Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE NEXT WEEK passed in a blur of work and rehearsals and flirtatious texting.

"You sure have been grinning at your phone a lot lately," Amelia said one day in the dressing room.

"Earth to Donna," said Betty at Sunday dinner.

"You've been a million miles away lately," chimed in Audrey, her hand resting on her newly pregnant belly. A girl, due in August. Audrey was relieved that the arrival of Ingrid Bergman had spared her from needing to research I names. And the family had just spent an hour brainstorming J names: Judy, Joan, Jean, Jane, June, Judith, Jessica, Janet, Jeannette.

Donna played dumb, even when Ginger accused her of being "in lo-o-ove." She obviously wasn't. But she liked Jack more and more with each passing day. She didn't want to jinx whatever this was by talking about it. Even an open book deserved to close its cover now and then.

But Amelia sleuthed it two days before final dress rehearsal.

"It's that doctor isn't it?" she said while they stood side by side at the lighted mirror, practicing their makeup. Donna was helping Amelia achieve an upscale look, while going for a lower-class vibe herself.

Donna tried to stammer a denial, but she was too caught off guard to be convincing.

"Well, he's just a half-fledged doctor," Donna replied, remembering his earlier joke.

"I didn't know it was possible to be only partially fledged," laughed Amelia.

"Apparently it is," she said.

"So, spill it, sister."

"Well, we went out once. A week ago."

"And?"

"We had sushi."

"And?"

"There was some kissing."

"And?"

The flush that lit up Donna's cheeks said it all. Amelia squealed and bumped Donna with her hip.

"Girl! When are you seeing him again?"

"Well, his work schedule is insane. The soonest we could get together is Friday."

"Friday is opening night."

"He's coming to the show and taking me out after."

"As if you don't have enough to be nervous about!"

"I know. I tried to talk him out of it. Sort of."

"Who's coming to opening night?" asked a voice behind them.

Zoinks! Where had Trynn come from? And why was she even here tonight?

"Oh, just a guy—man—I met," Donna said, unable to keep the guilty look out of her eyes.

Ugh, why did she correct herself?

"Good for you," Trynn said in a falsely bright voice, dripping with condescension. "An older man, huh? How'd you meet?"

"Long story," Donna said. "So, isn't your dress rehearsal tomorrow night?"

"Sure is. I just came to support y'all. See how I measure up to The Other Shelby. Pretty stiff competition."

Donna and Amelia exchanged a look, fully aware that Trynn was really interested in seeing how The Other Shelby measured up to her .

"I'm just happy to be here," Amelia said. "I don't mind being the consolation prize for people who can't make it to one of your performances."

"Oh, please," Trynn said. "I'm sure there are some people who won't even know who I am."

Such humility.

"Well, break a leg, girls," Trynn said and sauntered away.

When she was safely out of earshot, Donna let out a deep sigh.

"That right there is my biggest hesitation about Jack."

"Who cares what she thinks?"

"What I care about is that he liked her enough at one point to marry her. And what does that say about his judgment?"

"Maybe he was young."

"He was older than I am right now."

"She is a great actress, though," Amelia said. "Maybe she had him fooled. Did you ever watch Drama Club? She really was perfectly cast."

"Never could get into it," Donna said. "Wait! You never told me what Camila said about Trynn and the divorce, or whatever…"

Had she really been so distracted that she'd forgotten to ask?

"Well, you know I'd rather walk on my own lips than criticize someone," Amelia said, borrowing one of Truvy's lines from the play, much to Donna's glee. "But Trynn's character ends up having a torrid affair with the school principal. And apparently Trynn wanted to do some authentic research into her character's motivations."

"No!"

"Yes. According to Camila, she was caught in the back of a catering truck with a producer. A married producer, mind you."

"With a producer, in a truck full of produce? How weirdly poetic."

"Her character was killed off not long after that."

"And her marriage too," Donna said, suddenly finding it incredibly generous of Jack to have agreed to coach the Shelbys after such a betrayal. And Trynn fell even further in Donna's estimation, if such a thing were possible.

By the time rehearsal ended that night, Donna had to drag herself out to her car. She had not worn sensible shoes to the cafe earlier that day, and as her dad liked to put it, "her dogs were really barking."

But she forgot all about her feet when she found a prescription slid beneath her windshield wiper, with a note written in exaggeratedly careful handwriting.

"If it's not too late (for you), I'd like to see you tonight. It won't be too late for me."

Maybe Donna wasn't so tired after all.

"It's not too late," she texted Jack from the front seat of her car.

"I was hoping you'd say that," he instantly replied.

"Where are you?"

"Home."

She realized she couldn't picture anything about his home. Did he still live in the house he once shared with Trynn? She'd made all kinds of assumptions about his previous life and marriage but knew very little about how and where he lived now.

"Don't you have an early shift?"

"Yes."

"Won't you be tired?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to come over anyway?"

"Yes."

So she sent him her address and drove to her apartment at slightly unwise speeds. By the time she heard his car in the driveway, she'd just finished tossing several armfuls of clutter onto her bed and closing her bedroom door. She managed to sweep the dishes from the countertop into the sink and light a scented candle on the countertop by the time his knock sounded at the door.

She took a couple of calming breaths, looked down at her outfit—yoga pants, an oversize t-shirt, and fuzzy, polka-dotted socks—and silently fretted that she'd chosen to tidy her apartment instead of her person.

She opened the door. Jack Gentry stood on her doorstep in a t-shirt and jeans, holding a plate of cinnamon rolls in one hand. She'd never seen him in jeans. She broke into a grin and stepped aside so he could walk through. She took the dessert from him and set it on the countertop.

"Hi," he said, lifting one corner of his mouth in that way of his.

"Hi," she smiled, awash in giddiness.

He stuck his hands in his pockets, looking half pleased/half embarrassed by his offering.

"My sister is famous for her cinnamon rolls," he explained. "She dropped some by, and I didn't have anyone to share them with."

"You live alone?" she asked.

"With my brother. Temporarily," he said.

"And he doesn't like cinnamon rolls?" she asked, scraping a dollop of icing off the edge of the plate with her finger and relishing the burst of sugar on her tongue.

"He's on a very strict training regimen," Jack said. "So he only ate two."

Donna laughed.

"He begged me to get rid of the rest," he said.

"And naturally, you thought of me."

"I was thinking of you anyway."

He said it so matter-of-factly that she was momentarily speechless. Her heart rate accelerated.

Unsure what to do next, she gestured toward the loveseat, which took up most of the wall opposite the television, and curled herself into the corner of the sofa beneath the window overlooking the driveway. He settled onto the loveseat cushion nearest her, the edges of their armrests kissing—just like their knees would be if she didn't have her feet tucked under her. A side table covered with stacks of old VHS movies sat in the corner between them.

She couldn't believe Jack Gentry was here, inside her house.

"Did you wait long outside the theater?"

"Long enough to wonder if I'd get accused of being a stalker."

"Oh, our cast doesn't get stalkers. We're a bunch of nobodies."

"Well, I wasn't the only one out there, so think again…"

"A whole gaggle of stalkers was out there? And I only got the one note? How disappointing."

"Um," he said, clearly searching for some clever way to continue the banter. "I threw the rest away?"

"Rude," she said, leaning her chin on her hand and looking up at him under her eyelashes. "What if I had a better option in there?"

"You didn't, I'm afraid," he said, his face breaking into a wide smile. "It was either me, a door-to-door salesman, or a washed up sitcom star from the ‘80s."

She pretended to thoughtfully consider those choices.

"Which sitcom?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

He laughed.

"Ouch, maybe I was overconfident in my chances."

"And what exactly was the salesman selling?"

"I'll just see myself out," he said, putting his hands on his knees and leaning forward like he was about to stand up.

She stuck one foot out to stop him.

"Well, since you're already here," she said.

He relaxed against the back of the loveseat.

"Nice place," he said, looking around. "Do you have roommates?"

So she explained the history of The Launchpad, her current solo status, and Elizabeth's sporadic comings and goings on weekends and school breaks.

In return, she learned a little more about his history and family, although he was still guarded about his first marriage. She tried not to appear too curious or eager for details. They would come in time. She found she wanted to soak up every detail she could learn about him, even if it involved one Trinity Mae Wegfahrt.

As he talked about summers at his grandparents' house in Oregon, he absently picked up one video cassette after another from the side table and stack them in precise piles.

"Have you seen any of those?" she asked.

"Just this one," he said, holding up an Audrey Hepburn film.

"Abba, my extra grandma, whose house this is, was cleaning out her old movie collection, and I asked if I could bring some up here. And the VCR too," she said, pointing at the old video playing device sitting on the floor in front of the television.

"Be kind, rewind," he said, repeating the old slogan from childhood. "I haven't seen one of those in years."

"My family loves old movies," Donna said. "The current stuff just doesn't compare."

"So you're saying you don't think we'll all still be watching Transformers and Twilight thirty years from now?" he said, referring to a couple of the top movies currently in theaters.

"I hope not," she laughed. "Or Pirates of the Caribbean , part twelve."

He started reading the titles of the movies out loud:

Philadelphia Story, It's a Wonderful Life, How to Marry a Millionaire, My Fair Lady, Taming of the Shrew, Top Hat, To Catch a Thief

"These are all the movies my sisters and I are named after," she said. "Abba made sure she got a copy of all of them. Top Hat was pretty hard to find, though. It's from 1935."

"Who's named after that one?"

"One of the twins. Ginger Dale Gable is named after Ginger Rogers and her character Dale Tremont. And yes she hates that her name rhymes with a soft drink."

He chuckled.

"And you?"

"Mary in It's a Wonderful Life . Played by Donna Reed."

Jack picked up the cassette and flipped it over to read the back.

"The D names were hard to come by," she said. "I was almost named Doris Jan. Can you imagine? I would have gone by my middle name for sure."

"Or initials. You'd be a cute DJ," he said without even looking up to catch the pleased look on her face.

"What's your middle name?" she asked.

"Oliver."

Swoon.

Jack Oliver Gentry. Even his name was giving her heart palpitations.

"You shall henceforth be known as JOG," she declared.

"Wouldn't be the first time," he said, and their eyes caught and held for a second longer than she expected. And that's all it took for her insides to start to liquefy.

"Wanna watch it?" she asked, indicating the movie in his hand.

"In March?"

"Let's live a little," she said, leaning forward eagerly and taking it from him. "Walk on the wild side."

"I don't know," he said, feigning skepticism. "Next thing I know, you'll be wanting to watch Valentine's movies in October, or go trick-or-treating in December. Complete and utter pandemonium."

"Valentine's movies are appropriate any time of year," she declared.

"Depends on who you're watching them with," he said.

She couldn't disagree with that.

He caught her eye and patted the seat next to him. An invitation.

She countered by patting the seat next to her.

He raised his eyebrows.

She raised hers.

"I have a feeling you could talk me into anything," Jack said, rising with a sigh and settling next to her on the sofa, a little too far away for comfort.

She quickly stood and slid the Christmas movie into the dusty machine, the familiar clicking, clattering, and winding sounds taking her straight back to her elementary years.

She pressed the play button and settled back in her corner of the couch, lifting her feet onto a pillow she'd placed on the coffee table.

"Long day?" he asked.

"And bad shoes," she nodded, again regretting the Carrie Bradshaw costume she'd worn to work earlier.

"All right, hand them here," he said, patting his lap. "Come on."

So she swung her legs onto his lap and snuggled down.

As the black-and-white movie played, he mapped her feet for her, quietly and competently identifying this muscle or that bone through her zany socks, pressing here and massaging there, managing to both stimulate and calm her nervous system at the same time. She felt alert and highly aware of his every touch, but also so relaxed she might melt into the leather cushion.

"What did I do to deserve this?" she asked.

"You work hard," he shrugged.

Donna's heart swelled. His job was so much higher pressure than hers, although probably not as physically demanding. She found it extra touching that a man like him took her exhaustion seriously, and didn't downplay it as less important than his because she was "just" a waitress and "just" an actress.

"You definitely know what you're doing there, Doc," she said.

"Hope you're taking notes, because it's going to be your turn here in a minute," he said.

"If I'm not a pile of goo by the time you're done. I'm so relaxed I can barely hold my head up anymore."

So he pushed into a pressure point, and that woke her right up.

"Rude!" she said. "Now you owe me at least 10 more minutes."

And he obliged.

They talked through the whole movie. Talking through movies was one of Donna's favorite pastimes. She couldn't understand people who wanted to just sit in silence. There were so many things begging to be commented upon! And comment she did, encouraged by his low laughter. She felt aglow from head to toe.

He was charmed by her. There was no doubt about it. And the feeling was mutual.

They forgot about the cinnamon rolls.

Opening night rolled around, and Donna couldn't distinguish which of the butterflies in her stomach were there because her upcoming performance and which were due to Jack's presence in the audience.

With 20 minutes until showtime, Donna peeked from backstage to find him sitting in the center of the second row, in about the same seat he'd occupied all those years before, when he'd come with his parents to sleep through his fiancé's debut in Guys and Dolls .

Donna realized she could pinpoint that as the exact moment she'd first laid eyes on Jack Gentry. And once she told him that fact, he'd be able to pinpoint the exact moment he'd first laid eyes on her too.

"I see you," she texted him.

He glanced at his phone, grinned and looked around, searching for her.

"No fair. I can't see you," he replied.

"Well you'll see plenty of me here in a few minutes."

"It's about time."

"You saw me three days ago."

"That's not good enough," he texted, still grinning.

She agreed.

As more of the audience filed in to take their seats, the two on either side of Jack remained empty.

"I think you may have forgotten your deodorant…" she started typing, as Amelia sidled up to her and peered over her shoulder.

"He's here!" Amelia said and squeezed her shoulders. "You're brilliant in this role. He's going to love it."

"Let me reiterate once again how grateful I am that you are my Shelby," Donna said, turning for a quick hug. "Are you ready to go into diabetic shock?"

"More than ready," Amelia said. "Ooh, there's Nick. I've been looking for him." And she chased after him. Just a few more weeks, and they could finally act on their mutual attraction.

Donna looked back at her phone.

"Ha ha," Jack had typed. "No, I purposely bought three seats. Doing my part to support the arts."

"And give you room to man spread?"

"That too. But don't worry, I made sure I smell amazing."

"I'll be the judge of that," she texted back.

"Challenge accepted."

Oh how she loved bantering with this man.

Just as she was starting to formulate a witty reply, the doorbell chimed in the theater, reminding the audience to find their seats. And another text popped up from Jack.

"Be thinking about where you want to go for dinner," he said.

"Somewhere with a trough?" she typed back rapidly. "I've been too nervous to eat much today. My appetite will kick in around the middle of Act II."

She saw his face light up with laughter. He'd once said he found her willingness to eat in front of him "refreshing." She wanted to test his commitment to that statement. So far he was passing.

"Shoot, I forgot my portable one. I could have sneaked it backstage during intermission," he texted back.

"Next time," she replied, still baffled and mystified by the attention he was showing her. She wasn't sure what she'd done to deserve it.

"Places everyone," the director called, and Donna hurriedly stashed her phone and took position behind one of the styling chairs in the salon.

The curtain rose to generous applause. It was almost a full house tonight. And Donna nervously launched into her first line. What a stroke of luck that her character was supposed to appear awkward and nervous. A trembling voice and shaking hands would only make her performance more convincing.

Donna sneaked surreptitious looks in Jack's direction whenever she could. He was leaning forward, rapt with attention. He sat up extra tall when she delivered the "Excuse me. Should I call a doctor or something?" line. Donna struggled to hide the growing giddiness in her chest, reminding herself she was supposed to be timid, shy, awkward Annelle Dupuy Desoto. Not floating-on-cloud-nine Donna Mary Gable.

It wasn't easy.

Until it was.

During her longest break off stage, Donna couldn't help sneaking back to her secret spot to peek out at the audience. The seat to Jack's left was now occupied.

By a tiny brunette.

Trynn.

Jack was turned away from Donna and toward his ex-wife, and her face was turned up to his, eyes shining with something that looked like hope.

She was so beautiful. Truly movie-star beautiful.

Donna felt herself deflate.

If she wanted Jack back, and it appeared that she did, would Donna really, truly stand a chance?

For her own sanity, she had to stop looking toward the second row. She channeled her desperate, discombobulated feelings into her poor, jilted character until the end of the play.

"Wow, you were amazing tonight!" Amelia gushed after curtain call. Donna smiled half-heartedly. The whole cast was supposed to do the meet-and-greet for opening night, so Donna and her fake pregnant belly headed out to the lobby.

Jack found her instantly and produced a huge bouquet of roses from behind his back. Where had those been hiding? Under his chair?

"That was incredible!" Jack said, pulling her in to a tight hug, her maternity pillow squishing between them. "I'm proud to say I recognized you right away."

"Even with the glasses?" Donna tried to joke. "I'm proud of you too!"

Donna felt herself starting to melt into him, even as her mind darted to the image of Trynn sitting by him in the audience. Still, she didn't want to end the hug, and Jack hadn't broken free either.

"I know this sounds weird because we've been texting every day and I just saw you, but…I missed you," he said into her ear, a tone of something like wonder in his voice.

"I…" she started to respond, then made eye contact with two wide eyes staring at them from across the lobby. Trynn quickly masked her look of utter shock, squared her shoulders, and sauntered over.

"Hi guys," Trynn said brightly as Jack released Donna and turned toward the sing-song voice. "You two sure have gotten friendly."

She stole a glance at Jack and detected subtle signs of irritation in his demeanor, which pleased her.

"You seemed like you were in such a hurry a minute ago," Jack said, guardedly.

"Oh, you know my parents. They won't mind if I'm a teensy bit late. I had to come congratulate the B cast. It was your best performance yet, truly. Didn't you think it was adorable , Jack?"

She threaded one arm through Jack's. He stiffened.

Trynn was such a natural at this. In just a few short sentences, she managed to emphasize their joint history and Donna's place as an outsider, downplay the "B" cast's status, infantilize their performance, and recruit Jack to her side of the conversation.

"I remember seeing your parents at Guys and Dolls ," Donna couldn't help replying. "How are the Wegfahrts?"

Before either could reply, another audience member broke in to tell Donna how much she'd enjoyed the play, but caught a glimpse of Trynn and screamed. "Oh my gosh, it's Josie from Drama Club ! Can I get your autograph?"

Without letting go of Jack, Trynn obliged, flipping to the cast photos section of the program and signing beneath her name, which drew a few more audience members over to request signatures as well.

One of the women took pity on Donna and asked for her autograph too, which would have been fine if not for the superior expression on Trynn's face.

"You have to come tomorrow night too and see if my medical crisis measures up to the one you saw tonight," Trynn told the assembled women with a musical laugh. "I got this handsome doctor to coach us both himself, so you can blame him if you're not convinced."

She heavily emphasized the word doctor, which sparked newfound interest in the women's eyes. Donna could tell he wasn't loving the attention.

Just as he started to disentangle himself, Trynn suddenly swooned into Jack. He caught her, and their small audience erupted into startled laughter and applause, thinking she was giving them a preview of what was to come tomorrow night.

Donna's eyes nearly rolled out of her head at Trynn's embarrassing antics.

But when Trynn didn't immediately perk back up to bask in the attention, an awkward silence descended. Trynn continued to slump toward the ground, completely limp, until Jack had the presence of mind to scoop her up and carry her to a settee against the wall behind them, as if she weighed nothing at all. He was in full doctor mode, checking her pulse, lifting her eyelids, trying to rouse her.

The line of actors had parted to let them through, and Donna sprang into action, subtly redirecting the actors to close ranks and block the public's view of the spectacle, assuring everyone that Jack was a trained professional and Trynn was in good hands.

Donna rushed to the concessions stand and grabbed an overpriced bottle of water, promising to pay for it later, and returned to find Trynn looking up at Jack with tear-filled eyes and tightly gripping his forearm as he perched sideways next to her, speaking intently.

"Quick thinking, Donna, thanks," Jack said, looking up at Donna with a grateful expression, tinged with regret.

Trynn didn't look away from Jack or acknowledge Donna in any way. He helped her sit up so she could drink the water, and she leaned against him—unnecessarily, Donna thought.

Donna slipped back into the line of actors, then made her escape to the dressing room as soon as there was a lull. In all the confusion, she had no idea where she'd put the roses. She'd probably dropped them.

She wouldn't mind if they'd been trampled on and strewn throughout the lobby.