The Hourglass Door Read Online Free PDF Page A

down to my mouth. “Okay, people, let’s see how we do with Act One, Scene One. Action!”
    I settled down in the front row to watch the play unfold.
    Scott the Messenger stepped on stage and handed Leonato the letter.
    “I learn in this letter that Don Pedro of Arragon comes this night to Messina,” Leonato declared, brandishing the envelope like a flag.
    I sighed and wrote a note on my clipboard for after rehearsal: Remind Leonato to open the letter before announcing what’s inside.
    ~
     
    “Okay, everyone, take five,” I said, gathering up my clipboard, notes, and headset. “So far so good, but I’d like to see Scene One again after the break.”
    I heard groans from the cast and smiled a little to myself.
    Most of the cast pushed through the backstage doors, no doubt in search of cold water, fresh air, and some free time to check e-mail and text messages. A few cast members simply collapsed in the auditorium seats behind me. I saw Valerie corner Amanda and demand a looser corset. Amanda waved her hands in surrender and started rummaging in her sewing kit for a pair of scissors. I shook my head. Valerie always got her way; she was a daunting person to cross. It was the main reason I had been reluctant to tell her about my plans for Emery.
    “Hey,” Jason called softly. I turned to see him squatting on his haunches at the edge of the stage, his large hands resting on his knees. His eyes were in shadow, but the stage lights lined his hair with white fire. His shirt was open at the throat and I saw the glitter of sweat on his skin. I caught my breath at the sight of him. He looked like something primeval, something elemental. And he’s my boyfriend, I thought with a secret thrill.
    A smile curved his lips. “C’mere,” he said, crooking a finger in my direction.
    I set down my clipboard and headset. I pulled free the elastic that held my hair back and ran my fingers through my dark curls. I knew Jason liked my hair loose. He said when I wore it up, it made my face look pinched and stern. That was Jason, though—honest to a fault.
    I sauntered over to the stage, leaned my elbows on the edge, and looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure we should be fraternizing like this? I mean . . . I am the assistant director, after all. And you’re the”—I wrinkled my nose in mock disgust—“stage crew.”
    Now that I was closer I could see the stage lights reflected in his hazel eyes. He blinked in surprise. “I thought you liked it that I was on the stage crew.”
    I swallowed a sigh. That was Jason, too—impossible to tease. “I do. I was just kidding around.”
    “Oh,” he said, standing up. “Anyway, I wanted to show you something. Do you have a minute?”
    “For you? Absolutely.” I reached up a hand and he bent down to pull me up on stage. “What is it?”
    “It’s back here.” Jason kept hold of my hand as he led me backstage.
    His hand was warm and slightly damp with sweat. His leather work gloves were tucked into the back pocket of his jeans. I suddenly felt a surge of irrational affection for those gloves. They looked like they had never been worn, but I knew that was just because Jason took such good care of them. The same way he took such good care of me.
    I squeezed his hand, and when he looked back to smile at me, I felt a tingle of joy race along every nerve.
    “Here.” Jason pushed back a black curtain to reveal the porch he had been working on during rehearsal. “Do you like it?” he whispered, though we were alone in the half-lit area.
    Leonato’s house was the main set piece. The shop teacher, Mr. Frantz, had designed it to break into pieces and rotate so it could be used for both the interior and exterior scenes of the play. A partially finished porch ran along the entire front of the house, which had a simple roof of slanted slats in parallel rows. The design called for grapevines to be woven through the slats above the porch in honor of the play’s Italian