I can stay.
"I suppose we ought to bow," she whispered to Ariel with barely contained triumph. "You can put me down now, and get your hand off my b.u.t.t!"
He grinned and pointed at the Stage Manager. "Curtain call!"
Mrs. Edith and Ophelia entered to take their places on one side of Bertie, and Ariel stood on the other. The fairies fluttered forward to cling to her hair as the lights tightened on Center Stage, blinding Bertie as she bowed. Beyond the cheering crowd, the Exit sign beckoned.
The curtains crashed into each other, signaling the end to How Bertie Came to the Theater. Heavy red velvet m.u.f.fled the sounds of the audience filing out, though Bertie caught snippets of "How unusual!" and "Delightful! We should renew our subscription."
When the low murmur of conversation finally faded, the Theater Manager spoke, almost to himself. "You"d remembered almost all of it."
"That"s why you wanted me to leave, isn"t it?" Bertie said. "It didn"t have anything to do with the cannon-"
"It had everything to do with the cannon!" he fired back. "Everything to do with the changes you wrought here. It"s only by chance that the Theatre yet stands. . . ."
"The pages are back in The Book," Bertie said. All but two. "I repaired it and saved the Theatre when you couldn"t. I fulfilled the obligations of my contract: a sold-out show concluded with a standing ovation. And I discovered that I am more than a foundling child, or even a Director." Bertie reached for Ophelia"s hand. "I am her daughter."
"My ward," Mrs. Edith said.
"Our friend," said the fairies.
"My benefactress," Ariel said with a wry quirk to his lips.
"And the Writer of Words," Bertie finished. "I have a place here, whether you like it or not. Mrs. Edith named me for the other Beatrice, and I will be put upon by no one, not even you."
"Have your way, then," the Theater Manager said, his voice hoa.r.s.e. "Next time, you might not be so lucky. Next time, the building may well crumble about our ears."
Bertie shook her head. "The audience might have been content with the play, but it"s only a draft. A work in progress. A character"s still missing from my story."
"Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow." Ophelia"s hand trembled in hers. "Would that I could remember his name for you!"
Bertie turned and kissed her mother on the cheek, vowing to remember the delicate scent of her: pink carnations and water-blooming flowers, ice-fed streams and the iron-tang of strength under her wistful vulnerability. Bertie whispered, so that only Ophelia might hear. "I will find him, for the both of us, and bring him back."
There was more than one man to find, though. This damsel will rescue the pirate in distress.
Peaseblossom yanked hard upon one of Bertie"s diamond earrings. "You can"t be serious! You"re not going to leave!"
"Yes, I am. I have to." Bertie turned to the Theater Manager. "I will go the way I came: with the caravan, with companionship. You will not gainsay me these things."
"Not if you actually agree to go," he said. "It"s a meager price to pay for the safety of the Theatre."
"Spoken by someone who doesn"t understand the value of loyalty, or friendship." Bertie turned to Ariel. "The Bard"s words should remain in the Theatre. Give me your page from The Tempest." Ariel hesitated, but Bertie didn"t flinch under the intense scrutiny that could have burned a hole right through her. "This way, no one shall be able to call you back. Trust in me."
His promise and hers; now they"d both said it, and together the words were like the wind. He slid his hand inside his silk shirt and pulled out his page, grimacing as though its removal tore his flesh.
She took it from him with steady fingers and turned to the Theater Manager. "A pen, sir?"
Without saying a word, he took a fountain pen from his pocket and handed it to her.
Bertie spared only a glance for the man who had worn the thickest mask of all, before she called out, "Open the curtains."
Red velvet parted to reveal the empty auditorium. Bertie crossed to The Book, held Ariel"s page up to the light, and whispered his opening speech.
Ariel"s body spasmed as he was recaptured.
"Just a moment. It will only take a few words, I promise." With a shaking hand, Bertie turned to the back of The Book. At the top of a blank sheet, she wrote: Following Her Stars: In Which Beatrice (& Company) Take Their Act On The Road She paused, long enough for a blot of ink to appear.
Enter BERTIE, ARIEL, PEASEBLOSSOM, COBWEB, MOTH,.
and MUSTARDSEED.
"It"s my turn to walk the ragged edge." Holding her breath because she couldn"t cross her fingers, Bertie ripped the page out.
The Exit sign in the back of the auditorium flickered, died, then blazed brighter than ever before.
"I think The Book will be safer in my Office." The Theater Manager pushed past Bertie to remove it from the pedestal.
"I think you might be right about that," she said with a sidelong look at Ariel.
The Theater Manager made his exit without a backward glance. Ophelia and Mrs. Edith rushed to embrace Bertie one last time.
"Promise you"ll be careful," Ophelia said, touching a gentle finger to Bertie"s cheek.
"That"s like asking the tide never to come in," Mrs. Edith said with a suspicious. .h.i.tch in her voice.
"You two will have each other while I"m gone," Bertie said, joining their hands together.
"I will watch you go, though each step pains me," Ophelia said. "I will hold your memory close to my heart every second you are gone."
For a moment, all three women stood with their heads inclined toward one another. Were it not for the medallion hanging about her neck, Bertie might have permitted a few hasty tears to fall. Pulling away, she tilted her head at Ariel.
"Shall we?"
His smile was one of the most beautiful things Bertie had ever seen. He offered her his arm. "Let your indulgence set me free."
"Never say I didn"t give you anything." Bertie tucked her hand under his elbow, and a great burst of wind lifted them from the stage to the red-carpeted runner. The fairies flew ahead, all pushes and shoves and exclamations of excitement.
When they reached the end of the aisle, Ariel opened the auditorium door. Bertie looked back long enough to see Ophelia and Mrs. Edith, standing Center Stage, arm in arm. Bertie lifted her hand in farewell before the door slammed shut between them.
"This is it." Peaseblossom"s voice quavered a bit as they crossed the lobby.
"Last chance to change your mind, Bertie," Ariel said with a raffish smile.
"What"s past is prologue, and the world awaits." She placed one hand over the scrimshaw and the other flat against the gla.s.s of the revolving door. It turned slowly, whispering the Theatre"s farewell, and Bertie lifted her eyes to gaze upon the night sky.
CURTAIN.
Acknowledgments.
The author"s grateful thanks to everyone who rode the roller coaster from start to finish: My agents, Ashley and Carolyn Grayson, and my publisher, Jean Feiwel, for seeing the magic in this novel"s earliest incarnation and giving the curtain at the Theatre Illuminata the chance to go up.
My editor, Rebecca Davis, for asking the right questions until I found the right answers. The book is immeasurably better for your Mrs. Edithlike attention to detail.
My husband, Angel, for dealing with the frothing and flailing in person, laughing in all the right places, and listening to me puzzle through the plot twists while nodding like it all made sense. When I stand in the spotlight, I know the best of the warmth and brilliance is your love for me.
My daughter, Amelie, who learned so quickly to say, "Shhh! Mommy"s writing!" and "Is your chapter done yet?" for her sweet kisses after a long day at the computer, and for not unplugging my laptop more than strictly necessary.
My mother, Gladys Burton, for always having a stack of books on her nightstand, letting me sit on the floor of Mendocino Book Company and the Ukiah Library until my backside went to sleep, and providing a constant stream of child care, dessert delivery, and support.
My sister, Lori Hunt, for enduring a thousand games of make-believe in our youth in which she was bossed around and tied to trees, and for holding up a certain fantasy anthology in the middle of Barnes & n.o.ble and yelling, "My sister has a story in this book and YOU SHOULD BUY IT."
My family by marriage, Nick, Gisele, and Rita, for their unfailing support and love.
My father, Ronald Hunt, for the advice that I shouldn"t wait to chase my dream.
Sunil Sebastian, Sidekick Extraordinaire, for his friendship, his many hours of careful reading and thoughtful critiquing, his ninja technical skills, innumerable telephone conversations in which I was informed "it still doesn"t suck," and the loan of his precious girls.
Mich.e.l.le Joseph, who loved Ariel, and Cheryl Joseph, who thought (perhaps rightly) that he"s a very bad boy, for their fresh eyes, energy, and e-mails.
Kari Armstrong, for her uncanny ability to draw things that exist only inside my head, her swift, headlong dive into watercolors, and her boundless enthusiasm for my descriptive work.
Jenna Waterford, for introducing me to stealth clothing and rea.s.suring me that Women Of Any Age were allowed, nay, encouraged! to wear skirts covered in buckles. I will always give thanks that I sat down at your table.
Stephanie Burgis, for trading ribbon-bound chapters, cupcakes, and dark chocolate over the virtual back fence, and loving the fairies right away.
Tiffany Trent, for rea.s.suring me that there will indeed be a LisaCon someday aboard a cruise ship, including fruity drinks topped with paper umbrellas served by men in kilts.
Glenn Dallas, for apologizing every time he pointed out a mistake and his constant gifts of great vocabulary words.
Elissa Malcohn, for her grammar expertise and good-natured tutelage.
Stephen Segal, for knowing that first chapter was going to need some work, providing my daughter with wench clothing, and that quiet pause he takes before answering any of my questions.
Phillip Boynton, for rejoicing with me during all my proudest moments.
Dr. Douglas Scott-Goheen, for letting me play Queen of Show and Tell at the University of California, Irvine Research Symposium, which reminded me of all the reasons I fell in love with the theater in the first place.
Heather Ortiz, for reading the funny bits over the shower curtain.
Christy Flynn, for all the cheering and applause.
Rafe Brox, for the reminders that he"s not my target audience and that fairies are actually a plague upon all our houses. Also, the line about the tarantella.
Joshua Palmatier, for dancing when he didn"t want to and being the first to offer a blurb.
Daniel Erickson and Xcentricities corsetry, for the fabulous costume changes and pin-striped inspiration.
To those who read the various incarnations of the ma.n.u.script and offered their support and feedback: Amanda Mitch.e.l.l, Kate Amirault, Rebecca Way, Brian and Katie Hill, Erin Cashier, and my friends on LiveJournal. The theater thanks you for your patronage.
end.