Eleven

Willow took Silas’s helping hand and climbed out of the buggy behind the rear stage door. She smiled at the guard posted there and stepped into the familiar area of the theater away from the stage, breathing in the scents of fabric, dust, makeup, and kerosene lamps. Everything known and familiar.

Silas closed the side door behind them and put his hand to the small of her back to guide her through the hallway. “We aren’t late, are we?”

Willow edged around an open trunk frothing with costumes and props and stepped over a rolled-up canvas backdrop. “Someone needs to organize these things better. We’re constantly tripping over equipment. And no, we’re not late.” Glancing through the open door of her dressing room, she spied Clement and Francine deep in conversation.

Not wanting to intrude, she tugged Silas’s hand, drawing him toward the wings of stage left. The indigo velvet drapes surrounded them. “I used to watch my mother every night from the wings when I was a little girl. The feel of velvet always brings back those memories.” In the low light of the preperformance theater, she studied his face.

“I wish I had known you as a little girl. You must’ve been adorable, all big eyes and ringlets. Did you always want to act? Did you dream of taking the stage?” He took her hands and drew her toward him.

“No, not really, but it was all I knew. For Francine it is a burning passion, and one she and my mother shared. I think Mother never really knew what to do with me. Francine says I was a homely child, awkward and clumsy. Francine was ten when I was born, and I guess I was a bit of a surprise to my parents. They thought they were done having children. Then my father passed away, and my mother had two girls to support with her acting. When she died, it was just Francine and me. Francine lives for the stage and the fame and the starring roles. And I. . .” She swallowed. “I feel like I have just been existing, putting in time, until now.”

He brushed the hair away from her temple, his touch as soft as mist. “So you might be happy away from the stage? You could be content in another way of life?”

“It would depend on what that other way of life was, but yes, I could be very happy away from the stage.” Willow breathed deeply, inhaling his scent—soap and sunshine and Silas.

“Hmmm.” His voice rumbled deep in his throat, and he eased his arms around her waist. “What if that life was with me?”

Her hands went up his lapels and twined around his neck. “Then I think I could be very happy indeed.”

He bent his head, brushing her lips with his, sending a shock through her. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and his embrace tightened. Again his lips caressed hers, and then more forcefully as if he wanted to consume her. She poured all the love in her heart into that kiss where it met his love like the crashing of a wave on a rocky shore.

Never had she expected to find something like this, so powerful, so precious, so perfect.

When the kiss ended, he continued to hold her close, his breath harsh against her cheek.

“Willow Starr, I love you as I’ve never loved anyone. Please say you’ll marry me. Say you love me and you’ll share my life forever.”

Her hands came up to cup his cheeks, and she looked deeply into his dark brown eyes, as velvety as his voice. She swallowed, trying to absorb all the wonderful sensations coursing through her, wanting to remember everything. The feeling that together they could conquer anything, that they could tackle any problem and come out the victors, swept over her. Worries about his church and her acting company slipped away, drowned by the love in his eyes and her heart. “Yes, Silas, yes. I love you, and I will marry you.” She could’ve stayed there in his arms all evening, but a clatter of footsteps and the sound of voices forced them apart.

Silas, as if reluctant to break contact with her, raised her fingers to his lips, planting a kiss across her knuckles before turning her hand over to place a kiss in her palm. He closed her fingers and squeezed, winking at her. “I’ll be watching the performance tonight. You’d best get changed and ready before someone comes looking.” He turned her around to head her in the right direction. “I’m going to nip home and change, but I’ll be back.”

Her mind still spinning and her heart full to bursting, she nodded and made her way to her dressing room. Clement and Francine had vanished, which was just as well. She couldn’t have borne it if her sister made some condescending or trite comment that rubbed the bloom off the moment.

She stepped into her costume for the first act and fumbled with the buttons, her hands shaking. An uncontrollable urge to dance, to laugh, to sing, to somehow let the entire world know of her happiness kept breaking over her. And when she sat at her dressing table to arrange her hair and put on her makeup, the stars in her eyes dazzled her. She wore the unmistakable look of love.

❧

Silas couldn’t stop grinning. He hurried to the parsonage, grateful to still have the loan of Jesse’s horse and buggy, though the time he saved in travel was eaten up by having to unhitch and turn the horse out into the glebe. A hasty wash, fresh shirt, and carefully knotted tie, and he was on his way back to the theater on foot.

Following Willow’s instructions, he bypassed the still-locked front doors and entered at the side of the building under the knowing eyes of a stagehand. “Evening, parson. You’re back quick. Gonna be a good show tonight.”

Silas nodded. “Thanks, Bill.”

The hallway bustled with cast members and crew as curtain time approached. He navigated the props and scenery stacked along the hallway, flicking a glance at Willow’s closed dressing-room door as he edged past a man in a frock coat. He recognized the actor as St. John in the play. At least it wasn’t that rather oily fellow who played Rochester. Something about him raised Silas’s hackles. He chuckled. Unreasonable, really. Projecting his jealousy of Willow onto the circumstances of the play. He paused to allow two stagehands carrying a desk between them to pass.

“Excuse me, are you Willow’s friend? The preacher?”

Silas swiveled to locate the voice. A slender, pale man in a tan checked suit leaned back in a chair in a side room.

“Yes. I’m Pastor Hamilton.”

“Come in. I was hoping I’d get a chance to speak with you soon.” The man rose and held out his hand. “Clement Nielson. Director.”

Silas shook his hand. “Willow speaks very highly of you.”

“I’m glad. I think quite a bit of her myself, which is what I wanted to talk to you about.” He motioned to an empty chair and resumed his own. “Has she told you about the offers she’s received to play Juliet this fall in New York? A starring role in one of the biggest theaters in the country. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime.”

Silas sat up and leaned forward a bit. “This fall? New York. . .as in city?”

“That’s right. You can’t imagine the prestige that comes along with a role like this, especially if the actress can deliver the goods. And Willow can. She’s the most gifted, natural actress it has been my privilege to work with, and she will be the darling of the New York theater crowd. Money, fame, the best of everything. It’s all waiting for her.”

Silas struggled to grasp the significance of the director’s words. New York, this fall? But what did that mean for him? Willow had only an hour before agreed to be his wife. “Has she accepted?”

“No, and that’s what I want to talk to you about. I’ve put it to Willow, and she’s been silent on the subject ever since. An added pressure is that without Willow’s consent, none of us are going to New York. I told her to take her time and really consider the options, but our time’s running out. I have to know her answer, and I’m afraid of what it will be.”

Silas gripped his knees, his mind reeling. “She hasn’t mentioned any of this to me.”

“You’ll be wondering what my stake is in all this.” Clement picked up a letter opener from the desk and toyed with it. “When I first told Willow of the offer, I suggested she needed a manager, and I proposed myself for the job. She would need someone who truly had her best interests at heart to look out for her in the big city.” He quirked his eyebrow. “As you can imagine, Francine is far from being that person. I proposed myself for a couple of reasons. First, I truly do care about Willow. She’s a wonderful young woman who hasn’t had the easiest job being Francine’s sister. And second, Willow’s father was my best friend, and I promised him I would look out after his girls.”

A stagehand knocked on the half-open door. “Five minutes to curtain.”

“Thank you, Mel. Now”—Clement continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted—“you’re probably thinking that I would push Willow to accept the role, go to New York, and make us all famous, but you’d be wrong. I’ve watched Willow the past few weeks since she met you, and I can say without reservation, I’ve never seen her happier. It’s like she’s all lit up inside. I think she wants a home and a family more than she wants anything, and I think you’re just the man to provide her with those things. She’s not cut out for the big city and all the demands she would meet there. I want her to be happy, and I think she’s happy with you.”

Silas sat back, stunned by this turn of events. “That’s very big of you.”

The director shrugged and pushed himself up. “I just wanted to warn you. Francine won’t take this lightly. I’ll do what I can to protect Willow, and you need to do the same. It might be best if you eloped before Francine could do anything about it.”

Though the idea strongly appealed to Silas, he shook his head. “No, I won’t marry Willow on the sly, as if we were doing something wrong. I have a ministry and a congregation to consider. We’ll be married in the church and in the presence of our friends. She agreed just today to be my wife.”

“I guess that means I’ll have to tell New York and this acting company that Willow is retiring from the stage.” Clement shoved his hands into his pockets. “On the one hand, it’s too bad. The theater is losing a great actress, but on the other, I’m very happy for you. Congratulations. But watch out for Francine. She’s not a woman who enjoys being thwarted, and she was counting on New York.”

Silas made his way to the balcony box seat Willow had reserved for him, his mind in turmoil. He was grateful and flattered that Willow had chosen him over such a fantastic opportunity, because it meant she must truly love him, and he was glad he hadn’t known about the offer before he’d proposed.

The sweet memory of her kiss, of her arms around his neck and her fingers tangling in his hair, of holding her close swept over him. And just as sweet, her declaration of love and promise to be his wife. He needed to make plans to tell his congregation soon.

Which meant informing Mrs. Drabble. He scanned the boxes and seats, hoping Mrs. Drabble had accepted Willow’s peace offering and attended the play, but he couldn’t see her anywhere. A knot squirmed in his stomach.

The curtain went up, and the play began. True to her word, Willow had reserved seats on the front row, and a group of miners and their wives sat together, faces rapt. She was so generous and sweet, surely once the congregation took the time to get to know her all reservations would be dropped and they would embrace her and accept her as his bride.

Once more her performance took his breath away, and she played the part of a young woman in love so well he had to quell his jealousy of Mr. Rochester again. At the conclusion, the audience surged to its feet. The miners were especially enthusiastic, stomping and whistling, bringing the cast back again and again for curtain calls, though it was Willow’s name they shouted the loudest.

Her eyes met his. A flush decorated her cheeks, and her eyes shone. She waved to him, and with refreshing spontaneity, she blew him a kiss, which set the audience into another uproar. He couldn’t wait to be with her again. They had so much to talk about, and if he could manage it, he planned to get at least one more kiss before saying good night.

He made his way down the stairs. When he reached the foyer, he was surrounded by the men he’d met at the Mackenzie mine earlier that day. They pumped his hand, grinning, introducing their wives and girlfriends, thanking him and asking him to be sure to pass their thanks along to Willow for the tickets. Best time they’d ever had, and wasn’t she something?

Silas wholeheartedly agreed. It was all he could do not to announce to every person he saw that Willow was his fiancée. A steam engine of anticipation surged away in his chest. He couldn’t wait to see her again. Though he wanted to bolt around to the back of the building and wait for her at the stage door, he couldn’t be rude to these men. Anyway, it would take her some time to change. Telling himself to be patient didn’t make the wait any easier.

One of the miners shoved his hands into his back pockets and lowered his voice to speak just to Silas. “Reverend, I haven’t made much of a point of going to church in the past few years, but after meeting you and Miss Starr, you can count on me being in the front row come Sunday morning. And I know a lot of the other fellows feel the same. Most high-quality folks like Miss Starr wouldn’t bother to spit on hard-rock miners if they was on fire, but she was kindness itself. If she wasn’t so sweet on you, and I wasn’t old enough to be her pappy, I’d go after her myself. You’re a lucky man.” He grinned, deepening the lines on his face.

“Blessed. I’m a blessed man.” Silas nodded. Here was proof positive for the congregation that Willow would be an asset to his ministry. Come Sunday morning, everyone would see what a perfect pastor’s wife she would make.