Fade to Us Page 11

  Okay, where was her … interest in him going? Was it possible that she was hoping for more? I hated to ask the next question, but I had to. “Do you have a crush on Micah?”

  “Crush is not the right word.”

  “Then what is?”

  “Entranced.”

  Entranced? Hmm. What did that word mean to her? She was very literal. I’d look it up in dictionary.com before I got too concerned.

  Natalie turned to face me. Full eye contact. “Mama called.”

  “Good. Does she call often?”

  “She promised to speak with me every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. So far, she has. If Luke’s awake, he’s with her, and I talk to him.” Natalie flopped onto a rocking chair. “She recorded me narrating a picture book before I left, and she says Luke always smiles while he listens.”

  That was a great idea. Mei wasn’t one of my favorite people, but she was trying to minimize the bad effects of the separation. “How’s your mom?”

  “They’re trying a new antidepressant.”

  I gave my stepsister a careful look. I hadn’t known that Mei was depressed. “Maybe it will help.”

  “It could. The color of her voice was different.”

  “Which means?”

  “Her words have been coming out brown lately, and today they were more pink.”

  “That’s an improvement?”

  “Duh. Who wants to sound brown?”

  “Sorry. Of course.” I would not laugh. “How do my words sound?”

  “Always vivid.” She tilted her head and considered me. “Orange this week.”

  “Is orange good?”

  “Well, yeah.” She yawned again.

  “Do people ever call you Nat?”

  “Not if they want me to acknowledge their existence.”

  I couldn’t control my laughter any longer. She shrugged and looked toward the street.

  Closing the lid to my laptop, I debated whether to ask something uncomfortable. The night inspired confidence, though. “Natalie, do you often talk about words having color?”

  She shook her head. “Most people already think I’m strange enough. No reason to give them more ammunition.”

  Before knowing Natalie, I would’ve thought that people with Asperger’s were completely tuned out socially, but it wasn’t true of her. She fumbled what most people our age could do easily and aced the harder stuff. “What do you miss most about living with your mom?”

  “The way she smells.”

  “Which is?”

  Natalie studied the night sky as if it held the answer. “She smells like love.”

  Wow. Yeah. I understood exactly. “Does my mom have a smell?”

  “Jill smells like determination.” My stepsister looked at me and gave a little laugh.

  “I cannot argue with that.”

  Natalie rose and crossed to the front door, then hesitated with her hand on the knob. “Did you get in trouble for telling me about the musical?”

  “Not really.” At her scowl, I huffed a sigh. “Maybe a little, but it passed soon.”

  “They were right to be worried. I was, too. I’m still glad you found it.”

  15

  A Hot Combination

  On the drive to the arts center on Wednesday, the sky had been dark and threatening. By midmorning, rain was pouring in steady sheets. The weather must’ve been stirring up the cast, because today’s rehearsal was the worst I’d seen.

  Lisa growled with exasperation. “Laurey is reluctant to kiss Curly.” She twisted in her seat to face me. “Is she scared of him? Or is this not being bold?”

  “Neither.” The actor playing Laurey had been dating the same guy since middle school. She wasn’t scared of Curly; she was worried. “Audra has a long-term boyfriend. I think she’s feeling guilty.”

  “She’s been in several productions. This can’t be her first stage kiss.”

  “It might be the first time she’s been attracted to the actor she’s kissing.”

  “Ah-ha. This could get interesting. Micah, I’m giving a private lesson in the makeup room. Thirty minutes.” She jumped to her feet and said loudly, “Laurey, Curly, follow me.”

  “Okay, change in plans.” Micah flipped to his schedule. “We’ll work on ‘The Farmer and the Cowman’ next. Brooke, can you ask Claire if she has the fight scene choreography ready yet? I’ll tell the counselors to stretch whatever classes they’re teaching for now.”

  I talked to Claire, who said she was ready. After I relayed the message to Micah, I found myself, for the first time this week, with nothing immediate to do. I wandered backstage and out to the scene shop. The tech director was alone, bent over something blueprint-y that lay flat on a table. The space smelled of sawdust and paint.

  “Hi, Chip,” I said.

  He shifted until I came into view. “Hello … Brooke.”

  “Anything I can help with?”

  “How much time do you have?”

  “Thirty minutes.”

  He chuckled. “Can’t get too much done in a half hour, but I’ll take you up on it another time. Check again when the crew campers arrive next Wednesday. We’ll stick a paintbrush in your hand then.”

  “Okay.” I left and headed next to the office.

  Elena was on the phone, but she waved me in. “We can do that tomorrow. Thanks. Bye.” Grabbing her mug, she spun the chair around. “What’s up?” She sucked down a mouthful of spicy orange tea.

  “Could I ask a favor?”

  “Shoot.”

  I closed the door behind me. “If you have any office work that you’d like to pass along, I could take some off your hands.”

  “How is that a favor to you?”

  “I could put it on my résumé as experience.”

  “Did you have a project in mind?” She swiveled back to the desk and logged in to her computer.

  “The newsletter.”

  She giggled. “You could tell how much I hate doing that.”

  There was no polite way to respond.

  “Yeah, you can take over the newsletter, but I’ll have to be the person to actually send it. Privacy reasons.”

  “Great. You have my email address?”

  “Yeah. I’ll get the information to you by tomorrow.”

  * * *

  We were nearing the end of the afternoon break. The cast members were either having quiet time in the campers’ lounge or being measured for costumes. Lisa was on a phone call with the head of the board of directors for the arts center. Micah was nowhere to be found.

  When I stumbled across him in the staff lounge, I was almost sorry that I had. He looked tired and peaceful, slumped on the couch, eyes closed, an empty water bottle in his hand.

  As I backed away, he said, “It’s okay. You can come in.”

  “Sure?”

  His eyes opened. “Yeah. What can I do for you?”

  “Nothing. There is absolutely nothing happening that requires your attention.”

  “Now that, I refuse to believe.” He rose and came over to me, so close his arm brushed mine. “You doing okay?”

  “Yeah. This job is a lot of fun.”

  His lips curved into a gorgeous smile. “And addictive.”

  “I love the problems.”

  “The talent.”

  “The excitement.”

  “The surprises.” He tossed his bottle into the recycling bin. “Having you here steadies Natalie.”

  “I think so, too.”

  He scooped up his binder and lifted his hand in a wave as he left.

  I stayed where I was, watching him go, hugging that hint of a compliment to myself. Unlike his mother, it was something he did often, sliding out praise to people in that offhand way.

  There came realization number four: I loved working with Micah.

  It had taken us less than a day to put our early hostility behind us. Awkward moments had changed to teamwork. He could murmur a couple of words or flash a smile or make a tiny gesture—and I was al
ready anticipating his wishes. His attitude gave me the freedom to leave behind my insecurities and allow myself to be good.

  * * *

  I was helping with afternoon pickup when my stepfather’s truck pulled into the carpool lane. “Natalie, why is Jeff here so early?”

  She slung her backpack over her shoulder. “To take me to the movie. I told you.”

  Not the part about it being the five-thirty show. “I can’t leave yet.”

  “That’s your problem.”

  “I can take Brooke home,” Micah said from beside me.

  “Thanks.” I struggled to keep my expression light, pleased with this change in plans.

  Natalie was already shuffling down the sidewalk to her father’s truck.

  Sweet anticipation filled me. Driving me home would mean nothing to Micah. He was too focused on the show to notice me as a person. But I was thrilled with the idea of spending fifteen minutes alone with him, just the two of us, talking like regular people.

  Yeah, it didn’t take much to make me happy.

  * * *

  Once the team meeting had ended, Lisa leaned wearily against her son. “I think takeout tonight.”

  “Sure, but I have to take Brooke home first.” He looped his arms around his mom with affectionate ease and rested his chin on the top of her head. “Want to come with us? Or should I return for you?”

  “The latter. I have a few things to finish here.”

  “Okay.”

  “Stop for burgers at that place.”

  His eyes lit up. “Sounds good.” He stepped away from her and looked at me. “Ready?”

  “Yeah.”

  Once we were on the highway, I asked, “Which burger place is she talking about?”

  “Winston’s.”

  “I’m impressed you know about them. They’re the best.”

  “Yeah.” His fingers drummed on the steering wheel. “Mom doesn’t enjoy cooking, so getting recommendations for good food is high on our list of questions when she’s a visiting director.”

  “Does she do this often?”

  “Our third summer. It’s fun, and tons of work.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “We’ve rented a house.”

  “Do you stay on the weekends?”

  “It depends. Last weekend, it was date night, so we went home. I doubt we’ll do that again until the show’s done.” He braked for a stop sign. “Which way?”

  Wow, the phrase date night had distracted me so much that I’d forgotten about directions. “Go straight ahead, then left at the next light.” I stared out the side window. Micah had a girlfriend. Of course he did. He was cute and smart and wielded power with confidence. A hot combination. This news disappointed me. A lot. Which was wrong on many levels.

  He continued through the intersection. “Do you regret agreeing to be an assistant?”

  “No.”

  I must’ve sounded odd, because his fingers stopped drumming. “Do you miss the other job?”

  “Not really. Mostly, I miss the paycheck.”

  “Did you have plans for it?”

  “I was hoping to buy a car.” I turned to catch him smirking. “Yes, a conventional goal. Do you get paid?”

  “All production team members are paid.”

  “Except me.”

  He laughed. “True.”

  “Natalie texts with you.”

  “That’s an interesting transition.” His hands clenched the wheel. “Yes, she does.”

  “Do you mind?”

  “No, I enjoy it.”

  “Do you do that with other campers?”

  “None have asked.” His voice had cooled into icy disapproval. “I’m trying to be a mentor for Natalie. If you have a problem with that, you don’t need to. It’s completely innocent.”

  “Oh, sorry. It’s not a problem. I was worried she might be taking up too much of your time.”

  He relaxed as he made the left turn onto our street. “I don’t mind at all. When Natalie asks a question, she’s only after an answer. I don’t have to examine every word, wondering what she wants from me, or worry about her hidden agenda. She’s not bothering me.”

  “Good, because she enjoys it, too.” I pointed. “Do you remember where we live? It’s the white house with the big veranda.”

  He pulled to the curb.

  Wow, that had sped by. “Thanks for the ride.”

  “Anytime. Brooke?” He twisted in his seat to face me, his shades dangling from one hand. “You’re really doing a good job. My mom’s not easy to work for, and you’re managing her well.”

  “Thanks.” I released my seat belt and glanced over at him, gripped by a sudden shyness. This close, I could see his eyes. Too brown for gold. Too gold for brown. His own uniquely gorgeous color. It had been a long time since I’d been this aware of a guy. As in never. “So … see ya tomorrow.”

  “I’m glad you’ve joined the show.”

  His statement shivered through me. I repeated the words in my head. Memorized them. Would spend the rest of the evening pretending they meant more than they did. “For Natalie’s sake.”

  He held my gaze for a few seconds, then looked away. “And ours.”

  * * *

  Natalie had been home for two hours before she came to my room. She sat cross-legged at the end of my bed and picked at a scab on her ankle.

  I would have to kick off tonight’s chat. “Was it a good movie?”

  “I’d give it a B plus.”

  “Romance?”

  She looked up, her eyes wide with horror. “You know the answer to that.”

  I swallowed my laugh. “Yeah, I do.”

  Her gaze returned to the ankle. “It was sci-fi. Interesting story, although I’m skeptical of their research. Not believable. It would’ve been better to call it a futuristic fantasy. But if you forget the credibility issues, fine.”

  “So you liked it.”

  “Yes.” Her lips twitched up at the corners. “Micah drove you home.”

  “Yeah, it was nice of him.” Could she hear the warmth in my voice when I mentioned him? Probably not. “He said he went home last weekend.”

  “His mom misses his dad.”

  “And he wanted to see his girlfriend.”

  She scowled. “Why would you think that? Micah doesn’t have a girlfriend.”

  Could she be right? “He said it was date night.”

  “For his parents. Micah doesn’t have time to date…”

  The news left me dizzy with relief, which meant something it really shouldn’t. I was foolish to be happy that he was single. It put me in danger of crushing on a guy who was technically my boss, a guy who didn’t notice me that way.

  “… He can’t fit anything else into his schedule. He’s either working on a production or trying to relax.”

  Okay, still stuck at the Micah is single news. “I can’t believe he just answers such personal questions.”

  “Clearly, he does, since I know. I’ve found asking is the best way to get the data I want.”

  “What if people don’t want to answer?”

  “Then they don’t. I can handle no’s. Well, those kinds of no’s.” She hopped from the bed and left, leaving behind welcome information and the silence needed to indulge in the possibilities.

  16

  Two Kinds of Like

  The principals were pushing the limit today, and Lisa was letting it slide. Sometimes she smiled. Sometimes she sighed in frustration. But she let them do whatever they wanted, rarely giving feedback.

  I leaned over. “Are you going to say anything?”

  “Not much, at least not today.” She chuckled. “During this morning’s pep talk, I told them not to hold back. They need to believe that I meant what I said.”

  I lowered my chin to hide my smile. She’d listened to my suggestion and acted on it. I’d become a real part of this creation, no longer just the stepsister who’d been given a role to disguise her primary purpose. I belonged. />
  “Laurey, can we try that again? I like the way you’re expressing frustration, but you won’t be able to throw the props so hard.” Lisa spoke to me without looking my way, “Go to the prop room and see if it has a basket and fake food.”

  After unlocking the prop room and flicking on the light, I checked in the closest cupboard. A bowl of fake fruit. Yay. And there was a basket on top of a tall cabinet. Except it was three feet out of my reach. Ladder?

  A scan of the room revealed a stepladder in the corner. Dragging it over, I frowned as I tried to decide if that would be high enough. Probably. I climbed to the third rung and stretched for the basket. Not quite there. I went up to the top rung.

  “Dammit, Brooke,” Micah growled from behind me.

  I gasped and clawed at the cabinet as the stepladder wobbled.

  He braced the ladder with his body, his hand locking around my knee. “Safety…”

  “… first,” we said together.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I wouldn’t have wobbled if he hadn’t yelled. “The lecture will have to wait. I’m close to success.”

  “Get down.” It was a command, a highly pissed command.

  Somebody was overreacting. “Not until I have the basket.” I stretched forward, my fingers brushing it, pushing it farther away.

  “Now.”

  Alright, time to admit defeat. I went carefully down each rung until I hit the floor, aware of his body behind me, his hands firm on my waist.

  I hung my head, ready for the lecture.

  “If you ever do that again, you’re gone.”

  I stiffened. Whoa. “That’s extreme.”

  “What is the rule?”

  “No climbing ladders without a spotter. Got it.” His behavior was beginning to tick me off. I hadn’t come here by choice. I turned to face him. “Is your presence a coincidence, or were you stalking me?”

  “I knew where the baskets were. I was trying to prevent you from killing yourself.”

  “Oh. Solid reason.” How incredibly … nice. Was there anything he did wrong? “Thanks.”

  He gave a curt nod, his hands dropping away.

  Neither of us moved. Just stood there in an awkward silence. His anger hung around him like a shield.