Chapter 40
CHAPTER 40
NATALIE
We could not have hoped for a better evening for the play. The sky is clear, the moon bright, the stars twinkling. It’s a perfect Christmas Eve.
A couple of the parents helped me wrap the bandstand and the trees nearest the pond in more lights yesterday, and they look beautiful. The path from the sidewalk is illuminated by alternating Santa and snowman lights staked into the ground.
The turnout is beyond anything I expected. The half of the pond facing the action is lined with people about ten deep, many wearing their pig headbands or pig-eared hats from the festival. The two long benches are packed with residents from the retirement village. Victor stands behind one of them, alongside Uzma, Dorothy, and Gavin.
Speakers set up in the bandstand played a medley of festive tunes from Bing Crosby to Bruce Springsteen as everyone arrived, and the coffee twins mingled with the crowd, handing out cocoa for donations to the theater repair fund.
The crowd was called to order by Cecil, who then conducted the retirement village choir in a rendition of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas,” before Abigail skated out in her iceberg lettuce costume and gave the opening speech, setting the scene for the play.
It’s all gone perfectly—just one minor hiccup when Matteo spilled the pot of “gold” coins Sir Percival was to offer Wendolyn and they skidded and rolled in all directions. But Prema scurried after them, ad-libbing a joke about the women always having to clean up after the men that got a good laugh.
Now we’re heading for the final scene of Sir Percival’s third and last chance to win Wendolyn’s heart.
Mrs. Bentley, sitting in her walker beside me, nudges my hip with her elbow.
I look down to see her beaming up at me from under her sparkly pink hat. “I love seeing how you do this differently every year,” she says with delight-filled anticipation.
The warm glow she sets off inside me is like no other. Mrs. B., my aunt who’s on the other side of me, all the people gathered around the pond and, of course, the kids bring me indescribable joy.
But this year there’s a large hole in that joy—a dark, Gabe-sized hole.
Even if I’d lived several lifetimes, I’d never have imagined that someone I’d known for such a short time would have such a massive impact on me.
But I have to shove that hollowness aside for the next little while, because this is the kids’ night.
“Hail, good lady,” comes the plaintive cry of Matteo as Sir Percival as he glides onto the ice on his broomstick horse to face his heart’s desire.
Wendolyn, played by Katie, is outside the mayor’s house, surrounded by townspeople dressed as icicles. Beside her is her father, the mayor—Grayson in his full Katie’s-mom-made regalia. It’s topped off with the actual Warm Springs mayoral sash that Aunt Lou generously lent on the basis we take very good care of it otherwise she’ll be in trouble.
Wendolyn and the town icicles turn, surprised to see Sir Percival wholly unequipped for a third extravagant gesture of love. All he has with him is something wrapped in sackcloth tucked under his arm.
Sir Percival leans his broom horse against the house and Wendolyn skates toward him.
“Good evening, sir.” She rolls her eyes and gives him a half-assed curtsy, having had quite enough of his nonsense from his first two lavish attempts to seduce her. First with gold and jewels, then a grandiose evening of dance, juggling, magic, and a feast.
The juggling went down particularly well—Kristopher had practiced long and hard, and boy did it pay off. He got his own round of applause and Mrs. B. rose from her walker to give him a standing ovation.
The crowd chuckles at Wendolyn’s indifference and the icicles behind her nudging each other and raising their eyebrows as if to say, This’ll be good .
The mayor, who wants her to marry Sir Percival because of the wealth and status he would bring to the family, pushes her across the ice so she slides closer to Sir Percival without moving a muscle.
That one little thing might be my favorite bit of the whole play. And it came from Grayson doing it spontaneously in rehearsal the day Gabe was here to watch. Gabe and I doubled over laughing so hard that I decided to keep it in.
Oh, dear God, Gabe. And there’s that hollow ache thing in my chest again.
“My dear, Wendolyn,” Sir Percival proclaims, “I am so enraptured by your beauty, your heart, your drive and your passion, that I beseech you to grant me the third and final attempt to win your hand.”
“Granted,” Wendolyn snips and folds her arms. “But it would behoove you to get a move on because there’s a pig roast to be had.”
The icicle townsfolk rub their bellies and nod at each other.
“A pig roast?” Sir Percival peeks under the sackcloth around the bundle he’s holding and gives the audience a worried look.
The crowd titters again.
“Wendolyn,” he says with a dramatic flap of his cloak. “I know you are my one true love. I knew it the first moment our eyes met across the frozen town square fountain.”
He nods at the spray-painted patio planters and their cardboard spouts of “water” behind her.
“And yet you have not succeeded in convincing me likewise,” Wendolyn says, and pushes off, gliding slightly farther away.
Her father catches her arm just in time and slides her right back.
Apart from seeing the kids have so much fun, there are few things more rewarding than hearing the audience’s laughter.
“Tonight, I shall change all that.” Sir Percival sinks to one knee, prompting the icicle townsfolk to ooh and ah and the mayor to rub his hands together with glee.
“Tonight, Wendolyn. I offer you this gift that shall surely make you fall in love with me.” He holds up the sackcloth bundle like it’s Simba.
Wendolyn pulls a face at it. “An effort might have been made with the wrapping,” she says with the perfect amount of snootiness.
“Please, dearest, most beautiful and gracious Wendolyn. It matters not what a heart is wrapped in. It matters what lives inside the heart.”
“That’s your heart?” Wendolyn gives it a poke and immediately jumps back, eyes wide, mouth open. “It moved!”
The icicle townsfolk gasp.
The mayor takes the gift from Sir Percival and passes it to Wendolyn. “Dearest daughter, it would be rude to refuse the gift of a visiting nobleman. At least do him the honor of accepting and opening his package.”
Mrs. B. giggles and elbows me again.
Wendolyn rolls her eyes, takes the bundle from her father, and rips off the sackcloth to reveal one of the hot pink plush piglets from the festival pig tail game.
The audience gasps with feigned surprise along with the icicle folk.
“Oh, my lord,” Wendolyn says, smiling now. “You brought me a piglet.”
“I did, dearest Wendolyn,” Sir Percival says. “He was the runt of the litter at the farm over yonder.” He gestures vaguely to the left. “Unloved and unwanted, much like myself.”
He dabs at his eyes with the corner of his cloak, prompting more chuckles from the crowd and a drawn out aw from the icicles.
Sir Percival waits for everyone to fall silent before continuing. “But I thought he might thaw your frozen heart enough for it to warm to me.”
Wendolyn holds up the pig and skates to the edge of the pond to show it to the audience.
While she’s gone, the mayor approaches Sir Percival and frowns. “A pig, really? My daughter is a woman of refined taste, and you present her with a pig ?”
“A pig let ,” Sir Percival says, gazing adoringly at Wendolyn skating around them. “An orphaned piglet. I know deep down, under her frosty exterior, there beats a soft heart. And I believe the piglet will crack it open and lead me inside.”
The mayor scoffs and shakes his head as his daughter returns to her spot beside him.
Wendolyn strokes the pig and a wide smile spreads across her face. “Sir Percival, this is indeed the most unusual of gifts. But look at him! He is so pink and soft and warm.” She presses her cheek against the toy. “This piglet is worth more than any gold bars or jewels or extravagant displays and banquets that you could gift me. This piglet makes my chest feel warm. And makes me realize…”
“Yes? Yes?” Sir Percival approaches, hands clasped against his chest, beseeching her for the response he wants.
“…that I am indeed in love with you.”
The crowd cheers and applauds as if this is the twist they didn’t see coming. And my chest warms too because, damn, I love this town .
“Sir Percival,” Wendolyn says, hugging the pig under her chin. “I wish that you would propose immediately.”
The mayor is so beside himself with glee he does a dance like he’s hopping on hot coals, prompting more laughter.
With a swoop of his cloak, Sir Percival descends to one knee and takes Wendolyn’s hand. “Wendolyn of Warm Springs, oh love of my life, with your beauty and your harsh exterior that I know is only a protective layer for the softness that lies within, will you do me the honor of marrying me and being my wife to the end of our days?”
“I will,” cries Wendolyn. “And I shall name the piglet Percy.”
She holds the plush toy aloft as the icicle townsfolk erupt in cheers and applause and Sir Percival sweeps Wendolyn into an awkward hug in the way only ten-year-olds can.
The crowd starts to join in, then stops as bright green Abigail skates in from the side followed by the rest of the cast.
The older kids, who are on skates, join the icicles, while the little ones line up along the mat runner leading from the edge of the pond to the center of the action.
Abigail moves to the front, holding a sign bigger than herself.
She addresses the audience. “And they all lived happily ever after. Wendolyn went on to become the first female mayor of Warm Springs. Percy the piglet turned out to be a girl and the following year had her first set of piglets, on the same day that Wendolyn and Sir Percival had their first daughter.”
Abigail makes an exaggerated, sweeping curtsy amid cries of yay from the crowd.
Then she flips the sign, which reads, Donations For The Theater Repair Fund!
“If you have enjoyed the play, please drop whatever you can in the donation buckets.”
Mrs. Bentley rattles the one on her lap.
“Also, the Bearded Bean coffee shop and the Kneads Must bakery are donating all of tonight’s proceeds to the theater repair fund.” She looks to the side. “Dad, can you get me a hot chocolate and a strawberry doughnut before they all go?”
Her dad nods and claps.
Suddenly, walking across the mat on the ice toward her, is Aunt Lou. That’s not part of the plan.
She puts her arm around Abigail’s lettuce costume and addresses the audience. “Thank you, everyone, for coming tonight and supporting this unique version of the Christmas play that has been staged under extremely difficult circumstances. And for that, we all need to thank my fabulous niece.” She beckons me to join her. “Natalie Bourne, get yourself out here.”
My stomach flips. The last thing I want to do is to detract attention from the kids, but I can’t very well leave Aunt Lou hanging.
Mrs. B. gets busy with her elbow again. “Go take a bow.”
Shaking my head with embarrassment, I make my way along the mat, giving each of the lined up little kids a pat and a thank-you along the way.
Aunt Lou takes a step back, pulling Abigail with her, and gestures for me to move to the front.
“I was not expecting this,” I tell the audience. “Tonight is about the amazing job the kids have done and raising funds to repair the theater so we can all be inside again next year.” I make a dramatic shiver and rub my arms. A giggle runs through the crowd.
“I have the most incredible group of actors here.” I turn and gesture to all the children gathered behind me, who give themselves a round of applause. “They are the absolute stars of this show.”
The crowd goes wild with cheers and clapping and whistles.
“Thank you so much for coming tonight,” I shout over the noise as they start to move away.
Then I realize there’s something I absolutely must add. “Just one other thing.”
Everyone stops in their tracks and turns back to face me.
“When the fire happened, I was terrified it would mean that for the first time in decades there would be no Christmas play. I couldn’t think of a single alternative venue that would be available. And, I have to confess, the idea to stage it on ice wasn’t mine. It was?—”
I’m silenced by a sharp intake of breath from the crowd, mixed with a couple of whispered cries of “Look!”
They’re all distracted, their attention shifted off to the side.
I follow their gaze to see a tall, broad, muscular shape walking across the mats toward me, backlit by the lights on the bandstand like a glowing angel.