Wolfe trailed behind Lois to the back of the stage. “Did you find a good black robe?”
“Find one? I made it myself. Stayed up all night sewing it. And by the way, it’s deep plum.”
“Purple?”
“If I’d meant purple, I would’ve said purple. It’s deep plum.”
“It’s supposed to be black.”
“Plum is more intriguing.”
“It’s right in the book,” Wolfe said. “It was shrouded in a deep black garment, which concealed its head, its face and—”
Lois pulled the garment from a chest and whirled around to look at Wolfe. “It’s an impressive talent that you can quote Dickens. It’s just not going to come in handy in this play, all right?”
Wolfe folded his arms together. “Well, at least this ghost has no lines for you to butcher.”
“Testy, aren’t we?” She handed him the robe, and he held it up. It was dark enough that most people probably wouldn’t notice it wasn’t black. And it did have a hood. “We’ve got a lot of work to do on you before we get started. This ghost should be the scariest of them all. Which is why I’ve taken a bit of a liberty and expanded his … traits.”
“What are you talking about? I extend my hand, make my finger look long, bony, and creepy.”
She held up an eyeball hanging from a socket. “This, for one. I figure you can throw back your hood at the cemetery. It’s going to draw quite a scream, I can assure you.”
Wolfe hurried after her as she pushed through the curtain. “Lois, the phantom never takes off his hood! He is shrouded the entire time!”
“You know, Wolfe, that’s the problem with you. You have no vision. I’m simply adding an artistic element here, and you’re having a cow.”
“Lois, the entire idea is that this phantom, the one that delivers death to his doorstep, is quietly subdued. He’s the darkness of the night, you see?”
“No, Wolfe, you see. And that’s the problem. You can only see your way.”
“Lois, I promise. I’m not trying to be artistically stubborn. I just want you to understand that more than physically scary, these ghosts are representative, symbolic of the sin and sadness of Ebenezer Scrooge. By focusing on the physical appearance of the ghosts, I’m afraid we’re going to mislead the audience. They’re going to miss the message. What is scarier than the spirits is Scrooge’s eternal destiny.”
His fellow actors listened attentively to their conversation while looking busy. Lois whipped around and pointed a finger into Wolfe’s face. “You know what, Wolfe? You’re like lip gloss on a windy day.”
“Lip gloss?”
“Lip gloss is terrific, spectacular, even a little sexy, until there’s wind. Then it becomes a nightmare. See what I’m getting at? I’m the lip gloss, and you’re the windbag.”
“I thought I was the lip gloss.”
“Jealousy doesn’t become you, Wolfe. Not everyone can be the lip gloss. Nobody else here has a problem with this play. Just you. Unless I get some sort of sign that I shouldn’t do this play as is, I’m going forward with it—with or without you.”
The stage fell silent. Everyone stared at Wolfe. As much as he wanted to detach himself from this horrific slaughter of a masterpiece, he wasn’t about to lose his pride and drop out of the play. Not for a second.
“Fine. Have it your way.”
“All right. Now, everyone, in your places. And Wolfe, get to the dressing room and secure your vampire teeth.”
Alfred snapped his newspaper open as he sipped a latte. Evening had finally come, and the coffee shop was nearly empty. Every latte or green tea or dark roast he drank in this shop reminded him that miracles still happen. He remembered nearly weeping when they put the place in. And the cell phone tower that saved his sanity.
He’d managed to keep up appearances with a wide grin to everyone he met on the streets. He’d discovered it was all in the grin. A small smile or a half wave didn’t cut it. You had to bare teeth. A sparkle in the eye didn’t hurt either, which he achieved by tilting his head up a little and letting the streetlights hit his eyes.
Humming was out of the question for him, though he supposed he could pull it out of his proverbial holiday hat if need be. Short of that, it looked as if no Christmas intervention would be needed.
He could sit in quiet and peace, read his newspaper, drink something too expensive, and forget to be cheerful.
“Alfred?”
Alfred peeked over his paper. Ainsley. “Oh. Hello.”
“What are you doing here so late in the evening? I figured you’d be at the theater along with everyone else.”
It was only 8:30 p.m., but Alfred had learned a while back that this town’s activity went down with the sun.
“My work is done with the play.” He smiled.
“Mind if I join you?”
Alfred raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“I need to talk.” She plopped down in the other chair and threw off her coat. “Wolfe and I aren’t speaking. I’m staying at Melb’s.”
Alfred folded his newspaper. “You seemed fine when I was over for dinner.”
Ainsley shook her head, and her voice quivered. “I heard he’s just doing this play so he can get out of the house. He doesn’t want to be with me and Abigail.”
“What? Ainsley, that’s nonsense. He loves you both very much. When I see him, he blabs on and on about you two. Might I remind you he gave up his entire career for you? His whole life revolves around you.”
“That’s what I thought, but it’s not true. I heard from someone in the cast that both Oliver and Wolfe are doing the play so they’ll have something to do in the evenings.”
Alfred didn’t know what to say, except he couldn’t blame them, but then again, he wasn’t the domestic type.
“I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.”
“He hates this play. He says Lois is butchering it. The only reason he’s there is to stay away from me.”
Alfred reached across the table to take her hand. “There’s not much I know about this world anymore, Ainsley. It used to be good to me, and now it’s not. But one thing I’m sure of is that Wolfe’s whole world would crumble if he lost you and Abigail. He loves you both with all his heart.”
Tears dripped down her cheeks as she twisted her wedding ring around her finger. “I want to believe it.”
“Then believe it.”
“But how do you believe something that you can’t see?”
Alfred squeezed her hand. “As your people like to say, ‘Have faith.’”
CHAPTER 16
“I understand you,” Scrooge returned, “and
I would do it, if I could. But I have not the
power, Spirit. I have not the power.”
“DID YOU SAY …” Martin cradled the phone in the crook of his neck as he jotted down notes. “Two tour buses full? No, no, that’s just fine. Thank you. Um … parking, you say? Well, um, feel free to park in any empty field you see … Thank you. We’ll look forward to seeing you.” He hung up the phone and prepared himself for it to ring again. Thankfully there was a reprieve and he was able to catch his breath. He turned on the answering machine, which gave the performance times, and then bundled up in his coat as he headed outdoors. It was a rather short walk to the theater, and he hurried over, hoping to catch Lois.
He found her organizing a costume rack. “Lois.”
She turned and smiled. “Hello, Martin. What are you doing here? We’re not scheduled for a dress rehearsal right now.” She tapped her finger on her lips. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to tell you, I like how you’re playing Bob Cratchit. I really do. Understated. Happy. Noble. An everyday family guy. You’ve really put some thought into this.”
“Oh, uh, thanks. Listen—”
Lois held up her hands and looked away. “Martin, I feared this would come up. I’ve been trying to handle it in the most sensitive way possible. I realize our playing husband and wife in the production is a bit awkward a
nd most likely painful for you. But I want you to look on the bright side. At least you don’t have to wear garlic.”
“Lois, please. No need to apologize. I’m perfectly fine with the arrangement. I promise. I’m happy for you and the sheriff. You suit each other.”
“That’s kind of you to say.”
“I came here to give you some news. I don’t know if you realize, but people are coming to this production by the busload. Literally. Tour buses.”
Lois’s eyes grew wide. “For our little play?”
“Yes! We’re blowing the competition away.”
“What competition?”
“I can’t quite put all the details together because I’m getting bits of information here and there, but apparently there’s another play going on the exact same night we’re performing ours.”
Lois’s enthusiasm dwindled.
“But, Lois, they’re coming to ours. From what I understand, the other play is the nativity story. Ours is the one that’s stirring up all the buzz.” Martin held out his hand for Lois to shake. “I just can’t thank you enough for what you’re doing for this community, Lois. The theater is a hit. Not only are people coming from all around to see what we’re doing, but our own citizens are rallying behind this. We’ve got people offering to bring cookies and hot chocolate for after the play, not to mention all the people doing costumes and playing the roles. It’s a gift you have. And it’s a gift for this town.”
Lois’s eyes glistened with emotion. “Martin, how kind of you to say so.”
“I won’t keep you. I know you’ve got a lot to do before the dress rehearsal.”
“Then I will see you tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow? The dress rehearsal is tonight.”
Lois blinked. “It is?”
“Yes.” Martin studied Lois as she seemed to give this some thought.
“That makes sense,” she finally said. “I didn’t sleep last night.” She waved her hand. “I’ll be fine. Time to catch up on sleep later, right? I’m discovering I don’t need as much sleep as I once thought. In fact, I think it helps my creative juices flow.”
Martin left the theater filled with good cheer. He watched from the sidewalk as the residents of Skary scurried from one shop to the next. It was going to be a great Christmas. Maybe, just maybe, they’d be out of the red this year.
Wolfe had an hour to kill before Lois murdered Dickens, by way of dress rehearsal. Once again, he couldn’t get over the irony. He played a ghost, yet his soul was as vexed as if he were Scrooge himself.
“Wolfe, what a pleasure to see you,” Reverend Peck said as he stood from behind his desk. “Have a seat.”
Wolfe sighed as he sat down, wondering how he would break the news to his pastor that his wife was staying elsewhere. This wasn’t his proudest moment. The reverend had always been kind to him, since the first day he’d come to this church asking about God and what it all meant. They’d grown to be very good friends. Wolfe knew his trouble with his wife would likely test their friendship. The reverend remained close to Ainsley and her father.
“I didn’t realize you’d be here so quickly.” “What?”
“I just left the message a few minutes ago. But this is just another sign, my friend. Another sign, by golly!” The reverend clapped his hands a couple of times as he hustled around his desk. “So you’re probably wondering why I’ve called you here.”
His cheeks turned ruddy from laughing. Wolfe couldn’t help but feel relieved that the purpose of the meeting wasn’t to admonish him. But he couldn’t recall ever seeing the reverend so excitable.
“As you know,” the reverend began, “it’s Christmastime, and there’s no escaping it in this town. There’s a reminder at every corner, in every window, on every light post. And though I admire the enthusiasm of Skary, I’ve always tried my best to show them the true meaning of the season. This is the year, Wolfe! This is the year!”
“Why?”
“I heard from God. I mean, really heard from Him. He spoke to me, Wolfe. We’re going to see a miracle in this town! I don’t know what or when, but God is going to do something amazing!” The reverend’s glee faded. “What’s the matter?”
Wolfe rose and went to the window, where he stared out at the cold night sky. “It’s just … it’s just that …” He exhaled loudly. “So much is going wrong.”
“Which means that God is going to do even bigger things!” The reverend jumped to his feet and joined Wolfe at the window. “You are troubled.”
Wolfe glanced at him. “It’s nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Many things.” Wolfe stared out the window. Now wasn’t a good time to talk about Ainsley. He didn’t want to take away from the reverends gusto. He shook his head a little. “It’s just the play. I’m having a hard time swallowing Lois’s interpretation.”
“Oh?”
“Scrooge has been double-crossed by the government. I’m a mixed metaphor of a ghoul, thanks to a misplaced eyebrow, vampire teeth, and werewolf claws. Everything that Dickens meant for his book to be, it now isn’t.” Wolfe sighed. Dickens wasn’t the only thing mixed up. His marriage was meant for more too.
The reverend put his arm around Wolfe’s shoulder. “The truth has a way of coming out, my friend.”
Wolfe checked his watch. “So why did you call me here?”
“Let’s pray, Wolfe. Let’s pray that nothing will stop God’s miracle. Let’s pray that God would open the hearts of every person in Skary to see the great thing He is going to do.”
“Sure, Reverend,” Wolfe replied, “and can we say a prayer for Charles Dickens?”
“Isn’t he dead?”
“Well, you might actually see someone rise from the dead this weekend.”
CHAPTER 17
The Ghost conducted him through several streets familiar to his feet; and as they went along, Scrooge looked here and there to find himself, but nowhere was he to be seen.
HAD WOLFE BEEN ABLE to staple his tongue down, he would’ve. He walked the corridors and observed the cast getting ready for their one and only dress rehearsal, trying to keep his mouth shut.
Lois flitted around like a stage goddess, actually wearing a scarf that hung down to her knees and bifocals that weren’t even real. That was, of course, before she changed into Mrs. Cratchit, who looked more like Mrs. Brady.
Playing with the eyeball that dangled by a metal coil from his face, he watched the first act, which, in full costume, was an even bigger disaster.
Dustin, who played Fred, Scrooge’s infinitely optimistic nephew, seemed to be capturing the character in short spurts. One moment he’d brim with enthusiasm and the next, fall flat as a pancake, then bounce back with misplaced anger. But Fred was the least of the play’s concerns.
Scrooge was having an identity crisis, what with the many “creative liberties” that Lois had taken with the dialogue. Although Oliver was doing his best to focus, he went from sounding like a fanatic to actually drawing quite a bit of pity, especially with the fainting scene Lois had written in, where Scrooge discovers he might have fathered a child out of wedlock. Of course, he hasn’t—the Ghost of Christmas Past is just making a clever joke and somehow trying to prove a point, beyond what Dickens imagined in the scene where Belle chastises Scrooge for erecting the idol of Gain. In Lois’s version, it played out like a bad soap opera, with Belle slapping Scrooge and kicking him where it counts before leaving him for a younger man with a Roth IRA.
The only thing that truly worked in the entire first act was the ghost, played by the sheriff. Dickens described him as both childlike and old, and unfortunately for the aging sheriff, the dumbstruck expression on his face, along with the fact that he kept tugging at the bottom of his costume, helped him nail that look.
Then Wolfe had to suffer through the second act. When Scrooge touches the Ghost of Christmas Present’s robe, he is supposed to be transported into town, where a merry, bustling crowd of people are enjoying the cheer of Christ
mas. But in a way only a sleep-deprived Stepaphanolopolis could dream up, she’d decided to show the true nature of crowd shoppers and throw in a squabble over a Farrah Fawcett-Majors doll, which they all learned had scarred Lois when she was the only kid in town who didn’t have one. Hers was ripped from her mother’s arms on Christmas Eve by a father of twins, right in the middle of the toy store. The Ghost of Christmas Present goes on to sprinkle the violent crowd with water, and they disperse, but not before scarring every Dickens admirer that ever lived.
Lois did manage to keep the Cratchit scene somewhat intact, though she insisted that Mrs. Cratchit should be the focal point. After all, a woman holds the home together, and Tiny Tim shouldn’t be a scene stealer. Which might have been the way to go, since Willem Downey did a poor job evoking any sort of sympathy.
Wolfe watched Oliver and Garlic Garth observe the Cratchits in their living room, cozy around the fire, loving one another, despite all that had gone wrong in their life. He couldn’t help but think of Ainsley and Abigail. Was his cause enough of a reason to refuse to call? Why was he being so stubborn? It wasn’t really in his nature, though he’d been more that way before he’d come down the hill and been transformed by a faith he had known little about.
He was sure that any minute she would walk through the doors, apologize for leaving, explaining why and asking for his forgiveness. But the minutes had turned into hours, and the hours into days. Now it seemed nobody would give in. Having them away did nothing for his sleep deprivation.
Still, his couldn’t hold a candle to Lois’s, which seemed to account for what appeared to be random acts of hallucination. Sleep deprived or not, Lois had managed to see her dream through … A Christmas Carol was now truly a horror.
“Isn’t this delightful?” Alfred stepped up beside him in his sleek black trench coat, his hair slicked back like he used to wear it. He pulled off his shiny leather gloves as he watched the play.