“Thank you, thank you,” he cried with every evidence of gladness, “and where is our bright new star?”
“Elsewhere, sir,” Kyle said, as he took his own congratulations. “She won’t be long. She’s just taking care of old business before she meets her new public.”
Kyle smiled with expectation as well as triumph. He’d seen Gray. How could he not? Gray had been the first one backstage, and so he’d sent him to wait for her at her dressing room, to get that out of the way first. Now Kyle waited for her to be done with that interview, so she could get on with her life.
Hannah fled to her dressing room at once, running light-footed, as though the applause was thunder that was threatening her. He was the first thing she saw when she got there, and without breaking step, she ran to him and cast herself into his arms. She stayed there, silent, hugging him as tightly as he held her, as though all the world were tugging at them, trying to pull them apart.
“I did it” she finally said, in wonder and in relief. “Gray, I did it, didn’t I?”
She looked up and saw him nod.
“You did,” he said softly. “Honey, you surely did.”
“Are you proud of me?” she asked with such shy delight in her face that his arms tightened further around her.
“Absolutely,” he said, “but I always was.”
“Still, my father was there,” she said, laying her head on his shoulder. “I saw him watching and even so, I never missed a line. I did it, Gray. I really did.”
He might have said “of course” again, or maybe he only thought it, but they stayed there, holding tight and silent, listening to the applause until it ebbed and broke into the several small sounds of a crowd of people milling together, and they remembered where they were again.
“And now? Now what do we do?” he asked, although he wished he didn’t have to. But he knew waiting for tomorrow wouldn’t change things.
She paused, her head against his chest. Then she raised it, and noticing how her face paint had got on his jacket, began to brush at it with her hands, until he grasped one and held it tight. She looked into his eyes and said, “Well, there’s a cast party…”
“No, Hannah, that’s not what I mean,” he said gravely. “I know it’s soon, but it’s not too soon. It’s now or never. Will you have me? Or have you found something more? Whatever it is, please don’t tell me you don’t know yet.”
She took a deep breath.
“I won’t” she said. “Because what more is there? You mean the applause?” She frowned. “It’s very nice. But did you think it would replace you? Did you think I’d find that a lot of people I don’t know clapping for me would be as good as one man I love loving me? No, I grew up in the theater, after all, and saw it all before I could read a line of script, so I know better than that. That was never what was delaying me. I only needed to concentrate on tonight before I decided, as I said. And now I have. Yes, please, thank you, I will.”
Before he could say a word or draw her close, she put a hand on his chest and looked directly into his eyes.
“You know all my problems, and if you still want me, then yes. Or rather,now,yes. Because at least now I know I’m not just all problems. It’s not because of what I did tonight. Or because Kyle proposed to me the other night, even knowing what you do about me. Yes, he did,” she said, grinning. “I confess that’s very nice to know. But it’s not why, either. Or maybe they’re all the reasons why together. It’s because I finally know I’m worth something to myself. You see, now,” she said, raising her chin, “I can understand why you want to marry me, after all.”
“Oh, the conceit of it,” he said, laughing.
“Yes,” she said smugly, while she still had her lips free to speak.
There was nothing leisurely or tender about their kiss, even though they’d both just declared for each other, there was a desperate longing and lingering fear of separation that kept their mouths hungrily searching each other’s. When he raised his head at last, he became aware of how heated she was, and the stage makeup she wore bore a faint, unpleasant oily scent, nothing at all like the usual floral essence he associated with her. It reminded him of a thing that must be said at once.
While he tried to think how to phrase it, she saw how her lip rouge had stained his face, and rubbed at it with her fingertips, flushing redder than the rouge he’d worn off her cheeks.
“About your career,” he said helplessly, as she grinned despite herself at how oddly the tender tones of her cosmetics looked on his high-boned, tanned, scarred cheek, “I guess we can stay here in New York when you’ve got a part you like, but…do you think we could spend some time back home, too? I’ll buy you music boxes and player pianos to keep you entertained there—a whole Riverboat Calliope if you want,” he said anxiously as she grinned the wider.
“Gray,” she said seriously, though she wanted to laugh aloud at the sheer pleasure of his offer, “I told you before—I’m not an actress. No, and I never wanted to be one. I’m still not one. I just had to prove I could do it if I wanted to. And I did.”
“You did, you were great,” he said.
“No,” she said quietly, kissing the cheek she’d just scrubbed relatively clean. “No, thank you, but I’m not. If I were great. I’d be an actress. I was good, but that would never be enough for me. Father’s great. I decided long ago that I’d never settle for less. How could I?” she asked, as he appeared to protest, “…unless, of course,” she said with a sudden fearful surmise, “you want me to—that is, some men like having actress wives onstage for others to admire…”
“Lord! Such a lovely fool,” he whispered, cutting off her words to her absolute delight.
“Oh!” Kyle said with enough projection in that one exclamation to snap even their intense concentration on what they were doing. “Beg pardon, I do indeed! It’s just that we were all looking for our new star!”
They sprang apart, and looked at the crowd of people that accompanied Kyle.
“Sir,” Gray said at once, when he saw Blayne Darling in the group, “your daughter’s just consented to be my wife.”
