So she read her scenes. Embraced her death. And rehearsed like a pro. She was an actor. And actors acted.
Backed into a corner, Zarzour had no choice but to allow Jeremiah to finish the film with Chris as Hamilton.
He released the canceled funds while cutting the shooting timeline by three weeks. Jer and Sharon Lee worked three days straight making the script changes, dividing the scenes among themselves. Jer took the battle and outdoor scenes. Sharon, the romance and indoor shoots.
The entire set was chaos. Cast and crew nipping at one another. Confusion abounded. They were theTitanicsailing full steam ahead toward the iceberg.
Lori rushed past the house, a small light affixed to her forehead. Her blond and pink hair stood straight up, and when she looked at Chloe, the light cast a ghostly hue over her face, accenting her black-rimmed eyes. She wore the same clothes from yesterday. And the day before. And the day before.
“Are you ready?” Lori flipped through her scene list. “You’re in the parlor with Millie... Wait, no...” She swore. “You should be on the battlefield with Chris. The car is on its way.”
“Good.” Chloe moved to the porch post, watching the sunrise bleed into the dusty, blue dawn.
Winter still gripped this first March day. Was that the scent of snow she detected?
Since his exit, she’d not heard from Jesse. Well, save for one brief, curt text exchange.
Come back, Jess. Please.
He didn’t answer until the next day.Have a great shoot. Jer will make this work.
In his weird way, that was his good-bye. The slamming door reverberated in her chest. He’d failed, and for reasons she didn’t completely understand, the burden of Loxley chained him all over again.
She missed him. His steady presence and logical demeanor. His defense of her in front of everyone lived in her mind. In fact, the notion had packed a suitcase and moved into her mind. He’d ended his career on a matter of principle.
No one had ever done that for her. Dad, bless his heart, tried but failed when Sam told him she wouldn’t get the part of DebbieDough. Mom, while strong, always acted as a mediator, seeing both sides of a situation. Chloe’s boyfriends cared more about expressing themselves than protecting her.
Then there was the thing with Haden on the E.P.’s rooftop, where her actions were indefensible.
The car pulled up, and the driver stepped out to open her door. Sitting in the back, Esther regarded the scene beyond the window, snapping memories of the landscape, of the rising light, and of how she felt. Not just her emotions, but Esther’s.
How did she feel when Hamilton married another? Was she in love with her husband who died and left her a young widow?
Why did Hamilton not send the letter proposing after they were both widowed?
Chloe was Esther in so many ways. Lasting love was just not meant to be. And in some ways, she was like Loxley. Not physically—God rest her soul—but emotionally. Dying to herself. Quitting. Giving up.
I loved you, Jesse.
Yet... deep down in the part of her soul she could not see, peace ruled. Since the day she’d cried in church for two hours and surrendered herself to the One who truly, unconditionally loved and defended her, a new hope was born.
Jesus would heal her past and take care of her todays and her tomorrows. Her good Father held her future in His hands.
The car arrived at the shoot, and Chloe walked historic Green River Road toward the set. An extra dressed like Flanders walked by, prepared to die. Chloe’s eyes misted.
Please, Lord, may this not be the death of Jesse’s dreams.
War. That’s how this whole project felt. As if the powers of hell determined to defeat love. Yet Love had already won. Chloe smiled.
“You look cheery for a girl who’s about to die.” The DP, Sandy, came alongside her, weary and wearing a dark expression.
“I just realized... love has already won.”
“Sure doesn’t look like it to me.”
“Sandy, I can go out there and die, not in defeat, but victory.” Chloe moved toward the field. “I can give this scene my heart and soul. Even though this is not what any of us wanted, we can end this with excellence and hold our heads up high.”
“Okay, you’re more tired than you look. What victory? What excellence? This film is a mess.”
