Chapter Thirty-Three #2
“I already made the phone call while you were making the game plan.” She stood, beaming. “We’ve got the amphitheater at Clairview booked for opening night in two weeks!”
Everyone jumped up and went back and forth between hugging, crying, and cheering.
Ms. Sparrow pulled me aside and gave me a hug. “Now that, my dear, was a Doolittle moment.”
A couple of days later, the cast, crew, and some parent and town volunteers helped us move lumber, fabric, and old props from the high school to the Clairview Amphitheater.
It looked worse than I had remembered but nothing that some good weeding, painting, and maybe a couple dozen prayers couldn’t fix.
I hoped.
Lauryn had gotten the GoFundMe up and running hours after our meeting at the Lyric, and we’d already raised about a thousand dollars so far. It was great, but it still wouldn’t be enough for what we really needed for lighting and costuming.
The sounds of circular saws and hammers on nails echoed through the tall trees that framed the stadium-style seating in the grass as Lauryn and I pulled up.
My door opened before I could do it myself, and TJ leaned against it.
Even though TJ bothered the snot out of me 99 percent of the time, I was relieved to see him. “What are you doing here?”
“Your mom thought you might need an extra hand.” He smiled.
“Watch out world, TJ Crowley is turning into a softy,” Lauryn said as she moved around to the back of my Jeep for her sketchbook and fabric she had picked up from town.
“Only for some people,” TJ added, taking the fabric from her.
The three of us made two trips back and forth from the Jeep to the stage to get the rest of the boxes.
“This place is pretty sweet.” TJ set a box down near the front row. “Didn’t they used to do a Shakespeare in the Park kinda thing here?”
“Yep. Ren Faire too.” I wiped my hands on my shorts. “Grandma performed here a few times.”
Lauryn sighed. “I would’ve killed to see that.”
Same.
Lauryn opened her sketchbook and motioned for us to come closer.
“Okay, so I’ve got some ideas to run by the parent volunteers and costuming people.
” She pointed to her latest designs. “Since the costumes are going to be pretty simple now, I’m thinking Montagues and Capulets can wear family-specific headpieces…
Maybe Paris could wear the Capulet one at Juliet’s funeral and when he fights Romeo at the end. ”
“Are those silver and gold?” TJ asked.
She nodded. “Silver leaves for the Montagues and golden flames or sunbursts for the Capulets. What do you think?”
TJ nudged her. “I think they’re fire.”
“Seriously, Teej?”
“Crap. Sorry.” He winced and patted her shoulder. “Too soon. I know.”
But Lauryn’s eyes lit up, and I couldn’t help but smirk at the two of them.
Ms. Sparrow hurried over. “Thank you so much for being here.” She shook TJ’s hand. “What’s the latest with the lighting?”
“Everything should be here in a couple of days,” I said. “I had to rush order so we’d have enough time to get it all hooked up. We could really use someone to move that follow spot, though, since it won’t be able to be hooked up to this kind of board.”
Ms. Sparrow nodded. “I’ve got someone in mind. Now that we’re working with fewer mics, you can train Hazel.”
I forced a smile.
Train someone?
When would I have time for that?
Mom suddenly appeared next to us with carryout trays filled with coffee, her big sunglasses propped on her brown-and-silver pixie-cut hair.
“Thought you guys might need some fuel.” She handed one to Ms. Sparrow, who thanked her before scurrying away toward Mr. Newcomb and other volunteers behind the stage.
“Reed was discharged last night.” Mom flicked something off my shoulder. “Mrs. Fulton called me this morning and said he was doing fine but was still a little sore. He’s waiting for the doctor’s okay to play in the championship.”
“But isn’t that game in a couple days?” I asked. “How will he be okay by then?”
Mom handed me a coffee. “Your father had the game moved out two weeks. But that puts it on the same night as your opening night. I’m sorry.”
Hold up. “Dad moved the game?”
“He did.”
My heart filled with warmth, and my head spun with a thousand questions. “He moved it so Reed could pitch?”
“He said a championship team deserved to have their ace on the mound.” She steered me away from the group, stopping near a pile of lumber and a big tractor. “So can you tell me about him now? Reed, that is?”
“Um…” I picked at the lid of my cup. Damp, tall weeds rubbed against my ankles. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Why’s that?” She leaned against one of the wheels and put her free hand in the pocket of her beige jumper.
“Because it’s over between us.” I took a long sip of the hot coffee and moved next to her. “We just didn’t time it right.”
“Timing is an easy excuse.” Mom brushed a piece of a leaf off my shoulder. “You make it work when you really want it to.”
I huffed. “So what, now you’re okay with the Fultons?”
Maybe I hit my head during the fire and didn’t remember doing it?
“I’ll be the first to admit that I may have misjudged them.
” She drummed her fingers on her cup. “But I saw how Reed stood tall at Angelo’s about the reservations, and how he worked with your cousin after the food fight that he didn’t start on the Fourth…
” She laughed lightly. “But do you know what really stood out to me?”
I shook my head and blinked back the tears I could feel coming.
“It was the way he looked at you at our Founder’s Day Tea. He was a fish out of water, but when he looked at you, his entire face changed. Like you kept him centered. And you looked at him the same way, sweetie.” She lifted my chin a little.
“You make it sound so easy.” My throat squeezed. “But how could we have made it work, Mom, when we both want to win? In the end, one of us will lose.”
“I never said it would be easy. The best things never are.” She searched my eyes. “Do you care about him?”
I opened my mouth to answer and then snapped it shut. Saying it out loud would only make the scars open again, would only make all of this hurt even more than it already did.
“Just because you want to win doesn’t mean you have to want the other one to lose.” Mom stepped closer to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “You’re both equally passionate about something. What’s wrong with that?”
I shook my head. “But I…I wouldn’t even know where to start. I want to thank him for what happened at the theater, but everything I typed up in a text sounded so stu—”
“My daughter is braver than just sending a text.” She smiled. “Besides, his nana told me you were the first person he asked about when he came to in the hospital.”
I was?
A tiny flutter of hope bubbled inside me before I tucked it away. “But what if we lose, Mom?”
It suddenly hit me that if we did, it wasn’t just about us moving away from Fairfield. I’d be moving away from the one place I had in common with Reed. And if he lost, and his grandparents also lost their farm, it would be the same for him.
Fairfield wasn’t just my home or his.
It was ours.
“You can spend a lifetime going over every what-if, but in the end, what is meant to happen will happen.” She let go of my shoulder and slid her sunglasses back on.
“I wish I could tell you what to say to Reed, but I’ve learned two important lessons so far in my life.
One: You need to remember that people can surprise you…
” She nodded toward the parking lot. Dad waved at us from the back of his truck, where he and two of his assistant coaches unloaded weed eaters and backed up a tractor from his trailer.
Wait. Had he come here to help instead of having practice?
The tears I held back finally fell onto my cheeks.
“And two…” Mom kissed my forehead. “Sometimes you just gotta take a leap of faith.”