr. Hitchings, sitting in the front row, and his wife, on piano, but both are beaming.
We are dismissed, and my adrenaline—or whatever chemical causes breathless butterfly sensations—crashes. I’m exhausted. Elated. Embarrassed. Spent.
Noah needs to talk to Dr. Hitchings about next week’s practice schedule.
Not looking forward to introducing my backside to the thorough chill of Eliza’s cracked leather upholstery, I find Noah’s coat and dig the keys out of the pocket.
For once, I’m the one being chivalrous. Eliza won’t be fully warmed by the time he comes out, but at least she’ll be nearer the door.
Outside the Opera House, I pace, blowing into my cupped gloves while waiting for Noah to finish talking with Dr. Hitchings inside—and for Eliza to warm up enough that the heat vents can blow something warmer than the frigid January air.
Hearing Noah’s laugh, I turn toward the Opera House.
He’s just outside the door, talking with the director and his wife as they lock up.
“Oh, you’re still here, Madeleine?” Nancy Hitchings calls with a smile. “Were you waiting for me?”
Her tone tells me she’s kidding. “Sorry, but no. I’m waiting for my carpool buddy. It’s quite a commute from Kanton to Leopold, you know. Ride-sharing is a must.”
“Indeed,” Nancy laughs and pulls her coat tighter. “You should have warmed up the car for her, Noah! It’s freezing out here!”
I point to Eliza, humming loudly at the curb. “No worries. I swiped his keys and brought the car up. But the seats were so cold that I thought I’d be warmer out here, walking around.”
“You’re probably right.” Noah grimaces. “It takes a while for the old clunker’s heat to kick in.”
“I’m looking forward to a warm fire and a cup of tea when I get home.” Nancy gives a “brrrrr!”and a full-body rhumba-dance shiver. “What do you say, Maestro? Shall we let these fine young actors take their leave of us?”
“We shall, indeed. Thanks for agreeing to a Friday night practice, kids. I know you would rather be at the movies or a ballgame or something.”
Is he kidding? I’m doing theatre. With Noah Spencer. There is nowhere I’d rather be.
“I appreciate your dedication. And that you take direction so well,” Dr. Hitchings adds. “Not everyone does, you know.”
“No problem.” Noah waves it off.
“You kids have a safe drive home now.”
“Will do.” When we reach the bottom steps, Noah puts his arm around my shoulders. “Sorry Eliza’s such a cold-hearted beast.”
“Aw, she’s not so bad. I hope you don’t mind about the key-swiping. I probably should have asked . . .”
“No, I’m grateful.” He gives me a wide smile and tugs me to his side. “Practice went well tonight, don’t you think?”
A hint of heat stings the cold tips of my ears. “Mm-hmm. After a while.”
“Yeah. That first time through was a little . . . rough.”
Kill. Me. Now. “Yeah.”
I pause at the curb for Noah to open the car door and remind myself—again—that it wasn’t me kissing Noah.
It was Liesl kissing Rolf. But regardless of his arm around my shoulders or the way I fit so perfectly snuggled into his side, I’m not sure which way we’re leaning on this narrow ledge between friendzone and romance.
But he likes me. Very much.
Noah wrenches the passenger door open, interrupting my musings. As I climb in, he asks, “Are you in a hurry to get back home?”
“No. I do turn into a pumpkin at midnight, but as long as I make curfew, we’re cool.”
“Do you have a lot of homework this weekend?”
“I finished it right about the time Dr. Hitchings was trying to convince Darla that her Austrian accent wasn’t necessary to the integrity of her character.”
“Whatever that accent was, it wasn’t Austrian.” Noah laughs. “It sounded like a cross between Scottish and . . . I don’t know . . . Vietnamese?”
“For real.” I laugh through my grimace. “But, back to your question. No, I’m not in a hurry to get home. I mean, it’s nine o’clock on Friday night.”
With a cockeyed grin, he hums a few bars of a song.
“‘Piano Man’?” I guess. He nods. “Wrong day. In the song, it’s a Saturday.”
“You know me, always changing the lyrics to suit the moment.” He winks and slams the car door. Eliza requires a firm hand.
“I can’t be out too late tonight,” he explains after he cranks the now-lukewarm heat. “I’m on the early shift tomorrow. But I’d like to show you something I helped Mac build a couple summers ago, if you’re interested.”
“Sure. A house?”
“Not remotely.” Noah looks over and smiles. “Let me surprise you.”