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It was as if she had to explain and justify his attendance.

"I'm glad," I said, "but I just don't want everyone to be disappointed. Don't expect too much. It's my first play and I'm so nervous, I don't know if I'll remember my lines."

"Stop that," she snapped at me. "You sound like your mother, making excuses before she even tries. I don't want to hear that. I want to hear confidence. Believe in yourself and let everyone know you do," she commanded. "Who on that stage is better than you?"

"No one," I replied angrily.

"Precisely my point. You will not do poorly and don't let anyone make you think otherwise."

She said it with such power, I wondered if she could stop the rain.

I smiled at her.

"Okay," I said.

"Good. Now let's not talk about it anymore. If you dwell too long on something, it does seem more like an impossible task. Just walk in there and do what has to be done. Sissy," she said turning to the new maid, "what have you done to my roast chicken?"

"Ma'am?"

"It's absolutely delicious. Whatever you did, do it again," she said.

Sissy's eyebrows rose and she looked at me with a little smile on her face.

"I will try, ma'am. That I will do." She winked and went into the kitchen.

As the countdown to the performance continued, Corbette continually reminded me in little ways and with little remarks of my promise to celebrate afterward with him.

"I'm cleaning the place up," he told me. "It'll be our special night."

"Won't your parents want to do something with you after the play?" I asked.

He grimaced.

"My parents won't be here. They have an engagement they can't get out of," he said.

"They won't be at the play?"

"They've only been to one that I've been in," he revealed. "It's all right. I'm not doing it for them. I'm doing it for myself."

He did seem like a tenant in his own home. I didn't know if he had intended to win me over with pity or not, but he was certainly doing a good job of it. He was as nice to me as could be, too, often taking blame for any mistakes made between us. When I looked at the other girls to see what they were thinking about us, I thought they looked pleased. Most had become friendlier and in fact, Maureen looked like she was alone in her skepticism and criticism of Mr. Bufurd casting me as Emily. Audrey, of course, thought I was great, and after dress rehearsal, most of the cast congratulated me on my performance. I was beginning to fill up with that confidence Grandmother Hudson demanded.

Since I hadn't heard from Brody all week, I assumed my mother had accomplished what she had set out to do: discourage him about me. Grandmother Hudson didn't mention his coming either. I breathed relief, but I couldn't help a tang of regret slipping into my thoughts. I really did like Brody and wished we could be friends, actually more than friends, a real brother and sister. I would surely be a better sister to him than Alison was. But then again, almost any girl would be, I thought.

The day of the play, all my teachers wished me luck and promised they would be at the performance. So many people were talking about it, I couldn't help but have a stomach filled with butterflies. Their delicate wings tickled the inside of me all day and made it impossible to eat, to concentrate, to even sit still. I was a total wreck by the day's end and when Jake brought me home, I went upstairs immediately and threw myself on the bed, burying my face in the pillow and vowing never to leave the room.

It was at a time like this when I needed to hear Mama's voice the most, so I went to the phone and called Aunt Sylvia's again. Again, the phone rang and rang and no one picked up. Where were they? If they were going on a trip, Mama should have told me, I thought. Why hadn't Roy tried to call me again? It was so frustrating not knowing how to reach him. The tension, the excitement, all the pressure and worry made me feel as limp as a busted balloon.

I decided to soak in a hot tub and try to relax and not think about anything but my first line in the play. After that, it would either all roll off my tongue or get stuck in my throat and quickly end my career in the theater.

After the applause, I remember thinking maybe Grandmother Hudson had been right about me. Maybe I didn't know my own capabilities because I had never been given the opportunity. I shook so much when I walked out on that stage for the first time with an audience present that I thought my chattering teeth would distort all my words and bring the roof down with the audience's thunderous laughter.

Instead, something entirely unexpected happened to me. I felt as if I had really fallen into another place and another time. My Emily Webb persona seized my very body and soul. The sound of my own voice was even different to me, and when I moved, I moved with the innocence and grace Mr. Bufurd had envisioned. What helped was not really being able to see much of the audience. The lights created a wall of illumination that washed out faces. It was almost as if I was alone, practicing the lines in front of my mirror.

And when Corbette and I looked at each other and spoke to each other, I didn't see him as Corbette either. He and I bounced off each other's

performances, each of us reaching higher and higher to match the other for sincerity, credibility and dramatic impact.

When Corbette knelt at my grave and spoke his lines, I felt the tears build in my eyes, and when I did my famous good-bye speech and looked at him standing in the wings, I saw the amazement and