The Jumbee by Pamela Keyes Read Free Book Online Page A

She quickly felt her way down the dark aisle and perched on the edge of the stage, hoping she wouldn’t lose her nerve. Her pathetic acting obviously hadn’t brought Alan back out of the shadows, so it was time to be more direct.
    “Alan, are you here?” she said loudly. “I need you.”
    “You need me?”
    She jumped at Alan’s astonished reply, a bizarre range of emotions flooding her. She wanted to laugh and cry and scream while simultaneously leaping to her feet and demanding to know where he—or to be precise, his voice—had been all this time.
    Instead, she dug her fingernails into her knees, overcome with shyness. She willed her heart to slow down enough that she might at least sound somewhat calm and rational.
    “I’m thinking about quitting the play,” she said, “and moving back to Oregon.”
    “No!” He cleared his throat as if his own spontaneous outburst embarrassed him, then added more softly, “Why in the world would you do that?”
    His reaction warmed her all the way to her core. After a moment, however, she shook her head. “Now that my dad’s gone, the whole thing seems pointless. Would you tell me something?”
    “What?” He sounded cautious.
    “Am I wasting my time? I want you to be honest with me. Tell me I should just quit.”
    “Esti, you can’t quit.” The shock in his voice turned into determination. “Not when you’ve come so far, and you have so much potential.”
    “What potential?” Esti threw her hands up in the air. “That sounds lovely, but Mr. Niles has let me on stage exactly once.”
    “Has it occurred to you that Danielle needs more help than you do? That she has a tendency to overact when she’s nervous?”
    Esti opened her mouth in surprise, goose bumps covering her skin. “Were you eavesdropping?”
    “Not really.” He sounded embarrassed. “It’s just that some seats are in the right place. . . .”
    Esti wondered where he’d been hiding. Beneath the stage, or behind one of the walls? Maybe floating in the air, invisible to all mortal beings?
    “Never mind,” she said. “The thing is, I thought Manchicay would be good for me, but my so-called potential has shriveled up and blown away.”
    “It hasn’t. I’ve been listening to you practice here in the evenings.”
    “You were here all along.” She rubbed her hands together, embarrassed. “Why didn’t you say anything. Is it because my Lady Capulet stinks?”
    “I wanted to speak, believe me. I thought about it, but . . .” He took a long, deep breath. “I never knew you might bring me cookies.”
    “You were eavesdropping.” Oddly, his tone actually made her wish she’d swiped one of the cookies for him. “Carmen thinks cookies are the cure for all the world’s problems. Even . . .” Esti hesitated. “Even to lure a ghost from the darkness.”
    A long silence followed her words. “There is no darkness but ignorance,” he finally said.
    She drew her brows together, wondering if she was imagining his sadness. “My dad insisted that rehearsing in the dark kept him honest.”
    “Did he say that?” Alan sounded startled. After a moment, he added, “To seek the light of truth, while truth the while doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look.”
    A thrill of exuberance stabbed through Esti. “Light, seeking light,” she replied, “doth light of light beguile; So ere you find where light in darkness lies.”
    Alan burst into laughter. “Beautiful.”
    She closed her eyes, overwhelmed by a deep contentment she hadn’t felt in a long time. “I could get used to this.”
    “Yes.” Alan sounded happy too. “I am curious why you never turn on the lights when you’re here alone.”
    “Practicing in the dark is what I did when I was younger.” She picked at the frayed hole in the knee of her jeans, still smiling. “My dad told me his movies made him lazy on the stage. Theater needs perfect delivery, since you can’t rely on a close-up to create the mood. Gestures aren’t any