Part 9

During the week of rehearsal Peggy found that the drama inherent in the part itself wasn’t going to be enough to carry her through. Evelyn was a girl who was emotionally disturbed and there was one scene toward the end of the play when she broke down altogether and appeared in a state of unreasonable fear. Peggy worked and worked on the scene, trying it every conceivable way, while Chuck patiently encouraged her. But it wasn’t going right and she knew it. Alison was doing a marvelous job as the model and it was a trial for Peggy to know that she was watching, criticizing, and comparing Peggy’s efforts with her own past success as Evelyn.

“I don’t think I can do it!” Peggy told Chuck miserably one day after rehearsal. “You should have given the part to Alison after all! I’m terrible.”

“You’ll be fine,” Chuck said quietly, but Peggy knew by the tone of his voice that Chuck had his doubts, too. She hadn’t made a real identification with the role yet, and it was drawing fearfully close to opening night. Worried and unhappy, Peggy wondered if she had any right to call herself an actress after all. If she couldn’t do this part that she had been so overjoyed to get, what hope was there?

She was tense and straining and finally even Chuck lost patience. “What’s the matter with you, Peggy?” he said sharply at rehearsal one day. “You’re missing this thing by a mile. You’re acting like an insipid little daisy that’s about to wilt on the stem! Evelyn isn’t like that—she’s crazy like a fox! She has power in her own strange way—”

“Could I say something, Chuck?” Alison interrupted, coming out from the wings where she’d been watching. “It might help Peggy. When I played the part I did it as though I were perfectly sane. Peggy’s trying to _act_ crazy and it’s never believable that way.”

“Yes, that’s true,” Chuck admitted, “it’s a good suggestion, Peggy. Try the scene again with that in mind.”

Peggy didn’t protest or try to justify herself, even though she had been perfectly aware all along of what Alison had just said. She tried again, doing even more badly than before, terribly conscious of Alison watching from the wings and judging every move.

“That was a rotten trick!” Rita fumed in a whisper when the scene was finished and Peggy, almost in tears, ran off stage. “Alison offering to help you! She knew exactly what she was doing—trying to draw attention to herself and make comparisons. Peggy, you’re never going to relax in this part if you can’t forget that Alison played it before. Can’t you see what she’s doing?”

“But it’s too late to give her the part,” Peggy said dully, “so she can’t be after that. Alison’s never been like this before. I’ve always liked her, really. What is she trying to do?”

“Make you give a dreadful performance!” Rita insisted strongly. “I know Alison Lord like a book. She’s a fine, nice girl as long as she’s in the limelight, but her career comes first, and she’ll walk roughshod over anyone who interferes with it!”

“But this is only a summer stock company—” Peggy protested.

“Yes, and people go back to New York saying, ‘Gosh, have you seen Peggy Lane in _Guest in the House_? She was great!’ These things do get around, Peggy. Alison came up here to be the big cheese, and she wants it to stay that way. If she can’t play the part at least she figures that people can say, ‘They really should have given that part to Alison Lord; Peggy Lane was awful!’”

Rita spelled it out in no uncertain terms, leaving Peggy feeling bleaker than ever. She knew that Rita was trying to prod her, make her angry enough to forget Alison and come through with a good performance. But Peggy didn’t work that way. She couldn’t act out of spite or anger. She was aware, too, that other people in the company were disappointed in her. Danny Dunn couldn’t conceal his surprise or Chris Hill his impatience. The fine rapport that Peggy and Chris had had in _For Love or Money_ was a thing of the past.

Dress rehearsal for _Guest in the House_ took place Tuesday afternoon. The company had to be out of the theater by five P.M. for the group of folk singers who had the auditorium for the evening. It was a benefit affair and the Summer Theater was glad to donate its stage for the night. Peggy didn’t know if it was the strangeness of working in the afternoon or if it would have happened in any case, but her performance was the worst one she had ever given. Not only was she unable to get into the role at all, but she forgot her lines on several occasions—something that hadn’t happened all season. Chuck was so unhappy with the show that he didn’t even criticize her. It was obvious that he thought it too late.

Miserably, Peggy took off her make-up and started to leave the theater, wishing that she had never been given the part at all. Perhaps she would never attempt to play a dramatic role again. “And I was feeling so self-satisfied, thinking it was easy!” she thought as she walked out the stage door.

“Peggy, how’s it going?” Michael Miller rounded the corner of the building, coming from the little shack the boys used for a scene shop.

“Awful.” Peggy tried an unsuccessful smile.

“What you need is a little relaxation—a change of scenery.” Michael smiled. “What are you going to do with your first free evening of the summer?”

“Tonight?” Peggy shook her head. “Going to work on my part again, I guess—see if I can come up with something—”

“Why don’t you forget it for a while?” Michael asked. “I’m going to take Mary Hopkins over to the other side of the lake for dinner; we’d love to have you come along.”

“In your boat?” Peggy asked, feeling a faint stirring of interest.

“What else?” Michael laughed. “We’re not going to swim, that’s for sure! Come on, Peggy, it’ll do you good.”

It would at that, Peggy thought, suddenly feeling a sense of freedom at the prospect of being far away from the theater for a while, if even just for dinner. Maybe she could regain her perspective out on the water; there was nothing like putting a little distance between one’s self and one’s problem.

“I will, Michael,” she accepted gratefully. “I’d love to. Goodness, it’ll be the first boat ride I’ve had all summer!”

“And long overdue. I promised you a ride once, remember?”

Peggy felt better than she had all week when they arrived at Michael’s house and walked down to his dock where Mary Hopkins was already waiting.

“Peggy—how nice!” she cried. “Are you coming with us?”

“I certainly am—if I’m not intruding,” Peggy said, suddenly wondering if she was interrupting a date.

“Oh, heavens, no!” Mary laughed. “I’ve been pestering Michael to take me out in the boat for weeks. This is the first time he’s been free!”

“I’ll just go and tell Dad we’re off,” Michael said. “That’s a rule around here when I take out the boat.”

He was back in a minute and they all got into the trim little craft, Peggy feeling almost carefree as Michael started the motor and they zipped away.

“We call her the _Merry Mac_,” Michael shouted over the noise of the motor to the two girls. “She’s Dad’s pride and joy—and mine.”

“I can see why,” Peggy laughed, loving the feel of the water underneath as they skimmed along. It had been a beautiful day. The lake was sky-blue and frosted with little points of white whipped up by the wind.

“It’s a little choppy,” Michael called.

“Fun!” Peggy cried as the spray blew over the windshield and splashed her face.

“You’re going to get wet,” Mary warned as Michael passed over the wake of another boat, the _Merry Mac_ slapping across, the spray leaping to drench Peggy’s face.

“I love it!” Peggy cried happily. “The wetter the better! Where are we going, Michael?”

“Straight across.” Michael cut his speed a little so he could hear. “See that cluster of buildings? The Golden Hound is the last one on the left. Good food and music—very rustic.”

They were in the middle of the lake now, and Peggy realized that it was much larger than she had thought. There were islands dotted all around, some so tiny that there was only room for one or two houses.

“Private islands,” Michael informed her. “How would you like one of those, Peggy?”

“Oh, would I! It would be sheer heaven!” Peggy took a deep breath of the wonderful fresh air. “No wonder you love this place, Michael. I wouldn’t ever want to leave if I’d been raised here!”

“The winters are _cold_, though.” Mary laughed. “How do you feel now, Peggy? Better?”

“Marvelous! I’ve almost forgotten about the theater entirely. This is just what the doctor ordered!”

Michael slowed the _Merry Mac_ and carefully turned her into the dock in front of the restaurant. Peggy was impressed by his expert handling of the boat.

“Dad would never forgive me if anything happened to our little friend here, and I’d never forgive myself!” he said as he stepped out and helped the girls up from the boat.

They had a wonderful dinner at a lovely candlelit table by a picture window that afforded a sweeping view of the lake.

“What a beautiful spot,” Peggy said dreamily as twilight fell, and lights in the little cottages dotting the shore twinkled on like a fringe of decoration. “Why haven’t we been here before?”

“We can come again during the last week of the season,” Michael said. “I’ll bring everybody over sometime.”

“Michael, isn’t it getting awfully dark?” Mary interrupted, watching the sky that had changed from sunset violet to a deep, heavy gray.

Michael looked at the sky and smiled. “Sure, it’ll be dark before we get back. You’re not worried about going back at night, are you?”

“Well,”—Mary hesitated—“do you know how to find your way back at night?”

Michael laughed. “Mary Hopkins! And you’ve lived at Lake Kenabeek for sixteen years!”

“How do you find your way back?” Peggy asked.

“By my landing light.” Michael was still laughing at Mary. “I take a straight course from here, across the lake, home. It’s impossible to miss it. Where have you been all these years, Mary?”

“Well,” she said with a shy smile, “I guess I just never thought of it before.”

They finished dinner in a leisurely fashion, enjoying the music and the peaceful atmosphere of this beautiful spot.

“This really has been lovely, Michael,” Peggy thanked him as they left the restaurant. “I feel so relaxed and different—not half as worried as I was this afternoon.”

“You’ll probably knock ’em in the aisles tomorrow night,” Michael said cheerfully as they got into the _Merry Mac_ again.

And Peggy thought he might be right, at that. Somehow, getting away from the part had done her a world of good. She found that she was actually looking forward to trying it again, and sure that she could improve her performance.

“My, it really is rough!” Mary said nervously as they started back. A high wind had come up and the choppy water was blowing in all directions, making the boat rock furiously.

Michael was quite unconcerned. “See—there’s the light, Mary.” He pointed it out to her dead ahead across the black lake. “We just take a bead on that, and home we go without obstacles—in the rain, it seems.”

A freak summer storm had suddenly come up, and the rain pelted down heavily, mixing with the spray that rose over the sides of the little boat.

“This is nothing,” Michael reassured Mary. “I’ve been out in storms much worse than this. As long as we can see the landing light there’s nothing to worry about, and it doesn’t look—”

But Michael had spoken too soon. The rain suddenly poured down in such force that it was impossible to see. In an instant it descended in driving torrents and Michael lost the landing light! In a second he had cut the motor. “I don’t think,” he began—but then it happened. There was a grinding crash that threw Peggy and Mary forward, their heads hitting the windshield, while the _Merry Mac_ reared up and came to a shuddering stop.

There was dead silence for a moment. Then, “Is anybody hurt?” Michael asked tightly.

“No, I don’t think so....” Peggy moved a bit. “Mary, are you all right?”

“My head,” she said shakily. “No—it’s all right—I just bumped it.”

“Thank heaven!” Peggy breathed. “And thank goodness you cut the motor so fast, Michael. If you hadn’t been so quick....” They were all silent, realizing that it was only Michael’s alert action that had saved them from a much more serious accident.

“Where are we?” Peggy finally asked.

“I don’t know,” Michael said, “but we’d better get out and see. I hope we’re not on a rock somewhere.”

The rain was so thick and the night so black that they couldn’t see a foot in front of them. Michael climbed out first, feeling his way. “It’s rock, all right,” he said nervously. “No—then it goes on into sand. Maybe we’re on a small island. Peggy, throw out the cushions from the seats, will you? I don’t know if the boat is lodged too tightly to sink or not, but we might as well have them to sit on.”

Groping in the dark, Peggy withdrew the cushions and handed them to Michael. Her hands touched something slick and cold. “What’s in the back seat, Michael?” she asked.

“Oh, good girl! Oilskin raincoats. I would have forgotten all about them. We keep them there—for emergencies.” Michael’s voice was hollow and Peggy knew that he was beginning to feel the situation. Michael had wrecked his precious boat. Well, there was no time now to think about that. Peggy took out the coats and wrapped one around Mary, who was still shivering slightly from shock.

They climbed up on their hands and knees, feeling their way precariously from the rocks on which the boat had crashed to the sandy beach. Peggy bumped into something and shrieked, then she realized it was a tree trunk. “Michael, we’re in some woods! Come on, Mary, get under cover and out of the rain!”

“Why doesn’t somebody light a match?” Mary asked plaintively. “Let’s make a fire or something.”

At this, Peggy dropped down on the boat cushion and began to laugh helplessly.

“What do you find so funny, may I ask?” Michael questioned sourly from the gloom beside her.

“A fire!” Peggy giggled. “A fire in all this rain! I’m sorry, Michael—it’s just nerves!”

“Very funny,” Michael said. “Well, I suggest we just sit here until the storm stops. Then we’ll be able to see where we are.”

But the storm continued in full fury for hours while the three, drenched and shivering, waited. Mary lay down on a cushion and, unbelievably, in a few minutes, was fast asleep. Michael too began to yawn as the hours passed, and Peggy offered him her cushion to doze on. She couldn’t possibly have slept. She curled up at the base of a tree, wrapped in her oilskin, and waited for the rain to stop. By the time the storm had subsided a little, dawn was breaking in a gray haze that filtered through the rain and trees and gave Peggy a view of the surroundings. She judged that they must be on an island, and getting up to look through the woods, saw a little path. Looking back at her sleeping comrades, Peggy decided to explore a little before awakening them. She hadn’t followed the path more than a few yards when she came to a clearing and a cottage among the trees. All night, a refuge had been this close! Seeing the house, Peggy realized how cold and exhausted she was. She raced back to the others and woke them up.

“I feel like the three bears,” Mary said sleepily. “I hope they have three beds and a stove; I’m chilled through.”

“It’s a lucky break we had your raincoats,” Peggy told Michael. “Do you realize we might all have caught pneumonia?”

Peggy knocked timidly at the door, hating to rouse anyone at this hour. It must be close to five in the morning, she guessed. There was no answer and Michael knocked again, louder this time.

A sleepy, startled voice called out, “Who is it?” and Peggy knew that the voice was familiar. Before she could place it, the door opened a crack and then was flung wide. There stood Mrs. Cook, wide awake now with the shock of seeing the three young people—wet and bedraggled as lost kittens.

“Oh, come in, come in!” she cried. “What on earth happened?”

If Mrs. Cook was astonished to see them, it was nothing to Peggy’s surprise at finding her here. “Mrs. Cook!” she exclaimed. “I thought you were staying at one of the hotels—”

“Oh, no, we’ve had this house for years, only one on the island.”

Now the little group knew that they had crashed on one of the little private islands in the middle of the lake. Within minutes the story was told and Mrs. Cook had given them all warm bathrobes and hot drinks, fussing over them as if they were her own children.

“Now, all of you get some real rest,” she commanded, showing Peggy and Mary into her own room and giving Michael the couch. “We’ll talk about everything later after you’ve had some sleep!”

As she gratefully snuggled down under the warm covers on the comfortable bed, Peggy sleepily wondered why they hadn’t seen Mr. Cook. But she was too tired to think for more than a moment. Almost immediately she dropped off into a deep, dreamless sleep, utterly exhausted.

XIV Ups and Downs

Hours later Peggy awoke to the sound of rain beating on the windows and a whining wind that lashed the tree tops mercilessly. It was a bleak world, dark as evening, and it was only noon. Mary and Michael had been up for some time, and Peggy found them in the living room, chatting with Mrs. Cook, who had prepared a hearty breakfast for everybody.

“Peggy—good!” Mrs. Cook said as she saw her emerging from the bedroom. “I was going to wake you any minute. You must be ravenous.”

“I am,” Peggy admitted, sitting down at the table Mrs. Cook had set in front of the fireplace. “A fire in the summertime! It doesn’t seem possible.”

“Well, when these storms come up it can get good and chilly here. The dampness goes right through you.” Mrs. Cook smiled.

“Have you called to notify your father that we’re all right?” Peggy asked Michael. “It just occurred to me that everyone must be terribly worried about us.”

“Can’t call,” Michael replied, frowning. “The phone’s out. Wire’s blown down, I guess. But I’m not too worried. I’m pretty sure Dad will assume we stayed on the other side of the lake because of the storm. It’s happened before. He’ll have called Mrs. Hopkins, and the theater for you, Peggy.”

Peggy noticed the worry in Michael’s eyes. There was something he wasn’t telling her, she felt sure. Mrs. Cook came to the rescue, gently putting her hand on Peggy’s shoulder as she said, “I’m afraid you may have to stay here all day, dear. My husband took the boat to town and couldn’t get back last night in the storm. He called to tell me before the phone went out. None of the boats are out today. We’ll just have to wait until it clears before you can be picked up.”

“But the show!” Peggy cried. “I have to get back for the opening.”

“Well, maybe you can,” Mrs. Cook placated her. “It should clear by evening, and my husband is sure to return as soon as he can.”

But as the hours progressed, the storm showed no sign of relenting. The wind whistled angrily, blowing the rain in blinding sheets. No boat could dare the lake in weather like this.

“A fine idea I had!” Michael accused himself grimly. “A little fun, a little relaxation—and what happens? I not only wreck the _Merry Mac_, but I’m responsible for your missing the show!”

“Oh, Michael, it isn’t your fault,” Peggy comforted him. But she was sick at heart. She had felt so optimistic about her new approach to the part, ready to play Evelyn tonight as if she had never played it before. Now she might not even be there. She had no doubt as to what Chuck would do; he would have Alison play the part and get somebody to read the model for this one performance. It had been done before in stock. And there went Peggy’s chance to prove herself, not only to the company, but to a deep part of her that said, “If I fail this, the opportunity may never come again.” She wandered over to the window and stood there, looking out, trying to hold back the tears of disappointment. “Maybe it’s better this way,” she told herself. “Perhaps I wouldn’t do any better than I have all week.” But she remembered Randy’s words as he left her that day on the bus—“You’re a fine actress and I have faith in you!” Randy must have foreseen both the part and the trouble with Alison. What he could never have imagined was the possibility of Peggy’s not being there to play it at all.

By six o’clock the storm finally showed signs of subsiding. Peggy anxiously watched the sky, wondering if it would be possible after all to get back in time for the curtain. At seven-thirty the rain had stopped and the wind was reduced to a murmur. Mrs. Cook took the group down to the dock to watch for her husband’s boat. “He’s sure to come soon,” she said. “I think you’ll make it, Peggy.”

Peggy strained to see across the lake. The sky was still gray, but in the distance they could hear a motor.

“Somebody’s out, Peggy,” Mary cried happily. “I think we will get back!”

But the boat appeared and it wasn’t Mr. Cook after all. They waved and shouted frantically, but the owner didn’t see them and he veered off in the opposite direction. A few minutes later another boat came into view and Mrs. Cook gave Peggy an impulsive hug. “There he is, dear.” She laughed. “Get ready to dash!”

Mr. Cook didn’t have a chance to say hello as he pulled into the landing. The three young people practically fell into the boat with Mrs. Cook shouting hasty directions and waving him off as if to a fire.

“Hurry,” she called as he turned around and sped off. “And good luck, Peggy—” Her voice trailed away and Peggy gripped the sides of the boat, her heart in her mouth as the possibility of making the curtain became a reality.

“This little runabout isn’t too fast,” Mr. Cook warned, “but I’ll make her do her best!” He pushed the little boat to her limit and in about twenty minutes they pulled up at Michael’s landing. “This is the closest one to the theater, Peggy,” Mr. Cook said. “Run! Don’t say thanks—just make that curtain!”

But Peggy was already out and running up the stairs. With a hasty wave she sprinted up the walk beside Michael’s house and started to run to the theater.

The parking lot was jammed with cars, but Peggy didn’t see anyone going into the theater. Panting, she started to run back to the stage door, but then realized that Chuck might be out front. She’d better let him know she was here. She dashed back to the entrance and tore through the large doors by the box office. Richard was just coming out of the little room and, seeing her, he grabbed her arm with a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness, Peggy! We were beginning to think you’d drowned!”

“Where is everybody?” Peggy gasped. “I’m here—tell Chuck—”

“Wait a minute,” Richard held on to her with concern. “The show’s started, Peggy....”

Breathlessly, Peggy stopped short while it sank in. Of course! Nobody in the lounge, the doors to the auditorium closed— The audience were in their seats and the curtain had opened! Still trying to get her breath, she looked at Richard helplessly while tears came to her eyes.

“Oh, come on, Peggy.” Richard patted her shoulder kindly. “It isn’t that important. If you only knew how worried we were about you! I’m so glad you’re safe and sound I don’t give a hoot about the show!”

“Thank you,” Peggy managed to say. “I couldn’t help it—I tried to get back.”

“I know. You can tell me all about it later. Why don’t you go home now and get some rest?”

“No! Oh, no.” Peggy collected herself and took a deep breath. “As long as I’m here, I’m going to watch!” It was a difficult decision. “Who’s doing the model?”

“That girl, June Tilson; she’s winging it.”

“Well, come on, then.” Peggy smiled bravely. “Aren’t you going to give me a seat?”

Richard grinned at her admiringly. “You’re quite a girl, Peggy. I’ll give you the best seat in the house!”