Stage Fright / Goodbye, Sweet Prince / Brotherly Love Read online

  Christy® Juvenile Fiction Series

  VOLUME FOUR

  Christy® Juvenile Fiction Series

  VOLUME ONE

  Book #1 – The Bridge to Cutter Gap

  Book #2 – Silent Superstitions

  Book #3 – The Angry Intruder

  VOLUME TWO

  Book #4 – Midnight Rescue

  Book #5 – The Proposal

  Book #6 – Christy’s Choice

  VOLUME THREE

  Book #7 – The Princess Club

  Book #8 – Family Secrets

  Book #9 – Mountain Madness

  VOLUME FOUR

  Book #10 – Stage Fright

  Book #11 – Goodbye, Sweet Prince

  Book #12 – Brotherly Love

  Christy® Juvenile Fiction Series

  VOLUME FOUR

  Stage Fright

  Goodbye, Sweet Prince

  Brotherly Love

  Catherine Marshall

  adapted by C. Archer

  VOLUME FOUR

  Stage Fright

  Goodbye, Sweet Prince

  Brotherly Love

  in the Christy® Juvenile Fiction Series

  Copyright © 1997

  by the Estate of Catherine Marshall LeSourd

  The Christy® Juvenile Fiction Series is based on

  Christy® by Catherine Marshall LeSourd © 1967

  by Catherine Marshall LeSourd © renewed

  1997 by Marshall-LeSourd, L.L.C.

  The Christy® name and logo are officially registered

  trademarks of Marshall-LeSourd, L.L.C.

  All characters, themes, plots, and subplots portrayed in this

  book are the licensed property of Marshall-LeSourd, L.L.C.

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be

  reproduced in any form without the written permission

  of the publisher, except for brief excerpts in reviews.

  Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Tommy Nelson®,

  a Division of Thomas Nelson, Inc.

  ISBN 1-4003-0775-9

  Printed in the United States of America

  05 06 07 08 09 BANTA 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Stage Fright

  Contents

  The Characters

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  The Characters

  CHRISTY RUDD HUDDLESTON, a nineteen-year-old schoolteacher in Cutter Gap.

  CHRISTY’S STUDENTS:

  CREED ALLEN, age nine.

  LITTLE BURL ALLEN, age six.

  BESSIE COBURN, age twelve.

  LIZETTE HOLCOMBE, age fifteen.

  MOUNTIE O’TEALE, age ten.

  RUBY MAE MORRISON, age thirteen.

  MABEL, age eight.

  DAVID GRANTLAND, the young minister.

  IDA GRANTLAND, David’s sister and the mission housekeeper.

  ALICE HENDERSON, a Quaker missionary who helped start the mission at Cutter Gap.

  DR. NEIL MACNEILL, the physician of the Cove.

  MRS. CORA GRAY, the doctor’s aunt from Knoxville.

  ROBERT GRAY, deceased husband of Cora.

  JOSEPH MCPRATT, JR., the boy who starred with Christy in a high school production of Romeo and Juliet.

  JEB SPENCER, Cutter Gap’s finest dulcimer player.

  PETER MULBERRY, friend of Dr. MacNeill during medical school.

  JAMES BRILEY, former medical school classmate of Dr. MacNeill.

  MEMBERS OF THE KNOXVILLE PLAYERS:

  ARABELLA DEVAINE, costume and set designer.

  OLIVER FLUMP, assistant director.

  GILROY GANNON, actor.

  MARYLOU MARSH, Arabella’s assistant.

  VERNON MARSH, Marylou’s brother.

  SARAH MCGEORGE, actress.

  PANSY TROTMAN, understudy.

  MABEL, one of the schoolhouse’s resident hogs.

  One

  Has anyone seen Goldilocks?” Christy Huddleston called as she surveyed her crowded schoolroom.

  With seventy students in one room, things were always a little disorganized. Today, however, the room was in chaos.

  Of course, it was a very special day. Today was the dress rehearsal of the school’s first play, Goldilocks and the Three Bears.

  Christy climbed onto her desk and clapped her hands. “Attention, everyone!” A few students paused. Christy tried again. “Children!” she called, trying to make herself heard over the babble of excited voices. “What did I tell you about the director of a play?”

  “The director gets to boss everybody else around,” answered Creed Allen. Creed, who was nine, had been cast in the role of the father bear, or, as the children called him, “Pa Bear.”

  He paused to adjust the beaver pelt that comprised his costume. Christy had helped Creed tie it around his head with a piece of string. He didn’t look anything like a bear, of course, but that didn’t matter. As Christy had been teaching them all month, the theater was about make-believe.

  Teaching at the mission school here in Cutter Gap always meant working without the usual supplies. But by now, Christy had grown skilled at making do with very little. In fact, she’d chosen the story of the three bears because it required so few props. Christy had written the simple play herself.

  Gazing around the room, she felt certain that the schoolhouse was going to work nicely as a theater. (It already served as the church on Sundays.) Christy had talked Miss Ida, who ran the mission house, into parting with a worn sheet.

  David Grantland, the young minister for the Cutter Gap mission and Miss Ida’s brother, had strung a rope across part of the room. With a little ingenuity, Christy had a curtain for her makeshift stage.

  “All right. I see my three bears,” Christy called loudly.

  “Six bears, Teacher,” said Ruby Mae Morrison. Thirteen-year-old Ruby Mae had been wearing her bear costume for days now. The costume was really nothing more than a huge brown coat, far too large for Ruby Mae. She’d found the coat in a box of clothes donated to the mission by a church in Christy’s hometown. Christy was allowing Ruby Mae to use it for the play, as long as she promised to return it to the box in good shape.

  “Ain’t but just three bears in the play,” said Bessie Coburn, one of Ruby Mae’s best friends. “You all is just underbears.”

  “Understudies, Bessie,” Christy corrected.

  “We’s proper bears!” Ruby Mae exclaimed. She growled menacingly and clawed at the air, just the way Christy had instructed during “bear lessons” yesterday. “We’s the ones who’ll take your place if’n somebody eats you up, Ma Bear!”

  Bessie sighed as she adjusted her bear costume. “I still don’t see why we have to do such a babyish play.”

  “I wanted to do a play with a plot that even the youngest children could understand, Bessie,” Christy explained. “If this first play goes well, maybe we can try something more complicated next time.” She smiled. “Who knows? We could even stage a play by Shakespeare.”

  “Shakespeare?” Bessie repeated.

  “He was a very fine writer who lived a long time ago,” Christy replied. “In the meantime, I want you to be the very best bear you can possibly be, all right?”

  While Bessie and Ruby Mae engaged in a mock bear fight, Christy once again c
lapped her hands. “Let’s everyone take our places for the final scene,” she called.

  Finally, everyone paid attention. Christy watched in delight as the children rushed to their places. In all her months of teaching, she’d never seen them so excited about a project.

  When she’d told Miss Alice Henderson, the Quaker missionary who’d helped start the mission school, about her plan to stage a play, Miss Alice had shaken her head. “Are you sure you’re not biting off more than you can chew, Christy?” she’d asked. “After all, you’ve only been teaching a short time. Maybe you should save such a big production for next year.”

  “But I loved the theater when I was going to school,” Christy had replied. “I know the children will love it, too.”

  And they had. She’d somehow found a way to give each child an important part to play, even if it wasn’t on stage. They’d built simple sets. They’d learned about how to behave in the audience. And they’d even learned a little bit about acting.

  “Places, everyone!” Christy called. “Is Goldilocks in position?”

  “Yes’m, Miz Christy,” Creed said, grinning. He pointed to the smallest bed, where a figure lay covered by a threadbare sheet.

  Christy had decided that Lizette Holcombe should play Goldilocks, but it had been a controversial casting choice. Because Lizette had brown hair, many of the other students had objected. But Lizette had a real presence on stage. Besides, she was one of the few students in class who could memorize all the lines.

  “Little Burl, the curtain!” Christy called.

  Little Burl Allen pulled back the sheet that separated the desks and benches from the stage area.

  “Pa Bear,” Christy whispered loudly. “Your line!”

  Creed cleared his throat. He lumbered toward the first bed. The bed was made of a few crude boards that the older students had nailed together with David’s help.

  Creed yanked on the worn sheet covering the bed. “I declare!” he cried. “Somebody’s been a-sleepin’ in this here bed!”

  Bessie went over to the second bed, crawling on her hands and knees. “And if I don’t miss my guess, somebody’s been a-snorin’ away in my bed, too!”

  A long pause followed. Mountie O’Teale, a shy ten-year-old, inched her way toward the center of the stage. Her face had been darkened with a piece of coal—Christy’s version of stage makeup.

  Mountie suffered from a speech impediment, but with Christy’s help, she’d made a lot of progress. Christy had hoped that giving Mountie a speaking role would boost the little girl’s confidence. Now, seeing her nervous expression, she wasn’t so sure.

  “Go ahead, Mountie,” Christy said gently.

  Mountie started to speak. She glanced back at Creed, who gave a nod.

  “Some . . . somebody’s been . . .” Mountie began.

  “Keep going, Mountie,” Christy whispered. “You can do it!”

  “Some . . . somebody’s been a-sleepin’ in my bed,” Mountie said, “and—and—”

  Several students snickered. “Hush,” Christy said sternly. “Go on, Mountie. Pull on the sheet and say your line.”

  Mountie went to the smallest bed and grasped the edge of the sheet. Goldilocks lay hidden, breathing steadily.

  “Somebody’s been a-sleepin’ in my bed,” Mountie repeated, “and here she is!”

  She yanked on the sheet. For a moment, all was still. Then, suddenly, uproarious laughter filled the room.

  Lizette was not on the bed.

  In her place was Mabel, one of the resident hogs who lived under the schoolhouse. She snored away, undisturbed by the commotion around her. Lizette emerged from the spot behind the bed where she’d been hiding. “Looks to me like ol’ Goldilocks has been eatin’ way too much of our porridge!” she exclaimed.

  Mabel opened one eye. She looked over at Lizette and gave a disgusted snort.

  Mountie ran over to Christy, her face alight. “Did we fool you, Teacher?”

  “I’ll say!” Christy said, shaking her head. “It was a wonderful joke, children.”

  “When you was in school plays,” Ruby Mae asked, “did you have this much fun, Miz Christy?”

  Christy smiled. “Those were some of the best days of my life, Ruby Mae. But to tell you the truth, you are the finest cast I’ve ever had the pleasure to work with.” She gave Mountie a hug. “Now, how about if we rehearse the whole play from the beginning? Only this time, let’s try it without Mabel in the starring role!”

  Two

  That afternoon when the children had left, Christy stood on the empty “stage.” They’d truly seemed to enjoy themselves today, and so had she. On days like this, she loved teaching with all her heart. She just knew she was doing the work God had always intended for her to do.

  Of course, she hadn’t always been so sure she wanted to be a teacher. In fact, in high school back in Asheville, North Carolina, Christy had been certain that she was destined for the New York stage. Well, maybe not certain. But she had dreamed about it from time to time, especially after her performance in Romeo and Juliet. Everyone said she’d been the best Juliet in the history of Asheville High School.

  She could still see the lovely balcony set. She could still remember her silken gown, the one her mother had lovingly stitched for her. She could still remember every line as if it were yesterday. . . .

  “O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?” Christy whispered.

  Slowly she recited the words she knew so well, her voice swelling with feeling. She clasped her hands before her, eyes closed, as she repeated Shakespeare’s famous lines as if they were her own.

  Suddenly a familiar voice met her ears. “But, soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.”

  Christy’s eyes flew open. Doctor MacNeill was standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. He was a big, handsomely rugged man. His curly hair was unruly, and his hazel eyes were accented by smile lines. He stood there with an amused expression on his face.

  “Neil!” Christy cried, her face burning with embarrassment. “How . . . how long have you been standing there?”

  The doctor made his way past the maze of desks. “Long enough to tell you’ve been hiding your true talent from the rest of us. That was quite moving, if I do say so myself. Although I’m no theater critic.”

  “No Shakespeare buff, either,” Christy replied. “You got your line wrong.”

  “I was overwhelmed by your delivery,” the doctor said. His voice was teasing, but she could see the affection in his eyes. Doctor MacNeill had made no secret about his feelings for Christy. Still, he often hid them behind a wall of teasing and humor.

  “I take it you’re saying I’m no great Romeo?” the doctor inquired as he helped Christy move some of the props.

  “Well, let’s just say you’re an improvement over the Romeo I starred with in high school— Joseph McPratt, Jr. He tended to spit when he delivered his lines. Especially the romantic ones.”

  The doctor clucked his tongue. “How unfortunate.”

  “Oh, well. I guess my career as an actress was doomed before it even took off.”

  “How’s the play shaping up?”

  Christy draped a sheet over one of the beds. “We had a last-minute cast change today. Mabel stood in for Lizette in the role of Goldilocks. It was quite a performance.”

  “She can be a bit of a ham, if you know what I mean.” The doctor grinned. “You know, all of Cutter Gap’s looking forward to the show tomorrow afternoon. I hope my Aunt Cora makes it here in time. She’d get a real kick out of it.”

  “She’s due to get in this evening, isn’t she?”

  “It depends on the roads. With all the rain we’ve had lately, it’s pretty slow going. It’ll be good to see her. It’s been almost six years.”

  “Well, I’m not sure a woman from a town as sophisticated as Knoxville will be all that impressed with our version of the theater.”

  “Oh, Aunt Cora loves the theater in any form.
Did I tell you she directs plays for the Knoxville Players?”

  Christy gasped. “Neil! Your aunt directs the Knoxville Players and you forgot to tell me? They’re the finest acting company in Tennessee!” She squeezed his arm. “And you forgot to tell me?”

  “It slipped my mind,” Doctor MacNeill shrugged. “And let go of my arm, woman. You’re cutting off the circulation.”

  “This is terrible. She’s going to see our pathetic little play and laugh and laugh,”

  Christy moaned. “Neil, don’t let her come.

  Promise me you won’t let her come. If I know she’s in the audience, I’ll be petrified.”

  The doctor laughed. “Christy, you’re not acting in the play. A bunch of children are— children who never even heard the word play till you introduced it to them. And I think my aunt can tell the difference between the Cutter Gap production of Goldilocks and the Three Bears and Shakespeare.”

  “You’re right,” Christy admitted. “I don’t know what got into me. Sorry. I suppose I always thought maybe I’d star in a real play someday. . . .” She gave an embarrassed smile. “It’s crazy, I know.”

  “Not at all. You forget I just witnessed your brilliant performance as Juliet.”

  “You’re just being sweet.”

  “No, I’m just being honest.” The doctor dropped to one knee. “Let’s see if I still remember my college English class . . .” He cleared his throat, grasped Christy’s hands in his and began to recite more lines:

  Good night, good night! Parting is such

  sweet sorrow,

  That I shall say good night till it be morrow.

  Just then, David appeared in the doorway. He took one look at the doctor on his knees and loudly cleared his throat. “Excuse me for interrupting.” He looked at Doctor MacNeill. “I came to tell you your aunt’s just arrived at the mission house.” He paused, scratching his head. “What exactly am I interrupting, anyway?”

  Quickly, Doctor MacNeill got to his feet. “Just some terribly bad acting, I’m afraid, Reverend. I was doing my best to impress Christy with my Shakespeare.”